Myth of the Moon Goddess - The Aradia Chronicles, Books One, Two and Three

by Rane, April

  “I dropped the tiara when you appeared in front of me,” she told him ruefully. “Now we must find it or we will both be in discord with Sovonya.”

  “Are you sure it is not here,” he asked, his face a mischievous grin. “We could look under the blankets or…”

  “We are grown and acting like we have stolen bread from the windowsill, and Mama will scold us,” her silken laughter lit the air.

  “That is the first time I have heard you really laugh,” he told her, “Before, something was missing.”

  She could tell from the longing in his eyes that he yearned for her to tell him something of herself. “Yes, she said, “It has been a long while since I have laughed. I was very lucky growing up. I was greatly loved. I know my laughter was filled with love because I was always surrounded with it. Well… no matter. You fill me with love now. From now on it is what you will always hear when you are with me. Always, I promise you, my love.”

  They hurried through the garden, and made their way back to the door from which she had made her exit. Two young children sat on the bench talking, near where Aradia had dropped the tiara.

  Aradia hid and Tomis shooed the children away as he began looking for the tiara. It was nowhere to be found.

  Finally Aradia got down on her hands and knees and frantically searched the area. Tomis, muttering to himself, moved the bushes aside and dutifully peeked underneath.

  “Um-hmm!”

  Tomis straightened up and Aradia, still on hands and knees, pushed the hair out of her eyes to see Sovonya standing there.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” she said, attempting to hold a disapproving air as she waved the tiara.

  “Why… yes. As a matter of fact…” Tomis stuttered while offering Aradia his hand, “I was helping Aradia. She took a spill and lost her footing… as you can well see.”

  “Her footing? Well, let us hope that is all she has lost! When I came upon the tiara a short while ago ….I, oh well… never mind.” Sovonya said, shaking her head from side to side. “Do come and rejoin the entertainment. Tomis, why don’t you go back first? I will help Aradia tidy…well… arrange herself!”

  When Tomis moved off in the direction of the music, Aradia felt a cord of energy between them disconnect. She nearly cried out; she had to put her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry that tore at her throat.

  Sovonya said nothing as she helped her charge straighten herself. Aradia felt there must be an unwritten law between women that no matter what the indiscrimination, when there was deep friendship one women’s pain became the others.

  Sitting with the other women listening to the bard meant nothing now. Aradia searched the crowd of men for Tomis, but knew in her heart that he had gone.

  Aradia fell into bed as the sun came up, and slept the day through. Her dreams were vivid and sensual. She awoke with one hand around a pillow and the other clutching her femaleness. Stretching like a cat she purred, savoring thoughts of the night before and anticipating the next time she would see her lover.

  Sometimes Aradia felt that all she did was eat, urged on by Sovonya who said that she needed to put skin on her bones.

  “I do not know what stripped the weight from you so, my child,” she said, “and I do not want to know until you are ready to tell me, but you must do more than pick at grapes. Besides, cook will not be pleased if you send dishes back to her untouched.”

  Aradia looked down at her body and laughed. “I think you exaggerate, my lady. True, I was a bit thinner then, but no one can look at this body and call it skin and bones.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Sovonya in a conspiratorial way. “Bodies like yours have been known to get ladies into trouble. Oh, to be young again with all the knowledge I have now and to be in a youthful body, but I guess I will have to wait till the next go-round. In the next life, I wish to be a courtesan aga…” Sovonya stopped abruptly. “Oh child, I am just muttering,” Sovonya told her. “Pay no mind to this old woman.”

  “But yes,” Aradia told her, blushing. “I can picture you as a courtesan to some great man. You would be the power behind great men like Pericles and Socrates, rulers and thinkers both, and you would have great fun at it!”

  Aradia, no longer able to contain herself, laughed and eagerly grabbed her patroness’s hand. “Thank you for taking me in and being so good to me. I have something I would like to share with you. I know it was a long time coming but I have not been able to speak of it to anyone until now. I…I am not sure even now. But I owe you such a debt.”

  Aradia’s name was being called. A maid anxiously came toward them and shared that the seamstress had been waiting for quite some time for Aradia.

  “Oh, it is time for my fitting. I so wanted to speak with you, but when we are together here in the garden, time moves with such speed.” Aradia hugged Sovonya, her eyes misting with love for her friend. “It is good. It will give me time to adjust…to speak on these things so long secreted.”

  “Run along, child, I will be all ears when we next meet,” Lady Sovonya said with disappointment.

  Aradia was sitting in front of her toiletries wondering why women needed such things when Iola came bounding through the door, all apologies for not attending her sooner.

  “Iola,” Aradia said with a smile. “I have not reprimanded you once, so why do you fret so? I am never bored, I am perfectly able to entertain, dress myself and even do my hair. It is you that thinks I cannot manage without you. However, please perform your magic, now that you are here. After all, you are the reason that so many gentlemen look my way of late.” Iola, the dark haired maiden with sparkling eyes, laughed so hard she began to cough, which shook the bottles on the dressing table.

  “No Ma’am, ’tis’ent what’s here,” she said, pointing to her head, “that keeps a man interested, but what’s here.” She pointed between her legs as she twittered and hid her mouth, happy that she had said something so outrageous. “Cook told me that this very day, and now I have shared it with you.”

  “Why, Iola!” Aradia cried, pretending to be shocked, “Did cook also share some of the wine she claims she puts in the food?”

  The petite young woman blanched, the color draining from cheeks that were naturally rosy. Nervously she brushed back a brown curl that had escaped from her tightly braided hair. “You…you won’t tell the mistress, will you?”

  “Of course not, but next time when you are visiting with Cook drink less and talk more.”

  After her maid giggled herself out of the room, Aradia remembered earlier when Iola had been helping her into her night robe, they had both commented on how snug it had become. It was, she truly hoped, all the delicacies that Sovonya pressed on her.

  Later, Aradia meandered through the garden on her way to join Sovonya, thinking how short a time it would be before the weather started to get cooler and the flowers and leaves would sleep. She had never liked the winter because it was so barren. At home, each year between first and final harvest of the season, when they celebrate the souls of the dead, she had always become sad thinking of the cold and stillness of the time ahead. Pondering on, she reminded herself all things have their season. If it were not for the dying of the flowers and trees there could be no new life.

  Just as she joined Sovonya who was relaxing on a bench in one of the courtyards, she heard the sound of horse’s hooves, and Tomis could be seen dismounting.

  “Cara mia,” he cried, running to her, his arms spread wide for her to fly inside. “It has been so long.”

  Sovonya, who had followed Aradia out to greet him said, “So good to see you, Tomis. So it is good news you have for us then?”

  Aradia looked at her quizzically.

  “No, no word on that matter yet, madam,” replied Tomis, with a troubled look in his eye, as he disentangled himself from Aradia and embraced Sovonya, whispering something in her ear. Aradia only heard her response, to the effect that an envoy from his father was awaiting him.

  Only when he had left them did Sov
onya make any attempt at an explanation, one Aradia found unsatisfactory, at best.

  “You may feel free with Tomis when the three of us are alone together,” she cautioned. “But otherwise, decorum must prevail. These envoys are important personages. You do not want to set the wrong impression.”

  It was the next day before Aradia was able to see Tomis. He sent a note through Iola that she was to meet him at the gardener’s shed. And because Aradia wanted to go to him undetected, she told the little maid to tell her mistress that she was unwell and she would remain abed for the day and skip the evening meal.

  Aradia quietly locked the door to her room as soon as the maid left. She looked out of her window. Yes, she could do it, she thought. Opening the window she climbed out over the sill. The roof was cold on her bare feet. Feeling like a young girl again, when she would slip off to spend the day at the river, brought a smile to her radiant face. The last of it was a bit of a jump, but the ground was soft. Landing soundlessly she hurried into the garden.

  Excitedly, she ran all the way to the shed and into his arms. They never said a word to each other in greeting, except for the moans of ecstasy and words of love whispered as they ravished each other’s bodies.

  Lying in his arms, feeling like a child that was being spoiled, Aradia shared with him, “I felt like a little girl again when I slipped out of my bedroom window,” in response to which, Tomis laughed lovingly and embraced her tightly.

  “I have thought,” said Aradia with focused attention, “it is the child in us that makes love. Because when we make love, it is the same wild abandon that I felt as a child, hair flying, running in the wind and sneaking off to swim with the fish! Do you think me right?”

  “I have been with other women,” he began, measuring his words. “Most have never been children, not the kind you speak of, so they have no experience to draw upon. These women do not make love as you do. They do not think of lovemaking as pleasure and fun. I have once or twice been with … what you would call a butana. These women enjoy themselves, but it is because they feel powerful with a man at their mercy, so to speak. They do not enjoy themselves as you do. It is because you enjoy yourself so much that you make love with such abandon; it gives me great pleasure. More than I have ever had in or out of bed. I have never laughed so much when I have bedded a woman before. It must be healthy for the soul, for I feel more connected to the gods and goddesses, and to the concepts of right and wrong that before I felt distant from.”

  Aradia was torn because there were so many subjects she wanted to speak on. But as a woman she asked the question that was nagging at her.

  “So… you have been with many women, yet you find me pleasing?” she murmured, pressing herself closer against him. “That is good because they taught you what you liked and did not like. Perhaps though, you did not know that a woman is more a woman when she has the heart of a child. My grandmother taught me that. Though I did not know entirely what she meant at the time. She said it was a shame for a woman to outgrow her childhood completely. She was a passionate woman, my grandmother.”

  Aradia stretched slowly, erotically, her skin shimmering from their spirited loving making.

  “I came to understand my grandmother’s teachings about passion,” said Aradia, “more when you and I made love for the first time. It was not as if she specifically spoke about making love, just passion. In fact, sometimes I think she talked about nothing else.”

  He again became quiet. After a few moments he said, “You make me think, Cara mia. I love that about you. You captivate me with your mind, your body, and your love.”

  Moving towards him again she wet her finger and with slow erotic circles traced his nipples, and seeing how quickly he was aroused, guessed that he had not even known how sensitive he was in that area. Slowly she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck, kissing him below his Adams apple. “I am wet. Here, feel what you do to me!” Tomis moaned, and pulled away from her, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

  “No Cara mia, we have work to do.” He tapped her lightly on the bottom. “Come over here, please.” He moved her towards a chaise he had earlier put in the corner. “The light here is ideal,” he told her. You are to pose. Today I sculpt you!”

  “Oh!” She squealed like a child, throwing her arms up in the air in delightful abandon. But then, thinking of the pose she would hold she leisurely brought her arms down hugging herself, slowly tracing her body with her hands to feel the curves he would sculpt.

  “Oh, this is so exciting!” She nearly purred as she held her arms out to him.

  “You will not think it so exciting my little siren, when you have been in the same position for hours and still I tell you not to move.”

  Playfully smiling like a minx, she teased, “What will you give me if I make no complaint through the day?”

  His eyebrow shot up. “You will pose for me all day and never complain? Humph,” he said, “We shall see.”

  After positioning her on the chaise as he wanted her, he stepped over to the clay he had brought in earlier. Dipping his hands in water, he began to work with the clay. Excitedly he began to form the clay with an artist’s eye. Looking over at her, he noticed that she had already moved from the position he had set her in, and was about to say something when he saw a rainbow of iridescent colors shimmering around her.

  Closing her eyes, Aradia’s voice a sensual song, she said, “This way I will not move.”

  Tomis watched, enchanted, as the rainbow of colors around her became stronger. Aradia remained motionless; her light breathing was the only movement that could be detected. She had a look of deep serenity that he wanted to capture, and he deftly began sculpting.

  “Open your eyes for me,” he murmured finally, and Aradia obediently opened them, a slight smile dusting her lips.

  Aradia sat in the same position on the small lounging chair until daylight was fading, her robe thrown over one breast, one hand resting on her leg, her other arm by her side, and one foot curled behind the other. Tomis was well pleased with his work. Delighted with his progress, he had enjoyed every moment of the day. They had deep discussions on many matters, as well as soul-quaking silence. They had moments where their eyes locked and he was not certain how long he stood drinking in her depths.

  At last, reluctantly, he took a wet cloth and placed it over his work.

  “We are done for the day, Cara’mea. You were correct. That position was ever so much better than the other. Somehow it captured everything you are. But it is beyond me to understand how you can stay without moving for so long, and not complain.”

  Aradia noticed his eyes grow wide. A huge smiled crossed his lips and finally he spoke, a tinge of wonder in his voice.

  “You are The Queen of the Fairies! I thought that after making love to you and then being lucky enough to listen to you discourse on political matters as well as philosophical ones, that there could be no other surprises. But yet, I was wrong!”

  “You see them?” uttered Aradia in amazement!

  “You have been told before that you have rainbow fairies that dance for you?” Tomis stared at her, his eyebrow arching in question.

  “No…no one has ever been able to see them before, except my grandmother. But she had the sight.”

  “Tell me more,” he requested, as he stood motionless, wanting to catch every move of the sparkling beings that lazily encircled her.

  “I was told by my grandmother that my colors are like a rainbow. She also told me not everyone has the elementals with them. They…are different than fairies…they help you. But the day grows short; at this moment I want you here.”

  Beckoning for Tomis to come to her side, she made room for him on the tiny chaise.

  His hands still wet and caked with clay, he dipped them in water and went to her, molding her curves as he had the clay. For Aradia, this was a most sensual experience; his hands felt like silk. He felt her purring vibration under his touch.

  If the light were not faili
ng, he thought, he would go back to his clay and work, instead he said, “It will be dark soon. We mustn’t stay much longer. How will you enter the main house?”

  “The same way I left,” answered Aradia. “I see just as well at night as I do during the day. The moon is full, she will light my way.”

  He knelt in front of her, parted her legs gently and ran his tongue along the inside of her thigh. Throwing her head back in abandon, her back arched, she was his. He moved his tongue in circles. The feeling of her response excited him; she was present to his every move.

  She began massaging his manhood with her foot and found that he was ready. She rose up off the small chaise taking his hand in hers and went back to the bed they had made of blankets. She knelt down on all fours and invited him by arching up to meet him when he came towards her.

  He entered her from behind, moving his hand to her moist mound, touching her gently at first, arousing her with his finger. Finally, when his excitement rose to a peak, and he could not wait, he exploded, crying out, “Regina bella, mea Regina bella. Beautiful Queen, my beautiful Queen.”

  Feeling his hot seed fill her and hearing his words brought Aradia to climax again and again. Squeezing her womanhood around him to give him pleasure, she milked more seed from his shaft and he exploded once again calling out her name. Turning her over, he entered her again, gently pinning her down as he watched waves of pleasure washing over her radiant face.

  Wrapping her legs around him, pushing herself ever closer to the brink, she cried out, “Don’t ever leave me; don’t ever leave me.”

  Climaxing for the last time, she sank deeper into the blankets and he collapsed on top of her and they slept as he shielded her from the chill of the night air.

  It was early morning when Aradia finally pulled herself away from their house of love, as she silently called it. Running barefoot through the garden, she turned to look back, and saw that the sky beyond the row of Cyprus trees had a hint of color. Arriving at the back of the house she saw a rain barrel, and turning it over she moved it under a low portion of the roof, and then climbed on top. Stretching as much as she could to reach the low roof, she finally grabbed hold and pulled herself up. Quietly and lightly she tip toed across the roof and into her window.