by Marian Gray
My jaw slackened. “You mean like what’s happening in the palace right now?”
“There’s that.” He nodded. “And then there’s the one behind a closed door in the soft darkness.”
My chest tightened at the thought of it. I wasn’t ready for this. “I haven’t slept in two days. My thighs are chafed raw, my back is stiff from poor riding posture, and after that night with King Audrio—”
“Then let me make it all disappear.” He cut me off. “You haven’t seen it, but I do have a tender side under the sheets. Let me pay my respects as a faithful servant. Spend your last night in Rekkesov with me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Then, if I do not see you again before you sail in the morning, may the gods bless you and fare you well.”
I stood there as shock took hold of me. He was just going to let me go? No force or commands or tricks? He was actually going to respect my wishes. “Thank you, and I wish the same for you.” I turned to walk away, but I couldn’t. Something inside of me nagged at me. I was refusing something I wanted for what? Fear due to inexperience? Prince Torram wasn’t the love of my life, but I was lying to myself by saying I didn’t want to spend one night with him—to have a small taste of what it would be like to be a princess.
I sighed, turning back around. “I do want to spend tonight with you, but—” I was going to have to say it. “I’m umm…”
His brow lifted. “You’re what?”
“I’m a virgin… sort of.” While Menaries had never entered me, my body had been poked and prodded. I wasn’t sure what to call myself, and to be honest, I didn’t want it to matter anymore. I was sick of the labels and obsession surrounding it all.
The phrase didn’t make him flinch. “There are other ways to pleasure a woman than with a cock.”
I sank in the bed. The feather-stuffed mattress molded and contoured around my frame, holding me in a soft grip. My elbow slid along the pristine sheets as I propped myself up. The fire smoldered in the hearth, giving off more heat than light. Only outlines and shadows were visible.
Torram’s silhouette stood before me. Tall, with muscles wrapping and weaving around every bone.
His hands grazed along my calves, sliding across the outside of my thighs. He bundled the thin material of my shift around my waist, pressing a kiss just below my belly button. His hot breath spread and slipped along my skin. Goosebumps raised in response.
He leaned back on his heels and dipped three fingers into a bowl. When he pulled them out, thick shiny strings clung to each of his digits.
“What is it?” I asked as he lifted my foot.
“Linseed oil.” He slid the gooey substance along my skin, and his fingers worked in masterful unity to rub and caress skin, bone, and muscle. “I always use it after a fight or physically trying day. It helps to relax the body.”
His strong, slow touch made my limbs swim with ecstasy. My head crashed onto his pillow, and my eyes shut with a light bliss. In short strokes, he teased and massaged the length of my legs. I melted in his grasp. Relief swept across my flesh.
I listened to his steady breathing, counting each exhale and inhale. The rolling motion over my skin, waved my mind into serenity.
And there, I found him, connected with him.
There was unique sincerity in his actions and eyes, the way he took such great care with every inch of my body. All without asking for anything but to grow closer to me and receive my affection. He was worshiping me as an ark does a spade to gain favor, but this felt different. It lacked the shallowness so often portrayed in their stories about leaders and spades.
There was something here to be explored, something that went far beyond an exchange of power and respect. Perhaps it was the same reason I had become entangled with Iver—he saw me as a person and not as my title. He recognized my potential and ignored my current predicament. He believed in me.
Torram pressed several soft kisses against my inner thighs, making the muscle quiver. My hands gripped in the sheets in anticipation as I released a long breath, forcing myself to relax.
A wet tongue pressed to my slit, and my breath stifled in my chest. Torram circled and drew around me. Pleasure irradiated from the area, making me tense and twitch.
“Relax,” he said as he pulled away.
That was easier said than done. It was all so sensitive and demanded my attention, tearing my mind from any thoughts other than the sensations I felt.
I sighed as my fingers sank into his hair. They twisted and played with each tendril as he continued to pleasure me. He dragged his nails along my skin, sending goosebumps racing down my skin.
I was lost in the feeling of his hands on my body and mouth on my flesh. My hips rose on their own accord. My thighs struggled against the weight, still worn and tired. But the rest of me lusted after that climactic release. I rocked my body, lengthening his strokes into long stretches of undying relief.
At that moment I knew, whoever this Athiss god was would forever receive my adulated praises. It was because of him that I experienced this unbridled pleasure in Torram’s bed. It was through him that the prince had reached out, wanting me and desiring to be at my side. It was in his name I would find all that I needed and wanted. He was my deliverer, not the magic and not some man.
“Torram,” I whimpered as my flesh came undone.
His trained touch maneuvered and manipulated my every fiber. Sparks and flashes of euphoria burst as burning tingles spiraled along my arms. I released a breathy moan and clutched to the man. My legs squirmed, and the impending thump of an orgasm oscillated in my pelvis.
After days of pain, poverty, and degradation, this was what I needed. This little release would return the hope in my breath. It would push out all the angst and suffering I had felt since I left my northern coast.
My body went stiff as my breath caught in my throat. Waves of rapture burst from between my thighs. They pushed out to my fingertips and toes, drowning away any other emotion or sensation. My back arched, and my heart pounded.
“Gods,” I cried under the undulating pulse.
XLII
The Gods’ Punishment
My return home was anything but spectacular. I strode into the city with a rickety wagon behind me, a teenager at my side, and a beggar sitting with the dead. When we reached the hall, the guard called for my servants. The three of us were fed and bathed, while Irska and Sigmun’s bodies were taken away to be prepared. We spooned the meaty soup and bread into our mouths without a single word shared between us.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” Elder Herder’s voice floated into the hall. “Or has the ark returned to us?” His slender frame strode to us with a thin smile plastered on his face. “When I heard of your arrival, I couldn’t believe it.” He wore a teal tunic with a small gold necklace and embroidered sleeves.
“I don’t know how, but I managed to find my way back.” I did my best to return his warmth, keeping the conversation light. “How have you been, Herder?”
He held out his hands, showing off his clothes. A thick metal band glinted in the light. “Thanks to your accomplishments up north, pretty well. We have heard a number of tales about your pursuits, some more wild than others, but I am sure you will correct the record.”
“Nice arm band.”
Herder blushed. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind that we skipped the ceremony. We weren’t sure when you would return, and well, an agreement was an agreement. As soon as the first wagon of tribute arrived, the four of us donned our bands.”
“I’m sure Elder Tuskyor didn’t like that. He’s a staunch traditionalist, remember?”
Herder sighed. “He can be stubborn, but the three of us were able to make him see reason.”
There was also a small little law that prohibited them from touching any gold brought in by my efforts until they were sworn to me. “How has Arus fared in my absence?”
“Well but there are several matters that re
quire your eyes.”
I nodded, thankful things were as I had hoped they would be.
“And I am very sorry to hear about Irska. When the news reached my ears, I couldn’t believe it. Arus will weep for her.”
His comment punched me in the gut, and I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t want to hear her name or discuss her death. Just the image of her face had enough power to twist my gut and make me bury my face in my hands. “Thank you.”
“Also—” His eyes dashed to the two men at my side. “I see you have brought two guests with you.”
“Yes, Lars is the son of Thane Ristof of Lungdal and my new ward. And Albin, is simply passing through.” I had taken him back to Arus with me as promised, but I didn’t want him staying here. With the gods’ revenge yet to be exacted, I feared the town would get swept up in their plans. I couldn’t risk any harm coming to Arus or her people because of Albin.
“Pass through?” He spat out his soup. “No.” He shook his head. “It is quite the opposite, Ark Iver. I intend to stay here and rebuild myself.”
I leaned back in my chair. The food had become unappetizing. “Here? In Arus?”
“Of course. Why not? My past won’t hinder me.” He waved the notion away with his hand.
My jaw tightened. I would need to deal with this swiftly.
The fading purple sky sat atop the dark waters. The sun had already disappeared, but its final rays created pink clouds on an indigo backdrop.
The torch in my hand flickered as the wind swept across the coast. Its bright flame stole the gazes of the large crowd surrounding me. I knew I had to say something, they were all waiting. But my mouth was dry, and a large lump sat in my throat, refusing to budge. A pressure built behind my eyes that I fought to keep at bay. I feared if I said something, anything, the tears would overwhelm me.
I wasn’t ashamed to show that the loss of Sigmun and Irska hurt, but it couldn’t come now. Arus needed to see me as a strong and stalwart leader. I had to be their pillar of strength in hard times. If I couldn’t compose myself now over something seemingly small, how would I react in the face of life-threatening challenges and change?
I swallowed hard and glanced down at the ground, wishing Brungen or Cirithe or Svotheim would magically appear at my side. I took a deep breath and faced the crowd. I couldn’t put this off any longer.
“Come and look on me, O Death.” I began in Norrender with an old funeral prayer that had fallen out of popularity. It was the only thing my lips could speak without my voice choking. “Man is but a handful of dust, and life is a violent storm. As in life, so in death, a man is no better and no worse for where he is but rather for what he is. May this departed soul continue its journey, reentering the cycle as it has done a millennia before, knowing that he will be greatly missed. May our spirits meet again in another time and another place, the gods and goddesses willing. This rite we perform in your honor. This rite ends in peace.”
I trudged forward and thrust my torch at the base of the pyre. Fire whipped around the mound, surrounding Sigmun’s linen-wrapped body. With his wounds sewn and flesh cleaned, he looked as though he were merely sleeping. His parents stood at the side of the pyre. His mother buried her face in her husband’s chest as he looked on with the flames flickering in his eyes.
Three horn blasts sounded from the harbor, announcing their departure. Irska’s ship was sailing for Varund. I wanted to be on those planks, guiding her back home. But I couldn’t leave Arus with him still here. He was death walking amongst us.
“Shall I send word to your servants to prepare for dinner?” one of my guard asked.
“No,” I said as my eyes found Albin. “I’m not returning to the hall just yet. Stay here and guard the pyre. I’ll come to you when I am ready to take my leave.”
He nodded, and I left his side. I moved with an easy pace, but my steps and thoughts didn’t feel like mine. I was simply an observer in my body, not at the reins but along for the ride. It should have worried me how out of touch I felt in my own flesh, but an easy bliss settled upon me instead.
“Ark Iver,” Albin called out to me. I greeted him with a quick handshake before he continued. “I know the timing is ill on my end, but I wanted to have my voice heard before I miss the opportunity.”
I nodded. “Walk with me. I need to check the harbor to see that they made it out alright.”
Albin smiled; his yellow teeth were on full display. He didn’t appear as tired and broken as when we had first met. Some citizens had obviously taken pity on him and given him new clothes and a bar of soap.
“First, I want to thank you for following through with our agreement. You could’ve left me in Torvik after Heimer was slain. I appreciate your honesty.” His legs quickened in pace, struggling to keep up with me. “Second, and this one pains me a bit to admit, but I’ve overhead you mention several times to the other Varundian fellow, Brungen, that you intend to open more trade lines for Arus. And as I’ve told you, I was a trader. I want back in. I want exclusivity to a line, even if it’s only one.”
Heat swept through me. “Trading again, really? You don’t think it’s wise to abandon that profession and find something else, given the predicament you wound up in before?”
Albin laughed. I didn’t know if he was trying to ease the mood or he genuinely found what I said to be funny. “Stumbling upon Heimer was such an… impossible thing. Do you know what I mean? It was like being struck by lightning twice. I doubt something like that will ever happen again in this cycle.”
“It’s not about whether or not you’ll meet a troll again. It’s about learning from your mistakes and atoning for your transgressions against the gods.”
“I’ve already paid that debt.” His voice assumed a stern tone. “I lost everything. Heimer and Oskar stole my life from me.”
I stopped at the harbor’s edge, watching as the white sail billowed and caught the wind. “That’s where we differ in opinion. That wasn’t punishment. The gods would not give unto a troll in order to punish you. The thought of them rewarding Oskar and Heimer for your mistakes is just lunacy.”
He cleared his throat as his weight shifted to his other foot. “I’m sorry. When did you take your vows and submit your life to the Temple? How dare you presume to know the gods. Who do you think you are?”
His words rolled off of me. It didn’t matter what he said or did. His fate had already been decided. My hand slid down to my waist. “I am a son of Othun.”
He scoffed. “I’m still waiting to see you do something great that warrants that title.”
I smirked at him, meeting his eyes. Without another thought, my hand gripped the dagger at my side, whipping it from its sheath. I dragged it across Albin’s throat in one clean swipe, severing the flesh. Blood drained from the long cut in small red streams.
His eyes widened as his hands lifted, covering the wound. He opened his mouth to speak but a gurgling sound escaped in its place.
“I’ll admit it; this isn’t that spectacular of a feat.” I sauntered behind him. “But it does feel rather satisfying to be the gods’ executioner. I hope your final moments are as dark as all those that have been killed due to your greedy actions.” My boot lifted, and I gave him a solid kick.
He stumbled forward, tripping and falling headfirst into the lapping ocean. I could hear his body struggle in the black waters, but the salt water would drink from his open neck before he could escape.
I sank to my knees, held out my hands, bowed my head, and prayed. “May this departed spirit end its journey, ousted from the cycle it was once a part of for millennia.”
XLIII
A Trio
With careful movements, I lifted his arm from my torso, placing it on the soft fur covers at our sides. I slid from the bed, naked and rested, every inch of me wanting to crawl back into the warmth, but I needed to get to my own quarters before the city began to stir.
I slipped into my shift and laced my boots. My feet crept across the wood floor, several b
oards groaned beneath my weight, but Torram didn’t so much as stifle an extra breath. The man had escaped this world and was off to another. My hand drew back the bolt on the lock, and I opened the door just far enough for my body to slip through. Every scratch and simper of the metal blasted against my ears.
Torram’s apartments within the palace were empty, save the guards, making my dash back to my room less of an embarrassing endeavor. With the court still in bed due to the feast last night, I stole through the hallways, weaving around corners, and passing grand works of art.
When my eyes met the entrance to my guest room, my jaw fell open. The door stood wide open, and as far as I could see, there was no one inside.
I darted over, my heart racing in my chest. The beds were unmade—Astra and Svotheim had slept here last night, but all of our stuff was gone. Even my own pack and weapons were missing.
What was going on?
I raced out of the guest apartments and out to the entrance hall. A pair of palace guards stood beside the main entrance, alert and heavily armed.
“Something is wrong,” I shouted at them. My lungs burned. “Svotheim of Varund is missing.”
The pair shared a glance before breaking into laughter. “Svotheim and Astra left the palace nearly an hour ago.”
“What?” I whispered. Disbelief clung to the word.
“They were escorted out by the king’s steward, Solvild, with their packs in hand.”
Dew still clung to the leaves, and the sky hung with the lavender color. The morning was delicate. Only the easy chirp of a bird dared to break its crystal tranquility—and myself, as I sprinted through the city toward the harbor.
How could Svotheim have just gathered his things and left without me? He didn’t even mention any intention to sail out this morning. It was unthinkable that he would just abandon me here in Rekkesov.