The Women's War

by Jenna Glass

  “I don’t know how long the secret will last,” Tynthanal said. “We are quite isolated here, and I can’t think of a reason why any high-level magic user would come to see us, but it’s bound to happen eventually.”

  “Eventually is better than now,” she said with a fatalistic shrug. Maybe this was all too good to last, but after the hardships of the last months—after the great hardship that was part and parcel of the life of an abigail—she would happily take any respite the world cared to provide. Both she and Tynthanal had been sent to this place as a form of punishment, and there was a certain satisfying irony to having discovered the Well.

  Impulsively, she reached over and put a hand on Tynthanal’s leg. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping control of your men as you have,” she said.

  She had hoped that with Tynthanal as their leader, the men would not be as vicious as Delnamal’s had been, but she’d never dared believe that not once would any of the abigails be coerced into sexual relations. Tynthanal was an extraordinary leader—and he had handpicked the men who had accompanied them on their long journey. When he’d forbidden his men from taking any abigail to his bed without her consent, they’d obeyed. This new Abbey-in-the-making was about the closest thing to paradise Chanlix could imagine.

  To her surprise, he covered her hand on his leg with his own, giving her fingers a squeeze and not letting go. She hadn’t intended the touch to be flirtatious—at least, she didn’t think she had—but her pulse sped up, and she found herself practically holding her breath.

  He couldn’t possibly be interested in her. That was ridiculous! There were any number of younger, more beautiful women who would jump at the chance to crawl into his bed. Chanlix had never been a great beauty, even before the strain of being a virtual prisoner of the Abbey had taken its toll. But Tynthanal still had not released her hand, and his thumb had begun stroking lightly over her skin. She swallowed hard, almost afraid to look at him. She was too old to play the shy miss, and yet she was too confused to know what to do. Maybe she was misinterpreting his touch. She had to be.

  “Why have you never married?” she asked, then was shocked at her audacity. It was certainly none of her business. Blood heated her cheeks, and she wished she could take the words back.

  She felt rather than saw his shrug. “It takes a certain kind of woman to be a military wife.”

  She risked a glance at him and found him looking at her with an expression of…tenderness? “You’re a king’s son,” she said. And ridiculously handsome, as well. But she managed to keep that thought to herself. “I’d think you could find plenty of that ‘certain kind of woman’ if you wanted to.”

  He shrugged again. “Perhaps. But I have no lands or titles to pass on, so I have no urgent need for an heir. There seemed no point in rushing things.”

  “Because you certainly don’t need marriage to lure women to your bed.” She meant it as a compliment, but a hint of sharpness may have crept into her tone. Half the women of the Abbey were here because men had risked their ruin to enjoy their bodies outside of marriage. It was so easy for a man to have whatever he wanted without having to fear the consequences. She tried to move her hand away, but Tynthanal’s fingers tightened on hers.

  “Do you think so poorly of me, Chanlix?” he asked, looking into her eyes for all the world like her good opinion really mattered to him.

  In all honesty, she didn’t think poorly of him at all, but she wasn’t ready to give up her anger just yet. “I think you are not a virgin.”

  Tynthanal laughed. “No, I am not a virgin.”

  “And you have not been a customer at the Abbey.”

  The laughter faded, and he moved a little closer to her on the blanket. The intensity of his eyes from close-up was too much, and she averted her gaze.

  “I would never take a woman who didn’t want me.”

  It was Chanlix’s turn to laugh, though she still couldn’t face him. “I think you could find many an abigail who wanted you.”

  “But if I paid for them, they’d have no choice. How would I ever know if they wanted me or not?”

  She was startled enough that she looked at him again, then found herself trapped by his eyes and the earnestness of his expression. “You’re sure you didn’t avoid the Abbey just to avoid seeing your mother there?”

  He closed his eyes, and this time it was he who turned away. In the fading light, she could see the hard outline of his jaw, and she knew that her words had wounded him. Possibly because there’d been a hint of truth in them.

  “Forgive me,” she said softly. “That was unkind of me.”

  He sighed heavily and opened his eyes, looking at her once more. He was not a coward, that was for sure.

  “I believe I would have felt the same way even if my mother were not in the Abbey. But of course I can never be sure.”

  “I’m sure. You are a good man. I have been angry for a very long time, and I took it out on you.” It was almost beyond comprehension that this man could share a parent with Prince Delnamal, who was as far from a good man as it was possible to be. How it must gall Tynthanal to be related to such a monster. She scooted closer until their sides were touching, trying to give him physical evidence that she was now stating her honest opinion.

  He let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. The intimacy of the gesture made her shiver pleasantly. “I’ll try my best to live up to your good opinion.”

  She suspected he very rarely failed at anything he tried.

  * * *

  —

  While she waited anxiously for Graesan’s arrival, Ellin dotted on a couple drops of perfume, the sweet floral scent faint but noticeable. She then checked her reflection in the mirror, wondering how shocked Graesan would be at her dishabille. Her nightdress was of a featherlight white lawn, soft against her skin and translucent in the light, but she had covered it with a dressing gown of frothy white lace. Either garment by itself would be frighteningly revealing, but together they hid her from neck to ankles. Star had suggested that for the best hope of success, Ellin should do away with the dressing gown, but although having a man led through a secret passageway into her room at night was shockingly daring behavior already, somehow Ellin had felt revealing so much of her body would take things a step too far.

  She heard the echo of footsteps from the passageway and whirled to face the tapestry, her heart leaping into her throat. This plan had felt like an exciting lark when she and Star had put it together, but now she felt something very akin to panic.

  From behind the closed door, she heard the faint rumble of voices, one male, one female. She couldn’t make out the words, but the woman’s tone sounded coaxing and the man’s suspicious. Ellin didn’t know what Star had told Graesan to convince him to follow her through the secret passage, but he was certainly not expecting what was about to happen. Moments later, the door opened quietly on oiled hinges, and Star swept the tapestry aside to reveal Graesan standing in the passage at full alert, his entire body tense as if expecting attack.

  He gasped audibly when he caught sight of Ellin with her uncovered hair and her nightclothes, and even in the dim light of the simple luminant Star carried, Ellin could see the flush of red that rose to his cheeks. She met Star’s eyes, and the two women shared a conspiratorial smile.

  “Well, go on in,” Star said to Graesan. “I’m almost certain she won’t bite. Unless you want her to.”

  Ellin suspected her cheeks turned a similar color to Graesan’s as he stood there indecisively. If he wished to pretend even a hint of propriety in their relationship, he should have turned around and fled the moment he caught sight of her, but that did not seem to be his inclination.

  Ellin licked her lips nervously, afraid to do anything that might frighten Graesan away or make him think better of entering her room. She felt the beat of her heart in her throat, and her breaths came
short with a combination of nerves and yearning. Silently, she prayed that he would accept her invitation, that he would not turn out to be just one more man who believed she was incapable of making her own decisions.

  Graesan visibly swallowed, the fingers of his right hand twitching as he closed and opened his fist in quick succession. Then he turned to fix his gaze on Star, and Ellin knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “I would trust Star with my life,” she said. “Whether you come in or whether you don’t, she will tell no one.”

  “This is…a foolish risk,” he said, but the rasp in his voice told her how very much he wanted to take that risk.

  She walked closer, her loose nightclothes rustling and moving around her, giving him the occasional glimpse of barely covered leg. “All the good things in life are a risk,” she countered, putting a little extra sway in her hips, hoping she looked alluring rather than awkward. “I happen to think this is a risk worth taking.”

  He stepped forward as if pulled by invisible hands. He hesitated for just a heartbeat more on the threshold, then stepped into the room. Behind him, Star beamed her approval.

  “Have fun, you two,” she said with an impish wink. “And be sure to bolt this door.”

  Then she closed the door, and Ellin and Graesan were alone in the bedroom.

  He stood there drinking her in with his eyes, and she felt like she was about to go up in flames at the heat in his gaze. She drifted past him, heeding Star’s last bit of advice and bolting the door to the secret passage. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to enter her bedchamber without permission, but there was no reason to take chances. Then she smoothed down the tapestry and turned to face Graesan.

  The look on his face was equal parts desire and worry. Ellin’s whole body tingled with nerves, not because she was afraid of the consequences of her actions, but because she feared some action of hers might cause him to change his mind.

  “I want you,” she said in a husky whisper. “More than anything else I’ve ever wanted. I hope you know that.” And she hoped even more that he felt the same, though there seemed to be little doubt that he did. The only question was whether he would act on his desires.

  He reached out and took her hands in his, drawing her close to him, but not all the way into his arms. She tilted her head up so she could look into those heated eyes, and the fire in them caused her skin to prickle with gooseflesh.

  “I want you more than I want my next breath,” he whispered, his hands squeezing hers tight. “But I’m terrified that you might be hurt because of me.”

  She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not afraid.” Not of that, at least. “And I’m stronger than you think.”

  He let go of one of her hands so he could reach up and brush the back of his hand down the side of her face. “Only a blind man would fail to see the strength in you. And I am not a blind man.”

  She shivered at his touch, and his words flooded her with a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with desire. He was not a courtier, not a man accustomed to dispensing empty flattery. If he said he saw strength in her, then he meant it.

  “Then why do you still hesitate?”

  He cupped her cheek in his hand, and she closed her eyes and reveled in the touch. “Because this cannot end well. You may not have to marry Zarsha of Nandel anymore, but you will have to marry someone, and that someone is not me. Any time we have together is but stolen moments, and every moment will make the inevitable parting hurt more.”

  Ellin swallowed hard, her throat suddenly filled with an aching lump. How she wished she could tell him he was wrong, but such was not possible. Various members of the royal council had already started maneuvering themselves or their relatives into position to contend for her hand. They would not push too hard just yet, when her mourning was still fresh, but it had already become obvious to her that they would expect her to choose a couple of prime candidates, if not name the future king himself, well before her year of mourning was finished.

  Even as he seemed determined to drive her away with his words, Graesan pulled her in closer, until her body was pressed flush against his and his arms slipped around her. Her skin under the thin layers of lace and lawn felt exquisitely sensitive, and though his mail kept her from feeling the contours of his body, she felt the strength and warmth of him as she melted into his embrace.

  “The greatest pain I can imagine,” she murmured, “is to embark on a marriage of state without ever having known love. When my father contracted me to Zarsha, I thought all hope was lost, and I had no ability to control my own destiny. Now I do.”

  Instead of waiting for him to overcome the last of his reservations, she lifted up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. Graesan let out a groan that sounded almost like pain, then crushed her body against his and abandoned himself to the kiss.

  Ellin’s head swam as she tried to absorb all the glorious and unfamiliar sensations at once. The surprising softness and warmth of his mouth on hers, the faint rasp of stubble on his cheek, the scent of his skin, the need that tightened her nipples and made her press her legs firmly together.

  Still holding her against him, Graesan speared his fingers through the hair at the top of her loose braid, tilting her head back to get a better angle. His lips worked restlessly against hers, and she gasped when she felt the soft brush of his tongue. She and Star had discussed in detail the mechanics of joining their bodies, but they had mostly skipped over all talk of preliminaries. Ellin had thought she’d known what to expect, but she had apparently been mistaken.

  Graesan’s hands roamed restlessly up and down her back, the touch through the delicate fabric more intense than anything she had ever felt before. She tried to explore with her own hands just as Graesan did, but it was hard to feel much of anything beneath his mail. He tore himself away from her, and she was about to protest until she saw him pulling at the belt on his tabard. The length of leather came loose, and he took the belt and its attached scabbard and sword and laid it carefully on a chair. Then he pulled off the tabard to reveal the fine silver links of his mail.

  The mail was attached by a series of buckles on both sides, and while Graesan began working the buckles loose on one side, Ellin began on the other. She found her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t for the life of her have said whether the shaking was from nerves or excitement. Possibly a little of both.

  Finally, the mail was unfastened, and she helped Graesan lift it off over his head. She was surprised by how heavy the mail shirt was, especially considering it was not full battle mail.

  Underneath, Graesan wore a nearly translucent linen shirt to protect his skin. The shirt hung loose over a pair of tight-fitting tan trousers that tucked into his boots. Beneath the hem of his shirt, she could see how the lacings of those trousers bulged outward, and her heart skipped a beat. He watched her examine him, a smile playing over his lips as he let her look her fill. He even turned a full circle so she could take in the view from the back. She laughed breathlessly, and his lips turned down in a mock frown.

  “Laughter was not the reaction I was looking for,” he teased, and her smile grew wider.

  “Well if you don’t want me to laugh at you, you should probably stop preening.”

  He touched a hand to his chest with a gasp of outrage. “I am not preening. I am showing off. There’s a difference.”

  She giggled at the silliness of his act, but the urge to laugh died in her throat when he reached out and grabbed the end of the sash that held her dressing gown closed. His eyes met hers with a renewed flare of lust.

  “May I?”

  Ellin couldn’t find her voice, so she merely nodded as her pulse fluttered in her throat. Star had assured her a thousand times that Graesan would find her body pleasing to look at, but no amount of reassurance could entirely quell her anxiety as Graesan pulled on that sash and the dressing gown
fell open.

  Shyness caused her to lower her eyes, but her gaze never quite made it to the floor as her eyes locked on the fastenings of Graesan’s trousers once more. Something inside her relaxed at this very visual evidence that he found her form pleasing indeed, so she reached up and gave the dressing gown the nudge it needed to slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor in a snowdrift of lace.

  “You are so beautiful,” Graesan whispered reverently as his gaze scanned up and down her body.

  Her whole body flushed with pleasure at the compliment, but before she found the breath to offer one of her own, he was on her once more, mouth seizing hers in a kiss that drove all coherent thought from her mind.

  This time, she could feel his body against hers. Her hands roamed over his back as Graesan kissed his way down her throat. She let her head fall backward to allow him access. She was disappointed that he needed to put some space between their bodies as his kisses traveled downward, but she loved the feel of his lips against her skin too much to complain. The hungry sound that rose from her throat hardly sounded like her at all.

  Suddenly, Graesan pulled away. He was panting heavily, his eyes almost completely black with his desire as he took a double handful of her nightdress and tugged upward. Obediently, she raised her arms so he could pull the nightdress off over her head.

  For the first time in her life, Ellin stood completely naked in front of a man, and she felt not even the tiniest sliver of embarrassment or self-consciousness. How could she see the way he was looking at her and not know he found her beautiful? Without taking her eyes from him, she backed up until she felt the edge of her bed against her legs, then climbed atop the mattress.

  Graesan followed eagerly, and soon she was lying on her back with his body hovering over hers as his hands stroked every inch of her. Star’s attempts to describe the experience, the pleasure clever hands could elicit, had been woefully inadequate. She had to bite her tongue to stifle her cry when the pleasure peaked. And this was just the prelude! What would it feel like when their bodies were finally joined? She was more than eager to find out.