Lover of Thorns and Holy Gods Page 3

  A large hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Gurn’s blue eyes sparked with both sympathy and gladness. He understood Silhara’s concerns but rejoiced with Martise in the news of another addition to their family.

  Anyah ran an affectionate hand down the servant’s arm. “Come, Gurn. We’ll leave them to it. I suspect your master might need another bottle of Peleta’s Fire before his nerves calm.” She laughed when Silhara glared at her. “Congratulations, Até,” she trilled, using the Kurman word for “papa.”

  When they were alone again, Martise captured a lock of Silhara’s hair and twined it through her fingers. “Até. I like that. I would be Amé, yes?”

  He nodded. Almost of his own volition, his hand slid across the blankets to rest over her abdomen. Martise stilled, waiting. Her Gift, both volatile and protective, had deserted Martise when the demon king Megiddo abducted her. Or so he thought at the time. But it had never left, never faded, only retreated to guard something weaker and more vulnerable than Martise herself—this new spark of life sheltered inside her.

  Despite himself, his curiosity grew. He concentrated, murmuring a spell he hadn’t used before to lure Martise’s Gift into responding to him. It hadn’t done so in previous attempts. Silhara focused, eyes closed, offering up a silent reassurance that he meant no harm, that this being he helped create was part of the woman he valued most and therefore under his protection.

  Her Gift, different from his, almost sentient and independent, reached out. He sensed its touch, like a ghostly fingertip that slid across his spirit in a tentative caress. It was different this time, its amber light edged in glowing silver. He saw it in its mind’s eye. Within those colors, a bright spark danced and capered before rushing toward him.

  Silhara inhaled sharply, inundated by the sensation of newness, of fragility, of...recognition. The feeling worked like both blade and torch, lancing the boil of his fear and cauterizing the wound left behind. He laughed low in his throat, eyes still closed, lost in the connection between him and this child he had sired on the woman for whom he’d sacrifice all.

  “Hello, small crow,” he said softly.

  ~END~

  A MATTER OF TRUST

  Ildiko eyed the solar’s closed door longingly, wondering how many of Serovek Pangion’s other guests she might offend if she leapt out of her chair and bolted for freedom. Her escape route, however, was blocked by the wives or sisters of thanes loyal to the Margrave of High Salure, and she was surrounded on either side by more.

  The pleasant, shallow chit-chat she expected and engaged in when the women first entered the solar had quickly devolved into lewd gossip and speculation regarding their host and his carnal talents.

  “Oh, I remember a fine night three summers ago. I rode him all night long and into the next morning.”

  “With or without a saddle?”

  The women around Ildiko laughed. A few exchanged knowing smirks, as if they shared a common knowledge of the “morning ride.” Others wore blushes or displayed narrow-eyed stares of envy.

  Ildiko was among those who blushed. She didn’t suffer from false modesty, only a desire not to learn the details of Lord Pangion’s prowess in the bedchamber. Or the well room. Or the stables. Or the pastures. Holy gods, was it any wonder Serovek of High Salure had earned the title of Beladine Stallion?

  “All night?” another woman chimed in. “That should have made you good and bow-legged.”

  More tittering laughter that abruptly changed to gasps when a third woman said “Plenty of men can sustain a good gallop over a long ride. His lordship’s weakness isn’t what’s between a woman’s thighs but between her teeth.”

  “Nooo,” someone else said. “I heard he’s far too big—”

  “Oh, he’s a mouthful all right.”

  More admiring laughter followed, and Ildiko did her best to maintain a bland expression and hide behind her wine goblet. She would never be able to look at Serovek the same way again after this conversation.

  Beladine noblewomen were no different from Gauri noblewomen when it came to gossip, and they were just as quick to swap stories of bedroom conquests as their male counterparts. Much of Ildiko’s education about what went on between the sheets had come not only from overhearing servants’ gossip but from such talk in the solars. She hadn’t been a complete innocent when she married Brishen, but her first lover had been as untried as she. Most of what she knew had been gleaned from gatherings like these where the talk was forthcoming, competitive and often lurid.

  She waited for the inevitable and tried not to cringe when one of the women turned to her with an inquisitive gleam in her eye. “Do the Kai—”

  Ildiko offered a tight smile and cut her off mid-sentence. “I’m reticent by nature, Lady Bladuza, and not at ease discussing such matters. I must beg your understanding if I remain silent on the subject.”

  Lady Bladuza’s expression soured, and she put her back to Ildiko in an obvious show of affront. The others didn’t follow suit. Their scrutiny, by contrast, only sharpened. Ildiko gripped her chair arm with one hand in an effort not to squirm in her seat.

  “I don’t see how it’s even possible for a Kai to suck a prick without bloodshed,” one woman said. She shrugged when all gazes turned to her. “Think about it. In order not to scrape skin, you have to curve your lips over the tops of your teeth. Like this.” She demonstrated, and Ildiko was reminded of an old crone who had lost most of her teeth. Not an attractive look.

  “Ooh, you’re right,” said Lady Bladuza. “With those fangs, you couldn’t do that without slicing your own mouth, not to mention the man’s bits.” She shuddered and tossed Ildiko a pitying look. “What a shame. I enjoy the act.”

  Ildiko’s mouth tightened but she remained silent. She refused to be baited into countering an assumption and revealing private matters. Unfortunately, the group hadn’t yet finished conjecturing on the subject.

  “But a Kai man wouldn’t have to worry about such a thing if he’s the one doing the pleasuring.”

  “Would you trust someone with a mouthful of teeth like that worshipping at your nethers?”

  Again, the full weight of a dozen gazes hurtled down on Ildiko. She stared back, silent, her cheeks and scalp so hot, she thought her head might burst into flames at any moment.

  Lady Ganamei, wife of one of Serovek’s principle thanes, reached over and patted Ildiko’s hand. “Good to know you’re not robbed of one of life’s finer pleasures, Hercegesé.” She winked.

  Ildiko groaned inwardly, and the other women chuckled. Surely, there was something else they’d find more interesting to discuss. And soon.

  When a servant arrived to announce dinner was served, she sent up a silent prayer to whatever god listened. Instead of racing for the corridor, she patiently waited until she was almost the last the leave, pairing up with Lady Ganamei who mercifully didn’t expound on her earlier remark.

  Dinnertime was no less of a challenge. As guests of honor, Brishen and Ildiko shared the high table with their host, Serovek. After the conversation in the solar, Ildiko had a difficult time meeting the lord’s eyes each time he addressed her. And her gaze seemed to have a will of its own, sliding inevitably toward the subject of the earlier discussion. She wasn’t alone, nor was Serovek the only target of such focused attention.

  As the only Kai in a gathering of humans, Brishen fell under the unwavering regard of every guest. This was the second dinner he and Ildiko had attended together at High Salure, and the first since Serovek helped rescue him from a band of raiders who had tortured and blinded him.

  “How obvious can you be?” she muttered behind the shield of her wine goblet.

  Brishen titled his head toward her, a puzzled line knitting his brow. “What’s wrong?”

  She took a sip of wine before answering. “Are people so unaware of how rude it is to stare?”

  His sensual mouth curved into a close-lipped smile for a moment. “You should be used to it by now, Ildiko. Serovek’s folk aren�
�t doing anything different to me that mine do to you at Saggara.”

  “I don’t think they’re trying to strip me naked with their eyes,” she whispered, her indignation unpacified by his remark, despite its truth.

  His casual posture vanished in an instant, as did the half smile. He snapped straight in his seat, his eyes narrowed. “Who at Saggara looks at you that way?”

  “Stop grimacing. You’re scaring people.” She patted his forearm, feeling the tense muscles ripple under her palm. “No one. The same can’t be said here.” His wine goblet thumped down hard on the table, and she gripped his elbow in warning when he made to rise from his seat. “It’s you they’re undressing, Brishen. Not me.”

  The harsh lines in his face eased, and he relaxed back in his chair. It was Ildiko’s turn to frown. Obviously, he wasn’t much bothered by the idea of someone visually stripping him as he was at someone doing the same to her. She was prevented from saying more by an inquiry from their host.

  “You look troubled, Hercegesé. The food not to your liking?” Serovek sat on the other side of Brishen, twirling his eating knife between nimble fingers. Torch and candlelight emphasized the fine set of his features. He was a handsome man, and according to gossip and reputation, a passionate one.

  Ildiko raised her goblet in salute and tried not to blush at the images in her mind’s eye, conjured by the earlier gossip shared in the solar. “I’m well, my lord, and the food is superb.”

  Assured of his hospitality and the talents of his kitchen staff, Serovek turned his attention to Brishen. “How fares the brave sha-Anhuset?” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight, avid and intense.

  The Beladine lord had never disguised his fascination for Brishen’s prickly cousin, a fascination only strengthened after his rescue of her and Ildiko from mercenaries bent on a murder and a pair of blood-thirsty mage-hounds. Anhuset’s thinly disguised hostility toward him any time they met seemed only to inflame him.

  Brishen shrugged. “If her foul mood is any indication, she’s quite well. My debt to you continues to mount. You saved me, my wife and my second.” He tapped his cup against Serovek’s. “I’ll have to do something epic to repay you in kind.”

  Serovek laughed. “The world is full of heroes in waiting. Bring a scarpatine pie on your next visit to High Salure instead, and I’ll consider the debt forgiven.”

  Brishen raised a doubtful eyebrow. “That’s poor payment for saving three lives, friend.”

  “Not if you’re a man with a craving for the dish and a cook who would spatchcock you in your own bed with her best butcher knife if you commanded her to make you one.”

  Ildiko’s lips clamped tightly together, caught between laughter at his remark and revulsion at the thought of eating scarpatine pie. She’d done so—thrice so far since her marriage to Brishen—and survived the ordeal. That someone other than a Kai actually liked the loathsome pie amazed her. Even some of the Kai found it vile and refused to eat it.

  “I still consider the debt unpaid, but we can satisfy your taste for scarpatine,” Brishen said. “I’ll send my cook to prepare it in your kitchens.”

  Ildiko’s lip curled. She hoped they weren’t invited to that particular dinner.

  They spent the remainder of the evening in pleasant banter with their host and the other guests as they were entertained by musicians tucked away into a corner of the hall. While the women had been embarrassingly candid in the solar, they were far more circumspect in mixed company, though Ildiko caught more than a few curious gazes flit between her and Brishen.

  You’ll get nothing from me on that score, she thought. No doubt she and Brishen would be the subject of a great deal of idle gossip once they left High Salure for Saggara. And gossip it would remain. Still, she couldn’t help but recall a few of the comments made by Lady Bladuza and her companions.

  “With those fangs, you couldn’t do it without slicing your own mouth, not to mention the man’s bits.”

  The “it” she referred to was obvious. Ildiko had no experience in performing fellatio, either on her first lover or Brishen, and she admitted to herself she was curious. A lover with a mouthful of sharp teeth likely dissuaded any Kai male from wanting to experiment.

  She wasn’t Kai and didn’t possess the pointed ivories. Could she do for Brishen what he did for her? Send him careening into the stars on a breathless moan and a litany of prayers to the gods? The thought sent a tingle down her spine.

  Her face heated at the memory of seeing Brishen’s dark head between her legs more than a few times. His mouth and teeth had been quite close to her nethers, his tongue both an instrument of torture and mind-shattering pleasure. His teeth were never an issue.

  “You’re turning a fine shade of amaranthine, wife. Are you well?”

  Startled, Ildiko caught Brishen watching her, his yellow eye, without pupil or sclera, glowing bright as a harvest moon. He still had trouble discerning some of her expressions. A human’s emotions were often revealed in their eyes, and to a Kai, human eyes were disconcerting and strange.

  A soft chuckle sounded beside her. Ildiko caught Serovek’s smirk. Fellow humans, on the other hand, could be maddeningly discerning with each other.

  “I’m fine, Brishen,” she assured her husband, ignoring Serovek’s knowing gaze. “It’s just a little warm in the room.”

  She managed to push the memory of the women’s earlier conversation to the back of her mind, along with her curiosity, until they were mounted on their horses and exchanging farewells with Serovek. The moon had dropped lower in the sky, riding the crest of spruce trees and solaris oaks that marched down the slopes from their host’s mountain fortress.

  They were still within sight of the main gate when a whistle pierced the chilly air. The entire Kai party turned at the sound. Ildiko spotted Serovek standing on one of the walls overlooking the path that led to High Salure. He leaned casually over the parapet, his hair fluttering in the wind like a dark flag. She couldn’t see his features clearly from where she stopped in the road, but she didn’t imagine the grin in his voice.

  “Make it a female scarpatine, Herceges,” he shouted down to them. “I like a challenge.”

  Brishen laughed and offered a Kai salute. “You dance too blithely with death, Lord Pangion, but if that’s your wish...”

  The other man returned the salute and disappeared from the parapet. Ildiko shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t know which he is more; brave or reckless.”

  Brishen nudged his mount closer to hers. “Equally both, I think. He’s a man who seizes life by the ruff and gives it a good shake, even when it tries to bite him.”

  Ildiko frowned. Reckless then, and a trait of which she wasn’t fond. “I’m glad you’re not like that.”

  He smiled, teeth sharp and bright in the silver-gilt darkness. “I grew up among those only too willing to bite and devour even without a good shaking. Caution has many fine points to it, wife. Good to know you appreciate it as much as I do.”

  His words lingered in her mind as they rode back to Saggara. Brishen was indeed a cautious man. He made quick decisions when necessary and followed through with them but preferred a slower, more thoughtful approach in everything he did. But when did caution become reticence, and could she convince him to abandon that natural inclination in the privacy of their bedchamber?

  The clop of horse hooves on the mountain trail mingled with the voices of the Kai escort that had accompanied them to High Salure. After his abduction and torture, and the attempts made on Ildiko’s life as well, Brishen had been reluctant to let her leave the safety of Saggara without half his garrison surrounding her. That she felt the same about him hadn’t stopped him from joining patrol the moment he felt confident enough to sit a horse and wield a sword half-blind.

  Ildiko understood his protectiveness, but trapped behind Saggara’s walls had driven her mad after a few weeks. She missed the rides across the grasslands or the visits to the dye houses. People didn’t mind when she appeared with a small c
ontingent of six or so soldiers. Three dozen or more, and it began to look less like a visit and more like an invasion.

  Ever observant and caring of her well-being, Brishen had reluctantly accepted the invitation to dine with Serovek in High Salure. Ildiko had jumped into his arms and rained kisses across his face, gentling her enthusiasm when her lips glided over the collapsed eyelid covering the scarred eye socket where his right eye had once been.

  He was a loving man, a brave and noble one who did his best to make her happy. Ildiko wished with all her heart to render onto him every joy and pleasure she could, including the more carnal ones. Would he agree to try something any male of his culture would recoil from if offered? Would he trust her not to hurt him, even inadvertently?

  “You’re deep in thought, Ildiko. Any secrets you care to reveal?”

  With a troop of sharp-eyed and sharp-eared soldiers surrounding them, Ildiko had no intention of sharing her thoughts until they were alone. She shrugged. “Just wondering something. I promise to tell you when we reach Saggara.”

  Brishen reclined across his wife’s bed and watched her brush her hair. The maid, Sinhue, had helped her undress before leaving. Garbed only in a thin shift, Ildiko perched on a stool near the bed, drawing her long red locks through the bristles until they cascaded over her shoulders like a river of fire.

  She gave him a sleepy look. “You’re staring.”

  He rolled to his stomach and stole one of her pillows to tuck under his chin. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re beautiful.” He chuckled inwardly. His compliment would have garnered nods of agreement from humans and incredulous expressions from the Kai.

  Ildiko’s pale skin rosied at his praise, even as a frown line furrowed her forehead. “I’m glad you think so.”

  Alerted by an odd tone in her voice, he flipped onto his back and sat up. Ildiko abandoned her hair-brushing as her gaze dropped to his lap. Unlike her, he wore nothing, and the moments spent admiring his wife as she readied for bed had aroused him.