Burying the Shadow by Storm Constantine Page B

fur, his dark yellow eyes full of shadow-promise.
    Leda gurgled
in greed. ‘You are so thin!’ she exclaimed to him.
    He flexed his
darling paws in her direction, lacing the fingers. ‘While you,
Mistress Di Corboran, are fat as a festival chicken!’
    Cooing, Leda began to
unlace her bodice. Slightly nauseated, I turned to Vicretia and
leaned towards her ear. ‘Your first?’ I whispered.
    She nodded,
fearfully, eyes like a doe with one foot bound in a twine-trap.
    ‘Would you
prefer to retire?’
    Again, after a
brief hesitation, during which her eyes flicked to the pouting Leda
and back again, she nodded.
    I rose and
held out my hand. Leda was spread out in her chair, her large,
blue-veined breasts exposed, into which my beloved brother had
buried his head. She had her hand in his hair, mewing ecstatically
as his teeth broke the skin above one nipple, as his tongue licked
her, his lips began to suck. I felt a twinge of jealousy and hoped
he would not give in to her demands for copulation, which were sure
to follow. Perhaps leaving them alone gave her an advantage
concerning that, but I had a mind for Vicretia’s comfort, and the
sight of her sister writhing beneath my brother was not
pleasant.
    ‘Come,’ I
said, and led the bewildered girl from the room.
    We sat down in
the conservatory of eager vines that greened the sunlight from
above. Poor Vicretia was pale as a forest flower, trembling
uncontrollably. Yet even in her fear, there was anticipation,
excitement. Not wanting to scare her unduly, I supped delicately at
her wrist - no more than a gnat bite. She lay back against the
trellis, her eyes turned up in her head, moaning softly. I took my
time, but supped little. It was important she should find it
pleasurable, this first time.
    Afterwards, I
brought her a cordial of summer fruits, lightly laced with brandy,
for which she was grateful. The intimacy had unlocked her tongue.
‘So strange it felt,’ she said, ‘like floating away.’
    ‘Is that all?’
I smiled at her.
    ‘Beautiful,’
she said. ‘I’m flattered you chose me.’
    In truth, it was not
me who had chosen her, but her father. He had sent her to us after
all, but I did not mention this. A homecoming gift, a new flavour.
Leone always kept his children long from the sup in order to make
them more intriguing, - sometimes until they were sixteen - but I
was surprised he had kept Vicretia untasted this long. She must
have been all of seventeen years old, and a year is a long time
when your relatives are all satisfied participants of the sup.
    ‘I prefer a
finer vintage, more delicately flavoured, than Beth,’ I said, to
please her.
    ‘You did not
hurt me.’
    ‘No, we never
do. None of us. I’d have thought you knew this.’
    She shrugged.
‘The tasted keep their secrets.’
    Unable to face
Leda’s flushed bloatedness, I requested her sister to make my
excuses and sent her back to the solar alone. For a while, I
relaxed among the greenery, digesting my refreshment, rolling my
tongue around my mouth to catch the last sweet nuances of Vee’s
flavour. Although at peace, I was full of the awareness that our
lives were changing. The atmosphere in Sacramante, on our return,
had been reminiscent of the paranoia haunting the eloim in Lansaal.
The Sacramantan artisans were scared, and no doubt would expect us
to produce an instant solution.
    On the journey
home, I had kept up the contact with our little soulscaper.
Distance did not seem to lessen our link. She interested me
acutely; I was in awe of her active, inventive mind. She had
certainly come to regard Beth and myself in different ways. Beth
was a pleasurable fantasy, but I liked to think she looked upon me
as an imaginary friend. Often, when I looked into her life, I could
hear her speaking to me. She liked to talk about her thoughts and
feelings aloud. I still had not interfered overtly with her
development - there was no need; I just observed. She must be all
of twelve years old by now, but