kiss.”
Though her voice was soft and he stayed still, she knew he heard because he responded, “I can bear witness that this also is true.”
What was she to do? Should she apologize, beg forgiveness, throw herself onto his sword? She had never been taught what to do when caught in deception. No one would have believed she had the temerity to betray the great Emperor and so they had never spoken of it.
As if seized by Darl the Mischiefmaker, she rushed over, slapped her hands on his bed, then bent over him to blurt, “I met with him again!”
Slowly, he rolled to his side, forcing her to back away from him. He held the sheet up over his hips as he planted his naked feet on the floor and his elbows on his thighs. One hand still clutched the sheet between his knees. Never once did it slip. Seated, he was nearly the same height as she and he captured her gaze with his own.
Suddenly, striking quick as a timra, he grabbed the front of her gown and dragged her close. Raeche stumbled forward reflexively, trying to prevent the garment from ripping. She steadied herself with her hands on his knees. The backs of his fingers grazed the tops of her breasts as he held her in place to make sure she maintained the Lock of True Eyes. “No, Raeche, you did not meet with him again.”
She knew this, did she not? She had known for cycles now. In truth, perhaps, she had known when Rucha was first pressed to her heart.
For cycles she had wondered. Had she forgotten an intimacy between them? Had she been drugged? More embarrassing–had she misunderstood the amount of time it took to bear a child of the North? Could the cycle have been different? Could the Emperor have tricked her? To accuse one of trickery in the Empire was to invoke the punishment of death, either for the proven trickster or the lying accuser. Trickery was a sin in the Empire.
As she stood wondering, grasping at fleeting thoughts, she found herself distracted by their contact. Absently, she ran her hands up over the light dusting of hair on his thighs. He pushed her hands away and received her full attention. “You should go to bed, little dark one. Give yourself time to think what you will and feel what you will. Give me time to calm my storm.”
What storm could he possibly have that she did not already share?
“Do you find your pleasure elsewhere?” She wished to be felled by lightning the moment the last syllable left her lips. It was not a question she should ask, ever. It was not a question she deserved to ask in light of what he knew of her own indiscretion, but as she stood before him her body stung.
“Do you care, Empress?”
The question was meant to be mocking. Indeed if she could have flushed any hotter than she already had, she would have. Instead she retreated. Finally her sense seemed to be returning to her. She relied on what was familiar, what she knew she should say. With a small curtsy and a bowed head she said, “I care about all things that affect you, Emperor. Whatever you do in the name of joy pleases me.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat like his pack of hunters made when set free to chase down their prey. Perhaps at some other time, the sound would have sent her into a swift retreat. Tonight she welcomed his attack. Excitement stole through her. She stood still, did not raise her head, but a ghost of smile broke across her lips.
He growled again and her stupid grin widened.
“ Go to bed , Raeche.” Perhaps it was a command, but where force should have been, desperation reigned. Those tantalizing spikes of fire shooting from him to her were, well….
He raised a hand as if he would touch her then dropped it. Raeche studied his long fingers and something seemed to drop in her belly.
“A misused bottle of scent brought you here tonight and has made you bold in a way you have never been bold in my presence. Sleep. When you truly want to set fire to the forest in order to light a torch, return to me.”
Perhaps sleep
Though her voice was soft and he stayed still, she knew he heard because he responded, “I can bear witness that this also is true.”
What was she to do? Should she apologize, beg forgiveness, throw herself onto his sword? She had never been taught what to do when caught in deception. No one would have believed she had the temerity to betray the great Emperor and so they had never spoken of it.
As if seized by Darl the Mischiefmaker, she rushed over, slapped her hands on his bed, then bent over him to blurt, “I met with him again!”
Slowly, he rolled to his side, forcing her to back away from him. He held the sheet up over his hips as he planted his naked feet on the floor and his elbows on his thighs. One hand still clutched the sheet between his knees. Never once did it slip. Seated, he was nearly the same height as she and he captured her gaze with his own.
Suddenly, striking quick as a timra, he grabbed the front of her gown and dragged her close. Raeche stumbled forward reflexively, trying to prevent the garment from ripping. She steadied herself with her hands on his knees. The backs of his fingers grazed the tops of her breasts as he held her in place to make sure she maintained the Lock of True Eyes. “No, Raeche, you did not meet with him again.”
She knew this, did she not? She had known for cycles now. In truth, perhaps, she had known when Rucha was first pressed to her heart.
For cycles she had wondered. Had she forgotten an intimacy between them? Had she been drugged? More embarrassing–had she misunderstood the amount of time it took to bear a child of the North? Could the cycle have been different? Could the Emperor have tricked her? To accuse one of trickery in the Empire was to invoke the punishment of death, either for the proven trickster or the lying accuser. Trickery was a sin in the Empire.
As she stood wondering, grasping at fleeting thoughts, she found herself distracted by their contact. Absently, she ran her hands up over the light dusting of hair on his thighs. He pushed her hands away and received her full attention. “You should go to bed, little dark one. Give yourself time to think what you will and feel what you will. Give me time to calm my storm.”
What storm could he possibly have that she did not already share?
“Do you find your pleasure elsewhere?” She wished to be felled by lightning the moment the last syllable left her lips. It was not a question she should ask, ever. It was not a question she deserved to ask in light of what he knew of her own indiscretion, but as she stood before him her body stung.
“Do you care, Empress?”
The question was meant to be mocking. Indeed if she could have flushed any hotter than she already had, she would have. Instead she retreated. Finally her sense seemed to be returning to her. She relied on what was familiar, what she knew she should say. With a small curtsy and a bowed head she said, “I care about all things that affect you, Emperor. Whatever you do in the name of joy pleases me.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat like his pack of hunters made when set free to chase down their prey. Perhaps at some other time, the sound would have sent her into a swift retreat. Tonight she welcomed his attack. Excitement stole through her. She stood still, did not raise her head, but a ghost of smile broke across her lips.
He growled again and her stupid grin widened.
“ Go to bed , Raeche.” Perhaps it was a command, but where force should have been, desperation reigned. Those tantalizing spikes of fire shooting from him to her were, well….
He raised a hand as if he would touch her then dropped it. Raeche studied his long fingers and something seemed to drop in her belly.
“A misused bottle of scent brought you here tonight and has made you bold in a way you have never been bold in my presence. Sleep. When you truly want to set fire to the forest in order to light a torch, return to me.”
Perhaps sleep
Similar Books
