He had no answers for any of it, and it left him completely disturbed.
All throughout dinner, Jileana got the feeling that Jaykun was heavily preoccupied. He spoke very little to anyone who tried to engage him, and after two attempts to draw him into conversation, she stopped trying. She would not force him to be social with her if that was not what he wished. She was simply content to be spending time with him no matter what his mood. She had never found anyone so fascinating and enjoyable before. Of course a lot of that had to do with how different he was, how alien he was to her in comparison to her own people. Everything about him was a new and fascinating experience.
And, she had to admit, their couplings were quite erotic and satisfying. Oh yes…She hoped he felt more social later on, because she would like very much to be able to communicate her passion for him. She had never known such a craving for a male before. Perhaps it was because she had never mated with a man not of her race before; the newness and differentness fascinated her, making more out of it than it was.
But she didn’t really think so. That might have been true in the beginning, but any curiosities ought to have been satisfied with a single mating. There would have been no need for another.
But she wanted another. And another. And…well…as many as she could possibly cram into three days. She was certain of that. She didn’t examine the craving too deeply. She had come there specifically to indulge herself in every new experience her time could afford her, and so far she had not been disappointed in the least. Oh, there would be penance to pay when she got back home, and she supposed she should be worried about it, worried about her parents’ displeasure over her actions, but she was having far too much fun.
So she spent the meal enjoying all the new foods and tastes, discovering what she liked and what she didn’t like, and tried not to worry about anything at all. Besides, worrying did little good. Things would be what they were going to be; worrying about them really served no purpose.
After dinner, Jaykun left without saying much of anything to her. This didn’t bother her either because she knew where he was headed eventually. He really didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter. She didn’t know all the particulars of what happened to him every night, but she knew it was a lonely business and she refused to see him suffer it alone if she could at all help it. True, she could not share his burden or his pain—she couldn’t even hope to comprehend it—but she could be there with him when it began and be waiting for him when it ended. So, shortly before dusk, she left the city, walked down the beach to the cove, and found him there, slowly stripping off his clothing and leaving it in a neat pile at a safe distance from where he usually sat. He looked up in surprise at her approach, not having heard her until the moment before she reached out to touch him.
“Why are you here?” he asked and she detected a note of suspicion in the query.
“Because you wish me to be,” she said.
“I expressed no such wish,” he said.
“I did not say you expressed the wish, only that you have the desire.”
“How would you know what I desire?” he asked, his tone quiet.
“Any person with a heart would know that being alone through this makes it all the more painful.”
“It is painful for me to know you are watching,” he argued.
“Perhaps. Perhaps because you are caring more about me than about yourself. But I would prefer we care more about you than me for these hours to come. You deserve that much, if not more. I cannot give you relief during this, but I can be here for you immediately after. Please. Allow me to do this,” she said to him, her voice soft and pleading.
Jaykun reached out to her, touched his hand to her face, his thumb curving up over the apple of her cheek. She had such a beautiful face, such an open expression. It was hard to imagine her being duplicitous. Especially in the face of all she was saying. Still, he would be very vulnerable during these next hours. It was a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he wanted to share with anyone. Not even with his brothers, who had suffered similar tortures in their turn.
And yet he had shared it with her these past nights and she was right. Having her here had somehow made it a little easier to bear.
“Very well. Stay if you must.”
“I must,” she said, reaching to catch the wrist of the hand touching her face and holding him still long enough to turn her head and press a kiss into the center of his palm.
He dropped his hand away and finished undressing. She reached for the laces of her dress and in a quick movement stripped it off her back. She folded it awkwardly, more rolling it up into a ball than anything, and placed the dress on top of his clothing. He looked at her in surprise, then let his eyes run over her naked skin, his thoughts turning instantly carnal. It was shocking to him. Usually by this time of day he was completely obsessed with what was about to happen. But now…now all he could think about was how damned delectable she looked. How with every movement she seemed to be telling a sensual story to him. Everything about her beckoned to every part of him. He let his eyes stroke down over her full breasts, her lean flank, and her curvy hip…on to the never-ending length of her legs. She was unbearably beautiful. She had to know that, had to know she was tempting him every second of every day. Was this all part of her design? Was it what she had been told to do by someone from Serenity? Did they wish to know if they were next on his list of conquests?
But no. He hadn’t even known Serenity existed until she had told him about it. If her people were trying to avoid him, it would be foolish to send someone to point them out to him.
No, he realized with sudden clarity. She was not a spy.
“Come here,” he commanded her, beckoning her forward with a sweep of his fingers. She smiled slyly and slid her bare body up against his, the feel of her warm skin almost an erotic torture because he knew he could not have her. In truth, she shouldn’t be standing this close to him. As he kept one eye trained on the sinking sun at the horizon, most of his awareness turned inward so he would know the instant he began to burn.
He slowly walked them into the water, choosing his spot, and sitting down with her.
“You will move away the instant I tell you to. No arguments?” he asked of her.
“I do not wish to be burned. I am not foolish.”
“Good,” he said. Then he cupped her face between his hands, his thumbs shaping the lushness of her lips. “I will not kiss you for fear it will be too distracting, because I do lose my focus whenever I kiss you.”
She smiled beneath his thumbs. “I lose focus as well in some ways. In others…I feel as though I have never been so keen in my life.”
Jaykun appreciated the thought. “I merely wish to look at you. To touch you. Not to arouse you or us, but simply to appreciate the beauty of you. I see so little in the way of beauty in my war camps. Let me just look at you, Jileana.”
“All right,” she whispered.
And for the next ten minutes she did exactly that: let him look his fill, let him trace over every one of her curves, every inch of soft loveliness she had to offer him. The appreciation was completely nonsexual, although he was aroused the entire time.
“Next time,” she said softly, “I will appreciate you.”
“Next time,” he agreed. Then he drew in a sharp breath. “Go! Now!”
She didn’t hesitate. She scrambled back away from him and made it to a safe distance just in time to feel the incredible burst of heat as he exploded into hot, burning light, blinding her before she lifted a hand to guard her eyes. She wondered that he didn’t cry out. The pain must have been excruciating. And she knew it was meant to be. He was meant to suffer through this entire torment. She didn’t know why exactly, didn’t fully understand, but she would. She would see to it he explained every part of what he suffered.
For now…
…she watched him burn.
—
Jaykun’s body sizzled in the ocean water, juquil’s hour having b
rought his torment to a halt. But he was nothing more than burned bones and charred flesh at that first moment of release. Then he felt someone gathering him close, holding his pain-riddled body, and rocking him gently. He could not see or hear, both eyes and ears having been burned away, but he felt it. Somehow, through all of his pain, he felt it. As he lay there and healed, he felt her holding him. When his ears healed enough, he realized she was singing to him. Her voice was haunting and beautiful, the tone like nothing he’d ever heard before. She was singing some sort of lullaby to him, he realized. Soft and sweet:
The night brings us close,
Holding you dear.
The night brings us close;
The water is clear.
The night brings us close;
Let’s see what you hear.
It was as though the song helped him heal faster, he thought. Well, it healed his soul, in any event. She healed his soul. Having her there, hearing her voice, it settled him and made everything easier somehow.
When he had healed enough, he realized he was lying with his head on her breast and she was holding him up out of the water. Aware of his weight and how exhausting that must be for her, he quickly sat up and leaned away from her.
“Shh. All is well,” she soothed him.
“I…I know. Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a hoarse rasp as his vocal cords continued to heal.
“I am fine. It is not me you should be worrying about but yourself. Here, now. Rest and let me sing.”
“But…”
“Shh. Rest.”
She pulled him back to her breast and he did exactly that. He relaxed and rested and listened to her sing until all of his skin had regrown, replacing the burns with red scars. Now he could feel the stroking of her hand over his shoulder, down his arm, down his back, all the way to his hip, always in the same direction, as if she were soothing a cat, taming it in her lap.
This time when he sat up and leaned away she didn’t stop him. He turned his gaze on her. She was lit by the fullness of the moon, her skin silvery in the dark. He felt as if he had never been as intimate with a woman as he was that night, in those hours. And he had loved his wife a great deal. Had been utterly devoted to her. His brothers had teased him for being besotted and had warned him it would make him blind to her flaws. But he hadn’t cared. Right up until the moment she had proved them right, he hadn’t cared.
But this intimacy was something beyond that foolish, young love. He didn’t fancy himself in love with Jileana of course. He would never be that ridiculous over a woman again. But this intimacy meant far more than the foolishness of love imagined.
He grabbed hold of her suddenly, slinging her into his lap until she was astride his thighs, her lithe, naked body pressed close to his, her mouth but a scant inch away from his as his hand thrust into her partially wet hair.
“What do you want of me?” he asked her fiercely, his hands gripping her tight.
“Nothing,” she assured him.
“I don’t believe you. You must want something.”
“Only the pleasure of your company for two more days,” she said.
And suddenly he was afraid that two more days wasn’t going to be enough. The thought blindsided him, scared him. He pushed it down by kissing her hard and punishingly. She took the heated abuse, absorbing it and his confusion. He felt her wet fingers against his throat and he broke the kiss, gasping for his breath.
“Then you shall have it,” he said.
—
Braxia, the finia of Kriza, was fuming in her lowly bedchamber. She paced the floor, back and forth, the beads of the belt hanging from her waist clacking together with her every step, her weighty skirts rustling, and her slippered feet scuffing the dusty floor.
“Look! Look what I am reduced to! Sleeping in this…this…hovel! While that barbarian sleeps in my bed! My luxurious sheets! My back is in agony for sleeping on this rock in this room they have banished me to. The barbarians don’t even have the courtesy to give me a place of honor at their table as a defeated but worthy opponent. And now one of their leaders has killed my most trusted maidservant, Sorna! She served me faithfully for years. But at least she gave her life in honor of her mistress. If only she had gotten close enough to kill him!”
“She may well have,” Wizol, the city fortunary said, “but he was not sleeping alone last night…an unexpected occurrence.” Wizol had been ejected from his place in the vaults of Kriza, his ledgers and the city’s gold commandeered by the barbarian men. Now he was forced to watch as they pawed through his figures and fondled the coinage he had been responsible for, the greedy pigs that they were. No doubt they would strip the coffers bare.
The truth was, no one was really certain what the invaders were going to do next. Surprisingly, there had been no raping of the women, no mass destruction or pillaging. They had taken the city in an organized, if violent, manner but had kept their kills limited to those who had taken up arms against them, leaving the innocent alone. There was something to be said for that. At least the barbarian leaders had some control over their men. But that control had been Kriza’s downfall. That and the fact that Krizans were used to fighting their battles on the sea. They had been so busy looking for enemies approaching from the ocean that they had turned their backs to the real danger.
“What I should have done was pack my armada full and abandon the city. Why did I not think of that? But at least some of our ships were able to escape.”
“They will hunt them down, mistress. Their plans to do so were overheard earlier today.”
“Tell me something of the whore the barbarian leader took to his bed last night,” Braxia mused to the fortunary. “Perhaps we can enlist her to kill him. Given enough coin she might kill him while in the vulnerable throes of rutting.”
“What gold? They have taken it all.”
“Besides, she is not a whore. She is prava!” the finia’s maid Bela said shyly.
“A prava sleeps in my bed?” Braxia demanded shrilly.
“Yes, oh glorious mistress,” the Bela said, bowing deferentially to the finia. The finia liked it when people bowed to her. She never grew tired of it. It was well known that the best way to mollify her when her temper was up was to bow deferentially in front of her and to stay that way until she gave you leave to rise.
“Yes, yes,” Braxia said impatiently, gesturing the maid out of the bow. “They truly are barbarians,” she whispered in awe of the levels the invaders would sink to. “The prava are animals, beasts even lower than these barbarians!”
“That they should consort with one only shows the measure of their depravity!” Wizol said. He was incredibly nervous. If he were caught there conspiring with his ruler, no doubt he would be slaughtered on the spot. So far the invaders had not killed any of the servants or advisors they had come across, merely relieved them of their duties. But that would very likely not be the case if those advisors were found conspiring to kill them. As it was, the guards knew he was there and would likely report his visit to the barbarians.
“Look, it is clear what must be done,” Braxia said. “There are three brothers in charge of this army. Kill the brothers and the army dies with them. Without leaders they will fall into chaos. We must do this before they have a chance to gain a true foothold. Then we can get messages to the ships in our fleet that managed to get away and have them attack from the ocean!”
“Attack our own city? But we’ve escaped with so little damage thus far,” Wizol said.
“They will not be expecting this. It is our only choice. But we must kill these brothers. What about poisoning?” Braxia asked.
“They have their own army of cooks preparing their food. Like everything else, they have taken over the kitchens. Perhaps we could manage something, but a Krizan servant now stands out amongst all these ugly alien invaders,” Wizol informed her.
“Then we must use assassins. Surely the brothers can be caught alone in some shadow, the perfect time to slip a dagger betwee
n their ribs!”
“Perhaps…perhaps the prava could be bought after all?” Wizol suggested. “We don’t know what motivates them, really. Only that—”
“They cannot be trusted,” Braxia said fiercely. “They are dangerous and deadly. Come to think of it, perhaps we should just bide our time. The prava has no doubt affixed herself to the barbarian leader. It is only a matter of time before she lures him to his death. It is what they do. They cannot help themselves.”
“Yes. A sound plan,” Wizol said. “But it might be better for us to take direct action. Now, how shall we go about it?” The fortunary was anxious about being caught conspiring, but he was more anxious about being left to the whims of the barbarian brothers.
“Find a way! Get ahold of some poison, perhaps, something harsh and violent, and seek an opportunity to get it into their food. If you can do that, then all of our troubles will be over. They all eat together, the entire table full of advisors and generals and the brothers as well. Yes?”
“Yes, great and beauteous mistress,” the maid said with a bow. “The prava as well.”
Pleased, Braxia smiled. “Good. This is our plan. We will wait for the opportunity to present itself!”
“Yes, magnificent mistress,” Wizol said with a low bow. “It will be done.”
Braxia turned a glaring eye on her room; the small bed and the little desk and chair were the only furnishings within it. If all went well, she would be back in her luxurious apartment within only a few days. And to her mind, it wouldn’t be soon enough. She had to succeed at this. She simply could not bear the idea of living a life of obscurity, a life of peasantry. She was finia, the grandest being in all of Kriza, ruler of all and commander of its great armada. These barbarians would be made to recognize that if it was the last thing she ever did.
Of course she was grateful to the gods that they had not killed her thus far. It was a good sign in the greater scheme of things. But she would not tolerate this disrespect, being made to live in such squalid conditions, to not even be given the courtesy of dining in the great hall with them.