“It’s just that if you do lay siege to the Zizo city … since it is so close … you can base your attack here. And you can utilize Koro as well.”
“I don’t want to utilize Koro. I can win a war without a wyvern. I do not want him injured again. Not knowing what it costs you.”
“I’m not sure you understand how powerful the rylings can be,” she said as she tipped her head back and moaned softly in pleasure and relaxation. The sponge dipped further below the waterline, heading over the softness of her belly and across the thatch of flame-red curls at the crest of her thighs.
“I’m not sure you understand how powerful we can be. We are on a search for mages or magesses. Soon we will have them joining the ranks of our army. We will learn what they are capable of and train them and our men in ways to execute their magics in battle.”
“But the rylings are—” She broke off with a gasp as his sponge dipped lower and swirled in a circle against a most pleasurable spot. She forgot what she was saying as the sponge continued to caress and clean her, becoming more and more thorough with every swish.
Her head was on his shoulder, her moans and gasps echoing in the large room.
“Like this, do you?” he rumbled into her ear huskily.
“As do you,” she said, her hands sliding under her bottom to caress the hard length of him.
“I like to see how responsive you are,” he said heatedly. “I love the way you moan low in your throat like that. You and Mordu have a grip on me I cannot give adequate words to.”
“Mordu is the god of love and passion and lust … but I am not certain he has anything to do with what you make me feel. I think that is solely your doing.”
“Do not forsake the gods,” he warned her on a whisper. “They listen and know everything. They are very real and very much a part of everything we do.”
“I am not forsaking Mordu. In fact, I consider our passion together to be our tribute to him. The mems of his temple make love to the chosen on the high holidays in tribute to him. Why can this not be seen as the same?”
“I agree. I will make you come for me … and for Mordu. I would not share you with anyone, not even Mordu, but I will offer him the sounds and heart of our passion.”
“Mmm, I will as well,” she breathed as her legs fell open as far as the narrow tub allowed.
The water was growing cool, but they hardly noticed as they stroked each other into a frenzy of pleasure.
“Enough!” Garreth declared roughly, throwing the sponge over the side of the tub and grabbing hold of her hips. He pulled her back, and his swollen shaft slid through her intimate folds. He was at her entrance and then inside her in an instant. She was so hot compared to the cool water that he groaned soulfully upon entering her. The water sloshed over the edges of the tub as he pushed and pulled her, up and down, against his hips. She was gripping the edges of the tub, but the position required him to do most of the work, for she had no traction.
That didn’t seem to make a difference. He had strong hands and great motivation to move her on himself with haste and need. Sarielle had never thought that the sexual act could be done in such ways, but as he opened her mind, she began to think of other ways they could share their lust. It made her all the hotter for him in that moment. She began to climax, throwing her head back, the wet tips of her hair falling against him like gentle little whips. He felt her flesh tightening around him as she succumbed to her pleasure, and it heightened his. He began to join her in a sudden surge of sensation, release coming upon him with a fury. He jetted into her, letting her drain him, feeling powerful and weak at the same time. When they were finished she fell back against him, panting for her breath.
“It is hard for me to believe you have never known passion before this,” he said breathlessly, “for you have taken to it as though you have done it all your life.”
“Do you not believe me, then?”
“No. It is clear you were untouched,” he assured her. “The remark is not meant to call you a liar, only to express my wonder at the magnitude of your passion. I feel a very fortunate man.”
“And so you should,” she said with amusement.
“You are a wretch. And this water is cold.” He retrieved the sponge, hastened to finish their bathing, then lifted her from the tub with him. He gathered them together in a warm fur that had been warming by the fire and then settled them down on the fur rug before the fireplace. The rug was the skin of a grismon, a huge six-legged creature that roamed the icy mountains of the northern reaches of the continent. It was known for its thick fur, and so the rug was soft and luxurious beneath them.
There, he made love to her again. And after they dozed a while, he woke her and loved her once more.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
“Good morning, brother!” Garreth called out brightly as he entered the main hall and found Dethan seated there with a cup of cider and a table set for breaking his fast. The food was just being brought in and Garreth eagerly took a seat. He was starving, having worked up a tremendous appetite with Sarielle—who was now having the morning meal with her sisters in the nursery.
“That depends on whom you ask,” his brother said.
“You seem in a foul mood,” Garreth observed.
“If I am, I have every reason to be. This city is not under our control. We have spent the better part of the past six days chasing after one thing or another, usually because of that girl. And now I’m afraid you will be far more focused on her than on what you are sworn to do here.”
“That is unfair,” Garreth said harshly. “That girl is going to be key to the protection of this city.”
“If she stays. She may not. As you have pointed out, she is free and independently wealthy. She can go anywhere she likes.”
“She will not want to leave Koro,” Garreth argued.
“I’m sure there are caves aplenty in other parts of the world.”
“Why are you so against her?” Garreth demanded of his brother. “She has done nothing to you.”
“She has done something to you,” Dethan countered. “She has turned your focus away from where it should be: controlling this city and preparing for the next.”
“I’ll have you know she has just helped me to focus, as you say, on our next city to be conquered. It will take some research, but I believe the neighboring city of Zandaria will be our next goal. Provided we can gather enough mages to counter the rylings.”
“Rylings?”
“Fairies that support the city with their magic. The city worships a god of Xaxis’s faction. Should we win it, we will take strength away from that god and bring it to Weysa instead. I will still be keeping to my agreement with Weysa, and I can continue to manage this city throughout the winter as we use it for the base of our attacks.”
“You wish to spend the entire winter here?”
Again, Dethan saw no good coming of this. The longer Garreth remained, the more thorough his attachment to the girl would be. No matter how Dethan looked at this, his brother would be hurt. And it all centered on the girl.
“Why not? We have conquered two cities this turning for Weysa. That is more than satisfactory. I will not winter the men in tents if I do not have to. It leads to unnecessary sickness, injury, discomfort, and death.”
Unfortunately Dethan could not argue with that logic.
“Very well. But you should spend the winter plotting to take over Zandaria as soon as spring breaks, not fucking with that girl.”
“Enough!” Garreth exploded, his fist crashing against the table as he surged to his feet. “I am not a child in need of your handling! What I do or do not do with this ‘girl’ is none of your concern, and if you speak of it again, I will cease to be in your company! If you miss your wife so damn much, why don’t you go home to her? I am sick to death of you and your overbearing ways! She can have you! I was more than able to take this city and I am more than capable of keeping it!” He pushed away from the table. “I have lost m
y stomach for breakfast,” he said before storming out of the room.
“Fuck!” Dethan spat to the seemingly empty room.
But over in a secluded gathering of furniture by the fire, lying on her usual chaise, was Davine. She stood up, her silk robe fluttering at her feet. It was not diaphanous but nearly so. Her figure and the shading of her nipples could just barely be made out through the rose-colored fabric.
She moved toward Dethan, her gait smooth and graceful. There was a reason why she had been Bento’s mistress for so many turnings. She had the beauty, elegance, and cunning it took to keep a man of power on her hook.
“My lord, is there something I can get you for your present relief?” she asked Dethan.
“It is nothing a skilled assassin could not handle,” Dethan grumbled.
“If that is truly what you need, I can see about—”
“No. No, of course not,” he said. He sighed. “What I need is a way to pry that woman’s hooks out of my brother.”
“Well … perhaps a different set of hooks is what is needed.”
“Excuse me?” Dethan asked, his tone sharp.
“Never mind,” she said dismissively. She reached to snatch up a piece of fruit, then moved away from Dethan. But her mind was working heavily. It was clear to her the contention between the brothers was due to the wrena. She saw Dethan’s concerns and knew that he would prefer the wrena and his brother not have a relationship at all. She found this very interesting because it echoed her desires. She needed to find a position of power in this city or she risked losing the comforts she had grown used to. Sure, she could work her way into the bed and home of another wealthy man of the bennesah’s court, but if there was perhaps a way of achieving position and power without having to sell her body …
The brothers were young, healthy … vital, rich, and powerful. They would no doubt be in charge of this city for many turnings to come. It was also clear they would not be spending much time in the city once they felt it was politically secured for them. If she could install herself as indispensible in this court … she would find herself in a particular position of power and security. Security was key. She had come from nothing, had been raised with nothing. If not for her looks and having caught the bennesah’s eye, she would still be wallowing in poverty and nothingness. She would not go back to that. She must play her cards as sharply as possible.
And doing something to earn the gratitude of the elder brother seemed a good way to achieve her goals. All she had to do was figure out how to extract Garreth from Sarielle. She could then, on her own terms, parlay Dethan’s gratitude into anything she needed.
She returned to her chaise and stared into the fire as she thought.
Sarielle spent the morning playing with the twins. Their trauma seemed to have had little effect on them. They were used to being slaves, their lives dictated by the whims of others, so the experience with the bennesah and the mage had not been as traumatic for them as it could have been. The worst had been the damage to their wrists and fingers from their bindings, but the mems had already seen them mostly healed.
After visiting with the children, Sarielle went down into the main hall to look for Garreth but instead found Dethan there. He was poring over a diagram of some sort that had been roughly drawn on a large plank.
“A map of the city,” she said.
“Yes. I’ve been touring it, finding all the main structures and parts … where it is defensible and where it is not. This city fell too easily and will do so again if nothing is done to improve its defenses.”
“Your brother said the same thing.”
“My brother and I are of the same mind on many things.” He looked at her. “Then again, there are things on which we are not.”
That had not quite been a veiled remark, she realized. She was beginning to get the sense that Garreth’s brother did not like her for some reason. Which was strange since the brothers had offered her control of the entire city the day before.
“This is the bazaar,” she said, pointing to a large gap in his map at the center of the city. “The walls surround us. The keep is at the north side, the garrisons at the south and east.”
“You know all this from being caged up here?”
“I could see out the windows and from the parapets where I was allowed to walk.” She looked back at the map. “How will you better defend the city?”
“By digging a moat around the entire wall. It will be a big project and will take many wanings, but it is possible it can be done before winter sets in if we begin right away and put many men to the task.”
“However?” she asked, sensing a caveat. “However,” she then answered herself quickly, “you will not be able to rebuild the city if all your laborers are dedicated to the moat. People who have lost their houses will be homeless this winter.”
Dethan lifted a brow and gave her a once-over. “Perhaps my brother is right about you. You would make a good leader. You have a good understanding of the needs of the city as a whole and the people as individuals.”
“I simply know what it means to be weak, hungry, alone, cold, and afraid. I have been all of those things. I would not wish it on another.”
“So which would you choose? Defense of the city or rebuilding it?”
She didn’t even need to think. “Rebuilding it. The people must come first. Garrison your army here for the winter, use the men of the city as laborers, and your men to defend the city. Then, when spring comes, move all capable men to the moat project.”
“That would mean my brother could not attempt to take Zandaria until the summer wanings.”
“He is seriously considering taking Zandaria?”
“It is not a bad idea overall,” Dethan said.
“You have no mages here. You must have powerful mages or magesses if you intend to go up against the rylings’ magic.”
“We have sent for some … when we thought we would need them to retrieve you. My men will find the best mages. They will be lured here by the gold I can provide for them. And perhaps when we do preliminary scouting in Zandaria we will find a faction of rylings who are discontented with their lot and will join us in overthrowing the majority government.”
“You have done this many times before,” Sarielle noted.
“I used to make my living doing this. Now I do it for Weysa. For my brother. In the hopes that one day he will be free of his curse.”
“His curse?” she asked.
Dethan’s eyes widened. He realized he had said too much and quickly covered. “Being forced to conquer in Weysa’s name when, before, he only ever wanted to go on quests that brought peace to others, not war.”
“He owes a great debt to Weysa,” Sarielle remarked with a frown. “When will this debt ever be repaid? Your brother cannot be killed. I imagine he cannot age. He will be around for a very long time. Will she expect this of him for the rest of his existence?”
“I do not presume to know the mind of a goddess. I only know that she is willful and will not tolerate my brother swaying from his course. You should know that now.”
“Why should I know that?” she asked.
But she already knew the answer before he said, “Do not grow too attached to him. He will not stay forever.”
“I will do what I see fit to do,” she said defiantly. “I am free now and you cannot make dictates to me. As long as your brother wants me and I want him, then we shall be together. I hope you will not interfere with that.”
Dethan avoided the query. “Now, what else can you tell me about the city that I do not know?”
“First, which would you do? Rebuild or protect?”
“I would protect. I would dig the moat and let the people find their shelter in what is left of the city. Otherwise, it risks falling again. It is twice as vulnerable now as it was before.”
“Then may I make a suggestion?”
“Be my guest.”
“Close half of the bazaar. On that land assemble the tents of the army
, and use the tents as temporary homes for those without. That way you are shutting down only half of the commerce the city needs for taxes and providing the shelter your taxpayers need to stay alive. The winters are hard here, Sor Dethan.”
“You know what? That’s not a bad idea,” he said, lifting a brow as he looked at her. “But what of my troops? Where will they stay?”
“The garrisons. The city guard is, as you discovered, woefully understaffed because the bennesah depended so heavily on the wyvern to protect the city. That is one reason why we could not properly defend our walls. The barracks were barely a quarter full before your attack on the city; now they are even less so … leaving plenty of room for your men to be quartered.”
“I had noticed the same thing,” Dethan said. Really, it was a shame, he thought. She was a very bright girl, after all. But in the end, Garreth was cursed enough without failing to do as Weysa demanded of him. He did not need to earn her wrath by falling for some girl … however clever she might be.
Sarielle took her leave of Garreth’s brother and went back to her search for him. In the end, she found him in the second hall, a smaller version of the main hall, though this had no cozy furniture to curl up on; there was only one table and it was not as large as the ones in the main hall.
He was poring over documents from several stacks of them, some of which were a foot high. Sitting in the chair next to him was Davine. The bennesah’s mistress was dressed in her usual suggestive clothing and her chestnut hair was thickly woven in a fall down her back. She had put little yellow sumi flowers in her hair and they looked pretty and elegant. Davine always looked pretty and elegant and … sexual. All at the same time. And right then she was leaning very close to Garreth, pointing something out to him in the paper he was reading.
Garreth looked up when Sarielle approached the table and immediately smiled. Davine straightened away from him and smiled as well. Innocently. As if she hadn’t just been showing her significant cleavage to Sarielle’s …