It was a mixture of intuition and assumption that led him to the Athlatak’s chamber. There was a guard outside the door, of course, but Damon didn’t need to go in through the front.
He waited until the guard was looking the other way before slipping across the hall and pressing himself into the doorway of the next room over. He tried the handle and, as expected, found it locked. For him, it was a relatively minimal obstacle.
Drawing from his myrblade’s magic, Damon forced ice into the door’s simple lock, triggering the basic tumbler. He pushed the door open slowly, holding his breath each time the hinges creaked. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
The room in which he found himself clearly belonged to a woman, a subtle scent of perfume lingering in the air and a discarded nightgown set out across the bed. It was a large bedchamber, with a low table with cups and a water pitcher, and, as Damon had hoped, a window in the back.
He gently eased the window open and leaned out, eyeing the one of the next room over. There was hardly anything to cling to in between, but he was nothing if not adaptable. He grabbed the water pitcher, set a hand on the hilt of his myrblade, and got to work.
It was a simple matter of creating a small ledge to walk across, wide enough to stand on, thick enough to hold his weight. Damon searched the courtyard below for anyone who might be watching, along with the surrounding trees. He was unobserved, as far as he could tell.
“Be careful,” whispered Myr. “Ice is still slippery!”
It was good advice. Advice he really should have taken.
Damon made it two and a half steps before losing his footing and nearly falling to injury and possible death. He managed to steady himself only through flailing desperately and having the luck to find a small, handhold-shaped crack in the wall to steady himself.
Much more slowly, he continued shimmying across. The window slid open easily, and as silently as he could, he hopped forward into the Athlatak’s chamber.
The ease with which he’d managed to sneak into the room almost seemed like evidence in its own right. Would one of the Forsaken need to take major precautions to ensure they weren’t assassinated during the night? Surely not. A single guard to watch the door, more for appearance’s sake than out of true necessity, seemed to fit with the type of precautions a demigod might take.
He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dim, unlit chamber. It was surprisingly messy, with dirty clothes scattered across the floor and a few trays with unwashed dishes sitting in a pile atop one of the tables. It looked like the room of a teenage boy, in all honesty.
Damon didn’t see anything that screamed powerful enchanted artifact in the way Wrath had spoken of Malice. There was a large closet adorned with clothing, with a small glass display case in the back that held numerous items of jewelry.
He gently pulled the case open, observing the amulets and rings and jeweled brooches with a discerning eye. He could simply pick up each one, try to feel for the magic within in the same manner with which he manifested his myrblade’s enchantment. It wouldn’t be a quick process, but it would be effective.
“Wait,” whispered Myr. “Didn’t Wrath say that some of Malice’s favorite enchantments were curses.”
“She did,” muttered Damon. “But if that’s the case, how am I supposed to go about this?”
He eyed a pair of amulets, one inset with a massive ruby, the other with a dark blue stone that Damon didn’t recognize. Could they be enchanted with some evil, soul-sucking curse? He took his paranoia a step further, wondering if perhaps the ease with which he’d infiltrated the Athlatak’s chamber was intentional, like the open noose of a pheasant trap.
Voices came from just outside the door. Damon froze, resisting the urge to bolt for the window. Slowly, silently, he made his way out of the wardrobe and started toward the window. He heard the sound of the lock being triggered and knew there was no time.
Throwing himself flat, Damon slid underneath the bed, cursing himself for the idea even as he put it into action. He would be stuck for hours, probably overnight, once the Athlatak settled into his room.
Except, judging from the view of the feet and lower legs of the person who’d entered the room, he wasn’t dealing with the Athlatak. It was a woman, and she was alone. She took her time walking around, stooping to pick up the dirty clothes and toss them into a pile by the door.
Damon would have assumed her to be a maid or a servant if not for the tiny, annoyed sighs she let out as she did the work. He’d heard his aesta make similar sounds while cleaning up after him before. It was Ayisa, without a doubt, and a wave of relief flooded through him at that realization.
He saw her hand sink down to pick up a pair of undershorts near the edge of the bed and sensed her stop moving as she slowly drew back up. Had she seen him? He braced himself for a shout or scream, but it never came. Instead, he felt the bed above him shift as Ayisa settled down across it, letting out a strangely contented sigh.
He could hear her breathing, slow and steady, grow increasingly fragmented, as though she was having some sort of fit. The noise was paired with the rustling of clothing and small movements across the bed, as though she was rocking back and forth ever so slightly.
It wasn’t until she let out a low, lurid moan that Damon realized, unbelievably, that she was in the middle of pleasuring herself. He suppressed a chuckle, but his amusement quickly gave way to a burning sense of arousal as he pictured her lying across her son’s bed, doing something so dirty. Relieving pent-up urges primed to the bursting point with nowhere safe to go.
He felt his cock hardening and had to remind himself not to do anything stupid. The idea of slipping out from the bed to surprise her and attempt spontaneous seduction was tempting, despite the fact that it would undoubtedly get him killed. She was a smart woman and would correctly assume that his motives for hiding in her son’s room were either spying, sabotage, or murder.
He overruled the will of his burgeoning loins as he listened to Ayisa’s moaning take on a desperate, almost panicked tone. The bed rocked above him as she jerked her hips, playing with herself in search of a release that she clearly wanted, clearly needed.
Damon couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to Malon. He thought of the first time they’d shared a tent as adults. He thought of the last time they’d kissed before he’d left, and all they’d done beyond just kissing. His cock was painfully hard, and frustratingly, there was nothing he could do about it.
Ayisa’s moaning cut off abruptly. Damon held his breath, fearing she’d noticed his presence, but he heard her sigh and turn over on the bed. The room smelled of her exertions, and when she finally rose from the bed and left through the door, he heard the guard on the other side say something that sounded suspiciously like a joke. The tone of Ayisa’s response was sharp, a reprimand, or perhaps an outright threat to ensure the man’s silence.
Damon slipped out from under the bed, considering what to do with the lurid bit of information he’d just gained, and exited back through the window.
CHAPTER 25
He was surprised to find the festivities still well underway when he arrived back in the Water Palace’s main chamber. Numerous eyes turned his way as he slipped by the rather surprised guard Ria had distracted earlier, but he otherwise rejoined the feast without issue.
Ria almost immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit down at their table. He poured himself some wine and took a long sip before saying anything, enjoying the eagerness and impatience recognized in her eyes.
“So?” she said. “Did you find what we are looking for?”
He shook his head. “As far as I can tell, no. There was… something. I’m not sure if it’s a clue or just unusual, though.”
“What is it?”
Damon glanced toward the Athlatak watching them both, and decided a full disclosure could wait.
“After,” he said.
They spent another hour at their table, listening to the music and wa
tching the dancers. Austine seemed intent on finding a companion for the night, and Damon got to watch his old friend’s clumsy attempts at seduction in a language he barely spoke.
A number of Remenai men and women approached Damon and Ria’s table, some speaking with her, others attempting to speak with him. Damon sensed Ria’s impatience as she politely waved off the men seeking her attention, only to have to serve as a translator for him as he politely accepted compliments from a young, attractive Remenai woman.
They readied themselves to leave along with a clump of other guests heading toward the exit at their earliest convenience. Austine caught Damon’s arm before he could follow Ria out of the main chamber.
“Damon,” he said. “Will you do me a momentous favor?”
“Probably not.”
Austine let out a hiss and pulled Damon behind one of the chamber’s pillars. “Switch masks with me.”
“What?”
“Your performance went over better than mine,” said Austine. “If I’m to have any hope of not sleeping alone tonight, I’ll need all the help I can get. Please!”
“You’re ludicrous,” replied Damon. “What makes you think I’d lend my identity to you for the sake of fraudulently seducing some poor, trusting woman?”
“I’ll pay you five gold.”
“Deal.”
He got the money on the spot, and after making sure no one else was watching, they swapped masks. Damon headed out of the Water Palace as the golden tiger, while Austine rushed back into the party as the black and red wolf.
He contemplated taking the mask off as he walked along the flower trails back toward the flaqayai but felt a wicked urge to tease Ria a bit. He slipped inside their lodgings and made his way upstairs, finding her standing in front of one of the windows, clad only in her mask and a thin evening gown.
“Were you delayed by something?” she asked without turning around.
Instead of answering, Damon pulled her into an embrace from behind. He heard her let out a purring noise and lean back into him… until she glanced over her shoulder and noticed the mask. She moved so quickly that he had no time to do much more than grimace at the series of punches she assaulted him with, slamming her fist into his stomach, and then catching him across the face with her elbow.
“Ow,” he muttered. “True Divine, Ria. It was a joke!”
“You…” She glared at him, gingerly pulling Austine’s mask back from his face. “You thought this would be funny? Well, I suppose now you have your punchline.”
“I thought it would scare you, rather than provoke a bludgeoning.” He rubbed the side of his face, feeling a powerful urge to take revenge.
“Well, I hope you have learned better,” she said.
“The only thing I learned was to attack first next time.”
He lunged forward, tackling her with enough strength to make it half playful and half serious. Ria gasped, her mask falling free from her face as she fell to the ground with him. She let out a snarl that was exaggerated judging from the smile on her face, and tried to roll him underneath her.
“If you think you are getting anywhere with me tonight after your attempt at humor, you are sorely…”
Her sentence bit off into a moan as Damon’s fingers found their way between her legs. She attempted to pinch them closed for an instant before seeming to think better of it and parting them to give him all the access he could ever require.
The pretense of wrestling fell to the wayside, as it so often did during their heated moments. Damon felt himself wondering how different their lives might be if their physical games had progressed like this back when they’d been young, though of course, the half-decade of years between them would have been a much larger thing back then.
Ria moaned a word in Konokai and rocked forward against his teasing fingers. He was light with his touch, almost to the point of being cruel, giving her just enough stimulation to leave her wanting more.
“Damon…” she whispered. “Husband.”
He felt a powerful urge to take her and mount her, but he was in the mood to see the full range of her reactions. He waited until she was nearly at her limit from his fingers and then stopped, feeling a bit mean at the way she sighed with disappointment, muscles tensing.
“We’re just getting started,” he said, sinking to shift his head between her thighs.
He felt the breath catch in her throat as he began planting kisses across the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. Damon grinned up at her before pulling the fabric of her gown up and over her head and commencing the deluge of pleasure.
She tasted sweet, freshly washed, but faintly sweaty in that wonderful way that he so often found to be the most potent aphrodisiac in existence. Her reactions were as much encouragement as she’d ever given him elsewhere in life. He had her by the tongue, and he made sure to let her know it with the firm fingers he used to keep her thighs splayed.
“Damon!” A quiver ran through Ria as she reached her absolute limit.
Damon licked her juices from his lips and slid forward across the floor, smiling with pride at his handiwork. She looked as though she’d just fought an army by herself and come out unscathed and exhausted, content to do nothing but breathe heavily and bask in the afterglow.
“Looks like I pinned you,” he said, poking her in the cheek.
“It… would seem as though you did,” she said, forcing a waver from her voice.
CHAPTER 26
They spent a while making love in the flaqayai, putting its various tables and cushions to good use. Ria told him of what she’d managed to discover as they finally made their way to bed.
“There is a place of ancestor worship which the Athlatak visits regularly,” she said. “It is known as the Ken-Molonik, or ‘Glittering Spire’ in your language. Many of the heroes of local Remenai legends have climbed it in search of divine wisdom in communing with Jad.”
“That doesn’t seem so unusual for a newly chosen Athlatak,” said Damon.
“Not if taken with no knowledge of the context regarding who he may truly be,” said Ria. “There is a shrine atop the Ken-Molonik, along with a sacred tomb. If I were to place a wager on where a Venmalani such as Craven might build his dungeon, it would be there.”
“Right,” he said. “We should check it out tomorrow.”
Ria shook her head, gently rubbing her hand across his chest. “I must stay here. Ayisa wishes me to attend on her.”
“She’s been asking for you a lot since you arrived in the city.”
“I see little harm in it,” said Ria. “She has already offered to give me a place here within Yvvestrosai, a position and a role.”
“She has?”
“I refused her,” she said. “Well, that is to say, I evaded the question by speaking of my family, who rely upon me.”
She let out a sigh and pulled closer into Damon. He held her to him as they both drifted off to sleep, pondering what the future had in store for them both. Ria had always been so independent back when they’d lived at the tower. He realized that he had no idea what exactly it was that she really wanted, and he could admit to himself that it scared him a little.
***
Breakfast was brought to their door by a pair of servants. Damon ate a bowl of hot porridge made from a black grain that tasted of molasses. He’d forgotten to wear the amethyst amulet to bed the previous night, but it was hard to feel a sense of urgency over it given how restrained his aesta had been in reaching out to him.
He dressed in the clothing provided for them in the flaqayai and was pleasantly surprised by how well the Remenai-style tunic and leggings fit him. Ria waited by the door as he buckled his sword belt and prepared to set out.
“If your journey extends beyond a single night, please do not hesitate to come back,” she said. “This is merely one clue in a larger question.”
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds as though I can make the trip in a day. Will you find enough to keep busy with here in the cit
y?”
“I think I will,” said Ria. “Be safe, husband.”
He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. He was struck by the beauty he saw in her face and eyes and couldn’t resist letting his thumb brush along her cheek, outlining the matridai she’d once worn in charcoal and ash.
“I like it when you call me your husband,” he said. “I like calling you my wife.”
She gave him an impatient, knowing smirk. “It is funny how that is, no?”
“I’m not sure funny is the word I’d use for it,” he said. “…What does, um, placing the matridai on a woman typically involve?”
She blinked, noticing how serious he was. “It is a private affair, in most cases. Both of those to be married are naked for it. They exchange words of promise, and then the man uses a copper pen to slowly, over many hours, place the matridai upon the woman’s skin.”
“Could you get one of these copper pens?”
Ria let out a sigh and pulled away from him. “Damon, as much as I love you, I sometimes cannot abide how poor at this you are. What is it you wish to ask me? Can you just—"
“Will you marry me?” He grabbed her and held her, staring into her eyes, seeing her answer there even before it came from her lips.
“Yes…” she whispered, with a nod.
Damon left shortly after, both of them clumsily rushing through their goodbyes. Nothing of substance was spoken after his proposal and her acceptance. What was left to say?
He felt the truth of what he’d asked Ria in his heart, the intensity of his love for her, but it was a thing that stood in the face of so very many complications. He hadn’t asked her what her people, from the Athlatak, to Ayisa, to Sharika, might think of the match.
He hadn’t let himself truly consider how Malon and Vel would react to it, or even how he would live and behave within the bounds of matrimony. Would Ria abandon her long-held understanding of his promiscuous ways and insist that he be with her and only her?
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