The Beginning of Everything (The Rising Book 1)

by Kristen Ashley

  Studded.

  He was pierced there too.

  I moaned and pressed into him.

  His hand fisted lightly in my hair, he drew his tongue under mine and then sucked mine into his mouth.

  Oh my.

  My belly dropped, my legs were trembling, and something was happening between them.

  Something tingly and shivery and warm and lovely.

  Like my magic.

  But better.

  So much better.

  He suckled on me and then his tongue thrust mine out so it could invade my mouth and I suckled on his.

  And as I did that, my hands roamed. His sloped neck. His muscled shoulders. His thick arms.

  So hot.

  So sleek.

  So hard.

  Everywhere.

  His hand left my hair and clamped on my behind, pushing up, molding me firmly to his hips.

  And that was even better.

  “Mars,” I breathed into his mouth.

  “Gods,” he breathed back, tracing his lips along my cheek and shoving his face in my neck.

  “Mars?” I called shakily.

  His hand at my bottom slid to my hip, over my waist, in and up my spine before it curled around the back of my neck.

  But he still held me to him.

  However.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

  “No,” he groaned. “Fuck no.”

  “All right then…” I swallowed. “Why are we no longer kissing?”

  His big body spasmed with a harsh laugh before he lifted his head and looked down at me with eyes saturated with humor and desire (I knew what it was now, faith, but I knew) and sweetness.

  “We’re no longer kissing, my bride of the silver soul and the candied mouth, because if we do not stop now, there will be no wedding as I’ll lock us in these rooms for the next two weeks.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  He grinned. “Yes, my Silence, oh.”

  “It is not…unheard of…in my land…for a woman…though, I have never…uh—”

  “Calm, Silence. I know.”

  He knew

  He knew I was virgin?

  How did he know?

  He continued speaking.

  “And this is why we will take some time, even if we don’t have much of it, to get to know one another in that way. Tomorrow night, after dinner, you will come to my rooms and I will share a little more with you so you’ll be better prepared for the next night when we will share everything.”

  “More kissing?” I asked.

  His lips twitched. “Yes, amongst other things.”

  I smiled up at him. “I’d like that.”

  He smiled down at me. “You did not hide that, mia bellezza.”

  My smile fled. “Was I brazen?” How could I ask that? I was completely brazen. “Oh no!” I cried. “I was brazen.”

  He threw his head back and roared with laughter, holding me to him as he did, even pulling me closer.

  He tipped his head down again and through his laughter said, “You were brazen, yes. And I liked it. Very much so.”

  I felt heat hit my cheeks and murmured, “Oh.”

  “And this ‘oh’ I feel in parts of me I cannot wait to have in her mouth,” he murmured back, his gaze roaming all over my face (but mostly, it must be said, my lips and cheeks).

  “I think I should probably go to my bedchamber now,” I told him, belatedly prudently.

  “I think this is wise,” he replied, his black eyes dancing.

  But he did not let me go.

  He bent again to me, pressed his lips hard to mine, then straightened away, only then to release me (which I did not like).

  He took my hand (which I did like).

  And then he walked us toward the bathing room.

  We strolled past his leather shirt on the floor and it was on the tip of my tongue to suggest he don it before walking me all the way down his very long hall to my rooms at the other end.

  I did not do that.

  This was his home.

  His palace.

  And it was now my home.

  My palace.

  And he should be just as he wanted to be in his home.

  As he was showing me it was all right just to be…me.

  “Where is Piccola?” he asked after we entered the hall.

  “Tril has her. I’m going to teach her to sleep on the pillow beside mine at night.”

  “My Silence, as you’ll be sleeping on the pillow beside mine, I think we should have a discussion about this, no?”

  I’d be sleeping on the pillow beside his.

  This gave me another tingle.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I mumbled.

  He chuckled and said, “I’m very glad you like her.”

  I looked up at him as we strolled, hand in hand. “I love her.”

  He smiled warmly down at me and gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Though I don’t like her in a cage,” I shared.

  “She is very clever, like her mama. She will learn soon to stay close to you.”

  At that, timidly, I gave his hand a squeeze.

  I didn’t need to be timid.

  He again gave me another warm smile.

  We made the door to my rooms, but before I could reach to the handle, he drew me into his arms.

  “Now we bid goodnight,” he declared.

  I tried not to pout.

  I must have failed for he roared with laughter again.

  I grinned up at him as he did.

  When he sobered, he tipped his chin down to me.

  “Tomorrow will be a busy day, but I will not miss dinner with you again,” he promised.

  “I’m glad,” I told him.

  “And we will have our time after dinner.”

  I pressed my lips together as that gave me a shiver.

  I released them to say, “I look forward to that.”

  His fingers slid along my hairline as he said gently, “And the next night, we’ll be wed.”

  “I look forward to that too,” I whispered.

  He gave me another smile, this one soft and sweet, before he bent again and touched his lips to mine.

  “Until the morrow, my Silence,” he murmured against them.

  “Until then, my king.”

  I received yet another smile, this one from his eyes, before he straightened and jerked his bearded chin to my door.

  I opened it and rushed inside, beginning to shut it behind me with but a small grin up at my king (who was gazing indulgently down at me) as I closed him away from me.

  Tril immediately came out of her room once the latch clicked.

  “Was that the king I heard?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered dreamily.

  She studied my face.

  Then she decreed, “He kissed you.”

  “Yes,” I repeated, even more dreamily.

  I had a mind to skip and twirl to the bed.

  Instead I floated there, turned to it, and plopped backward on it.

  I felt it depress and then I saw Tril’s face above mine.

  She was frowning at my nostril. “Does that gold hurt?”

  I looked into her eyes.

  “No. It feels like heaven.”

  Her gaze came to mine.

  And it was then, my Tril smiled at me.

  27

  The Cards

  Princess Elena

  Guest Suite, Second Floor, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City

  FIRENZE

  When the sun was a sliver on the horizon, just touching the sky with the new day, I left my rooms.

  I did this after donning my purple body stocking with the thin straps and high cuts at the hips over which I added my lavender tunic with the coral trim that had some gilding at the V-neck and around the hem.

  This I tied with my gold belt.

  I also took up my rug and cards.

  I walked on bare feet through the palace into the still-dark but ev
er-lightening gardens on a course to the spot on the east side that I’d spied the day before.

  I stopped in the small clearing that had the fountain affixed to the garden wall that was a cascade of staggered, carved, rusted stone bowls fed one after the other from the head of a snake at the top.

  The snake’s mouth was open, fangs bared, water flowing through and down into the bowls, to finally plunge into a small pool on the ground.

  I set my cards aside, flipped out the rug and sat cross-legged on it, facing the fountain.

  I was not surprised, even with the peaceful falling of the water, when I could not clear my mind in order to find some contentment.

  I was tense, not sleeping well, and my head was a jumble of thoughts and worries.

  Mother had rested the morning before, rather than joining the others at the diplomatic table.

  This was good for she looked paler, was tiring faster, and not eating well.

  And her mouth was beginning to appear like it was pinched with pain.

  This was a worry.

  As it had been a worry for some time.

  But it was getting to be more of a worry.

  However, after the piercing ceremony, she’d been called into the meeting rooms with the others and she was in them well into the night.

  Too much for her.

  All of this was too much for her.

  And we’d be traveling again soon, with Silence and Mars only having a few days of nuptial bliss to enjoy in Firenze (and to my surprise, but tentative delight for Silence, this seemed as if it would be the case) before we would again be on our horses, bound for Wodell.

  My mother needed to sit still, conduct some rituals and allow some healing practices.

  She was not doing this.

  This was a worry too.

  Then there was Serena, who had been so vile to Cassius and myself it was beyond her normal level of vile.

  I did not understand that.

  This was also a worry.

  Then, of course, there was Dora.

  The man who killed her mother was in that very palace.

  I had no intention of telling my girl this was the case. There was no need to speak of it.

  Ever.

  But with Serena being the way Serena was being, I might be forced to do just that.

  Better it come from me than however Serena might connive to impart that information.

  Then there was Cassius…

  I did not wish to think about Cassius.

  Though he had been busy at the diplomatic table as well, even through dinner the night before, so I did not have to engage with him yesterday nor introduce him to Dora as he’d threatened at the betrothal dinner.

  But today was another day and I had to find the inner equanimity to handle whatever came of it.

  Deciding against continuing to attempt to meditate, I undid my belt and set it aside before pulling off my tunic.

  I then straightened my spine further and dropped my chin in my neck, folding one hand over the other at the back of my head to deepen the stretch. The same when I dropped my head to each side.

  I then lifted an arm up, fell sideways so my opposite forearm was against my rug, and I reached over my head.

  And the other side.

  After that, I did a few stretches in quick succession—seated, standing, and twisting—to warm my body before I did them again, settling in them for longer this time. I also added more in order to lengthen my muscles and ease the tension out of my spine, the backs of my legs, the fronts of my thighs, my shoulders, my arms and more of my neck.

  With this accomplished (feeling invigorated, but no less worried), I sat cross-legged again, pulled on my tunic, retied my belt and reached to my cards.

  I did this with trepidation.

  Since I’d turned it, my morning card had not again been the Unicorn.

  But what I’d been getting, even with a disordered mind, it could not be denied that the cards were falling appropriately.

  The card Besom from the hushed suit (of course, I had been traveling and I was doing it for festivals and ceremonies, which was the indication of Besom, or the broom).

  The card Warrior from the middling suit (which made sense, as I needed strength, to brace and be prepared for what came next).

  The hushed card of the Wand (obviously, as I needed much magic for the parade).

  Another hushed card of the Pentacle (though I could fathom that card, I still found it difficult to meditate, though, through necessity, I had conducted many rituals to draw my magic within).

  Further hushed cards, the Staff (not a surprise, I knew I needed to have a mind to the protection of myself and my own) and the Sword (one could say strife surely had entered my life, in the form of an enemy prince as well as my sister).

  But I also often got the middling cards of Eros (and that made me anxious, for it foretold of romantic liaison, sexual need, and the instruction to seek a lover, and this, like the Unicorn, was a card I’d never turned before), the Lovers (which I did not understand for it signified union, balance and harmony), and the Dragon (this was understood, fire, endings, power—definitely understood).

  And I had turned two high cards.

  The Star, which signified hope and dreams, though I took it as a need to do a dream reading. However, not sleeping well, I was not having dreams.

  And the Siren.

  An omen card.

  One of only two in the deck and these you never wished to turn.

  I had also never turned it.

  Danger.

  Betrayal.

  Falsity.

  I moved the cards in my hands with all this on my mind, these weeks past no longer trying to clear it to give a faithful path from my inner self to the cards for the correct reading, as I used to do, for in these times this was an impossibility.

  Now I simply pulled a card in any moment when my mind was struck open, even if just for a second.

  Which was what I did.

  I set the deck aside.

  Then I flipped the card I selected, allowing it to fall on the rug before me.

  And my heart stopped beating.

  The Banshee.

  The other omen card.

  Death of a loved one, one you hold dear, or one in your heart.

  Colossal change in life as you know it.

  I had never turned that either.

  “Good goddess,” I murmured, staring at it.

  This couldn’t be.

  Because it could not be borne.

  “Mother,” I whispered.

  I heard his boots on the mosaics and I knew it was he.

  Quickly, I flipped the Banshee but then folded my hands together and left them hanging in my lap.

  Perhaps he would think I was meditating and leave me to it.

  The sounds of his heels on tiles came ever closer.

  Until they stopped right behind me.

  His deep voice rumbled at me.

  “When you are my princess, you must teach these positions to my warriors. I see how they would increase strength, flexibility and balance,” he announced.

  He’d seen me stretch.

  How?

  Dear goddess, he had to have rooms facing the gardens.

  Perhaps this wasn’t as private a spot as I had thought.

  “I’m meditating, go away,” I told him.

  “You’re reading cards,” he told me.

  Drat it all!

  I should have shoved the cards under my bottom.

  “I’m meditating over my reading,” I lied.

  “You’re lying in an effort not to speak to me.”

  I ground my teeth.

  I felt him get closer but didn’t hear his feet hit the tiles in order to round the rug to get in front of me.

  I would find that this was because he’d come to stand on my rug.

  And he did this moments before he crouched beside me, at my back, but to my side, meaning his long, thick thighs were straddling me so close, his leather
s nearly brushed the skin of my arm.

  Which made my arm, in a curious (but not unpleasant in the slightest) way, tingle.

  This meant his deep voice was closer too.

  “What is your reading?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s private.”

  Being what I was coming to learn was Cassius Laird, regardless of my words, he reached an arm out in front of me toward the card that lay before me.

  I reached out too.

  In order to slap his hand.

  He chuckled.

  Chuckled!

  Goddess deliver me.

  Though he withdrew his hand.

  “Would you like to do my reading?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I’d like you to do my reading.”

  “There is no need. I can tell you which card you’d select before you selected it.”

  “And what card would I select?” he queried.

  “The Simpleton.”

  He chuckled again.

  I sighed.

  “What does that mean, or do I need ask?” he inquired.

  “It means recklessness. Thoughtlessness. Impulsiveness. Inconsideration.”

  “All that?”

  “Also gullibility and imprudence.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “Let us see.”

  At that, for the first time since he arrived, I moved my head to see he was still crouched beside me but now he was reaching to my cards.

  “Do not touch those,” I demanded precisely when he picked them up with his long fingers.

  His hand, I saw, was veined and visibly calloused.

  No courtly prince was he.

  “Put them down,” I ordered.

  Even though they were large, he shuffled the cards expertly one handed, not a man, clearly, who was a stranger to the handling of cards.

  I was sure he engaged in games of chance regularly.

  I just hoped he lost.

  “How’s this?” he asked, flicked an expert thumb on the top of the deck and thus a card flew out, turning over in midair, to land on top of the one I’d drawn.

  The image depicted a majestic lion with a full mane, open mouth, dragon’s wings and a scorpion’s tail.

  It was the manticore.

  But of course.

  “He looks fierce,” Cassius noted.

  “Manticore,” I forced out.

  “And he means?” Cassius asked.

  I could concoct something. Something dire. Or awkward.

  I did not.

  “Power. Battle. War.” I hesitated. “Victory.”

  I was staring at the card, but I would swear I felt him smile.