Finding Destiny

by Jean Johnson

  He smiled beatifically. “They’re ignoring me ...”

  His muttered explanation made her want to laugh. Biting it down into a smile, Gabria let him lead her back into the Royal Retreat. Here, the flickering, paper-shrouded candles gave way to expensive, rare mage-globes, magical light sources which Sir Catrine had told her about. Master Souder was waiting for them in the massive, ornate front parlor. He rose from the settee he had been occupying, loupe-stick dangling at a careless angle from his hand.

  “Your Majesty,” he greeted Devin, bowing. He added a second bow toward Gabria. “Your Highness. Regarding your schedule tomorrow morning, I was thinking—”

  “—Three Days of Grace?” Devin interrupted, his tone mostly light. “Followed by Three Days of Intimacy? As in, privacy?”

  Heaving a sigh, the Master of the Royal Retreat tucked his loupe into one of his square-dangling pocket sleeves. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, I do wish. Her Highness and I have had a long day. We will retire, now,” Devin said.

  Bowing, the Master of the Royal Retreat hurried ahead of them to the royal bedchamber. They could hear him clapping his hands and issuing a set of orders. Devin guided the pair of them toward the same hall, passing a couple of purple-and-gold-clad Royal Guards standing duty at the entrance to the corridor.

  Gabria wrinkled her nose at the sight of the armored man and woman. “Are there always people about?”

  “Usually, yes. Servants to attend to my every need, guards to defend me against any enemies, witnesses to any prophecies I may spout—all the servants and the Royal Guards carry spell-shrunk slates and chalk-sticks in their sleeves or tablets and pencils in pouches on their belts to help them record anything I may say when the Eyes are upon me,” Devin revealed, strolling with her toward the bedroom. “If it isn’t servants, it’s bureaucrats with kingdom business which my brother has sent to me for approval, and if it isn’t those, it’s courtiers currying favor, or citizens seeking prophesies. The Royal Guard are always somewhere around, of course, though they do try to be discreet about it.”

  They entered the bedchamber, with its gilded bed and equally ornate furnishings. He led her not to the bed but to the dressing room, where three maidservants and two menservants separated the two of them. Gabria, unused to being helped out of her clothes, eyed the silently working women. Too silent, in her opinion.

  “Um ... you ladies can talk, yes?” she asked.

  The one peeling back the inner layer of jacket-thing from her shoulders looked up with a grin. “Yes, Your Highness, we can talk. We just ... have nothing to say at this point in time.”

  “Ah. That makes sense, I suppose.” Gabria quickly glanced over her shoulder at the men. Neither Devin nor his two servants were paying her state of undress any heed. She blushed when the maids unlaced the corset and slipped it from her ribs, but they replaced it with a thigh-length tunic in a matter of moments. An expensive, luxurious tunic made from soft, imported cotton.

  They also removed her gathered trousers and underdrawers. Those, too, were replaced with more cotton, this time a pair of drawstring-waisted trousers not too different from the pants she wore as a Guildaran. She was then ushered toward a door that turned out to be a refreshing room. Her tooth scrubber had been unpacked and laid on the counter. Given a moment of privacy, Gabria took advantage of the refresher, then washed her hands and lifted the scrubber to her teeth. And stared at her reflection.

  What a very, very strange day, she thought, eyeing her image. I don’t look any different, aside from the clothes and the flowers in my hair ... but I’ve faced a God and survived with my powers intact. I’ve been married against my wit and my wishes ... but not entirely against my will. And I’ve had a rich and varied conversation with a near-complete stranger, talking until my voice was almost hoarse, and listening with equal pleasure until his was just as worn.

  A very, very strange day ...

  Scrubbing her teeth, she rinsed and set the slender implement aside to dry. Devin took her place in the refreshing room as soon as she emerged. Seeing no maids in the dressing room, Gabria hurried out to the bedchamber, where the maids were busy turning down the covers on the bed. They finished and started to leave, and she hastily spoke up.

  “Um, haven’t you forgotten something?”

  The same maid who had spoken turned politely to face her. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “My hair?” Gabria reminded the cream-gowned woman. She gestured at her flower-woven plait. “Aren’t you going to undo it?”

  The dark-haired woman smiled. “No, Your Highness. Your flowers stay until His Majesty removes them himself ... which he will most likely do when the Three Days of Grace have ended. Do not worry; the blooms are enchanted against fading or being crushed, and to keep the plaiting from being mussed.” Her smile deepened. “When I got married, my husband waited barely two days before unbinding my hair ... but then we’d known each other for three years, and knew our minds well regarding each other.”

  Bowing one last time, she retreated, following the others out of the room. Gabria blinked, mulling that over. They wait to remove the flowers until the hour they become intimate? Gods ... is that where the meaning of “deflowering a woman” came from? Literally, from removing her flowers?

  The thought was an amusing one. Turning back to the bed, she saw the menservants leaving the dressing room. Both bowed to her, not quite looking at her directly, and left the bedchamber. The last one quietly closed the heavily carved door behind himself. Another yawn snuck up on her.

  Time to go to sleep, she thought, smothering it in her palm. Climbing into the bed—it was huge, fitted easily for three or four people of Devin’s size, and fitted with soft, fine linen sheets that crinkled faintly under her weight—she pulled the covers up to her shoulders.

  The dressing room lights went out. Devin emerged from the dressing room after another moment. He detoured around the room, double-rapping the moon white globes in their wrought-iron wall sconces, extinguishing the magical Artifacts until only the one centered over the head of the bed remained lit. Climbing in beside her, he adjusted the covers over his frame, which had been clothed in a cotton tunic-and-trouser set similar to her own.

  “Are you ready to sleep?” he asked, reaching up toward the globe.

  She blushed, realizing he had literally meant it when he said they’d sleep together. Which brought up a host of other expectations. Digging up some courage, she admitted, “I’ve never done this before. Slept with anyone, I mean. Or married anyone, for that matter, or ...”

  He chuckled. “I’m told I don’t snore, so it should be fairly easy.”

  Double-tapping the globe, he plunged them into darkness. Faint light from the gardens could be seen through the lattice-sheltered windows, but it would take them a while for their eyes to adjust, she knew. Of course, the irony of the situation was ...

  “... Lovely,” she muttered, voicing her realization aloud. “Now I’m not the least bit tired!”

  Devin’s laughter rang through the darkness. Reaching over, he found her hand under the covers and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not sleepy, either, but I think for a different reason than your not having slept with anyone before.”

  “Oh?” Gabria asked, curious.

  “You are a very lovely woman.”

  Her face grew warm at the compliment.

  “And, um ...” He shifted on the bed a little but didn’t move closer to her. “I haven’t been with anyone since your image was revealed to me. So ... it’s been a few months.”

  Gabria wasn’t ignorant of physical needs, male as well as female. Until the False God had been cast down, her people had only had access to a certain potion to prevent conception, a potion which wasn’t always reliable. She knew that other realms had more reliable, spell-based means. It meant adults could enjoy each other’s company without worry or regret for long-lasting consequences. For herself, she hadn’t actually been with a man, yet. At least, not all the way.
<
br />   Marta and her other female friends had described it, and discussed men’s needs, which seemed to rise with greater frequency than women’s. Considering hers tended to rise three or four times a week, Gabria had once quipped that she felt sorry for men. Women, after all, had clever little mechanical devices like the crankman, which was still sitting openly on one of the dressing room shelves. Machinery couldn’t replicate the female counterpart to a phallus, so men were left with fewer options for sating their needs.

  She hesitated over one of those options. He squirmed a little more, adjusting his position, but didn’t let go of her hand. Gabria listened to the silence stretching between them, until she couldn’t bear it anymore.

  “If you need a hand—” she said, just as he said: “I shouldn’t have mentioned that—” Both of them broke off, then she felt him twisting to face her. “You ... ah ... what?”

  Glad the darkness hid what were surely bright red cheeks, Gabria explained. “It’s, um, not unknown in Guildara for a gentleman to get ... yes. And it’s equally not unknown for a lady friend to, well, lend a hand ...”

  He flopped onto his back, not quite stifling a groan. “You shouldn’t tempt me like that!” Devin chided softly. “The sooner we move on to the Three Days of Intimacy, the sooner I have to go back to being a Seer! You are very lovely, but these days are my chance to fully and wholly be myself. Something I won’t know until the next Seer King is chosen.”

  She mulled over that. As much as she tried to understand, Gabria couldn’t quite get past both his admission and her own background. “If you have free will ... why do you do it? Why do you let Him take over your life, and your eyes?”

  A soft sound that wasn’t a laugh escaped him. “I think I’ve left you with the wrong impression. Being blessed with the Eyes of Ruul isn’t a bad thing. Not in the least. He is very much a part of me. My closest friend, my confidant, my ... my God. When I give myself to His presence ... it is as blissful as making love. Only without the sex, of course.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, not quite but sort of understanding.

  “Actually, the sex with Him is incredible,” Devin muttered in an aside. He must have felt her start, for he chuckled. “Not with Him, of course, but ... with Him inside of me, when we make love to a woman together. And judging by her reaction ... it’s equally incredible for the woman.”

  “Ah ... I’m not comfortable with that idea,” Gabria confessed, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the gloom, but she couldn’t make out the carved arches overhead. Instead, she imagined those gold eyes seeing her naked, and ... she shuddered. Thankfully, the man at her side didn’t take offense.

  “Given the history of your own people, I think I can understand why. But He doesn’t ever force Himself on anyone, Gabria. Not even me. He doesn’t take. He watches, and gives, and I give freely in return,” Devin stated quietly. A yawn followed his words, and he squeezed her fingers. “... Mmm. You will come to trust Him in time. And, I hope, myself as well.”

  “Well, I don’t fear you,” Gabria admitted, squeezing back. She stifled a yawn of her own. “In fact, you’re rather nice, and I’ve really enjoyed talking with you. I just ... It’ll take me a while to get used to all of this.”

  “Mmm, yes ...”

  He sounded sleepy, and within a few more moments, she was fairly sure Devin had fallen asleep. Gabria stayed awake for a little while more, contemplating the wild turn of events that had led her to this place, and this bed. Gradually, her tiredness from earlier caught up with her, and she slipped away herself.

  FOUR

  Someone was in her bed. That thought snapped her eyes open, banishing her normal, gradual waking patterns in a rush of alarmed adrenaline. Finding another body actually in her bed, evident in the cotton tunic, neckline gaping enough to show a tanned, masculine chest lightly dusted with dark hairs, propelled her back with a shriek. “Aah!”

  She almost fell off the bed, half tangled in the covers, before she realized who was in her bed. A bemused, amused Devin, one eyebrow and the other corner of his mouth quirked upward. Scrabbling for balance, and composure, Gabria stared and panted. Memory of yesterday flooded her head. His God, their marriage, and her presence in his bed. Untouched, rested—save for the pounding of her heart, though that was gradually subsiding—and still wearing flowers braided into her hair. Both of them clad in soft cotton nightclothes.

  Gabria expected him to react to her brief display of nerves, to say something reassuring about his intentions, to ... to do something.

  Shifting his face so that it rested on his uplifted palm, the Seer King of Aurul simply said, “Good morning.”

  “Uh ... good morning,” she returned as politely as she could manage. Levering herself upright, she scooted a little more fully onto the bed. Once the pillows at her back somewhat supported her, she curled up her legs under the bedding and scrubbed her face. Now that she wasn’t being alarmed by the presence of a stranger in her bed, she could feel the dregs of sleep saturating her brain. Not that the man at her side wasn’t still a stranger in many ways, though she had learned quite a lot about his interests and opinions yesterday.

  “Did you sleep well enough?” Devin asked her.

  “Better than I’d thought, given the, ah ... I’m just not used to anyone being in the room with me,” she explained, apologizing. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I haven’t shared a bed since my sisters and I were little, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.”

  He smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t mind making you scream a second time, if it were a scream of pleasure.”

  Eyes widening, Gabria gaped at him. He grinned back. Grabbing a pillow, she whapped him with it. Laughing, Devin blocked it with his arms, shielding his head, then snatched it from her grasp and tossed it aside. Thrown off balance, Gabria fell over him. His humor faded, replaced by a look of wonder. With a soft murmur, one too quiet for her to hear any actual words, he pulled her down into a kiss. A warm, hungry kiss.

  One which ended abruptly just as she was really beginning to enjoy it. Pushing her off, Devin shoved to his feet with an odd exclamation. “—Breakfast!”

  Taken aback, lips tender and aching for more, Gabria stared at him. Or rather, at his back. He faced away from her, hands on his hips and head bowed. “Breakfast?” she asked, confused. “You want breakfast?”

  “I think it is safer for us to have breakfast, now.” Turning so that he was in profile to her, he glanced down. Pointedly. Then, just as pointedly, he looked at the bed.

  On the bed was a single miniature rose, intact from petals to stem. Gabria quickly lifted her hand to her hair. It felt intact, as neatly arranged as it had been the day before, but where the ribbon tying off the braid had been a finger-length from the end, it had shifted a bit higher along her waist-length plait. Now two finger-lengths of it hung free below the knotted ribbon. Glancing up at his body, she saw the peaked front of his sleeping trousers and blushed. “Ah. Yes. Breakfast.”

  He offered her his hand. Rising, Gabria rounded the end of the bed and accepted it. This time, when their fingers touched, she was very aware of his masculinity. Not just his arousal, but the strength beneath his gentleness. He escorted her into the front room, where she saw a small table being loaded with covered, rune-etched dishes fetched from a wheeled cart by a trio of servants.

  Gabria hung back at that. “Devin,” she whispered, tugging on his hand so that he leaned over, bringing his ear close to her lips. “How did they know we were ready for breakfast?”

  He shrugged blithely. “They were probably listening at the door.”

  This is not my culture, she thought, dismayed by his acceptance of such a lack of privacy. Settling herself at the breakfast table, she found herself further disturbed by the approach of Master Souder. Today, he was clad in shades of green and gold, his long brown hair plaited into three braids, which were in turn twined together.

  “Good morning, Your Majesty, Your Highness,�
� he saluted them, bowing to each in turn. The servants quietly removed the covers of the dishes and poured fruit juice into their goblets, deftly working around him. “Today’s schedule allows for an hour of exercise in the salle with the Royal Armsmaster, two hours in the baths to help correct Her Highness’ skin problems, a double palanquin ride down to the eastern shore, and a leisurely lunch on the beach.”

  “Excuse me?” Gabria interrupted, brows rising. “Skin problems? My skin is quite clear, and I haven’t suffered from spots since I was a child!”

  Souder bowed. “I refer not to any oiliness of your complexion, Your Highness, which is as clear as the sky, but rather to the dryness of it. The maids will be careful not to disturb your hair, of course, but you will need several herbal scrubs and a good soak in milk baths for at least a week. We didn’t bother with pumicing away the calluses on your hands and feet yesterday, being somewhat pressed for time, nor did we do anything about the dreadfully short state of your nails, but today—”

  “—I think not,” Gabria countered firmly. His brows lifted, then lowered again when she met and held his gaze. She lifted her hands. “These calluses are a part of me. They are proof that I am a real person. That I make an honest wage with honest work. That I am not some ... some pampered palace pet! Furthermore, I bathe to be clean. Not to ‘fix’ some imaginary problem with my face. I trim my nails so they will not snag nor get in my way. I dress so that I can move freely and be comfortable. Not to be gilded like a ... a sculpture, or a painting! And I will not waste two hours of my life wrinkling my body in a puddle of milk! If milk is to do my body any good, it will do so when I drink it!”