by L. K. Rigel
A King’s Pleasure
Mal threw her braid over her shoulder and hugged her mount with her thighs. Edmund had picked out a wonderful horse, spirited but sure-footed. The black colt seemed as joyous to be out exploring the countryside as she was. She’d been back a week, and everything felt as familiar and comfortable as if she’d come home.
She must put an end to these romantic notions about Allel. And she would. But she was going to enjoy every minute she had left. In a few short weeks, her quarantine would be over. She and Edmund would do the deed, and she’d be back in Red City for gestation. Then one more night in the yin-yang chamber, and they’d never be together again.
Maybe it was Edmund she was romanticizing.
He rode ahead, a dark handsome king on a golden palomino, his bare biceps flexed and sweating in the sunshine, his magnificent thighs pressed to the sides of his mount in unconscious competence. His hair was longer now, held off his face by forest green and gold cords and decorated with jewels and beads in the style of Jannes and Pala.
He turned in the vineyard and challenged them all to a race. He galloped away through rows of grapes, leaving everyone hopelessly behind.
“Come on, we’ve got to try!” She called to the others, laughing with the sheer fun of it.
Edmund’s horse took a low fence at the vineyard boundary and disappeared through a stand of birch.
She eyed the fence and hesitated. She’d practiced, but never truly jumped before. Still, Edmund wouldn’t lead her on like this if he didn’t trust the horse he’d selected. She would trust Edmund, and trust her horse. She grabbed a bit of mane.
As Boyo took off, she drove her weight to her heels and looked into the distance for an object to anchor to for balance. There was Edmund on a rise, smiling his encouragement. Boyo flew, and Edmund was her anchor.
Breathe.
As soon as she landed safely, Edmund took off again. His laugh echoed through the trees. “Come on, Boyo!” She clamped her thighs to the colt’s sides and gave him rein. She had to slow where the trees grew thicker, climbed a rise, and followed Edmund around a bend.
“Oh, my!” She reined in before a gigantic ravine. At the bottom, a forest of oak and pine went on forever. Across the divide, a monstrous waterfall poured over the cliff.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Edmund had spread a blanket on the wild grass and was laying out a picnic of fruit and bread and cheese.
Mal gave Boyo a raspberry teacake from her pocket and left him with Edmund’s palomino grazing nearby. She sat down beside Edmund. “Where did all this come from?”
“I have an in with the kitchen.” He opened a wineskin. “It looks like Cook forgot to pack goblets.”
“We’ll have to rough it.” She bit into a fat strawberry, aware of Edmund’s eyes on her mouth with a different kind of hunger.
I could never leave my love.
Palama’s words echoed from long ago. My love. This was too dangerous. Mal never should have taken this contract. The hunger on Edmund’s face – she understood it. She felt it. It wasn’t that the food was good and the air was clean and the man beside her was beautiful.
It was that the man beside her was Edmund. She wanted Edmund, beside her and inside her. Admiration and gratitude were becoming something else. Something forbidden.
Thank Asherah, for quarantine. She had three weeks to get through before they could touch each other. Three weeks to master these feelings.
“Won’t the others worry about us?”
“Mine is the fastest horse in Allel. Jannes noticed that I gave you the second fastest. He and Counselor will find their own amusement.”
“Jannes and Counselor?” She couldn’t have heard that right.
“Your words have stayed with me. No one should exist for service alone. Even you chalices have your pleasures and still manage to do your duty.”
“And what of a king’s pleasure?”
“Now that might be pushing it too far. But Counselor deserves a life beyond her obligations. I want her to be happy.”
“I hope she and Jannes figure out what to do with my ladies. They must be fuming to have lost me.”
“You’re with their king. They know you’re safe with me.”
“Now that might be pushing it.”
She wasn’t safe at all. He handed her the wineskin and his hair fell forward, the ornaments glittering in the sunlight.
“Oh!” One was the blue amber honeybee.
“Counselor gave it to me. Insisted I wear it.” Edmund smiled. “You were right about that too. It is pleasant to wear a reminder of what is good in your life.”
She looked into his eyes. He wasn’t teasing. She wanted him now, shib quarantine. And she could see he wanted her too. Their lips were practically touching.
He pulled back with a sudden wariness. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The game again. Since she’d returned, he’d asked her this question every time they were together. The first thing that had popped into her head was Garrick killed his sister. Edmund’s face had gone white – he had believed her. Saskia would be gratified to know it.
“I would trust the KP Saskia with my life.”
He looked surprised. “During the tribunal she seemed hot-headed and unpredictable.”
“She was angry. She wants justice she can never have.”
A sad thought. Mal had always accepted it that life was unfair – some people were born high on the Chain and some low, things like that. But until Garrick, she’d believed there was justice in the world. Those born high cared for those born low. People obeyed the Concords and respected the gods.
But sometimes people only pretended to do those things. They did murder, and you couldn’t count on Asherah to smite them. Notoriously unpredictable. What if the gods were losing interest again? Mal hadn’t seen Asherah since the time on Corcovado, when the goddess had promised to be with her always. The day Mal had been with the Empani.
“Being outside with no one watching feels naughty. It reminds me of ...” No. She could hardly tell him about that.
“Reminds you of what?” He looked up from kissing her breast. “Have you done this outside with no one watching before?”
Oh, why not. It was a funny story.
“With you, on Corcovado. At least, with an Empani on Corcovado who took your shape.”
The strangest look came over his face. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or pleased that an Empani had read her desire for him.
“I had been watching the Golden Wasp in the harbor when it came to deliver beehives. I thought of you, and then there you were on the trail, a perfect manifestation.”
“It was no Empani.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I thought you were an Empani. I remember being so at ease that I fell asleep. When I woke up, the Empani – you – had vanished.”
“I’m so glad.” A breeze raised chill bumps on her skin, and she pressed against his warmth. “I’m so glad it was you.”
Edmund lifted the wineskin to his mouth. In the line of sight past his elbow, Mal saw something in the sky. Not a raptor or anything living – it flew on a straight trajectory – and so small. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. She reached for the slider on her shades.
“Mallory.” Suddenly she was in Edmund’s arms, and his lips found hers. He repeated her name and kissed her again.
Her mind raced along with her heart. Everybody cheated in quarantine, right? Look at Kairo and Harold. Impossible that fat, healthy prince was an eight-monther. She and Edmund could risk it. Everything was going so well. Allel’s future counselor was perfect, according to all who had seen her, and there was already a preempt bid from Spandau on Mal’s board. Everything was good again, her career on track, Garrick a fading nightmare.
Edmund smelled so good, and the sun was so hot. It was the sun that was hot, right? He caressed her face and murmured her name again between kisses. “Mallory.” Like music.
What would it hurt if she and Edmun
d had a little bit of fun before quarantine ended? She was a trained chalice. These feelings were nothing she couldn’t control.
He pressed her to his chest, his mouth giving as much as taking. His arms encircled her, safety and danger all in one. She ran her fingers over his arms’ bare skin.
She could open the veil between realities right now, she was so excited. He smelled so good. The sun was so warm. She kissed his throat and his earlobes and his eyelids and shivered with pleasure. They shed their clothes and she pressed her skin against his. “You make me feel safe, and whole, and good – and on fire.”
Forbidden words from a chalice to a king.
“Well, my province is honey.” He traveled over her throat with kisses. How endearing, an attempt at humor. She’d have to tell Counselor. She pulled him over on top of her, returning kiss for kiss as he came into her and filled her up.
The sky was brilliant despite her shades. She was caught up in the music of the wind through the leaves, the songs of swallows and finches, and their beating hearts. For a blissful instant she envisioned the two of them as Lakshmi and Vishnu, together creators of the universe. Separate from her will, and without any intention on her part, she was pregnant.
He whispered Mallory. So soft. So tender. “Mallory. It’s you, not your service. It’s you.”
She lost all control. She became the conduit between realities, smacked by mystical lightning. The veil between the material and spiritual worlds dissolved like an exposed lie, and a new soul infused the cells dividing within her.
The instant she was aware of it, the veil fell back into place, the realities once again properly sealed.
Ensoulment at conception. Great Asherah, what had she done?
The Horus Tent
The Days were arguing in the antechamber. Mal had been on edge and out of sorts since the picnic, and they’d picked up her mood. She couldn’t wait to get out of Allel. The gestation announcement was tonight; she’d be on her way back to Red City tomorrow morning.
Since the picnic, she’d spent most of her time in her suite. Edmund had stayed away from her for the remainder of quarantine. She’d been with him once last week in his official capacity, with her ladies as witnesses behind the gossamer curtains. At the end of their fifteen-minute sex orgy, she had told him she was pregnant.
All very proper and according to form. There was no need for him to see her again, and he didn’t. She felt abandoned.
Mallory, it’s you. Not your service. Had she only imagined those words?
Counselor had been scarce too, preferring Céilidh’s company, and somehow that hurt worse. It was always “she’s in a meeting with the king” or “she’s taken Céilidh for a ride in the powered carriage.” Give a counselor a name, and she’ll take everything else.
Mal missed Beastie, the only creature who’d ever been loyal to her.
She didn’t meant to be a little miss brood queen, but she felt sorry for herself. She was terrified by what she had done. Ensoulment at conception! Would there be long-term psychic damage? Would the gestation stick? How could she have been so selfish, so incompetent?
She couldn’t talk to Counselor or Edmund about it, and she didn’t trust Celia. She couldn’t ask the KP; Edmund had gotten rid of her the day after quarantine’s end. Which was fine; Mal never liked that one. She’d rather just check in with Harriet when she got back to Red City.
“Well, I’m not going to do it.” Day Two’s voice rose.
“I will, if no one else will.” Day One sounded flummoxed. Mal smiled to hear the crack in her usual calm demeanor. They must be arguing about whose turn it was to order tea. Ack! Who cared about tea? Mal was going stir crazy. The citadel was so oppressive. She was turning into a little miss brood queen. She couldn’t stand herself.
She threw on one of the Days’ mantles and slipped out of her chamber, pulling the hood forward to hide her face. In the corridors, she received a few automatic nods appropriate for a LOTH, but no one really looked at her.
Not everyone needed Empani cloth for anonymity. She passed the lifts for the stairwell. It would be fun to see how far she could get before being found out. Halfway down the second flight of stairs, she heard voices on the landing below.
“Sir, the classified flight reported in.” She didn’t recognize the voice. “ETA is one hour twenty minutes. Requests escort.”
Mal flattened herself against the wall.
“Good.” That was Jannes. “You take it. You could use some flight time.”
“Yes, sir!”
Mal waited for them to leave the stairwell before going on. She made it all the way to the ground floor. Her frustration with the Days dissipated. Now her sense of adventure was aroused.
The kitchen was cavernous, half below ground with a row of windows high on one wall near the ceiling. A set of steps led up to an outside door. On the chopping block near the stairs, two green apples and half a brick of white cheese sat beside what might be her morning snack.
Mal walked by, picked up an apple, and took the stairs to the door. No one stopped her.
Great gods, the sun! Daylight was painful with no shades. She pulled her hood forward and searched the cloak’s pockets. No such luck. How had she stood it at the settlement without shades?
She didn’t care. She felt giddy being alone and free to explore.
The kitchen garden bordered on a row of tents on the avenue. As she got nearer, she heard vendors bark roguish pleas and gleeful curses in pursuit of custom. Typical of Allel, no guards cautioned them for their language.
She slipped between two tents out to Citizens Way. A few people noticed her cloak and gave her room, but otherwise paid her no attention. Last night’s storm was gone, there were no clouds, and the morning fog had burned off. A lovely day to take a long walk and think.
Jannes had said something in the stairwell about flight time. That object in the sky the day of the picnic had been silent, but it could have been a small airship. Had Edmund kissed her, made love to her, merely to distract her from the sight? What was he up to?
The pungent, sweet odor of some kind of roasting meat was slightly nauseating. She bit into the apple to calm her stomach.
“Lady, you need more’n that to sustain such beauty! Try some o’ my succulent meat!”
The meat seller’s greedy expression faded as he took in the skepticism on her face and her cloak’s embroidered honeybees, symbol of the king’s high-ranking household.
He shrugged with friendly nonchalance and turned to his next victim. “Meat on a stick! Textured protein, the very same as served at King Edmund’s table!”
The prospective customer’s face paled. “Spy!”
Across the way, the meat seller’s competitor picked up the cry and encouraged the crowd to join in the accusation. Two citadel guards came over to investigate, drawing a larger crowd. The vendor protested when they asked to see his license, and citadellers gathered to watch the rarity of a possible arrest.
“Can you believe it?” A woman selling I shit on Garrick shirts grabbed Mal’s arm, and she had to catch herself from flinching at the unexpected touch. “He thinks our king eats textured protein!”
Mal moved away from the commotion and finished the apple.
The city was truly like no other. In contrast to Garrick’s forced order, Allel had the haphazard feel of a carnival. Its raptor cages were made of wood, bound together with strips of leather. A bird could crush them. But the citizens knew their cages were special, even if they didn’t know why.
And word was getting out. Rumors of Allel’s freedom from raptors had risen to the level of fact on the gridcom. That, added to the city’s famous tolerance, drew more people every day. That meat seller was certainly no citizen, and he wasn’t a citadeller, either.
If Edmund wasn’t careful, the other cities would start filing complaints accusing him of luring away their labor force.
The apple core turned brown and sticky. Mal looked around for a rubbish bin and saw that she
was in front of the Horus tent. Two racks held a couple of silk blouses, a crocheted shawl of garish pink wool, and several hemp skirts. The sale sign had been changed. Now it said: 55 % OFF TODAY ONLY!!
Business must be improving. She pulled her hood forward, torn between asking after Kim and keeping this precious small amount of freedom to herself.
“Gra’s busy.” A little girl was watching her from behind the tables. She fairly snarled, just as Mal would have at that age before the Blackbird came. That settled it. She’d ask about Kim.
She held out the apple core and as quickly jerked it back. The cloak had no sleeves, just slits in the sides. She didn’t want to expose her roses. She shifted the fruit to her left hand and held it out again. “I wanted to …”
“For me?” The girl flew over and snatched the apple’s remains. Before Mal could ask her to throw it away, she’d stuffed it into her mouth like a prize, seeds and all, grinning as if it was the best thing she’d ever eaten.
Maybe business wasn’t so good after all.
The girl’s eyes widened, disclosing the tell-tale sign of pterygia beginning in the corners.
So young! Mal turned away, repelled, and absently picked up a piece of lace on the sale table. It was large enough to serve as a shawl, ugly gray-brown and made of rough threads, out of place among the soft hemps and colorful silks.
What was Empani cloth doing here?
“You can’t have the shiny.” The girl glared as if Mal had touched her favorite toy.
“Nonsense, child.” The Ptery stood at the door flap. Her eyes were so thick with gauze that her irises and pupils were indiscernible, but the white globes turned smoothly in their orbits. She shuffled forward, followed by a tearful well-dressed woman and a youth who could be her son.
Mal lowered her head to let her hood fall forward.
The woman stepped in front of the boy as though to hide him, though he was taller by a head. Mal pretended to study the lace in her hand, hoping it was her cloak and not her face the woman had recognized. Maybe not wearing shades was a kind of disguise.
