by Karen Nilsen
“Safire, take me with you,” I muttered, my mouth moving over her breasts as my hands slipped lower, not even pretending patience with laces anymore.
“Merius.” Her voice sounded like she’d been crying and couldn’t catch her breath. “Hold on to me, love.”
I gripped her, trapped her wildness in the cage of my arms, and hoped to God she never flew away from me, for how could I follow the wind? Her chortle became a moan, and I could feel her tremor with my whole body now that we lay so close together. Then I began to move, slowly at first. She rose to meet me, matching me in a dance so ancient it had no name. Dance, love, dance, love, dance, winged, woman, winged, Safire, love, Safire, Safire, love Safire the words drummed in my head.
We both cried out at the end, and I collapsed on the stone, my breath coming in rattling gasps as I clutched her. "Safire, Safire." I kissed her jaw, her cheek, anywhere I could reach.
"Look at the sky," she whispered. "It's so blue I can hardly look at it. Little dots start swimming in my eyes every time I try to focus."
I grinned. "The bishop would say you were going blind from too much carnal pleasure."
She turned her head sharply. "Is that what this is?"
"What do you mean?" I twisted one red curl around my finger.
"I mean," she stammered. "I know there were other girls--you must have wanted them, l-loved them, to do what we just did. Was it the same with them?"
"You mean the way it is between us?" I asked. She nodded and hid her face against my chest. "No, sweet--how can you think that?"
"I don't know. I've never had any other man, and there's . . . well, there's still a lot I don't know."
I slid my hand under her chin and raised her head, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Do you want another man?"
"No, that's not what I meant." She jerked her chin out of my grasp. Her eyes flared. "I just said that . . ."
"Good, because then I'd have to go after him."
"You ass. I didn't even mean that." She sat up and dragged my cloak around her body, her back to me. Then, after a long moment, she glanced over her shoulder, her brows drawn together. "You'd go after him? Really?"
"No. Though the thought of you with someone else makes me ill, so I might punch him once or twice to appease myself. Then I'd let you go gracefully and die of a broken heart."
She snorted. "A broken heart? You? Half the ladies-in-waiting follow you around--you'd have someone else in a week. I'd be the one who would pine."
"God didn't make you for pining, no more than he made you to stay a virgin."
"Merius!"
I grabbed her and pressed my mouth down on hers. It only took an instant for her lips to go pliant under mine and her hand to start creeping around my neck. "See what I mean?" I said with difficulty some moments later. "God made you to kiss me."
"Just kissing?" she teased as my hands began to stray.
"You witch." I straightened, reaching for my shirt. "You know those other girls?"
"What about them?" She fiddled with a knot in her bodice laces, not looking at me.
"They were just practice, sweetheart."
Her eyes flicked up, then dropped down again. "Then I say you've been doing a lot of practicing, sir." She jerked out the knot.
"No amount of practice could have prepared me for you. Impossible wench. Here." I tossed her the small silken pouch from my trousers pocket, catching both her and myself off guard.
She caught the pouch, turning it in her hand before she met my gaze.
"Go on. Open it. I was going to give it to you last night, but . . ." The words stuck in my dry throat, and all I could do was watch her as she pulled the drawstrings of the pouch, and the ring fell out on her palm. Although I had already asked her and she had already accepted, they were but words spoken in the warmth of my bed, where there was just the two of us and the rest of the world seemed far away. Now, we were up here in the cold wind, the whole palace and city and sky spread out before us, and my offer to her, so perfect a few days ago, dwindled to the naive wooing of a man with more passion than sense. Without my inheritance or offices, what did I have to offer her? When she could have the likes of Bara and endless bags of coin at her disposal? My gut clenched, a giant fist. She just kept staring at the ring, not saying anything.
"I should have gotten a ruby," I said finally, "but I never see you wear them, and I didn't think you'd want the traditional linked circles. You said you liked pearls, so I started with that in mind. You'd not believe it, but it took me half a day to find that . . ."
"I'd believe it. It's unusual." She turned the ring in her fingers, holding it up to the sun. "What's this stone, this green one?"
"That's a peridot. They're hard to find here, more common in Sarneth or Marenna." I paused. "When I first met you, I thought your eyes were the exact green of peridots."
"The way the gold swirls--it's like a river, the pearls floating in it. It's beautiful."
"Aren't you going to put it on?"
She held out her hand, and her eyes met mine shyly. "You put it on me, my love. That way it'll never come off."
Both of us trembled as I slid the ring on her finger. Taking her hand, I brought it to my lips. "It's yours. For as long as you want it."
She threw her arms around me, her head coming to rest on my chest. "Your heart's pounding like you ran a long way."
"It's your fault. It seemed like you stared at that ring for hours--I was almost certain you were going to say no." I draped my cloak around her. "You're shivering. I'll buy you another cloak tomorrow."
"I would have said yes right away, but my tongue seized up. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be able to talk again.”
I held her close, remembered how I’d fancied she had wings earlier when we lay together. Yes, I’d tumbled girls, and it shamed me suddenly to admit to her that I had. Men weren’t supposed to feel ashamed of tumbling, but I felt shame now, a dark, inky weight in my gut like I‘d betrayed her before I even knew her. “If I had known what it would be like with you, I . . .” I trailed off, stammering. What was I trying to say? I couldn’t express it in words, an unusual thing for me, and I wondered if I should try to say it at all. Likely it was one of those mysterious things best left unsaid. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Father could see me, that he would call me a fool. Certainly he had never been ashamed of tumbling women. Maybe he should have been. Maybe he should have taught me differently. Maybe then I would have wooed Safire properly instead of stumbling blindly into love.
“What is it, Merius?”
“It could be six months before I return,” I whispered into her hair. “Promise me you’ll wait for me.”
“Merius, I just took your ring and said yes. I just promised to wait for you far longer than six months.”
“I know, but-”
“But what?”
I exhaled, the sour air burning me inside. “There are so many things that could happen between now and then. What if your father finds out what I’ve done?”
“What we’ve done, you mean.”
“Safire, I never should have thought to touch you, an innocent maid . . . well, I mean, I couldn’t help thinking about it. I’m always thinking about it. But I shouldn’t have acted on those thoughts. Your father might deny us permission to marry when he finds out.”
“We don’t need his permission.”
“I’ve been a dishonorable fool . . .”
Her hands curled into fists on my chest. “Just stop it. As far as I’m concerned, we married the other night in your chamber, no matter what our fathers say or the church says or anyone else says. You haven’t dishonored me or yourself--I’ve never felt more loved than I have these last few days with you, in your arms. How can that be a dishonor?”
“I know that, but others won’t understand it that way.”
“So what?”
“So what? I’m leaving you for months. God, I hate to think of it. What if your father casts you out on the streets? My father would, if y
ou were his daughter. You’d be with no coin, no recourse . . ."
She turned on me. "You don't think I can take care of myself, if that happens?"
"I didn't say that. It's just that . . ." I looked her over, head to toe. Even her own cloak had been too roomy for her--mine trailed behind her like a train, draping off her narrow shoulders in long folds of gray wool. Her wild hair, finally loose, frizzed around her flushed face like an unkempt halo. She had the smallest hands of any woman I knew--my ring looked huge on her finger.
"I can't bear to think of you on the docks by yourself. Hell, I can hardly bear to think of you here with just your sister to help you. In fact, don't go out alone anywhere--take Boltan. There's a lot of Peregrines in the world, Safire, and several months is a long time to leave someone who's honest as the sky . . ."
"What?"
"It's just a phrase. It's from an old poem my mother used to read to me. When the sky's cloudy, it rains. When the sky is clear, the sun shines. There's no difference between its mood and the face it shows the world. You're like that, innocent in your honesty . . . there's just no guile in you. You need someone . . ." I trailed off as she sighed and turned back to face the riverside wall, gazing down at her clasped hands.
"To watch over me--is that what you were going to say? You're just like my father, my sister. All of you will trip and fall, watching me instead of watching where you're going." Her tartness left as suddenly as it had come, and she sighed again. "Who's going to watch over you, Merius, while you're so far away fighting?"
I cradled her shoulders in my hands. "As long as I know you're safe, I'll be fine." I kissed the top of her head. "I know you can take care of yourself, sweet. I just don’t want you to go through any hardship over this.”
She bit her lip. “Aside from pining for you, I’ll be fine. Now kiss me again, you wicked seducer. I‘d much rather wallow in your kisses than in your guilt.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The salon rang with the sounds of the king's guard in practice. The baize-lined door whispered shut behind me, and I paused, watching the masked men lunge at each other in ever tightening circles. Most had their House's insignia sewn on their dueling doublets. Demitri of Somners had a fine form but little precision, Sir Jerall of Falance had a fondness for a lower feints that would get him into trouble, Ragner of Sullay often let anger cloud his senses . . . Father's voice went on and on in my head. I usually managed to ignore this invasive echo, but the practice salon was one of the few places I had gained his grudging approval.
Ragner suddenly swore loudly and charged at his opponent. The man met him with a solid parry. Ragner's sword hit the floor with a clatter as the man disarmed him with a dizzying spin of silver that reminded me of Father. It was a move he had taught me, a lunge and a quick swing of the wrist after a parry. The man lifted off his screened mask then, and I realized why he had known my father's disarming lunge so well.
"Gerard?"
His red face broke into a grin. "Merius?"
"What are you doing at court?"
"I've joined the king's guard." He saluted his fellow guardsmen with a flourish of his blade before he turned from them. They resumed practice, their weapons clattering, Ragner falling in opposite of Sir Jerall. Gerard wiped his sleeve over his sweaty forehead and set his sword on the master-at-arm's table.
"I see you still remember my lessons with the sticks."
He chuckled. "Yes, they've stood me well the last ten years."
"For learning with a birch switch, you did fair enough by my father's move."
"Fairer than some." He nodded in Ragner's direction.
"Most could do fairer than that."
His brows lowered. "Why don't you take a few turns on the practice floor, Landers?"
"I don't want to tax anyone. They need their strength for Marenna."
He punched my arm. "Ass. I hear you're off on that little expedition."
"They need someone with cunning and skill in the party."
"That's why Herrod picked me."
"Good God, you too?" I clapped him on the shoulder. "When do you sail?"
"In a few days, on the Stalwart."
"We'll be sailing together then."
"I'll be bound--that means we'll be fighting together." He lowered his voice. "I'm bringing my cards, some coin. I know gambling's forbidden by the guard and king, but . . ."
"Half of the guard tip their wages with loaded dice on the sly, and the other half use five-ace decks."
"Will they take Cormalen gold in a Marennese tavern? Do they even have taverns there?"
"Miners drink, same as we do."
"What about wenches?"
"They get more Marennese from somewhere."
Gerard was whispering by this point. "I hear they mine them."
"What, the women?"
"I hear there's this cave where they carve the women out of marble, and when they kiss the stone, the women turn to flesh. They have rubies for eyes, rocks for tits, and they can turn back to stone when you're tumbling them. They've found men dead, stuck in stone women."
"Then I suggest you take a hammer and chisel."
He guffawed. "It's a strange land, to be sure, but I don't suppose that bit's true. It's probably some lie they invented to keep foreigners away from their women."
"So, when did you join?" I gestured towards the dueling pairs. "Couldn't have been more than a week or two ago, whenever it was we tracked those horse thieves."
"Well, you know Herrod mentioned the king's guard to me a few years ago, when we left the academy. Casian's but a minor House, and for a younger son like me, the king's guard is one of the few places I can distinguish myself."
"There's always the priesthood."
"Now, Landers, I'm no more fit to pray than you are. Listen, I should get back to practice--the old windbag looks on the verge of bursting." The old windbag referred to Sir Jerall, whose arms training involved many lectures about the golden age of Cormalen warriors, a period some thirty years hence when Jerall had been a young king's guard. Grim looks and sharp words often accompanied these lectures as Jerall surveyed his students, whom he obviously considered unfit heirs for their fathers' swords. He was eyeing Gerard now with quivering jowls, sweat pouring down his round face as he blocked Ragner's blade perfunctorily.
"He wants a break."
"He needs a break, you mean." Gerard picked up his sword. "He can only fight for five minutes at a time before he drops like a stone." He bounded back to practice and gave Sir Jerall a brusque salute before he took the older man's place.
I continued to the alcoves at the far end of the salon, where there were shelves of waxes and oils and polishing rags as well as whetstones of various sizes. I selected the finest grained of these. My sword and dagger needed little sharpening, and a coarse grain could knick the edge. The blade slid over the stone, the metallic whisper of approaching battle. When the sword sliced a piece of parchment neatly in two, I laid aside the stone and found a soft cloth. The smells of warm oil and steel filled the air, a pleasant combination. I rubbed the blade in a slow circular motion, enjoying the thin yet solid feel of the sword in my hands, the easy, natural way I held it. Then Father stepped into my light, and I started, almost upsetting the bottle of oil.
"You rushed out of council. One would have thought there were fleas in your boots," he said, his hands behind his back.
I corked the oil and stood as I sheathed my sword. "I had an engagement."
"With Herrod? I saw him stop you."
"You could say that." I drew my dagger and picked up the whetstone.
"What could he want with you?"
I began to sharpen the dagger, staring at the way the silver gleamed icily against the black stone. "He asked me to volunteer for the Marennese campaign."
"Tinker's whoreson," he muttered.
I tested the blade. I didn't feel the edge until several drops of blood welled up from my thumb tip. "I accepted, Father."
He didn't move. He looked, his
eyes measuring me in a close, calculating way that he usually reserved for his most difficult opponents. "You know what this means, Merius."
"Yes, sir."
"Your inheritance, my offices--gone."
"Good."
"Ingrate," he spat. "You'll regret it."
I shrugged, running the dagger over the whetstone again even though it was sharp enough. "Like you regretted leaving the king's guard?"
He froze again, and I knew I had hit a nerve. "My only regret is siring a headstrong fool," he said finally. "If only your mother hadn't miscarried my other heirs--she did it to spite me."
The bile rose inside--I could either punch him or retch or both. My hand coiled into a fist around the dagger hilt. "She miscarried because you were such a heartless blackguard. What kind of man threatens his wife when she's with child?"
His gaze narrowed. "Did she tell you that?"
"She didn't have to tell me. I know you, Father. You never restrained your cruelty where she was concerned."
"Cruelty is the only way a sane man can respond when faced with a scheming harpy. She likely birthed dead children because her blood was pure acid."
"I lived, you bastard." I shoved the dagger in its scabbard.
"Well, you've a thick skull, as you so aptly demonstrated when you accepted Herrod. He's only using you to get back at me. He's wanted to damage the Landers position for years now, and he just broke the weakest link."
"I'd rather be his fool than yours."
Some indefinable emotion sparked in his eyes. "I reared you, trained you, made you what you are . . ."
"Which according to you isn't much, so you must have done a poor job." I turned from him and put the whetstone back on the shelf.
"No, Merius." His voice lowered, his tone less hard, almost conspiratorial. Familiar with his methods, I steeled myself--if he couldn't bully, he moved to subtler forms of coercion. "Listen, you're far from stupid, so stop being such a hothead and think about this. If I had wanted a different heir, after your mother died I would have remarried and sired other sons. I wouldn't have worked so hard at advancing the Landers position, only to leave it in the hands of a dolt or a toady or a milksop."
