On Azrael's Wings

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  “Aye, Lord.” Suma bowed. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, Suma. Dismissed.”

  The captain saluted and left the audience hall.

  Azrael turned to the scribes and began dictating a message to her uncle. At her feet, Ursula consoled herself over Vincenza’s addition with thoughts of wiping the smug woman’s face on the marble floor.

  Finally free from official duties, Azrael arrived at her quarters with Ursula in tow. There was another conversation to be had and the dark woman was grim.

  Midia was still spending time reacquainting herself with her family, so Felicia and Vincenza knelt in the entryway without her. Azrael watched them both for some time, not speaking. Finally she said, “Felicia, take Ursula visiting to the slave’s quarters.”

  “Yes, Milady.” The strawberry blonde rose, smiling at Ursula as she offered her hand.

  Ursula swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Things had gone so well yesterday and now this. Resigned, she nevertheless attempted a weak smile in return and followed Felicia out of the room.

  Leaving Vincenza where she was, Azrael stepped into her private hall and sat down. She regarded the slave’s back. If it had been any of her other personal slaves, Azrael would have taken her into her quarters. But Vincenza was another case. If Midia was correct, discussing this unpleasantness as a matter of business would ease Vincenza’s transition.

  She sent a silent prayer to the gods to ease her slave’s heart. “Attend me.”

  Rising, Vincenza’s face showed none of the satisfaction she held at Ursula’s dismissal. She poured a mug of water from an ewer on a nearby table. “Would you like something to eat, Milady? I can send to the kitchens for food.”

  “No, Vincenza, I’m not hungry.” Azrael accepted the mug. “Pour some for yourself. We’ve something to discuss.”

  A brief wrinkle marred Vincenza’s brow before she complied.

  When the slave returned to her side, Azrael pulled the woman onto her lap. She inhaled deeply. “You’ve been with me for three years, Vincenza. In all that time, you’ve only personally served me for one.”

  Realizing a response was needed, Vincenza smiled. “Yes, Milady. It was a wonderful year. I only wish it had been longer before you were called away.”

  “As do I.” Azrael brushed fingers through shiny black hair. “I’ll be blunt, Vincenza. I don’t wish to see you waste your potential here.”

  The slave blinked. “Milady?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

  “You’re young and vital. Your family name exceeds all expectation in courtesans and you’ve done a tremendous job here in my household,” Azrael explained. “I don’t wish to see you languish as a mere dressing maid here.”

  “I... I don’t understand, Milady,” Vincenza finally stammered, her usual aplomb missing. “If I’ve displeased you in some manner...”

  “You’ve not displeased me, Vincenza,” Azrael soothed, firmly rubbing between the woman’s shoulder blades. “Never that.” She sighed. “My need for your services, however, has diminished.”

  Vincenza’s expression flickered from confusion to understanding. Dark eyes flashed as she understood what was being said. “Please, Milady, I apologize for any ill treatment of Ursula. I was only surprised when she arrived, having not expected another slave to share your attentions.”

  Azrael nodded. “I’m aware of that, Vincenza, and I know that your professionalism would eventually override any negative feelings you have for Ursula. But that’s not what’s at issue here.” She saw the question in her slave’s eyes. “Again, I’ll be blunt as it’s the way of any soldier. I’ve fallen in love, Vincenza.”

  Pulling away slightly, Vincenza stared at her mistress, eyes wide. After a moment, her eyes flickered away and her brow furrowed as she considered the implications in her life at this unfortunate circumstance.

  “You see why I have concerns for you?” Azrael asked, still caressing the lithe back. “You’ve spent far too many years learning your trade. I cannot ask you to retire yourself to the level of a maid. Your family would no doubt be furious at the insult.” The dark woman quieted, leaving Vincenza to her thoughts.

  Several moments passed before Vincenza refocused on Azrael. Her self-confidence returned, she was the epitome of a professional courtesan. “What will you do, Milady?”

  Azrael gave an internal sigh of relief at Vincenza’s easy acceptance, deciding that Midia deserved a huge reward. “I have one or two ideas for your placement,” she said, slipping into the same matter-of-fact tone. “I realize that you’ve almost nowhere to go but down in the scheme of things, however... Perhaps you remember my cousin, Nils?”

  “Yes, Milady, your uncle’s son. I remember him.”

  “He’s a virile young man now, years from settling down,” Azrael continued. “I believe he’s nearly nineteen and no doubt very much in need of a personal slave who can give subtle instruction on how to please a woman.”

  Vincenza considered a moment. “He’s also very handsome if I recall correctly,” she added, grudgingly coming to terms with the idea.

  Smiling, Azrael agreed with her. “And closer to the throne until King Shonal marries and has an heir.” She watched as Vincenza worked her way through the suggestion. “I leave tomorrow to see Shonal and plan to stop at my uncle’s along the way. I’ve made arrangements for you to come along.” Vincenza looked startled and Azrael continued, “While I realize you’re a slave, I’d much rather have your agreement in this. It will make the transition much better for all of us.”

  The body slave nodded slowly. “What of my sister’s wedding next summer?”

  “I’ll make certain Nils honors my wishes. I’ve given you permission; he’ll be more than happy to allow it, as well.”

  Despite an effort to remain the professional courtesan, Vincenza’s lip quivered and her eyes grew moist. “I’ll miss you, Milady,” she whispered.

  Azrael pulled the woman to lean against her chest, holding her close. “I’ll miss you, as well, Vincenza. You’ve been a wonderful addition to my household and I’ll mourn the loss of your smile.” She gently caressed the weeping woman, feeling a combination of relief and sorrow.

  “You’ve really no reason for this jealousy,” Midia insisted.

  Startled, Ursula left off the glum studying of her hands. She blushed as she realized both Jastus and Petracal had left the room. Searching her memory, she knew they’d said farewell to her deaf ears. “I’m sorry, Midia. I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “You’d best learn quickly then,” Felicia said, smiling to offset ill feelings. ”It’s no surprise to anyone, least of all Lady Azrael.”

  “She knows?” Ursula blurted, amber colored eyes round.

  Midia clucked at her dismay. “Neither you or Vincenza are secretive in your distaste, Ursula. Only someone as dense as stone couldn’t see it.”

  The brunette frowned, brushing at nonexistent dirt in her lap. Despite Midia’s many assurances over the months, Ursula was still uncertain. Her rival for their mistress’ affections had been here far too long. These women were Vincenza’s friends.

  Felicia, seated next to the brunette, touched the tense shoulder. She gently rubbed as she spoke. “I, of all people, can understand your circumstance, Ursula. When Vincenza first arrived she was insufferable.”

  “That’s one word to use,” Midia agreed with a chuckle.

  Meaning Vincenza wasn’t that way now? Ursula slightly shook her head.

  “In any case, it was quite some time before she climbed off her high horse as far as Midia and I were concerned.” Felicia shrugged, smiling. “It’s only a matter of time before she’ll do the same with you.”

  “Will she?” Ursula asked. “As she’s been sure to mention in my presence, she’s a well trained courtesan. I’m a simple peasant with no experience.”

  “Oh, you’ve some experience,” Midia said, raising an eyebrow.

  Ursula blushed at Felicia’s giggle, her lips twisting into
a reluctant smile. ”That’s not what I meant.”

  “Nevertheless, you must be doing something right,” Felicia said. “Our mistress has had her share of adventure with willing peasant women. As you see, we’re the only ones still here.”

  Cocking her head to one side, Ursula asked, ”Have there been other body slaves?”

  “A handful,” Midia said. “They lasted no more than a week before Milady found other places for them.”

  It was a sobering thought that did nothing for Ursula’s peace of mind. Granted, she’d lasted longer than a week, but that was on the road. Her gaze sank back into her lap and she nibbled at her upper lip.

  Faintly exasperated, Felicia rubbed harder to gain the younger woman’s attention. “Stop raking yourself through the coals of doubt, Ursula. Lady Azrael cares very deeply for you; you’ll not find yourself digging yams in the field anytime soon.”

  “Felicia’s correct,” Midia agreed. “You’re jealous of Vincenza because you feel she’s better. But think a moment… Why does Vincenza feel the same of you?”

  Ursula blinked. That was an intriguing question. Someone with Vincenza’s background would really have no need to notice a peasant slave, regardless of the circumstances. “Why does she?”

  “I just told you, you silly goose!” Felicia giggled. “Our mistress cares very deeply for you!”

  “You’re quartered in her chambers, Ursula,” Midia added. ”No slave, personal or not, can say the same.”

  A commotion at the door heralded the return of Midia’s family. Conversation turned to other topics, Ursula doing her best to keep involved. Her thoughts, however, insisted on looking past the emotions of her situation, finally searching for causes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ursula looked back longingly at the wagon trundling behind the speckled mare she rode. They’d been traveling all morning, her thighs and rear aching with the unfamiliar use of muscle. Beside her, Vincenza sat her horse with obvious experience and Ursula almost wished for the mount to stumble, wondering if it would crack the haughty slave’s implacable facade.

  Before them were Azrael and Suma, sometimes speaking to one another, other times riding silently. Twice now, Suma had left to check his forward runners. In both cases, the general called Vincenza forward to ride along while Ursula fumed behind.

  Twenty men rode fore and aft, all members of Azrael’s personal guard. There would have been fifty more plus an additional ten servants, but their lord and mistress had sent Brahim packing, the steward’s complaints regarding a proper retinue for a duchess falling on deaf ears.

  The land on either side of the road was much the same as when they started. Rolling hills of farmland, interrupted by the occasional stand of trees or farmstead. This land, so much further south than Ursula’s home, sprouted all manner of crops. Ursula found herself staring at strange plants, wondering what they were. She wished she could ask, but there was no way she’d turn to Vincenza and their mistress hadn’t called her ahead.

  Her eyes focused on the other slave’s profile. With reluctance, Ursula had to admit that Vincenza was less problem today. The slim beauty was in no way as pleasant as the other body slaves, but she’d stepped back from her obvious distaste, treating Ursula with professional courtesy rather than a thin veneer covering her jealousy. Perhaps their mistress had punished her the previous afternoon. Ursula felt a guilty pleasure at the thought, simultaneous with a surge of sympathy.

  When she wasn’t worrying about the lack of sensation in her rear, Ursula’s mind was occupied by her conversation with Midia and Felicia.

  Did Azrael care more deeply for her than Vincenza? The simple act of settling Ursula within her private rooms said something according to Midia. Though why only Vincenza was disturbed by it was beyond Ursula. She could easily see why the courtesan was angered. What she didn’t understand was why Midia and Felicia were not.

  Ursula’s gaze, distant with thought, focused on Azrael’s back. If what Midia and Felicia said was true, how long would it last? The brunette had to admit to herself that she was treated differently from the others. Despite a two year absence, Azrael had only bedded the slaves she’d left behind once. Since then, Ursula was in her bed or lap more often than Felicia and Vincenza combined. While her mistress’ infatuation was delightful, it had to end some time, didn’t it? And what would become of Ursula when that happened?

  Shying away from that speculation, the brunette stretched in her saddle in a vain attempt to ease the ache of her tailbone. She thought she heard a chuckle beside her. When she glanced over, however, Vincenza’s face was neutral as she gazed at the road before them. Dismissing the thought with a shake of her head, Ursula resumed her concerns.

  Ursula eyed the villa they halted before. While similar in color to Azrael’s, both apparently built from the same quarry, this one was smaller. Puzzling over the size, the brunette noted no additional entry for an army. She raised her eyebrows, realizing Azrael’s uncle might not have one. Instead, a separate walled area sat few hundred feet on the other side of the road and the slave wondered what was there. Well cultivated grapes and olive fields basked in the afternoon sunlight.

  A handful of people waited on the atrium steps as the horses came to a halt. Suma immediately ordered his troops to dismount and tend their horses as Azrael slid from her saddle, a brilliant smile on her face.

  Watching the reunion curiously, Ursula saw the resemblance between Azrael and her uncle was so close, they could be mistaken for father and daughter. Standing beside the older man was a lighter skinned version of him, clouting the dark woman on the shoulder with youthful exuberance.

  “Ursula.”

  Concentration broken, the brunette looked at Vincenza standing on the ground beside her.

  “You must dismount. Our mistress expects us by her side.”

  The courtesan’s voice was matter of fact without a hint of condescension and Ursula wondered yet again what had transpired the previous afternoon. This thought was immediately chased away by the painful reality before her - having to get down from the saddle.

  Ursula swallowed and nodded. Standing in the stirrups to swing her leg over wasn’t too difficult. It was bending her leg to reach the ground that nearly did her in. She bit back a groan as her thighs bitterly complained, grabbing at the saddle to remain upright. Vincenza’s hands on her waist steadied her and she glanced sharply over her shoulder at the other woman.

  “Flex your legs,” Vincenza said. “Stretch a little and take small steps.

  Doing as she was told, the brunette grunted softly at the agony, most of her weight hanging from her arms. The horse shifted in discomfort and Ursula clung to the saddle, abruptly terrified the steed would bolt, leaving her to collapse in the road.

  “It’s not easy, I know,” Vincenza continued, releasing her hold as Ursula reacquainted herself with walking. She grabbed hold of the reins to steady the animal. “You’d do well to ask Lady Azrael for a horse of your own and ride every day. She’s been known to suddenly take leave of the villa with only what can be carried in saddlebags.”

  Both leery and grateful of the assistance, Ursula murmured a thank you. She was glad the villa was on the other side of her mount, giving her a few precious moments to regain her equilibrium without prying eyes. The soldiers around them were busy with their gear, paying the slaves little heed.

  Satisfied the brunette was able to walk, Vincenza urged her forward. Ursula feigned serenity as she hobbled toward the gathering, wishing she could use her dark companion to keep her balance.

  “Will you never stop growing?” Azrael demanded of the young man whose neck was in the crook of her arm.

  “It’s been three years, coz!” he exclaimed, playfully struggling in her grasp. “I wasn’t much more than a boy when I saw you last!”

  Azrael laughed and released him. “Yes, but you’ve insisted you were a man since before you grew hair between your legs.”

  “And you insisted you’d make a better man than mos
t at a younger age than Nils,” was the droll reply from the older man.

  Azrael bowed deeply. “Was I so wrong, Uncle?”

  Nieto let out a bark of laughter, pulling his mischievous niece into a hug. “You weren’t far off the mark, I wager.” Releasing her, his dark eyes scanned the approaching slaves and captain. “Suma! It’s good to see you again! Has Azrael treated you well?”

  Bowing, the tall blond said, “I’ve found no complaint in Lord Azrael’s service, Your Grace, except for her need to thrash my men at weapons practice.”

  “Whose men?” Azrael asked, eyebrow arched. She bumped Nils with an elbow when he chuckled.

  Saving Suma from the need to answer, Duke Neito said, “You know where the dining peristyle is, Captain. Have the men bed down there. Food will be served within the hour.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” Suma bowed once more and left to see to the sleeping arrangements.

  “And you, my dear.” Neito turned back to Azrael. “The royal guest rooms are prepared. Would you prefer to rest before eating?”

  Azrael glanced at her body slaves, noting Ursula’s wan face. “Perhaps that would be best, Uncle.”

  “So be it. We’ll have dinner in my quarters at sunset.” He waved forward a pair of servants. “Escort Lady Azrael to her rooms.”

  As both bowed, Azrael smiled and gave each of her family members another hug. “I look forward to dinner. I’ve missed you both.”

  “We’ve missed you, as well, coz,” Nils answered, giving her an extra squeeze.

  “Go along. The sooner you’ve freshened yourself, the sooner we can break bread,” Neito said.

  Still smiling, Azrael followed the servants, Vincenza and Ursula silently trailing behind.

  Ursula nibbled at some bread, keeping a careful eye on her mistress’ wine. She sat on the lounger with Azrael rather than on the floor; the dark woman had insisted once she’d realized the extent of her slave’s pain. The subtle aroma of perfumed oils emanated from her, testament to a thorough, gentle massage of tortured muscles at the hands of her mistress. If every day’s ride ended thusly, Ursula would be more than happy to travel horseback for the rest of her life.