The whole of Ursula’s life stretched out before her wandering mind. Sooner or later, the brunette would find a handsome young man to cleave to, would desire to bear him children and live with him as his wife. What would Azrael do? Deny her that right? Jealously keep Ursula to herself and damn all the consequences? The love that Ursula held for her mistress would wither and die, no doubt, dead on the vine for lack of water, lack of true love.
A vision of an elderly statesman came to mind and Azrael snorted. Widacus, profound and powerful leader on the King’s Council, had gone along this path, as well, falling madly in love with one of his body slaves. He’d doted on her in public, allowing her all manner of transgressions with nary a frown, treating her as his equal though he still held her leash. People were pleasant to his face, but wagging tongues remarked on his lack of sense and decorum. He was made a fool, a high born idiot slavering after a pretty face. His reputation became shabby and ragged by turns until he quietly retired to his estate, the butt of jokes among the aristocracy.
And here she was following in his footsteps. It was bad enough that Azrael was of royal blood. She also commanded an army! What would happen if she were to lose the trust and loyalty of her men?
With a sigh, she leaned forward, dropping her face to her hands and scrubbing in frustration. She rested there, elbows on knees, face covered as she tried to formulate some plan of action. Never one to be idle, the thought of just letting things go along on their own was incomprehensible. There should be something she could do to fix things.
“Azrael?”
The voice was hesitant and Azrael looked up to see Ursula poised in the doorway. A tired smile crossed her face. “Yes, Ursula?”
Chewing on her upper lip a moment, Ursula took a step into the room. She was wearing a silk robe of deep green. “Are you all right, Mi … Azrael? Do you wish to be left alone?”
Azrael sat back, her smile widening. “No, Ursula. Your presence will always be preferable to solitude,” she said, waving the slave forward. When Ursula was close, Azrael pulled her into her lap, leaning back in her chair. She rubbed the brunette’s back, content despite misgivings and thoughts. “And why are you up at this hour?”
Ursula played with the leading edge of her mistress’ robe as it sloped from her neck. “I’m always up at this hour,” she reminded. “I woke to call for your morning tea and prepare for the day, but you were already gone from bed.” She looked up, her fingers straying to brush against Azrael’s jaw line. “You seemed deep in thought. Am I not interrupting?”
Kissing the fingers, Azrael chuckled. “Perhaps, but it’s a welcome interruption, sweetling. My thoughts were going nowhere, circling with no end.” She hugged the slave. “I’m glad you’re with me.”
They sat in companionable silence for long moments before Ursula finally dared to venture, “Is it your cousin, Azrael? Is he what has you in a worrisome mood?” She waited, wondering if her forward behavior would result in punishment.
Azrael blinked in surprise. Was it already so obvious to the slave that she could take liberties without fear of retribution? Even Midia hadn’t attempted to be so bold until she’d been with her mistress for two years. The thought of Midia brought a grin to Azrael’s face. Of course. Midia had been tutoring Ursula for months.
“I wish it was my cousin,” she admitted with a chuckle. “At least he I can understand. As a child he was a bully and a coward. I don’t believe he’s grown into an honorable man.” Azrael stopped, a chill in her heart as she wondered why she was talking near treason to a slave. Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Have you cousins, Ursula?”
Puzzled, Ursula wondered what had saddened her mistress, disappointed that Azrael wouldn’t speak of it. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly. My mother had two brothers, but she hasn’t had word of them for years.”
Azrael had a sudden desire to learn all about the brunette in her arms. “What of siblings? I recall you mentioning a sister or brother to Midia once.”
“Aye, I’ve both. There were eight of us.”
Frowning, the dark woman considered a moment. “You were lucky. I was the only child in my home. When I was younger, I wished for a brother but it never happened.”
Ursula gave a half smile, snuggling closer, returning her fingers to the robe collar. “Not that lucky,” she said. “No privacy, four to a pallet in the corner, not enough food … and terrors! My brothers were horrendous with hair pulling and dropping bugs down our dresses.” She paused in fond memory, startled from it by the next question.
“Do you miss them?”
It was Ursula’s turn to frown as she pondered the answer. “Yes and no, I suppose,” she finally said. “I miss the pleasant times we had, but it was terribly hard. I don’t miss working in the fields with poorly crafted tools or hoping for an early spring so we wouldn’t starve.” She looked at Azrael’s profile as she stared into the dwindling flames. “Farming’s a difficult life.”
“Especially in the northern lands,” Azrael agreed. “I’d be loathe to eke a living out of that cold, rocky soil.” She rocked the woman in her arms. “Tell me, Ursula, with a life as rough as yours, did you not have dreams and wishes?”
Ursula sobered. “Aye, Azrael, as a child. But when I grew older, I gave up childish things. They meant nothing, just dawdlings. By the time my father gave me away, I knew there was no place for dreams.” She shrugged, intent on the collar beneath her fingers. “They only cause regret and sadness.”
Azrael hugged the brunette close, hearing the muted pain in her voice. “Everyone deserves to have wishes come true, Ursula,” she said, brushing the top of the slave’s head with a kiss. She held her breath, cursing herself for torturing her heart. A part of her desperately needed to know the answer, however, and she found herself asking, “What were your dreams? Did you wish for a fair and strong knight to ride into your life? Someone to defend your honor and love you forever?”
Chuckling despite her melancholy, Ursula said, “No. None of that, though my sisters all swore that their true love would come from the Fey Well deep in the forest to take them away.”
It seemed Azrael’s heart stopped, mid beat. When no further words were forthcoming, she whispered, “What then, Ursula? What were your dreams?”
“They’re silly,” she said, blushing. She was jostled and her mistress gave her a warning growl. With a laugh, she finally said, “I was always the knight, saving the lady in distress, fighting to the death for love and honor. I remember being so disappointed when my brothers told me only men could become soldiers.”
Azrael’s heart began beating once more. A slow smile grew on her face at the thought, recalling many childhood summers pretending to do the same. “Well, as you now know, women can become soldiers and knights, too. Would you still wish to be one?”
Ursula shook her head, leaning forward to kiss the dark woman’s neck. “No, Azrael. I’d rather wish to remain in your arms forever.”
Chapter Twenty
In contrast to Azrael’s last visit, Shonal’s audience hall was quite crowded this evening. It seemed that every noble with an ounce of highborn blood was on hand to witness her vow. She heard the herald announce her and stepped forward, wishing it were all over.
She’d brought ten of her men this time, all in polished mail as they escorted her to the dais, five before and five behind. Azrael was dressed in her armor, as well, never much comfortable with the gowns of the feminine aristocracy. It was far easier to move in breeches and tunic than the frippery of women. Not trusting her cousin also helped in her decision; Azrael much preferred being ready for action if it was deemed necessary.
As she made her way down the suddenly long path, movement caught her eye and she glanced aside. A smile barely touched her lips at the sight of Ursula, cupping her mouth to hide a grin. Amber eyes flashed above tan fingers, reflecting excitement for her mistress. Azrael’s eyelid drooped in the barest wink before she was past but could spare no more attention. She was ple
ased to note Suma standing just behind her slave, keeping her safe from wagging tongues.
While it seemed to take forever, she arrived at the dais in little time. Her men came to a halt and knelt, leaving her standing amidst them. Azrael stepped forward and past, stopping at the dais and kneeling on the bottom step. “Your Royal Majesty,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry across the crowd. “I’ve come to swear fealty to you as my King and Commander.”
Shonal rose from his throne, torch light shining off his golden cape. Beside him, an elderly woman sat in the second chair - Gerina, the Queen Mother. With an almost insolent air, he sauntered down the steps until he was just above her. “I’ll hear your vow, cousin.”
Azrael quelled a shaky sigh, preferring to face a sword duel with the finest of masters than all this attention. “I, Azrael, King’s cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, in the presence of all the gods, and in the presence of King Shonal, King’s Council and all gathered Lords and Ladies: Be it known to all, present and future, that I do recognize that Shonal, King of Barentcia, has granted me possession of the Duchy of Wrendon, which I shall hold so long as I provide Shonal with the five hundred men in my company to serve the Crown in time of war, or pay scutage for the same; and that if I break this promise, all the aforesaid men shall hold directly of my lord, Shonal, King of Barentcia; my duchy shall be forfeit and revert to the Crown in total, but that my noble title of Duchess shall persist until such time as the Crown shall have reason to take it from me.”
Azrael bowed her head. “I will do liege homage to my lord, Shonal, King of Barentcia, and I swear to keep faith with him against all creatures, living and dead, without deception and with all honor; and that from this hour I will be true to him with regard to his life and his rulership, and the members of his body, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according to the law, and according to the world’s principles. I swear that I will never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him; on condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve, and that I assume all the rights and liberties of a peer of the realm. I further pledge to support, uphold and execute the common law of the land, and to abide by all decisions of the Crown in regard to this law.”
There was a long pause and Azrael wondered if Shonal were playing with her. Would he deny her fealty in this public forum, just to make a scene? Much as she wished to look up and see his eyes, to ascertain what he was thinking, she kept her head bowed, waiting obediently if not patiently. Relief flickered through her as she heard her cousin respond with the proper words.
“I, Shonal, King of Barentcia: Be it known to all men that we have received Azrael, King’s cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, as our liege woman. She has sworn on all the gods that she will aid us in good faith, as her liege lord, against every creature, living or dead; she will uphold our authority and come to the aid of the Crown in time of war. At her command the following persons have sworn to us that they approve of this and will support and aid her in keeping this oath: the King’s Council and all gathered Lords and Ladies. For our part, we do swear to uphold, protect and defend Azrael, King’s cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, for so long as we remain sovereign of Barentcia, and for so long as Azrael, Duchess of Wrendon, observes her oath of fealty to the Crown.” Shonal’s voice was smug as he said, “Rise, Azrael.”
The woman stood, noting her cousin’s tone also reflected upon his face. Regardless, she stepped forward as he leaned close. They kissed one another on the cheek, sealing the pact. Shonal took Azrael’s hand and turned toward their audience, his cousin following suit.
“All are witness,” he called.
“All are witness,” the crowd repeated before breaking out into applause.
Azrael was glad when the king released her hand - it felt pudgy and sweaty - and she resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her thigh. With a false smile, she bowed deeply to Shonal. “What is your will, My Liege?”
“My will is to celebrate with a banquet, cousin,” Shonal said, a wide grin on his face. “And you shall sit with me at the highest table! To the dining peristyle!” he announced loudly, the nearby herald picking up his order and repeating it for the masses.
As her cousin led her out of the audience hall, Azrael glanced back at the dais. The Queen Mother was still seated on her throne, apparently asleep. It occurred to Azrael that the woman looked much more frail than the last time she’d seen her. Shonal tugged on her arm and Azrael shook the disquiet from her mind. Now was not the time to be woolgathering. The night was far from over and she needed her wits about her.
Azrael wished fervently for this tedious night to be finished.
She drained her mug of wine, dark eyes watchful. Shonal lounged across from her, no less than three body slaves keeping attendance on his royal personage. Azrael wondered how much more of the fondling and ogling she could stand. His ribald attentions were enough to put any sane person off their feed for a week.
The high table she sat beside was long, stretching the width of the dining peristyle. All of Shonal’s council were seated here, to include their wives, consorts, and personal slaves. A handful of loyal officers peppered the politicos as well. Several steps below was the main floor. Here several more tables were filled to capacity with lords and ladies of the court. Suma was at the near end of the closest table, Azrael’s other men relegated to the lowest table and the rear of the room.
Ursula refilled her mistress’ mug from an available ewer. She knelt on the floor beside Azrael, a cushion pillowing her still saddle sore behind. The slave was careful to not look at the king despite an incredible urge to see if he and her mistress resembled each other as much as Nils did. Azrael had carefully instructed Ursula that afternoon on proper royal etiquette. It was all so much different from the other functions the brunette had attended.
With a fond grin, Azrael caressed Ursula’s cheek with the back of her fingers. Her reward was a brilliant smile. Taking her mug, she drank, only then noticing Shonal’s attention.
“She’s a beauty, cousin,” he rumbled, eyeing Ursula. “Where did you get her?”
Azrael swallowed her wine and reached for a roasted pheasant. “At our last uprising in Theara, my liege.”
“Really?” he asked, studying the willowy slave. “Then you’ve not had her long, eh?”
“No. Only three or four months.” She fed Ursula a piece of fowl, hoping he’d change the subject.
Shonal chuckled, a knowing expression on his dark face. “She must be quite the hussy to have your attention for that long. I hear you killed your own men for touching her.”
Azrael’s eyes narrowed. That Shonal had even an idea of what had happened in Theara could only mean one thing - there was a spy in Azrael’s army. “Rumors, Sire, mere rumors. I killed those men for disobeying orders in the midst of battle, putting their fellow soldiers at risk, nothing more.”
“Still,” Shonal shrugged. “It was this little morsel that caused the problem to begin with.” Wiping grease from his face with his arm, he leaned forward, upsetting the slave perched in his lap. “Stand up, sweetness. Let’s have a look at you.”
Azrael silently cursed, looking into scared amber eyes. “Do as the king orders,” she murmured.
Swallowing hard, Ursula rose, keeping her head lowered.
“Turn about! Turn about!” Shonal exclaimed, waving his hand in a circle. His voice carried, bringing the attention of other diners to the table.
Ursula turned in place, her olive skin flushing. She was wearing a green and gold gown that accentuated her coloring and frame. When she finished her circle, she stood still, hands clasped before her to stop their shaking.
“As I said, cousin, very nice,” Shonal said.
“Thank you, Sire. Ursula, you may kneel.” Azrael watched her slave sink gratefully to her cushions. Hoping that would be the end of it, she looked up to see Shonal’s reaction. His grin was almo
st a sneer. A chill wound through Azrael. It was the same expression he’d sported as a child when he demanded royal prerogative over his ‘lesser’ cousins.
“She looks tame enough,” he observed with a wink. “But knowing you, I’ll wager she’s a tigress under the sheets, yes?”
Grinding her teeth, Azrael refrained from growling. “She has her moments,” she finally agreed, racking her brain for a change of conversation.
Shonal continued to study the slave as he drank from his mug. “How about a trade for the evening, cousin?” he asked. Tugging the arm of a redhead at his feet, he continued, “Sallah here has many talents in bed. I think you’ll find her most pleasurable and I’ve a desire to taste your little niblet.”
Azrael’s thoughts raced. She could see Ursula’s skin pale at the implication. “Tempting as that may be to some, cousin,” she said, leaning back on her lounger with a feral grin, “I’ve yet to tire of this one and am not ready to try another.”
Proper etiquette, even for a king, would be an apology and a regretful backing away. But Shonal was anything but proper.
“I believe you misunderstand me,” he said, his grin matching hers. “I wasn’t asking.”
Azrael’s eyes narrowed, her smile fading. “And I wasn’t agreeing.”
Tension filled their section of the table, rippling away from them. Though many didn’t know the reason, all seemed aware of a struggle of wills.
Shonal laughed, his hearty bark serving to ease the ill feelings. “I understood you were infatuated with the girl, cousin, but not to what extent.”
Azrael relaxed a bit, but not completely.
“It’s been quite the eventful day for you,” the king said. “I understand your reluctance. You need a taste of home and hearth tonight to center yourself. No matter.”
Cautious, Azrael said, “I’m glad you see it that way, my liege.”
On Azrael's Wings Page 17
