by Amy Raby
As Marius returned, bringing his great body atop her again, she rubbed him in all the places he loved and showered him with kisses, grateful for that lovely feeling he’d given her.
“Has that not happened to you before?” he asked.
“No.” If she’d felt anything like that before, she’d have remembered. She felt sorry for Chari, stuck with Jauld, who lacked the knowledge or perhaps even the desire to give his partner such an experience.
His cock nudged her sex, and she parted her legs in invitation. Marius entered her slowly. She was tight.
She’d had no lover since Jauld. It had been years since she’d done this, and her body had reverted to a state similar to the one on her wedding night, as if she were a virgin all over again. But this time she was wet and ready for her lover. There was no pain, only a delicious sense of fullness as he slid all the way in. She wrapped her arms around Marius. This was as close to him as she could ever get, with his body sunk to the hilt inside hers.
“Has it been a while?” Marius asked.
“Over seven years,” she admitted.
“Then I’ll be gentle.” He moved inside her. “You feel amazing.”
He felt amazing. She didn’t think she’d have another climax like the one before—her body seemed spent, like it wasn’t ready to do that again—but the sensations were lovely, and more than anything she loved the closeness and the intimacy. She stroked him all over, wanting his skin against her skin. Anything to increase his pleasure.
He was panting now, moving faster. She bent her legs, spreading them, urging him deeper.
His hand found her breast, and she moaned as he thumbed her nipple. She no longer felt that sensation of tightness. He’d become forceful, almost fierce in his movements, and it felt wonderful. His power, his beauty, his strength—he was spending it all on her body, spending it on loving her.
“Gods,” he said, and shuddered. She recognized it, the same body motions she’d gone through, or nearly so, that wondrous peak of pleasure. She stroked him through it as he had done with her.
When it was over, he gave a great sigh and collapsed beside her.
I love you, she wanted to say. But she didn’t want to ruin the moment by suggesting that this affair could be more than a casual dalliance. He knew better, and so did she.
Chapter 23
Marius was worried about his cousin, the emperor.
He never imagined he’d one day be concerned about the well-being of someone so wealthy and powerful. During his days in Osler, far from the imperial seat, he’d envisioned an emperor’s life as one of comfort and ease. Not once in Lucien’s life as emperor did he have to work a shift, cook his own food, or wash his own clothes. When he wanted something done, he simply expressed his wishes to his underlings, and they made it happen.
Even so, Lucien looked harried and pale where he sat across the desk from Marius in the imperial office, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
“Rough night?” Marius asked carefully.
Lucien rubbed a hand across his face and did not answer. He turned to a servant who waited by the door. “Tea. Make it strong.”
The servant disappeared.
“Is the empress well?” asked Marius.
“Perfectly so,” said Lucien.
Marius nodded, relieved that the problem didn’t appear to be with Vitala.
“It’s this harbor business,” said Lucien. “Funding it, you know, and then there are the land issues in the east, and this business with the Sardossians.”
“Should I come at another time?” asked Marius, not enthusiastic to discuss “this business with the Sardossians.”
“Oh, no,” said the emperor. “You and Drusus promised to tell me about this Sardossian you’ve been employing.” He turned to Drusus, who was leaning against the wall, pretending to be invisible. “Come and have a seat.”
Wordlessly, Drusus sat next to Marius.
“Well—” Marius began hesitantly, but the servant returned with a tea tray, and he paused.
Lucien accepted the tea tray, waved the man away, and poured, filling Marius’s and Drusus’s cups before his own. He blew the steam from his cup, sipped, and sighed. “There’s nothing like good Dahatrian. What were you saying?”
“The good news is that I’m turning a profit at the surgery now.”
“Excellent. Does this have something to do with the Sardossian woman?”
“Yes. I hired her as my business manager.”
Lucien wrapped his hands around his teacup as if to warm them and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about her. What’s her history?”
“Her name is Isolda. She spent her early years in Sardos helping her father run his apothecary shop. Later, after she married, she ran her husband’s general store and apparently grew the business to several times its original size. But then the blood wars started, and her husband was killed, so she came here with her young son.”
“Illegally.”
“I assume so.”
“Sardossians often have fascinating histories,” said Lucien. “Some are just army deserters with no skills beyond carrying a musket. But you do find some like this Isolda with education and talent. Did you serve the writ I gave you? Were you able to get her out of custody?”
“Yes, she’s back at work now. Thank you, sir.”
“If she was working for you and not at the gunpowder factory, how did she happen to be picked up by the city guard?”
Marius hesitated, and Drusus jumped in. “She’s made enemies at the surgery, sir, through no fault of her own,” he said. “A man who owed Marius money took out his frustration by bringing a friend and attacking Isolda—”
“He attacked her physically?” asked Lucien.
“There was a knife involved,” said Marius.
Lucien rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Why did he bring a friend?”
“One can only imagine he found Isolda too intimidating to tackle on his own,” growled Drusus.
“Go on,” said Lucien.
“Marius and I subdued them, and I administered a little rough justice—”
“You didn’t call the city guard?” asked Lucien. “Oh—because she’s illegal. Continue.”
“I thought that would take care of the problem, but the next day, they started leaving angry messages. A dead rat on the door of the villa, something about ‘piss-heads’ painted on the door of the surgery.”
“You should have told me about the attack the day it happened,” said Lucien.
“It was going to be in my report,” said Drusus, looking chagrined. “I figured since the target of their aggression was Isolda rather than Marius—”
“Are you arguing with me?”
“No, sir.” Drusus swallowed.
“Continue,” said Lucien. “What happened next?”
“The city guards came and arrested Isolda. We’re pretty sure it was because those men tipped them off.”
“Drusus, I want you to find Octavius,” said Lucien. “Get three men and go to Riat. Arrest the men who attacked Isolda and bring them back to the palace for interrogation. These are not petty crimes, especially when the emperor’s cousin is involved.”
“Yes, sir,” said Drusus.
“What are you waiting for?”
Drusus scrambled up from the table and left.
Marius stared after him.
“Bit of a lone wolf, that one,” said Lucien, when Drusus had gone. “Are you satisfied with him?”
“Completely,” said Marius.
“Good,” said Lucien. “Now that I’ve scolded him, I’m going to scold you. I’d like you to reflect on how much danger you put yourself in by bringing Isolda into your service.”
“It’s not her fault,” said Marius.
“Of course not. It’s yours,” said Lucien. “My people are going to have to interrogate those men to make sure they’re not a threat to the imperium—”
“They’re ordinary thugs, sir.”
“Probabl
y, but we have to make sure. If we don’t end up executing them, we’ll have to blank their minds and relocate them, at the very least. So it’s a great deal of trouble, both for us and for them.”
Marius said nothing. Lucien spoke as if that were a bad thing, but all he felt was relief. Basilius and his friend would trouble Isolda no longer. And they deserved to be punished for what they’d done.
Lucien sighed and poured himself a second cup of tea.
Marius needed to take control of this conversation. He needed to persuade the emperor to make Isolda’s one-month writ permanent, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen today. Lucien was going to need a lot of softening up first. “I imagine that gunpowder explosion caused you a great deal of trouble.”
“Gods,” groaned Lucien. “One of my investors almost pulled out yesterday. ‘Why pay for a new harbor,’ he said, ‘when you can’t keep order at the old one?’”
“Would it help if I could give you the name of the man responsible for the explosion?”
Lucien blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the name of the man who ran the gunpowder factories,” said Marius. “Isolda wasn’t involved in the explosion, but before I hired her, she worked at that factory. She knows who runs it, and it’s a Kjallan.”
Lucien set down his teacup. “Who is it?”
“She didn’t say. But she said she’d tell you.”
“I just deported her people. Why would she talk to me?”
“She doesn’t know who you are. She knows I have a wealthy benefactor, and that the benefactor ordered her release from the guardhouse. As a gesture of thanks and goodwill, she said she would give the information to the benefactor.”
“Wonderful,” said Lucien. “She likes me as long as she doesn’t know who I am. Why does she want the factories shut down?”
“Because her people die in those explosions, too. And she wants her people to obey the laws here and become legitimate citizens.”
“They’re never going to be legitimate citizens.”
“Well, she’s hoping,” said Marius.
Lucien grunted. “I’ll take the information if she’s willing to share it. Will she speak under truth spell?”
“I think so,” said Marius. “She asked, as a condition of her volunteering this information, that she not be questioned about the whereabouts of her fellow Sardossians.”
“Fair enough. Vitala may be the one to actually speak to her, since she’s been looking into the explosions, and she’s got a covert identity in Kolta. I’ve got my hands full with this harbor funding business anyway. We’ll come by some evening. Your relationship with Isolda—is it strictly business?”
“Er—not strictly.” His cheeks warmed.
“I had a suspicion. Are you being careful?”
“In what respect, sir?”
“Given this ‘benefactor’ business, I take it you haven’t told her who you are,” said Lucien.
“She knows I grew up in Osler, that my mother eloped, that I’m half commoner and also part of a noble family. I didn’t tell her which family.”
“Keep it that way,” said Lucien. “My enemies would like nothing better than to get at me through you. Your single bodyguard is an absolute minimum of security for a big city like Riat, and the only reason it’s working—if indeed it is working—is that nobody knows who you are. If word gets out, I won’t be able to protect you in the city. I’d have to recall you to the palace to keep you safe. You understand?”
Marius nodded, wondering how long he could realistically keep the secret from Isolda. He’d planned to tell her eventually, working up to it in stages, since he knew she was afraid of the Kjallan authorities and would particularly resent Lucien after the deportation order. But Lucien was suggesting that he could never tell her. It felt wrong, even duplicitous, to be intimate physically while concealing something so fundamental about himself. And yet he could hardly argue with the need for imperial security.
Lucien gestured to the guards, and to Marius’s surprise, they left the office and closed the door behind them, leaving him alone with the emperor.
“If that’s settled, there’s a matter I’d like your guidance on,” said Lucien.
“Mine?” blurted Marius. He was hardly in a position to advise the emperor.
“It’s a sensitive subject, and I believe you’re uniquely qualified to help.”
“What, sir?”
“It’s about my younger son, Maxian,” said Lucien. “He keeps turning up with bruises. He always has some explanation: he got it in tumbling practice; he fell off his pony. But I’ve never known a child to be so prone to injury.”
For once in a discussion with the Kjallan emperor, Marius felt within his element. “Are you looking for a medical cause? Some people are more prone to bruising than others, and it’s related to the action of their blood. I could have a look at him.”
“I’m hoping you’ll find a medical cause because I don’t like the alternative. And I’d appreciate your discretion in this matter.”
“Of course,” said Marius.
Ten minutes later, Marius was with Lucien in the imperial nursery, looking over the emperor’s five-year-old son. The guards and nurse had been sent out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. With Lucien’s help, Marius coaxed the boy into stripping down to his smallclothes, and sure enough, the boy had a number of bruises on his body. It was normal for small children to have bruises on their arms and legs, particularly their shins and sometimes even their foreheads, because they were active and not very coordinated at that age. Maxian’s bruises, however, were mostly on his chest and neck.
“Has he ever cut himself and bled more than seemed normal?” Marius asked Lucien.
“Not that I’m aware of,” said Lucien.
Marius addressed Maxian. “Do you remember ever having a cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding?”
Maxian shook his head.
It was hard to get much out of Maxian when he didn’t feel like talking. Marius indicated the largest and freshest bruise, the one just above his stomach. “How did you get that one?”
Maxian shrugged.
“You said it was from falling off your pony,” prompted Lucien.
Maxian nodded.
“How did you land?” asked Marius.
Maxian shrugged again.
“Did his bodyguards see it happen?” Marius asked Lucien.
“Supposedly,” said Lucien. “But one of the difficulties of being a man in my position is that people can be afraid to tell you the truth.”
“I’d like to test his blood to see if it’s too thin. The test will hurt for a moment, but it won’t do him any harm. Do I have your permission to administer it?”
“What do you think, Maxian?” asked Lucien. “Is it all right if your uncle Marius tests your blood?”
After a moment, Maxian nodded.
Marius gently took the boy’s arm. “I’m going to move my finger across this spot and open a little cut on your skin. It’s going to bleed. You don’t have to look at it if you’d rather not. After I see what your blood looks like, I’m going to seal it right back up and you’ll be good as new. All right?”
Maxian nodded.
“Here we go.” Using one hand to shield what he was doing, Marius slid his finger across the boy’s wrist and opened a shallow cut.
The boy didn’t cry out, but he turned his head away. Blood dripped from the wound onto the floor.
Lucien’s mouth was a thin line as he watched. “Well?”
“Wait a moment,” said Marius. The drops slowed and then stopped entirely. Marius slid his finger over the wound again and sealed it. “There you go, Maxian. All done.”
The boy let out a sigh of relief and examined his wrist. The wound was gone, and the only evidence of its prior existence was a bit of smeared blood.
“What did you learn?” asked Lucien.
“I don’t have an answer yet. Let me heal these bruises while I’m here.” The simple
exercise of touching each bruise and calling upon his healing magic gave him time to think. Sometimes excessive bruising was caused by a bleeding disorder, but Maxian’s blood was normal. Therefore his bruises must have been caused by something else. Either there was a medical cause Marius hadn’t the experience to identify, or the bruises had been inflicted through trauma. Were they accidental, or was someone hitting the boy? If the latter, who was doing it? Certainly not Lucien, since he’d been the one to bring the problem to Marius’s attention. One of the nurses? One of the guards? Jamien? The empress? The last thing Marius wanted to do was suggest to the emperor that one of his family members could be doing this to his son. And if Marius accused a nurse or guard, he could only imagine the severity of the consequences that might result.
Lucien bit his lip. “Is it the bleeding disorder you mentioned?”
“No,” said Marius. “But it might be something else.” He was not in a position to make accusations when he had no evidence, only guesses. For all he knew, there might be another medical condition that caused bruising, one so rare that his training had not covered it. There were people he could talk to, more experienced Healers who might know the answer. As the last bruise faded beneath his fingertips, he stood. “I’m going to talk to some colleagues. I’ll get back to you when I know more.”
Lucien nodded. “Thank you, cousin.”
Chapter 24
Against all odds, Isolda’s formerly chaotic life began to settle into a routine. The writ she carried with her at all times protected her from the city guards. And while the deportation of so many of her friends had left a hole in her heart, the reduction of the Sardossian population did ease tensions between her people and the Kjallans. Harassment became less frequent, and Basilius disappeared entirely—Marius said he’d spoken to the guards and had him and his friend arrested.
Marius and Drusus escorted her to and from the harbor district when she wanted to go home, but now that she shared Marius’s bed, she usually preferred to stay at the villa and save the trip. Rory returned from his job at the fruit stand at around the time the surgery closed, and the three of them had dinner. Afterward, Rory headed out to play stick ball with the other children in Marius’s neighborhood.
