He was busy squirming in his seat and trying to get over the hot flush that had taken him over when he noticed movement at the periphery of his vision. Even so, he almost lowered his head and went back to reading. Then, trusting his instincts, he set the book aside, rose up out of the chair, and padded quietly to the door that led into one of the connecting hallways. He was in time to see Tressa disappear around a corner, dressed somewhat unusually for her position as queen. In sudden alarm, Uly broke into a jog and hurried after her.
“Tressa!” He hissed her name, soft and low, yet with an underlying chastisement. He knew all too well that she was up to something. Tressa, about to turn another corner, started and looked at him, first in what had to be horror, and then in irritation. His gaze ran up and down her clothes. She wore the dress of a servant. The outfit was dark and somewhat drab, though altogether feminine, its purpose not for social standing but for practicality. Some of the women wore trousers to work in, but some preferred a dress. It really depended on the chore at hand. Tressa looked as if she intended to go to market. “What are you doing?” He hadn’t meant to sound so disapproving, but he couldn’t help it.
“It is none of your business.”
“If I stand by and do nothing and you get into trouble, Markis will make it my business.”
She dithered, guilt and frustration warring in her expression. “Uly, please, I just want to go somewhere.”
“Where? Where can you possibly want to go that Markis would not take you?”
She set her teeth together and pulled back her lips. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had snarled at him. “That is just it. I do not wish someone to take me somewhere. I wish to go where I want without an armed escort.”
Once, not so long ago, Markis had told them they would have been able to do just that. Uly understood how she felt. Markis also found the situation frustrating. “Things are unsettled right now. He’s only trying to protect us. Even Markis goes nowhere without Ryanac. You know that.”
“Then call the guard on me. Shame me. I will be gone an hour only.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t do that. She would never trust him again, and that might put her in danger one day. She turned to leave, and Uly took another step after her. “You cannot go out there alone.”
She stopped, looked back at him. Her gaze flicked up and down, and then she smiled. “Then come with me.”
The look in her eye had him worried.
* * * * *
“Why could I not wear the plain dress?”
“Because we would not have been able to cover your hair so effectively. And this way, they will just think a noblewoman is out with a servant.”
On a hot day, many Swithin women wore a long drape of cloth over their heads. The colour, and the way Tressa had pinned it, showed that he had long hair beneath, but it appeared to be brown rather than blond. He didn’t know how she had created the illusion, but somehow it worked. He could live with it. The long, gauzy dress was another matter. She had padded the top half so that he looked feminine. They had even argued over that. He didn’t need to look well endowed, just disguised enough that no one would spare him a second glance. Though, dressed as he was, he didn’t see how people could fail to give him a second look. The dress, thankfully, flowed out in loose layers. Still, he worried every time the wind blew in such a way that it clung to him. He wore only undergarments, and feared someone would see things that had no business being part of a woman’s anatomy. The paint on his face was another matter entirely.
“I don’t want red lips,” he had told her.
“You have rosy lips anyway. The colour will suit.”
“No. It will look too gaudy. We don’t want to be noticed, remember.”
In the end, they had chosen a rosy pink, only one shade darker than his natural lip colour. It also didn’t clash with the white and pale green dress so much. The dress was ankle-length and initially he’d worried that he would trip in it. Luckily, there weren’t many stairs to negotiate. The shoes were flat, and many Swithin women were tall. Still, Uly drew on his experience of being a street thief, and of how to hunch and make himself look smaller. The necklace she had chosen managed to weigh heavily between his fake breasts.
“Stop fidgeting.” She slapped his hand away.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to there…being more out front.”
“Women adjust their breasts once when dressing. If you keep touching them, people will notice.”
He turned his head to look at her. “Do I really look like a woman?”
She regarded him seriously, and then nodded. “You will do.” They had made it down to the courtyard. A group of women, servants and otherwise, were about to head out into the marketplace. Uly almost stopped breathing as Tressa pulled him towards them, feeling certain they would identify Tressa even if they failed to recognise him. However, no one even glanced their way. They were too busy arranging shawls, picking up baskets and talking. These women were free to leave. The guards wouldn’t check them on the way out, only when they returned to the palace. “Hurry.” Tressa tugged on his arm and they joined the back of the queue. Uly tried not to look at Tressa, but she immediately began chatting to him about fabric and how he needed a new dress. Uly glanced at her in question. She rolled her eyes at him, and he almost flushed in embarrassment. Obviously, if they talked to each other there was less chance any of the other women would engage them in conversation. Besides, all of the women were well engrossed with each other, chatting amongst themselves.
He glanced at her hair, then quickly looked away. Strangely, she had managed to hide his hair better than her own. Most Swithin had brown hair, mostly a dark shade, which was a good thing. Black was a little more unusual, though Ryanac’s hair was so dark as to be almost black if you didn’t count the silver streaks in it. Only a little of Tressa’s hair peeked out, but someone might notice. No one did, but then the guards weren’t looking for their queen dressed as a servant, and Tressa had used the headscarf more to conceal the lower part of her face, which on such a hot day she could get away with. The guards had no reason to believe their queen would sneak out of the palace. Not even Uly could believe they were being so stupid.
* * * * *
Uly looked back wistfully at the palace walls. This reminded him of a time in his homeland when he had snuck out and then tried to sneak back in without Markis’s knowledge. He would never have believed he would do such a thing again. That gave him pause for thought.
“How will we get back into the palace?”
“We can worry about that when the time comes.”
He grabbed her by the arm and drew her into a side street. “You have no idea?”
“We will think of something. If I have to, I will just announce us.”
“Dressed like this?”
“Well, maybe I can take your dress, and you can go naked.”
“No chance.” Although, even as he said it, he wasn’t sure what would be worse. He tried to weigh the consequences of the guards seeing him naked, or in a dress. “Besides, then Markis will know.”
“It will not matter then. I will have done what I wish.”
“He’ll skin me.”
She snorted. “He will shout and rant, and then he will hug you, tell you not to frighten him again, and kiss you all over.”
“Should that make me feel better? I’m hurting him. We’re hurting a lot of people doing this.” Uly reached up to run his fingers through his hair, remembered the scarf, and stopped before he messed up his disguise.
When Tressa spoke next, at least her tone possessed a little contrition. “We will sneak back in, if able. I will take the heat of his wrath.”
Regrets were worthless. They were here now. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“There is this place I have heard of, where the women go. I want to see them.”
Having no idea what she meant, Uly fell silent and followed.
* * * * *
Outrage did no more for hi
s temperament than regrets. Still, it irked Uly to think that Tressa could climb a tree better than he could. Of course, the dress might have had something to do with it. In the end, he had stopped and tucked the skirts into his undergarments. They were lucky the tree was large, in full foliage, and on an empty street. The avenue ran between two tall and long buildings. No one had a reason to walk down this road unless on the way to the haven.
Tressa turned her head and shot him a look of disapproval as he cursed again. Uly bit back his cry, though he doubted anyone inside would hear. Those within made too much noise.
As he crawled to where Tressa lay on a long, wide branch, the hum of life rose up to greet him. The sound was that of an area filled with people. Uly couldn’t isolate any one conversation but he could hear the cadence of voices, punctuated by musical notes of laughter. As Uly looked to see what captured Tressa’s attention, heat rushed into his face. On the other side of the wall lay a formal garden. It sported an open area in the middle filled with water. There were such rooms in the palace. Uly hadn’t understood why anyone would want such an expanse of water inside a building, but they lined it with tiles and filled it with water. Antal was still giving him swimming lessons. Markis, though, also had a private place they called the thermai, or hot baths. This had a large pool, as well as smaller areas. One contained hot water that bubbled, and one they often filled with liquids to soften and scent the water. The four of them could have bathed together, but so far, he had only shared it with Markis. This pool looked similar, but was far larger and in the open. Even as he watched, a woman swam in the water below, and another one slipped in to join her. They were both naked.
Around the pool, women sat in sheltered areas, talking, sipping from tall glasses, and sharing small portions of food. Some combed another’s hair. He started in shock, and if the branch had been any narrower, he might have fallen out of the tree as two of the women kissed.
“What is this place?” he whispered.
“It is for women only. The men have such a place too, I have heard, and there is another that men and women may share. It is a place of rest. It is not open to children, and they tolerate no argument within the walls. They practice massage, treatments to revive the skin and mind. You can visit alone, or with a friend or lover.”
“If you wish to come here, I’m sure Markis could arrange it.”
She nodded. “He could, but I wanted to see it first for myself. I wished to understand.”
“Understand what?”
She pointed. “That.”
The two women still kissed, only even as Uly watched, their touch grew more amorous. One stroked her fingers lazily through the fine hair masking the other woman’s sex. One finger disappeared between the soft folds that Uly knew were barely concealed there.
Uly closed his eyes and turned his head away. It was silly, really, for him to find this disturbing. He and Markis were lovers after all, and he knew that this way of life applied to women as well as men. He didn’t mind in principle, but he didn’t like spying on them. The growing pressure at his groin inflamed his guilt. He would never be able to walk back to the palace without someone noticing. Worse, he might not be able to walk at all. He crawled backwards. “I will wait for you on a lower branch,” he said. Tressa glanced at him, clearly amused by his discomfort, but he didn’t care.
* * * * *
They had tried two entrances. This, their third attempt, seemed just as fruitless. They couldn’t find a way into the palace without someone noticing. Seen, the guards would question their identity ‑‑ although in all likelihood they would know it already ‑‑ and they had no explanation as to who they were but the truth.
“I will go in while you hide. I will explain to Markis that you are out here. He will come for you. The guards need never know.”
“I don’t want Markis to know. I don’t want him to see me like this,” Uly practically growled at her.
“Maybe if we…”
They turned and bumped into a man. “Pardon me,” the man said, moving to step aside, and then he paused, taking a second glance. Still, they might have got away with it if colour hadn’t rushed into Uly’s face as he recognised the man just before he recognised them. “Sardia?” Harton asked, using the queen’s official rank. The man dipped his head and tilted it to one side. His eyes widened, and then Harton glanced around with an expression close to fear on his face. “Samir?”
Uly’s heart sank to his toes.
* * * * *
Markis circled Uly. His gaze slid up and down continuously. Uly tried to remain motionless. Earlier, he had asked short of pleading for Harton to allow him to change. Harton had just stood there and stared at him until he lowered his gaze. He hadn’t asked again. The man was clearly upset with them for risking their lives out on the streets unaccompanied. He’d practically dragged them back to the palace, all the while berating them for being so stupid. Harton had waited out here with him in the main living space while Markis exchanged words with his wife.
At first, Uly had felt almost grateful that Harton was the man who found them and taken them back into the palace, managing to conceal their identity. He hadn’t been so pleased when the man had taken a hard, fast grip on them, and directed them both straight to Ryanac. The big man’s eyes had flashed in surprise at the sight, and then his lips had twitched with amusement. Anger quickly chased Ryanac’s natural enjoyment back. He had asked Harton to wait with Uly while he and Markis “consulted” with the queen in her private part of the suite. Although it was not possible to hear the discussion from where Uly stood, at one point a crash shattered the silence. Uly couldn’t imagine the men throwing things, so it must have been Tressa throwing objects as well as a tantrum.
Now Harton had left and, still in the white and green dress, Uly stood in front of the two men. Markis pulled the shawl from his hair. Uly stared at the floor and tugged at his lower lip with his teeth. Realising he did and knowing Markis would notice the gesture, he forced his mouth still. Two fingers pressed under his chin and lifted his head. He caught Markis’s gaze, and then Shavar circled him again. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to look down. He closed his eyes.
“We didn’t tell you to close your eyes, Uly.” This was Ryanac’s voice, and the command sounded so like part of the game they had played a few days ago that he opened them in surprise.
Markis stopped pacing. “What do you think?” he asked. It took Uly a moment to realise the question wasn’t for him.
“He’s a pretty little thing,” Ryanac remarked. Moving forward, he looked into Uly’s eyes, and then cupped the artificial breasts. “Pity these don’t feel real.”
Feeling cold and hot all at once, Uly jerked away. Unfortunately, that meant his gaze met Markis’s. He quickly looked down. He had experienced many things in his time with Markis, including fear, hate, pain, confusion, guilt, desire, and love. He’d often felt wrong or awkward. The men were playing with him, partly in fun, partly to embarrass him. He couldn’t blame them on either count. They were unhappy with him right now, and he understood why. He would have apologised if it would have done any good, but it wouldn’t turn back time.
Ryanac pulled the stuffing from the dress. The gesture came as a relief, though it was humiliating.
“Please let me go to change.”
“I don’t think so,” Markis said, his voice flat. That tone hurt most of all. Markis took Ryanac’s place as the other man moved aside. “Where did she go?”
The space between his eyes twitched. Uly could only think that Markis hadn’t asked Tressa, she wouldn’t say, or he wanted to see if they told him the same thing. His fondness of Tressa warred against his loyalty to Markis. In the end, the greater emotion won out. Besides, he was in enough trouble for one day. He told them what they had seen, flushing a little when he spoke of the two women kissing.
Ryanac laughed. “She wanted to see two women.” He glanced at Markis. He sniffed the air. “Is that a brew of trouble I can smell?”
“Shut up!” Markis snapped, and Ryanac did as instructed for once, but the grin remained. Markis glanced at him. “You’re no more amused than I am.”
Ryanac raised his eyebrows.
“All right, we are slightly amused, but that doesn’t forgive what they did.” Markis turned his attention back to Uly.
“I know,” Uly said.
“If you know, you shouldn’t have done it.”
“She would have gone alone.”
“You should have stopped her,” Markis said. Ryanac made a small sound. Markis sighed. “You should have told someone who could have stopped her.” Ryanac sniggered. “You should have told someone who could have tried to stop her.” Markis glanced at the other man as if to ask if that declaration was acceptable. “What you shouldn’t have done was go with her. I’m grateful that you did, but you’re probably in more danger than she is. In truth, neither of you should be in danger in the city at all, but until I feel certain you’re safe, please don’t do something like this again.” Somehow, Markis managed to sound angry, weary, and frightened all at once.
“Not to mention what the council would have made of the spectacle.”
Uly couldn’t be sure if Ryanac intended the remark to amuse, or if the big man was being facetious. At last, though, Markis’s lips twitched. As those warm brown eyes looked at him, the coldness fled; desire bled in. “I may love you,” Markis said, “but do this again, and I’ll have no choice but to be your king rather than your lover. If I have to lock you up for your safety, I will.”
“You’re not going to punish me, then?”
Markis stared him down. “What are you? A child I should send to his room? You may have been once, in manner if not in age. I sent you to bed with an empty stomach once, as a chastisement, but I believed we were past such things. Do you need me to punish you as though you were a child?”
Uly couldn’t help it. The memory might be of a cruel night, but now it made him smile. He tried to school his lips quickly, but didn’t manage it in time.
“I’m not going to be the one to punish you,” Markis said, and the comment wiped the smile from Uly’s face. He didn’t know what Markis meant, but he sensed he wouldn’t like it. “And I think if you like this dress so much, you can spend the rest of the day in it.” Uly almost groaned.
The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh Page 8
