Reign of Beasts

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  Velody pulled off his coat and threw it on the desk. ‘You’re not a middle-aged Baronne: you shouldn’t dress like one.’ She reached down and started unbuttoning his brocade waistcoat. ‘Not this, either. Not if you don’t want children to point and laugh at you in the street.’ The plum colour was rich and bold and had obviously been chosen by someone who wasn’t Ashiol. Given a choice he would match black with black and more black, and that was as it should be.

  Ashiol’s eyes flashed, but he let her divest him of the waistcoat. ‘Are you planning to strip me until I feel better about losing Livilla?’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm that was at least better than the sheer nothing she saw in his face.

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ she said, and her voice trembled just a little. She saw Livilla again, falling. Damn him for not being willing to share his grief. He had to have sadness inside him or he was a monster, and Velody didn’t believe that, not for a second.

  ‘I didn’t love her, you know,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to comfort me.’

  She stared at him, sitting there at his desk, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. ‘Liar.’

  Ashiol made a grab for her, then, pulling her into his lap. She let him, not moving as he slowly ran his hands over her waist, breasts, neck. Finally, touching her. His fingers tightened in her hair and she let out a sigh. Finally, something real.

  ‘Lying about what?’ he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

  ‘I’ve forgotten,’ said Velody, and kissed him.

  He tasted of warm imperium and lemon-mint and her animor responded fiercely to him. They wound their arms around each other, kissing hard and rough, mouths wet and wanting. This and only this. If he wasn’t coming home, there was no reason to pretend to be indifferent to him.

  They said no more words.

  Ashiol lifted her up onto the desk and removed her boots with swift movements, her stockings, the dress that still smelled of travel dust and train smoke. When there was nothing left but slip, breastband and knickers, he lowered her onto her back and ran his mouth over her, finding places to kiss and suck at her warm bare skin.

  She reached up, unfastening buttons, dragging his shirt from him and letting it fall to the floor. It was an ugly shirt and it needed to die. Who had ever thought that kind of collar a good idea?

  They were going through the motions, almost politely, as if they had done this many times before. An old married couple, Velody thought, on the edge of hysteria, and then Ashiol bit her on the neck and the mild pain of it woke her up. She clawed at his face, pulling him to her so they could kiss messily, their tongues hot against each other.

  She unfastened the plum brocade trousers that matched the rest of his suit. Plum brocade. How could anyone look at Ashiol and think plum brocade? She slid her hand inside, feeling the heat and hardness of him, the silkiness of his cock.

  ‘Here,’ she said breathlessly. ‘With me. Not … wallowing in nostalgia or old wounds or anything.’

  No grief allowed, not now, even if that made her the most selfish wench in the city. This was about something else. She would not think the word ‘marriage’, she would not, but they had to see what it would be like, the two of them, if there was an accord that could be reached. If they were stronger together than apart. They had to be, surely.

  She was thinking too much.

  Ashiol’s answer was a growl, low in his throat, more like a lion than the street-cat he was. He ripped her knickers down to her knees and pressed his fingers inside her making her gasp. She cried out as he stirred a deep wet warmth inside her cunt, and this time she closed her teeth over his shoulder.

  He teased her, bringing her to the edge and back again, and it didn’t take much of that before she was muffling her sounds against his neck. This would be a fine scene for those pretty secretaries to walk in on …

  It was hard to care about that when Ashiol’s hands were all over her, and the heat of him, of his blood, his animor, was swirling in her head. She had never felt as powerful as she did right now, her legs splayed apart on his desk and the weight of a mostly naked King against her body.

  While she was recovering from the delicious work of his fingers, he stretched himself out on the desk like the lazy cat he was. His erect cock jutted from the opening in his breeches, but the look in his eyes displayed no particular urgency. A bluff, she guessed. It had to be. She leaned over him, fingers curling into the brocade of his trousers, and then paused deliberately. There it was, the gleam of impatience in his eyes. Ha!

  She eased his ridiculous trousers down only a little way, leaving him nicely entangled. Just in case he wanted to run away or anything. (It seemed unlikely.) She crawled onto him, keeping her eyes fixed on his, looking for those little signs that, yes, he wanted her specifically, Velody, not just a warm body to frig.

  His hand trailed slowly up over her hip and then he grinned suddenly and — oh dear. The cat that got the cream. She was never going to be able to hear that phrase again without blushing.

  She parted her thighs and slid onto him, slow and steady and filling herself with warmth. Ashiol’s fingers found her spine and she shivered, rocking against him. Slow, painfully slow.

  Her animor pulsed, and his. Everywhere they touched there was not just warmth but an unbearable heat, scorching power, and something else. Something she couldn’t define yet.

  Velody arched over him, gasping every time his hands found a new part of skin to touch, feeling him so deep inside her. Their animor surged against each other, overwhelming waves that shut out everything except the places where her body touched his.

  Bazeppe unfolded into Velody’s mind, not only the strange cityscape but all of it, everything that Ashiol had seen and heard while he was here: faces, names, the eerie calm that made him so different from his usual self.

  He throbbed hard inside her and, oh, there was his anger, buried more deeply than usual, but she welcomed it because it was Ashiol, he didn’t make sense without it. His hands were rough on her now, the outlines of his palms hot and wanting as she bucked harder, riding him into insensibility.

  His anger bubbled up, dark and familiar, and Velody cried out at the deeper vibrations of him hard inside her, and then she was on her back, shuddering and fever-hot as he took control, heavy on top of her, eyes black as his chimaera. Her body gave up, finally, and she came with a howl, her animor barely holding her in human shape.

  Ashiol stopped what he was doing, oddly still. He looked at her as if he had no idea who she was or why he was inside her. Velody slid her hand between them, feeling where they joined, smoothing her fingertips around the base of his cock. ‘Let go,’ she told him in the firm Power and Majesty voice she had been cultivating for so long. He shuddered and emptied himself inside her, warm and wet.

  He dragged in a long breath of air and stared down at her. ‘There’s something wrong with this city.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘We’ll deal with that later.’

  37

  They didn’t sleep, not exactly. It was the middle of the day, after all, and one of those secretaries might take it upon themselves to burst in on them at any time. Still, neither of them was in any hurry to move. They curled into each other on the large desk, lightly touching, getting used to the idea of this.

  ‘You didn’t steal my animor,’ Ashiol observed.

  ‘No,’ said Velody. ‘You didn’t steal mine, either.’

  ‘Is this what trust feels like?’

  ‘Don’t get sentimental.’

  ‘Hells of a trust exercise.’

  ‘I have to tell you something.’

  ‘Is someone else dead? Because I need a nap before any more comforting takes place.’ There was an edge to his voice behind the humour.

  ‘Thimblehead,’ she said fondly. ‘It’s about Power and Majesty. About it being two people.’

  ‘You didn’t put on a red veil and wedding bracelets while I was resting my eyes, did you? The wedding doesn’t count unless I slaughter a lamb for the augury �
�’

  She smacked him lightly. ‘I don’t think the sacred marriage involves an actual marriage.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’

  ‘Does Bazeppe have one Power and Majesty or two?’

  ‘One, I think. But they’ve been contaminated by democracy and vote them out if they aren’t happy.’

  Velody thought about that. ‘Can I be in the room when you mention that option to Garnet?’

  He laughed. ‘Our people are too set in their ways. You know they won’t accept a leader they have to elect.’

  ‘You thought it would be a hard sell making them accept a woman.’

  ‘And they were so loyal to you, the second Garnet came back they put a man in charge again.’

  She gave him a serious look. ‘I think Garnet has a point. Two leaders, not one. It could be the thing that saves the city.’

  Ashiol sighed, sitting up on the desk so that she could see nothing but his bare, muscled back. ‘So marry Garnet. Or whatever it takes. One Power, one Majesty.’

  ‘Garnet’s crazy.’

  He laughed at that. ‘And you think I’m perfectly sane.’

  ‘Not perfectly …’ Velody leaned against his back, her mouth brushing against his shoulder blade. ‘We’re stronger together than we are apart. You know that.’

  ‘Did you actually come here plotting to fuck me, form a partnership and save the Creature Court, possibly not in that order of priority?’

  ‘My plan was to do it without the fucking part.’

  Ashiol laughed at that for quite a while. ‘Is that how irresistible I am?’

  ‘Apparently,’ she said dryly.

  He turned then, and kissed her. ‘Can we save Garnet?’

  ‘We have to save Aufleur from Garnet,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I know. Can we save him anyway?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  He frowned at her. ‘Be sure, Velody. There’s Bazeppe, as well. We have to figure out what’s wrong with this place, protect Lysandor and his family.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said in exasperation. ‘We can save everyone. Why the hells not?’

  Ashiol smiled, an odd light in his eyes. ‘How do you do that? You drag hope around with you like a tail.’

  ‘Anything is possible,’ she said.

  Hw leaned in to her, but she pulled away. ‘I thought you needed a nap.’

  ‘Later. Much later. I want to see if I can resist stealing your animor again.’

  As they kissed, the slow heat of their animor building as their bare skin pressed against each other, a voice broke in on them.

  ‘Velody, the train station. Quickly!’

  A mouse sat on the window sill speaking in Kelpie’s voice.

  ‘I need meat,’ said Ashiol as he and Velody rattled along in the back of one of the Duc-Elected’s blasted mechanical cabriolets.

  ‘You should have eaten before we left,’ said Velody, sounding like someone’s mother. Possibly his, but that was a thought he must never, ever entertain.

  ‘I mean it. Those wretched servants at the Palazzo put vegetables into everything. I haven’t felt like myself in days.’

  ‘You were willing to live forever in a city that doesn’t feed you meat?’

  ‘I told you, there’s something wrong with this place. It’s like there’s a veil over everything. It’s foggy.’

  She coughed on the dark smoke being belched out by the vehicle. ‘I’m not convinced that’s fog.’

  There was a train in at the station as they arrived, and steam billowed across the platform. ‘That’s not fog either,’ said Ashiol. ‘Do you see your steam angels? We’re going to need all the help we can get.’

  ‘I see Kelpie,’ said Velody, quickening her step as she hurried to the sentinel.

  Kelpie stood with her arms folded defensively. ‘Coming with us now, are you?’ she asked Ashiol.

  He didn’t have an answer for her yet.

  The train pulled out with a shriek and whistle. When the smoke and steam cleared, they saw Priest sitting on a bench, his back straight, hands placed carefully on his knees. He was alone, neither of his remaining courtesi in sight, and there was something very wrong about the expression on his face.

  Velody went to him, sat beside him. Ashiol stood over them, with Kelpie hanging back just a little.

  A faint flicker of a smile passed over Priest’s face as he recognised them. ‘We meet again, my Kings. Quite like old times.’

  ‘Hello, Priest,’ Velody said, her voice calm and measured. ‘Did you find what you were looking for here in Bazeppe?’

  ‘I did not,’ he said after a long pause. ‘But I still trust that I will. You came a long way to bring our cat home to Aufleur, my King. Was the journey worth it?’

  ‘Entirely,’ said Velody without a blush. Priest was drawn, his skin without its usual rosiness. ‘Are you unwell?’

  He let out a deep sigh. ‘The word, my dear Power, is “doomed”. There is nothing to be done for me.’

  Kelpie made to say something, but Velody shushed her. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Priest did not turn to her. His fingers beat out a slow rhythm against the edge of the bench. ‘Ashiol here was my courteso once, did you know that? He and Lysandor both. They traded loyalty with me to save their friend’s life. To save Garnet. But it was a mere excuse.’ Ashiol hadn’t thought about that time in years. Tasha’s shade … it had been an excuse, of course. To take a new Lord, any Lord, who was not Garnet.

  ‘I didn’t know the details,’ said Velody.

  ‘Lysandor did the one thing that none of us had the strength for. He left. Began a family of all things. A true family, here in Bazeppe.’

  ‘He always was the creative one,’ said Ashiol.

  ‘Indeed.’ Priest’s voice was sluggish, like he was drunk. He didn’t smell of alcohol, just a sort of stale perfume and cigar smoke. ‘Lysandor will not leave with you,’ he added conversationally. ‘Nor Celeste. Too noble by half, those two, and their contentment in this city has made them soft. Though, if you can, you should save the child. She is unique.’

  Saints, not that. Not Lysandor and Celeste, after being safe for so long. ‘Save her from what?’ Velody asked.

  Kelpie let out a cry and drew her sword. Ashiol grabbed at Velody, pulling her off the bench and away from Priest. His skin was grey and his expression terrible. The wrongness was evident now. There was a grainy texture to him, as if he were made of sand. He exhaled, and part of his face fell away into dust. How had Ashiol not seen this before?

  ‘They never let you go,’ Velody whispered. ‘The dust devils, the things beyond the sky …’

  ‘Sadly, they did not,’ said Priest, and there was a hint of the old timbre in his voice momentarily. ‘I tried to run, but no train is fast enough for such a venture. I could travel no further, and now … I am sorry for what I have wrought.’

  ‘Not your fault,’ said Velody, though she choked on the words.

  ‘You are too kind,’ said Priest, and the rest of him fell fast, too fast. Even his clothes crumbled like dry leaves and blew along the platform with the dust that remained of him.

  As he fell to nothingness, Priest’s voice left one last message hanging in the air. Ask Garnet about his choice.

  ‘Saints,’ said Kelpie. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that.’

  ‘Did you hear that, at the end?’ Velody asked Ashiol. ‘What does it mean?’

  Ashiol didn’t have time to think about Garnet. ‘You said that Rhian predicted that Bazeppe would fall, before Aufleur?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have to warn them.’

  ‘And when you say warn them, you mean fight at their side to stop it happening,’ Kelpie said, sounding weary.

  Yes. Of course that was what he meant. Velody reached out and touched Ashiol’s hand. Her skin sparked against his, and for a moment he could think about nothing but their bodies, back in his office, the heat of her.

  ‘Did you expect us to wait here at th
e station like proper demoiselles,’ she said, ‘while you fight and die for a city that isn’t even ours?’

  ‘Screw that,’ Kelpie added, in case he didn’t get the message.

  Ashiol wanted to bundle them both onto the nearest train. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. ‘Fine, then. Let’s go.’

  It took too long for Ashiol to find the warehouse where the Clockwork Court made their home. It annoyed him that it was Kelpie who pointed out he should stop trying to use his human brain about it. As soon as he went into cat form, he could feel the skysilver-reinforced roof shining out like a beacon.

  Velody fell into her creature form, as well, and they ran together. He could still feel the spark of her animor, though at least in this form he could be clear-headed without wanting to touch her all the time.

  At the warehouse, Kelpie shoved at the door, which was wedged shut. She threw clothes impatiently at the two Kings and concentrated her energies on trying to get them inside.

  Ashiol dressed himself quickly and joined her at the door, shoving animor as well as human strength into it. There was a creaking sound, and they were able to push it open just enough for Kelpie to slip through the gap. Ashiol heard a crash and then the door opened properly.

  ‘One of those creepy clockwork soldiers,’ she said, and Ashiol saw the stiffened body of one of Lysandor’s saints. Its eyes were empty and there was no sign it had ever been able to move. Dust poured out of its articulated joints.

  ‘Priest got here before us,’ said Ashiol. ‘Or whatever he brought here with him.’

  He led the way past the teetering walls of packing cases to the main space, where the Court made their refuge. There were only a few of them clustered around the boiler, many looking half-asleep or distinctly unwell. Lucia was there, her bright gold curls standing out in the dim light, being looked after by one of the demmes. Lysandor and Celeste were nowhere in sight.

  ‘What happened here?’ Ashiol demanded.