by Shea Godfrey
Cecelia had never seen her daughter so exposed before, so openly on display at such an official function. Some in the crowd seemed offended by her deliberate audacity, but most appeared in some measure captivated. Darry was desire personified as Arkady chased her with determination though she would not give in. They were both caught up in the Mohn-Drom. Darry’s body was sybaritic as she moved, almost too much for propriety. She pulled back before she gave affront, though, and it was as if an enticing dream had come and gone.
Darry stepped and spun away from Arkady as he reached out. His hand swept her hair aside and caught the collar of her jacket at the exact moment the music crashed and stilled. Darry stood like a statue, looking over her left shoulder. Then the music burst forth and Arkady pulled the jacket, releasing Darry from its silken confines. Arkady chased her, tossing the garment that Bentley caught on his arm as if he had been expecting it. Arkady detained her from behind and slid his right hand across her stomach as his lips found her neck, while his left hand brushed low upon her breast. Darry reached back and slid her hand up his firm backside, pulling him even closer.
“Seven hells, Mother,” Emmalyn breathed. “Where did she learn to dance the Mohn-Drom like that?”
Arkady’s fingers opened, seeming confident as he teased Darry’s breast. Darry’s flesh rose beneath the pressure of the caress and her breast eased toward the edge of her tunic.
“That cannot be taught.”
They both turned. Jessa’s quiet words were filled with heat.
“Probably not.” Emmalyn’s attention returned to the dance floor. A hiccup of sound passed her lips. “Bloody hell, how does she do that with her back?”
Cecelia looked at Jessa, her curiosity rising slowly at the paling of Jessa’s dark complexion. Jessa’s shoulders trembled slightly, as if a coiled energy trapped within suddenly begged for release. It seemed to spark and move down her arms; her hair shifted about her shoulders though the breeze from the courtyard had stilled.
A wild cheer went up and Cecelia reacted. Arkady and Darry spun in a wide circle, tattooing the floor with their steps.
Darry was flush against his body, her right hand held out high in his left as their legs moved so close and swift that it was hard to separate them. Darry’s face turned to the side as Arkady pressed his lips to her temple. As they spun, Darry was elsewhere, caught within the music completely as they twirled through the difficult movements.
The strings were on fire and the giant bodhran was booming its beat, and then Arkady let her go. His boots slid gracefully along the polished floor as he let his momentum carry him. Darry spun beside him, keeping pace in a dizzying display of balance as they cut onto the center of the floor, where Arkady pulled her into his arms as the final notes burst with an explosion of sound.
In the sudden silence that shook the room Arkady held Darry’s left thigh tight against his hip as she arched back from him, and he placed a rather insolent kiss on the soft skin between her breasts.
The hall erupted.
Darry laughed and slid her hands through Arkady’s hair as they straightened, then she stepped close and spoke to him as he laughed as well. People crowded onto the floor and they were swamped, unable to escape the adulation.
Jessa watched Darry’s partner lean close and kiss her. Darry moved and time slowed for Jessa. Darry smiled and lowered her face as if she had suddenly become aware of what they had done. Arkady seemed startled and stepped back as though he had just realized he had kissed a Blooded woman at court.
Darry’s gaze shifted, cutting across the room through the crowd.
Jessa caught her breath and returned the stare, her blood scorching her veins with a pain so sweet and unknown that her thoughts failed completely. It was only then, when her mind was clear of everything, save for those eyes, that her vision blossomed within her thoughts as clear and heated as the moment she had first seen it.
Eyes were lifted and Jessa caressed the face so close to her own, caught beneath their spell. Lips met in a slow, open kiss and Jessa shuddered with both desire and contentment. The eyes that held her spellbound…
The eyes before her were both green and blue.
The skin was soft and filled with heat against the palm of her hand, life and blood and promise alive beneath her touch…
It was Darry’s cheek that she touched.
Darry’s face was before her, so near, so beautiful as her taste lingered like fire on Jessa’s lips and filled her tongue. “Is what you see different from what I see?”
Arkady bent close once again, and he spoke only to Darry, stealing her eyes away. Jessa tightened her hand around her chalice in a violent surge of irritation. The goblet was unable to withstand the strength of the Vhaelin that moved within her blood and the pewter bent oddly beneath the grip and spilled wine on her hand.
Jessa blinked and stepped back in a daze. “Belowsha!” She pulled her skirt out of the way and a dizziness followed heavy behind the curse. Jessa felt the supple kiss upon her lips once more. Her senses spun and she blinked, looking up as her head tightened with a rush of blood.
“I have it,” Emmalyn said quickly, taking the chalice from Jessa’s hand.
Heat flooded Jessa’s cheeks and she tipped to the right. Cecelia stepped up fast with a hand on Jessa’s back. The hall seemed to recede within her sight and a fog of darkness swarmed about the edges of her vision.
“It’s too close in here,” Cecelia said. “Jessa?”
Jessa caught her breath as Darry took the offered kiss without hesitation, her lips parting as Darry’s tongue moved within her mouth, teasing against her own.
“Jessa.” Cecelia’s tone was rigid with worry as Jessa tipped closer.
“Vhaelin essa yellam nee-ellow,” Jessa answered roughly.
Emmalyn took the cloth napkin that Alisha held out and wiped Jessa’s hand. “I don’t…” Emmalyn said nervously. “I don’t understand.”
“Let’s get some air,” Cecelia said as Jessa closed her eyes.
Darry’s lips were tender beneath her ear. Jessa laughed as Darry’s hair trailed in curls across her face. A rise of pleasure trembled in her stomach and then between her legs, pulsing in reaction to the attention.
“Jessa?”
Darry moved between her thighs and Jessa cried out with pleasure, her legs possessive as they wrapped about slim hips and her hands grasped with want and urging. Her body thrust in perfect rhythm with the strong flesh against her own.
Jessa set her hand in an iron grip around Cecelia’s arm and straightened. “Vhaelin essa…” Her voice broke and she swallowed harshly. “…yellam nee-ellow.”
“I’ll get some water,” Alisha said.
“Essa ahbwalla!” she exclaimed in a breath. A violent tremor shook her. “Shivahsa.”
“Jessa, answer me,” Cecelia said.
“Yes, my Lady,” Jessa said, trying to compose herself. “Yes, I’m sorry.” She looked to Emmalyn for help, trying to steady her voice. “I felt…I felt a bit dizzy, that’s all. It’s very hot in here, yes?”
“Yes.” Emmalyn took hold of Jessa’s arm, grasping it firmly. “Yes, you’re right.”
Jessa laughed again. “Yes, yes it is.”
“Too many people?”
Jessa nodded, pushing down her emotions. “Yes.”
“Off to the patio then for some fresh air,” Cecelia said with quiet authority.
“Some air might be nice,” Jessa said, wanting to laugh again.
“Then a turn about the gardens,” Cecelia added.
“My pardons, Majesty,” Joaquin said as he invaded their small circle. “But my sister will sing now.”
Jessa’s stomach gave a violent lurch at his words.
“Nonsense,” a strong voice declared in open defiance. Darry smiled at Jessa. “Emmalyn and I have promised to show the Princess the inner gardens, for there are orchids that bloom only in the moonlight.”
“Orchids?” Joaquin said.
Darry had donned her jack
et and sword and seemed unconcerned as she faced Joaquin, her left hand resting casually on the hilt of her weapon. “Surely after the Mohn-Drom, a Lyonese ballad might stall the festivities, despite the beauty of the voice that sings it.” Darry turned to the dais as a swift galliard began to play and the floor filled with dancers.
“Perhaps another night, my Lord?” Emmalyn said. Joaquin put his back to the dancers as the music quickened. “Perhaps a gathering less crowded and hot, yes? I’m shocked that Malcolm would even suggest such a thing. It’s bad form, actually. Tonight is only for your introduction, do you see?”
Joaquin considered her words. He found Emmalyn to be proper and beautiful in all that she did, and a woman who seemed to know her rank, unlike her sister. Malcolm had praised her earlier in the evening as well for her insightful knowledge of both etiquette and those at court. “Yes,” he said, taking advantage of Malcolm’s name. “Yes, he used poor judgment perhaps.”
He was not beyond taking advice, and in a situation such as this, mired beneath the annoying protocol of a strange court, he decided it might be best to respect her instincts. The Mohn-Drom had indeed set a blistering pace, and though he hated to admit it, the backwards bitch was right. Jessa’s voice was not the proper weapon at the moment to establish a Lyonese presence before the Bloods of Arravan. A smaller gathering, where I might see everyone’s reaction…without the yellow hair’s presence to steal my play.
“Perhaps we might dance later?” Darry said, turning his attention.
“I would like that.”
“But not the Mohn-Drom.”
“A galliard perhaps?” he said.
“Perhaps.”
Joaquin bowed his head and stepped back. “As you wish, Princess.” He nodded to the others. “Enjoy your walk.” He made his way back along the dance floor, the pace of the music picking up with a fierce swell.
“What did I miss?” Alisha asked as she entered their circle, holding out a goblet of chilled water.
“My life being saved,” Jessa whispered as she accepted the chalice. She unclipped her veil and drank deeply.
Alisha smiled at Darry. “I see you still have your clothes on.”
“And they’re very lovely clothes, Darry,” Emmalyn added.
“Do you think so?” Darry grinned, brushing at her vest. “They aren’t too showy?”
“No, Darry, they’re not.”
“They’re beautiful,” Jessa said, as are you, Darry. She wanted to laugh again, seeing Darry’s sultry beauty. Darry, what have I done? What have…ahbwalla, but you…bloody hell, Darry.
“Well, then,” Darry replied. “I consider my gold well spent if you find them pleasing, my Lady.”
Jessa smiled at the playful tone. “You dance with great skill, as does your partner.”
“Thank you, Jessa. Arkady has a fine step and clever hands, but I didn’t…” Her grin brought forth her dimple. “I didn’t mean to cause such a spectacle.”
“A spectacle indeed.” Cecelia straightened Darry’s collar with a gentle hand. “You do look extremely dashing, Cat. Though I would’ve preferred a less suggestive dance. And we shall talk about that tunic on the morrow.”
“Mother,” Darry laughed, “don’t scold me when I’m having such fun. You know how I hate parties.”
“Yes, your wallflower behavior is notorious.”
“I take after my mother.”
Emmalyn slipped her hand within Jessa’s. “Malcolm is near the dais. Off we go before the hounds return in force. Alisha?”
“I must find Jacob.”
“Does the Royal Tart care to join us?” Emmalyn asked Darry.
Darry laughed as they walked away. “Tart?”
Jessa searched over her shoulder and her dark eyes punched the breath from Darry’s lungs, sending her stomach over in a pleasing flip of response. Sweet Jezara, but you shouldn’t be looking at someone so without a bit of warning, Jessa. The voices of the crowd and the volume of the music brought her back to the room with a vengeance. Bloody hell and mangy hounds, I danced the Mohn-Drom before the entire rotting court of Arravan. She turned with a wry smile and offered her arm to her mother. “Will you join us, my Queen?”
“I suggest that you leave me before I make you change that shirt. And well played, Cat.”
“What’ve I done now?”
“What haven’t you done today?” her mother asked. “You’ll make my heart give out, I’ve always said it.”
“You also said I would grow horns if I didn’t wear a dress to my tenth birthing-day celebration,” Darry said as she turned to walk away.
Cecelia laughed. “Yes, and if you hadn’t thought that would be a splendid idea,” she said, “it might’ve worked.”
Chapter Nine
Darry stood beneath the bossa tree, its branches ripe with thick green leaves and seasoned red berries that hung low and shielded her within the shadows.
Jessa sat on one of the stone benches scattered throughout the gardens, bathed in the blue light from one of the colored lamps as Emmalyn knelt before her. “Are you truly all right?” Emmalyn asked, touching Jessa’s hands.
“Yes, Emmalyn, thank you. I was just…it was very close, as your mother said.”
“You do not have to sing if you don’t want,” Emmalyn said. “Not ever, Jessa, if it’s not your wish.”
“It’s not so simple as that.”
“I know. But you need only tell someone—myself or Alisha, or my mother. Or Darry, of course,” Emmalyn added. Did you dance the Mohn-Drom to save our lovely guest, my sister? It was a clever gamble if you did, and I shall keep you in pastries for a year. “We will try to help you.”
Jessa nodded. “You should find your friend…Royce?”
Emmalyn smiled instantly. “How do you know of Royce?”
“I know only that you love him. It was plain to see and I heard his name spoken.”
“He’s been gone for many weeks.”
“He’ll want to dance with you.”
“Yes. He can wait, though.”
Jessa shook her head. “Please go to him, Emmalyn. It would make me happy. And I would enjoy a moment to myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“For certain. Go and dance with your beloved.”
Emmalyn nodded and stood. “I’ll come find you.”
“All right.”
Emmalyn kissed Jessa’s cheek, a gesture that obviously startled Jessa. Emmalyn smiled, pulling lightly at a braid.
Jessa smoothed at her skirt and closed her eyes, then pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. She saw within her mind’s eye as Darry walked beneath the arch and her heart beat fast at the image. She reached for the single bracelet cuff that Radha had allowed her to wear, searching beneath the silk of her left sleeve to find its carved metal glyphs. “Patroona tu an eesha,” she whispered.
Radha’s words echoed in her head. And what will you do when your vision comes at last, Jessa? Will you accept what it shows you, no matter what it is?
I should’ve known it anyway, for no one has ever struck my blood so deeply before.
Am I backwards then? Darry is backwards. Her love is for women. She wants the touch of a woman, and…she wants. What do you want, Darry?
Jessa closed her eyes tightly to bar the image of the man’s hands on Darry’s body and the way he had fondled her breast with a lustful touch. And he had kissed her. “Fikloche piton,” Jessa said under her breath, her anger flashing.
She shook her head in surprise.
And what am I to do about it anyway? I am here for Malcolm to judge and that is my path. And though the Vhaelin preach free will in all things, I’ve known little enough of such matters. What would a woman such as Darry find within the likes of Bharjah’s chattel? I’m not much of a prize for one so bold, be they man or woman.
Bloody hell, but she’s lovely. You’re so beautiful, Darry.
Are these the thoughts of a backwards woman? Wanting to touch her, her skin, wondering what her kiss would�
� A surge of pleasure blossomed in her chest and spread in a wondrous manner. She felt Darry’s weight between her thighs once more and caught her breath, a heavy pulse of desire aching sweetly between her legs. Essa ahbwalla… She pressed her hands to her thighs and pushed…that’s rather lovely, yes.
A breeze lifted and Jessa turned her face, taking a slow, sweet breath. It swept her hair away from her face like a gentle touch, and the scent of lilacs filled her head.
Darry had stepped deeper into the shadows as her sister passed, uncertain of why she hid but following her instincts as always. She waited until Emmalyn was beyond the curve in the hedgerow before turning back and finding Jessa.
Darry’s heartbeat quickened as Jessa savored the breeze, a warm flood of appreciation filling her chest. She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Such an amazing woman, yet you may never have her as you wish to.
Darry looked to the ground at her feet and thought of that long-ago night when she had seen Aidan for the last time and how everything had ached so with want that her hands had shaken as never before. Aidan was the only lover she had ever truly known, and her memories could not help but emerge as her emotions stirred at Jessa’s beauty.
What she felt now was different. It was more, and it was terribly fierce, even in its innocence. But Aidan was all she had to compare it to, so her thoughts tumbled backward in time. Their last tryst, it had been almost a week since they had met alone and she had been set upon seeing Aidan no matter the cost. She had known something was wrong, had felt it in her bones.
And it was a lie. She was a lie. Well, no…that’s not true. She was real enough, as was everything we shared, the pleasure and the words we spoke. And though we were young, I can’t believe that what we whispered was all a dream. Though I remember well the cold words you spoke that night, Aidan, instead of finding laughter and the taste of your kiss.
Your cruelty was most certainly not a dream.
Darry’s mouth had a bitter taste as she recalled her first lover. Her only lover, as far as the word mattered, for though she had known other women, she had not been in love since. It never occurred to me, Aidan, that I would not be enough. That the love I gave would mean so much less than others might offer. Not sweet enough. Not smart enough to know what you needed. It hadn’t occurred to me that my love wasn’t strong enough to be what a woman needs.
