by Gail Dayton
She staggered and would have fallen had Torchay not caught her as the magic drained back into Stone, teasing them with a last quiver. Stone swayed and Torchay caught him too, Aisse finally lending support to keep them all upright.
“Is that going to happen every time we touch?” Stone gasped, leaning hard against the other three.
“What was that?” Torchay shuddered. “Is that what happened when you—”
“I think—” Kallista took a deep breath, reaching for control. “I think you felt only an echo of what we did. You’re iliasti, you and Aisse. But you’re not marked.”
“If it does happen every time—” Stone pulled back, stood on his own wobbly legs “—I don’t think I will mind overmuch if I don’t get sex.”
“That was not like sex,” Aisse protested. “It felt good. Nice.”
“Sex done right feels a lot like that.” Kallista found her own feet.
“Are you all right?” Karyl rushed in, her twin close behind her. “What happened?”
“I think,” the Reinine said, her voice carrying in the perfect acoustics of the room, “that we have all just witnessed something very special. The creation of the bonds of ilian as they were meant to be.”
“I sensed magic,” Karyl said, looking puzzled.
“West magic?” Joh Suteny drew attention his way, looking uncomfortable with it.
“Perhaps.” The Reinine ignored Kallista’s wince. She didn’t want her peculiarities gossiped about the palace. “Whatever sort of magic, it was a sign of the One’s blessing on this ilian.” She smiled, spreading her arms wide in her own blessing. “Come. This is cause for celebration indeed.”
The wedding party was swept along in the Reinine’s wake. Kallista had managed to persuade her not to show any special favors. She was a soldier, not a courtier, and did not want to deal with the jealousy such favoritism would inevitably cause. She didn’t want any functionary worried about her job when there was no threat. Whatever the task before her, Kallista knew it was not at court. She had the uneasy feeling it had to do with that thing she had seen in her vision.
However, the Reinine would not hear of a quiet celebration in their quarters. The party was escorted to the great hall to mingle with the courtiers while the Reinine retired to change from prelate’s robes into ruler’s finery before dinner. Fortunately, the Reinine hosted a state dinner every Hopeday, so no particular notice would be drawn to the new ilian. Now Kallista’s only worry was negotiating the evening without getting separated from Stone or tripping over palace politics.
By remaining in the background, refusing to jostle for table position and avoiding conversation with anyone who hadn’t been present at the ceremony, Kallista and her ilian made it through the meal without problems. Trouble arose when the tables were cleared away for dancing.
Before Kallista could herd her family out the doors, a courtier approached. The young woman wore the shortened tunic and cropped hair of a brava, the omnipresent sword of that swarm of reckless aristocrats at her side. A sense of doom settled over Kallista as the courtier bowed low before Stone. “Your beauty has dazzled me. Grant me the gift of a dance.”
Stone backed away, his eyes rolling side to side as he looked for rescue. “I don’t—I can’t…dance.”
Kallista could not push through to his side quickly enough.
The woman trailed a finger down his sleeve. “I cannot believe such a sweet morsel as yourself would not—”
“He is claimed.” Kallista shoved one of the brava’s crowd aside and stepped in beside Stone, taking his arm. “And he speaks truth. My ilias does not dance.”
The courtier’s eyes sparkled with mischief and her lips twitched in a mocking smile as she bowed again, this time to Kallista. “My pardon, aila, if I have made too free with what is not mine. May I present myself? I am Prinsipella Viyelle Torvyl of Shaluine.”
Wonderful. The spoiled offspring of a prinsep. Kallista returned the bow without all the hand flourishes. “Kallista Varyl, captain naitan of the Third Detachment, Reinine’s Own.”
“A military person, eh?” The prinsipella smirked. “I wonder that you have wed, given all the perquisites of military life. Do introduce me to your ilias.”
Kallista’s smile went tight, but the brat hadn’t yet been overly insulting. Just subtly so, implying that Stone was her only ilias. Kallista would mind her own manners. “My iliasti.” She gestured to them behind her, and started with Aisse because the prinsipella wasn’t interested in her. “Aisse vo’Haav, Torchay Omvir and Stone, Warrior vo’Tsekrish”
“Vo’Haav, vo’Tsekrish—unusual names.”
“Yes.” Kallista didn’t respond to the woman’s hint for more information. “They are.”
Viyelle ignored the nonresponse as if it were never spoken. “Surely you would not begrudge me a dance, just one dance with your lovely war prize?”
The prinsipella already knew Stone’s origin? But why wouldn’t she? Their meeting had been spectacular enough to have all of Adara gossiping, not just all of Arikon. Without waiting for Kallista to consent to the request, Viyelle swept Stone off into the rollicking, stomping country dance.
Kallista hesitated. Should she go after him? Stone’s seizure could discourage other flirtations. But a seizure would draw unwanted attention, especially since they were already subjects of gossip. And the seizures were painful.
She got Torchay’s attention with a touch and a look, asking silently what he saw from his greater height. He pointed and Kallista pushed her way through the dancers in that direction, but a hoarse cry told her she’d left it too late.
Quickly, Kallista motioned Torchay ahead of her. She didn’t want anyone connecting Stone’s sudden, miraculous recovery with her approach. She moved forward at a slightly more deliberate pace, forcing her way through the collected crowd to find a woozy but upright Stone leaning on Torchay. Lieutenant Suteny hovered nearby.
“My ilias is not well,” she said to the alarmed prinsipella, and to the crowd at large. “Too much excitement is not good for him.”
Kallista took Stone’s other arm, though with his usual rapid recovery, he didn’t need the support. He pretended to, however, as they left the hall. Kallista’s sedili met them at the great double doors, filled with concern for Stone.
“Stay.” Kallista waved them back. “This is your chance to mingle at court. Enjoy it. Stone will be fine once we reach the quiet of our rooms.”
“And it is your wedding night after all,” Kami teased. “I think you can be forgiven for cutting your evening short.”
Her smile crooked, Kallista bid her sisters a good evening. Sweet heaven, it was her wedding night. How would they get through it? What would happen next?
Each ilian handled sex in its own way. In some, the iliasti paired up two and two. In others, everyone crawled into the same oversize bed and participated in whatever seemed most enjoyable at the moment. Yet others—Kallista didn’t know, but she assumed there were as many patterns as there were iliani.
Aisse didn’t want sex. She’d made that clear. Stone obviously had hopes but no expectations. Torchay, though…Torchay would have expectations. Even if he were more resigned than eager, he would expect more than a kiss and a cuddle, and his fragile male esteem would suffer if he didn’t get it. But her own esteem would suffer if she felt only duty from him in their coming together. She had intended to avoid sex altogether, but could she?
At the door to their suite, Joh made as if to follow them inside. Kallista blocked his way, sending the others in ahead of her. “You’re quartered out here now, Lieutenant. You and your quarto. Stone is ilias now, and as such, we will care for him.”
Joh’s face was blank as he saluted, fist over heart. Kallista sensed undercurrents beneath his bland exterior. Something was going on in that curious, watchful head of his, but she didn’t have time to work it out now. Joh was under her command, not in her ilian, and at this moment, her new-wed mates came first. She returned his salute and retreated insi
de.
Noonday Suite was designed to house the largest of iliani with its private bedrooms down each side of the long central parlor, seven on one side, five on the other. The center bedroom next to Stone’s was double the size of the other eleven and contained little more than an enormous sleeping platform, in case the entire ilian wanted to sleep all cuddled together. Their ilian had not reached that point, and odds were good that it never would.
Aisse was already closed in her room across the parlor from Kallista’s. Stone and Torchay were waiting together just inside the main door, Torchay’s face as carefully blank as Joh’s had been. Kallista sighed, pulling off her long gloves. She had a good idea what lay behind that expressionless face. Torchay didn’t know who or what she would choose tonight, and Kallista couldn’t reassure him. She didn’t know herself.
“Go to bed.” She kissed Torchay’s cheek, and because Stone was ilias too, she kissed his. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re both tired.” She looped an arm through each of theirs and walked the length of the parlor with them.
“Your day’s been just as long,” Torchay said. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Too tired to sleep.” Her smile flickered and faded. “I’m…restless. Maybe if I pace a while…” Maybe she could decide what she ought to do.
“Don’t pace too far,” Stone said, his first spontaneous remark since the end of the wedding. He obviously didn’t want another seizure tonight.
“I won’t.” She patted his hand as they stopped outside his bedroom door. “That chair, that chaise longue, that table.” She pointed at each in turn. “And no farther.”
Stone nodded and retreated behind his door.
“Torchay—”
“Kallista, I—” They spoke at the same time.
“Go on,” she urged as she walked him to the next room.
He shook his head. “I don’t remember what I wanted to say.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but let it go. They stopped at the bedroom door and stood there, awkward together, unable to look each other in the eye. The possibility—the probability of sex had landed between them like an enormous boulder and nothing was the same. All the ease between them was gone. They couldn’t even talk anymore. She had been right all along. Sex ruined everything.
But how could she disappoint him? How could she let him think she didn’t find him attractive, so attractive her mouth went dry just looking at him? Goddess, she didn’t know what to do. So she kissed him. Not quite on the mouth, but almost.
“I’ll be along soon,” she said before he could turn his head, make it a true kiss.
Torchay lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek, but she looked away deliberately and he didn’t. “Kallista—” He paused. “All right. If you go to him, be careful.”
Her eyes snapped to meet his. Was he sending her to Stone or warning her away? “Stone is ilias. You heard the Reinine. He swore his vows in truth.”
“I know.” The vivid blue of his eyes seemed to have depths she’d never seen. “But he’s still Tibran. He doesn’t understand yet all that ilian is. Just—be careful.”
“I don’t have any plans to go to any—to do that—to—” Goddess, could she put her foot in it any worse? “With Stone.” There, that should clarify. “Not tonight. Or—” She couldn’t say ever. She didn’t plan to, but plans sometimes changed.
Torchay nodded, carefully not looking at her now. He backed into the bedroom. “I’ll be waiting.” And he shut the door.
Kallista wanted to bang her head against the wall, but that would only bring Torchay back out to see what was wrong. She wanted him. She wanted to pull the lacings from his tunic and lick her tongue across each fraction of skin exposed. She wanted to pull the tunic off and run her hands over every bit of his shoulders and back and chest and stomach, lingering in those spots where he responded with gasps or groans. She wanted to take him deep inside her and ride his strength till they both screamed. And she knew if she did what she wanted she would destroy what she had.
She started pacing along the wall, down to the chair past Stone’s door and back to the table just past her own. Her mind whirled, thinking about everything and nothing, circling again and again past the same contradictory arguments. She could no longer make sense of anything. Please, Goddess, just let me know what to do.
Joh paced the confines of the guardroom office where he had been summarily relegated tonight. His mind sorted through what he knew, what he had learned and what he suspected. When he understood, he would know what steps to take.
The magic he had seen—the strange connection between his Tibran prisoner and the naitan—was disturbing enough in itself. The Reinine had hinted that this magic could be of the West. It certainly possessed enough mystery for this to be true, but he did not know it for fact.
The Tibran had been joined to the other three by the ancient rites di pentivas. That was a fact. Joh’s reaction to it was pure emotion.
It made him angry. Ragingly, blindingly furious. He wanted to smash something. Men had fought for many years for the right to choose, to be treated as individuals, as persons worthy of equal respect. A man was not a piece of property to be handed off to any woman who could keep him. Joh did not know what the captain had said to have the Tibran given to her, but whatever it was, it was not reason enough. The man was an enemy, yes, a prisoner. But he was still a man like any other.
The captain seemed sincere in her claims, that she would treat him as any other ilias. But as long as Stone wore the bracelets and the chain-looped anklets of di pentivas, he was not like other iliasti. Still, perhaps she did mean it. Joh decided to reserve judgment for another few days. Until he knew from which direction this new magic came.
Already Joh had received a terse note inquiring when a report might be expected. Joh sat down at the desk, squeezed between the cot and the weapons rack, to write down what he had learned. Best to be ready when his decision was made.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kallista found herself standing at the edge of a bed, staring down at the man sleeping in it, without knowing how she came to be there. She didn’t much care, and in a far distant corner of her mind, she wondered why she didn’t. But the corner was far, far distant, and the man was right here before her. His cotton-soft hair, almost silver in the moonlight, lay spread on the pillow beneath him. The urge to touch it became more than she could bear and she crawled onto the bed.
“Stone.” She breathed the word out, quieter than a whisper, fingers stroking across the softness of his hair, moving toward his face.
The sandpaper roughness of his cheeks fascinated her and she cupped them in her hands, sinking into him. The magic stirred, welcoming her, flowing into her body and curling round like a cat stropping itself across her senses. She shuddered.
Stone’s eyes opened. “Captain?”
“Kallista,” she corrected. She stroked her hands down his neck and across his shoulders, shaping her hands to their strength. He was bare-chested. Was he perhaps bare all over?
At that thought, the magic flared, searing her senses and leaving them both awake and quivering. The brush of silk was too much against her skin and she sat up to rid herself of her tunic. Stone sat up with her, yanking away her chemise beneath so he could wrap his arms around her and bring her bare breasts against his naked chest. He rubbed himself against her too-sensitive skin and she cried out with the pleasure of it.
The magic had her in its grip now, driving her. That distant part of her held an awareness that this wasn’t right, that she shouldn’t use him so, that she hadn’t intended this, but the passion rode her, refusing to let her go. Almost frenzied, she pushed him back down on the bed and dragged the coverlet off him. He was naked beneath it.
For a moment, Kallista paused to look her fill. Stone was beautiful in the moonlight, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. The disks of his nipples were dark against his hairless chest. A line of hair began below the dip of his navel and ran down to join the brown nest from
which his erection rose, thick and powerful. Kallista’s whole body tightened. She wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and his hips bucked.
He tried to roll, to bring her beneath him, but the magic helped her push him back. She fought against the surge of power, wanting to draw the pleasure out, to linger over her fine dish of Stone, but the magic was so strong. It wanted completion.
Kallista relaxed her muscles, collapsing on top of him. She could hear, could feel the thunder of his heart against her jaw. If she tipped her head just a little, her tongue could touch his nipple, so she did it. Stone jerked beneath her.
“For the god’s sake, Captain, put me out of my agony.” He groaned the words out, his body writhing. “I want—I need—”
“Shh.” She covered his mouth with hers, kissing away his power of speech. Stone conveyed his want and need in his openmouthed kiss instead, drinking her in, giving back what he took.
Kallista wanted. She needed, and with every touch of his mouth, hands, body against hers, the power of that desire increased, like lightning bouncing between her hands. She would not be able to control it much longer.
“Say it.” She tore herself gasping from the kiss to press her cheek tight to his, her lips brushing his ear. “We are ilian together. I am your ilias. I want to hear you say it.”
Stone’s hips bucked, his tip just nudging her entrance, and they both hissed with the feel of it. “What? What do you want me to say? That we are ilian?”
“My name, ilias. Say my name.” She couldn’t keep from rubbing herself against his slick broad tip, but she wouldn’t let him inside. Not yet. She had that much control. For this instant. Who knew what the next would hold?
“Say mine.” His hips rose off the bed, lifting her with them as he sought entry. He was making this a competition, a challenge to see who would win and who would lose. He didn’t understand that in an ilian, no one lost.
She bit his earlobe, licked her tongue over it and murmured, “Stone, Warrior vo’Tsekrish. Ilias. Now, Stone, you.”
