Handmaiden's Fury

by JM Guillen

  Would she ever answer my prayers again?

  My throat locked.

  Sire Mattias stopped. His eyes tried to lock onto mine, but I dropped my gaze. He pulled me up, and I stood before him.

  “I told you, pet. We have time.” His smile was wicked. “I have hours and hours with you. I’m not ready to finish yet.”

  I whispered, “Yes, Sire.”

  I caught my breath as he pulled tighter. I rested my cheek against the thick muscles of his chest.

  Could I bear this? Could I betray everything I’d ever been taught for the sake of this one man?

  He kissed me again, the sun rising from winter’s longest night.

  My heart was his. Against all strictures and everything we believed in, my heart was his.

  Then, he released me.

  I stood there, my legs trembling. I was about to lose everything.

  Serene, unaware, smiling, Sire Mattias sat on the edge of the pool. “Sit on my lap, Keiri.”

  I gave a fluttering smile in return and then settled myself on his lap. I began to angle my hips.

  He stopped me.

  “No, sweetling.” He kissed me once and then nipped and nibbled his way down my neck.

  I bit my lip and whimpered.

  His fingers trailed along my inner thigh.

  “Mattias. Pleas—”

  He silenced me with his mouth.

  I made tiny mewling sounds as his strong fingers found my pleasure.

  Oh. Oh, Goddess. Forgive me. I love this man. Your priest. Please, do not let harm befall him on my behalf.

  Heat flared up my sigils, and I threw my head back in an astonished gasp. His teeth grazed me, and I clutched at him, my nails digging into his skin.

  He showed no mercy.

  Holding me there on his lap, his fingers brushed the center of my aching desire, as my hips silently begged for him. I could feel him. It would be nothing for him to take me, to hold me and slide me onto him, again and again. He could easily take me.

  But he did not.

  He played my pleasure like an instrument, rising and falling and then rising again.

  I gasped and pleaded. I begged.

  It did not matter.

  “Mattias…” My words drifted off as a long, ragged moan escaped my lips.

  He pushed deeply, and then silenced my cries with his mouth again.

  I wanted to blossom for him. For my love. I broke the kiss and met his gaze, my eyes half-lidded.

  “Please,” I whispered breathlessly.

  He traced his fingers along the side of my face.

  “Please let me have this.”

  “No, pet.” His other hand caressed my back, sending tiny rivulets of pleasure along my skin where Brys had inscribed my sigils. I trembled at his touch. “Keep your desire strong. Go slow. If you blossom for me too quickly, I will have to begin with you again.” His fingers slid between my thighs again, and I moaned, keeping my eyes on him.

  “Yes, Sire.” I whimpered.

  “Orin is a dangerous man, Keiri. I need you to be strong. We must be careful with the Lady’s Blessings.”

  He was right. “I understand, Sire.” It was true, I did. I would have this one night. One last night with him, if the Lady would allow it.

  I prayed. Goddess. Rydia. Please.

  It was all I could manage. What else could I say? I knew what I felt was wrong, and I had no excuse. None. Nothing I could say would make it right. I deserved everything that would crash down upon my head now. It wouldn’t take long. Mattias would soon reach the point in our ritual when he would infuse my sigils. When it didn’t work, when the Goddess refused to answer due to my blasphemy, then my life would be over.

  Even so, I couldn’t keep my hips from writhing. I so wanted him. I would have one last moment with him. One last remembrance. One last glory.

  “That’s my good girl.” He adjusted his hips, and I could feel him, just the barest bit, nuzzle against my wetness.

  I bit my lip. “Yes. Oh yes.”

  Then Sire Mattias took what was his.

  As I whimpered, his fingers danced on my body. Quietly, he mouthed litanies to Rydia, praying with both his body and words. He took the pleasure from me and wove it into the sigils on my back.

  All I could do was gasp and sigh for him. His mouth wrote poems on my body, and I trembled.

  The world was fire and pleasure and passion in the night. I rocked myself upon him, captured in his eyes.

  “I can’t—” I didn’t even know what I was going to say. I couldn’t have him, yet couldn’t deny him, couldn’t help but want him. I yearned to be his. I yearned to be Hers.

  “Easy, Keiri.” His lips brushed my neck and then found my mouth. Tenderly, he kissed me, drinking my breath and whispers. “Breathe. Focus.”

  My entire body trembled. “I can’t hold, Sire. I need—” Ecstasy rose through me. It danced, like ribbons of fire.

  Please, I prayed. I love him. I love You. If it is Your will that I leave the church, I will. For him, I will. Just leave him. Don’t punish him for my transgression. For love’s sake.

  Suddenly the world was fire and pleasure and passion in the night. I rocked myself upon him, captured in his eyes.

  Rydia answered.

  The Goddess Herself poured through us, and time seemed to stretch and bend.

  “Yes.” Mattias kissed me again. His fingers traced K’sai on my back, teasing the edge of the sigil. Fiery sensation cut through me, making me gasp and cry.

  “Goddess! Mattias, I—”

  “Yes, Keiri.” He looked into my eyes. “Yes. Now.”

  Now.

  My back arched as he pulled my hips downward fiercely. He bit me, all the while weaving flaming pleasure across my back. K’sai exploded even as I screamed, even as I trembled and whimpered. The sigil was hot, glowing with the power of my blossoming pleasure.

  He held me. He held me and kissed me. Not like a storm or a conqueror, but like a man in love. I kissed him back, my eyes wet.

  The Goddess answered me. She had answered. I was not abandoned. She loved me as She always had. And Mattias…

  He held me, even as I quivered. He held me while I caught my breath. I was surrounded by his strength.

  I was wrapped in him. Rapt in him.

  Finally, my trembling slowed. The ocean inside me calmed, and twilight fell across my mind. I breathed him. We were one being with no walls between.

  Moments spread between us like hours.

  “Keiri.” Still inside me, he remained hard and unyielding.

  I blinked away wetness and met his gaze. “Sire Mattias.” My voice was little more than a whisper.

  “We have more, pet.” He traced his fingers along my other sigils.

  I smiled at him, my joy beaming through my tears. “Yes, Sire.”

  He was right. We had only awakened one. Quariin, Doch, and Ouigiin remained.

  Sire Mattias kissed me again.

  15

  That night was a haze of fire and twilight, passion and secrets.

  Even with years of training and devotion, the rites were difficult. Each sigil that was awakened made the next one more difficult. Even with Rydia’s touch, I was still only a woman. My capability for passion and pleasure was great but not endless.

  Sire Mattias took me again in the steam baths, binding my whimpers and trembling pleasure to Doch. Once I had blossomed for him again, he took me in his arms and carried me upstairs. There he laid me in the greatbed. With his arms around me, he let me drift into sleep.

  When he awoke me, I knew exactly what he needed.

  “Little one.” His voice was a whisper. “We still have work to do.”

  “Yes, Sire Mattias.” I grinned sleepily.

  He knew exactly what I needed as well. Slow and patient, he tended to me thoughtfully and let the fire build.

  He let me tend to him until I lost myself, and then turned me over. Like an artisan, he carried me back to my pleasure and then held himself inside m
e while the world trembled around us. In this way, he awakened Quariin and Ouigiin.

  By mid-morning, we were finished. Each sigil sang on my back, warm with passion, temptation, and unseen power. I thrummed with it.

  The world shone brighter, its edges softer. Everything was warm and beautiful. I moved through the world like a dancer, swimming through something thicker than air.

  The blanket beneath us felt softer than kitten fur. The silken sheet ran like water through my fingers. I laughed delightedly and laid my head upon Sire Mattias’s chest.

  “You will sleep most of the day, Keiri. Rest well.” His soft voice rippled, a caramel earthquake under my ear.

  I had no words. Everything in the world was wrapped in the glow of our passion. I slept deeply, where the world was lost to me.

  All of my dreams were of him.

  A single sigil made an exhausting blessing to bear. Even once sealed, the magic hungered. Handmaidens who bore sigils slept more, ate more, and often lost their tempers quickly. The slow fire burned in our bodies; the ravenous flame was our burden to bear. Handmaidens hardly ever bore four sigils at once. As a result, I slept far beyond most of the next day.

  “Handmaiden.”

  I hadn’t even known he was in the room. I opened my eyes and squinted against the gaslight lantern. It was obviously night again.

  No longer Keiri, I had returned to my station as a Handmaiden for him.

  I tried my best to keep my voice neutral. “Sire.”

  I pushed myself up in the bed and took the opportunity to study him.

  He surveyed the world through the window. A glass of Ciab in his hand, he took a quick drink. “It’s time, pet. I need you to dress and prepare.” He gave a glance to a case leaning against the wall. It lay open, displaying my things. Obviously, my Sire had bid Brys to supply me.

  “Yes, Sire. Do you have any instructions?”

  I knew how I felt. I loved him. He was my everything. What I didn’t know was how he felt. I peered at his countenance, desperate for a clue. Even as he considered me, long in thought, I couldn’t read what dreams lay behind his eyes.

  “Yes, Handmaiden.” He took another drink and strode to the door. “Make certain you can move quickly. Wear leathers instead of lace; they won’t just let us walk in.”

  What if he didn’t return my feelings? What if I were just another Handmaiden to him? I felt as if my heart stopped and the ground fell away beneath my feet.

  No.

  Focus.

  We had no time for such fear. Not now. We had business. People’s lives depended on us. We had to take care of Orin. After that… There would be time after that.

  “How long before we go?”

  He finished his drink. “We leave soon. An hour, maybe less. Brys will drive us.” He set his glass on my table. “I am supposed to meet someone on the grounds, but I haven’t heard from her today. I’m worried. We need to go quickly.”

  I sat up and stretched. “Yes, Sire, I’ll be ready very soon.”

  He nodded at me. “Good girl.”

  Sire Mattias left the room, and I prepared.

  16

  The night was mist and darkness and the scent of the ocean. The shadows had grown long and looming, and the moon fought to shine through the fog.

  It was a typical night in Stormhaven.

  It was a night of fire.

  I entered first. It would be simple enough; Orin had different whores most evenings. In my leather high-boots, a childskirt, and leather tunic-top, I still could be considered dressed provocatively even though I wore a thick cloak.

  My Sire expected that I would make the gate easily.

  Last time I was here, I had only seen one guard at that gate. If my charms failed, my Lady could lay him low with little issue, particularly with our preparations. From there, Sire Mattias would come in behind me, and we would find his agent within Orin’s manse.

  Simple.

  As I approached the gate, my hair was perfect, and my makeup was art. My training had taught me exactly how to hold myself. The tiniest hint of a smile from me could make a man’s heart crumble.

  As I walked through the mists, I truly embodied Rydia’s Handmaiden. Her sigils burned on my back and in my mind. Even though no man touched me, I could feel the fervor of my Lady at the edge my mind.

  “Miss?” The voice came from the side, shrouded in mist. One of Orin’s guards walked toward me, his hand on his blade.

  I hadn’t even known he was there.

  “I w—was to see Orin tonight.” I stammered just a touch, startled.

  “Not tonight, I’m afraid.” Though his word held firm, his eyes traveled up and down my body. Then, he turned toward the gate-house. “Dorian! We have a visitor!”

  Now that I peered ahead, I could see four other men at the gatehouse. One of them walked up to us. Just a shadowed form in the mist at first, soon I could see his craggy face, his broad shoulders.

  “What then?” He looked me up and down as certainly as the other man had, although his eyes remained wary.

  “Says she’s here to see Devariis.”

  The craggy man, Dorian, spat. “Not likely tonight, is it?” He sighed. “Come to the gatehouse, miss. We’ll sort this out.”

  That was the last thing I wanted to do. Still, if I wasn’t a compliant little doe, it would seem suspicious. I let them lead me to the gatehouse, still playing my part.

  “Orin told me to be here tonight! You think I have nothing better to do?”

  “Never said that, miss.” That was the original man who had met me. “It’s just a special night for the Lord. Seems odd he would have told you to meet him, tonight of all nights.”

  “We’ll sort it,” Dorian assured me. “I’ll send one of the boys up. Do you have a calling card for Lord Devariis?”

  That was the line. Of course I didn’t. I never expected more than a single guard. What was happening tonight? Why was it special?

  “I don’t.” I leveled my gaze at Dorian, green eyes flashing. “Orin likes me to be as delicate as I can about my presence.”

  He wasn’t buying my wares, I could tell.

  “Let’s get you to the guard house.” His smile had charm. “We’ll sort this all there.”

  I smiled back. I truly had no other option.

  I let them escort me the fifty steps or so to the small guardhouse. The entire way, I loudly and obnoxiously made it clear that I was supposed to be there.

  “What’s happening, Dorian?” One of the other men came out, with another just behind him. He was a lean man with a hawk’s face.

  “One of the Lord’s guests seems to be mistaken about the time of her visit.”

  “I am not.” I brought every inch of righteous indignation I could bear on him. “Orin was very clear about—”

  I didn’t even give the man time to interrupt me. In my mind, I reached for the tightly coiled flame in the Doch sigil. The power within yearned for freedom, begged for release.

  I granted it.

  Silent thunder exploded around me the moment I triggered the awakened sigil. I felt its power leap forth, like a ravenous wolf. As it did, memory of my Sire, of what we had been doing when we enchanted the sigil, washed over me.

  “Lay back, little pet. You are mine to feast upon.” His tongue dipped inside me, and I shuddered as he began to ravenously devour me, to drink secrets from my well.

  The men were knocked from their feet, hurled backward by unseen power. I could see the look of rapture on the first man’s face as Rydia’s power coursed through him, and he trembled and jerked with Her pleasure. It tore through him again and again, an unceasing tide of ecstasy.

  It would hold him long after we had moved on.

  “Witch.” It was Dorian. Shakily, he stood up, his hand on his sword. Around his neck, I saw the brilliant shine of a grace, one of the holy charms of the Lady Myranda. Its light drank the power of Rydia.

  “Stoppin’ is what you’ll be doin’.” There was a deadly hiss as he
pulled his sword from its sheath. “I’ll end you here. Don’t think I won’t.”

  “You won’t.” Sire Mattias’ baritone was sharp, cutting through the mist. He walked up behind me, his every step graceful, deadly.

  His eyes glinted, hard like steel.

  Sire Mattias had come dressed for battle. He wore his hobnail boots and thick leather pants. He brandished his wood and leather flail in one hand and had his rod strapped to his back. He wore his red silk shirt but draped the whole thing with a thick, hide greatcoat. He walked toward the guard, the flail loose in his hand.

  “Not much use against a sword, chum.” The guard stepped toward him. “Maybe you’d better take yer little trollop here and move on.”

  Sire Mattias grinned. “Come then. Let’s see who’s of use.”

  Dorian stepped in with a grace I never would have expected from a man of his size. I worried that perhaps he might be more than a simple worshipper of Myranda; he might be one of her war-clergy, the Jyannza. If so, we might face some trouble.

  The Jyannza, monastic warriors, followed ancient traditions of the Shoakali people. A few hundred years ago, they converted to worship Myranda after the Shoaks’ Rebellion threw off the yoke of slavery. They pursued combat like a high art and fought as skillfully empty handed as they did with weaponry. Their blade masters were formidable, lithe and quick, with narrow blades like giant needles that sliced and pricked as the wielder dodged and spun, sliding out of the way as if their opponent was fighting a water spirit.

  His stride and easy manner accentuated my fears. He didn’t blindly swing at my Sire but moved with caution, his blade held high. My Sire easily side-stepped his first quick feints, but on the third, he struck Sire Mattias.

  My Sire stepped away and then closed again. Like a snake, he struck, the flail whistling through the air.

  He did not swing at the man’s face or body, as I expected. No, he brought the full force of the flails leather bite against the man’s hand, where he clutched at his blade.

  “Most men believe they understand pain, Handmaiden.” I remembered when he had said the words. “They think it’s something that can be borne, stood against. They believe themselves strong, as if strength can deny pain.”