Golden Stair

by Jennifer Blackstream

  No. “Yes.”

  “I care about you, Ivy. More than you know.”

  Every word out of his mouth was a stone hurled at the wall of numbness she clung to. Syllable after syllable bounced off of her before falling harmlessly away. He wasn’t going to reel her back in, not so soon, not with a few words. A few minutes ago she’d been ready to leave everything behind for him and now she was standing there…watching him leave. He leapt off the balcony and as he dipped in the air, her heart fell with him. She clamped down on the emotion, strangling it in an unforgiving grasp as she shuffled over to the balcony and watched him sail away.

  “I care about you, Ivy. More than you know.”

  “Prove it,” she whispered.

  Darkness nestled around her, moving like the shadow of death over the land. Cold stars twinkled overhead, but Ivy didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see the beauty or the wonder tonight. It didn’t matter, not now. She just wanted to curl up in bed and give in to the awful weight pressing down on her. Maybe sleep would offer some escape.

  A flash of movement caught her eye. Frowning, Ivy looked out over the valley flushed pink with the last of the sunlight. A red speck marching over the ground drew her attention. She stiffened.

  Mother.

  Ivy jerked her gaze to the sky. The sight of Adonis, still visible in the not too far off distance, sent a shiver of horror down her spine. She was afraid to look down at her mother again, afraid to look and see if Dame Gothel had noticed the flying incubus. Her chest tightened. What if her mother had seen him leave? The hair rose on the back of her neck and sweat broke out on her forehead. Her stomach heaved, bile churning and threatening to make her sick. She stood there like a statue, frozen as the hunched figure of her mother stomped across the valley toward the foot of the tower.

  Ivy dashed inside, gathering up the gifts Adonis had brought her. Her heart hammered as she ran to her room and tucked the treasures away under her bed. Hardly able to breathe past the lump in her throat, she raced back to the balcony, threw her golden braid over the hook, and lowered her tresses to the ground. She fisted her hands to try and keep them from trembling, but the tremors just ran up her arms to shake her shoulders. Her braid jerked and grew taut as her mother grabbed hold, and Ivy’s heart pounded like a war drum with every pull. When her mother finally came over the balcony, Ivy was near hysterics, robbed of breath and voice. She could only stare as her mother’s full fury filled the room like the ozone before a storm.

  “You ungrateful wretch,” Dame Gothel screamed, her voice hoarse with rage. “How could you betray me like that?”

  Ivy shook her head, still unable to speak. No words, there were no words that she could possibly dream up to explain to her mother why the incubus had been in the tower. She’d cleaned up the destruction from his first visit, there was nothing in the tower to suggest there’d been a fight. What was she supposed to say? She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat swelled until she could scarcely breathe. She held up a hand as if to ward off her mother’s ire.

  “You let a demon between your thighs! You’ve ruined everything! Years of planning, years of agonizing development, and you throw it away for the savage lust of an incubus who will never even look at you again!”

  “Mother,” Ivy finally choked. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t!” her mother bellowed. “Do not even speak to me!”

  In a flurry of black and red fabric, her mother raged up the stairs, returning moments later with a large pair of scissors in one hand and one of Ivy’s paintings in the other. It was a desert scene, nothing but miles and miles of sand and unendingly blue sky. It was one of the few non-violent paintings she’d managed to save from her mother’s censorship. Dame Gothel slammed it down on the floor against the wall, rattling the frame. She stormed over to Ivy.

  “Mother!” Ivy cried out, her face twisting in pain as her mother closed an iron fist around her wrist. Pain radiated from her grip, shooting down Ivy’s arm in painful spikes. Still no excuse would come to her, no defense to her mother’s accusations. “I didn’t—”

  “Shut up!” her mother growled, jerking her toward the painting. “Sit!”

  Ivy collapsed to her knees, sobs racking her body as tears poured down her face. It was just too much. First the new life she’d dreamed of had been ripped away from her, and now her old life was falling to pieces before her eyes. “Please, Mother. It’s not what you think.”

  “Imagine my shock when I received word that my sweet, innocent little daughter was receiving visits from an incubus—and not just any incubus. The prince! The prince who I’ve told you about so many times, the prince you know is evil. Imagine my horror to find you with your face flushed with guilt, staring after that monster like he was an angel! You’ve betrayed the magic you were given, thrown it all away for an encounter that will leave you nothing but misery. Now that he’s had you, you will never see him again!”

  Ivy gasped as her mother grabbed hold of her hair and jerked her head back. The zing of the scissors echoed in the room, reverberating through Ivy’s head like the exaggerated sounds of a nightmare. Before she could open her mouth to speak, her mother laid a hand on the painting and whispered a few words. Ivy barely managed to drag her gaze away from her shorn braid, lying like a great serpent on the floor, as the painting’s image shimmered.

  “You’ve always nagged me about leaving this tower,” Dame Gothel hissed. “Well…leave!”

  Ivy screamed as her mother shoved her into the painting and she fell headlong into a blinding light.

  Chapter Eight

  “You know, some women would be offended in my situation.”

  Adonis groaned and rolled over in his bed, pulling the down comforter over his face. The siren sitting on the end of his bed shifted and he could feel her frown boring into him through the soft feathers and silken sheets.

  “After all,” the siren continued, “it’s not every day that the father of one’s former lover has to hunt her down and beg her to come woo him from his bedroom.”

  Adonis silently cursed his father and his meddling. Why couldn’t the king leave well enough alone? The siren’s weight pulled at his blankets, leaving a small space for the cool air to pierce his warm, self-made burrow. He shivered, irritated that he didn’t have the energy to tug the blanket free. Instead, he surrendered to the growing numbness, lying like so much dead weight under the covers.

  “I’m a siren, you know,” the annoying woman prodded. “There isn’t a living male in this kingdom that wouldn’t give his right arm for a chance to warm my bed.”

  A sudden jab into his kidneys made Adonis grunt and he growled as the persistent female jerked back his covers. “What?” he snapped.

  Sharp citrine eyes stared at him from a pale, perfect face framed by a cascade of glorious red hair. The siren’s luscious lips were pulled back, revealing smooth pearlescent teeth with canines just a touch longer than they should have been. “I didn’t come all this way for you to hide away as if having sex with me was a fate worse than death!” she hissed.

  “Then go away!” Adonis reared up off the bed, cursing when the room spun in a sudden spell of vertigo. He listed to the side and caught himself with one hand on the mattress. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and took several deep breaths.

  “For the love of Aphrodite,” the siren muttered. “You’re worse than he said.”

  He opened his eyes in time to see her fold her arms over her bountiful, naked breasts and sit cross-legged on the bed. It hadn’t been too long ago that the vision of the naked seductress in that position would have sent Adonis’ blood boiling and led to hours of debauchery that would have had the palace servants blushing for weeks. Unfortunately, that was then. Before he’d met—

  “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?” the siren demanded.

  A week. “Only a few days. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” she contradicted him. “And you’re lying to me.” She scowled and scraped
one blood-red painted nail down her arm. “I hate being lied to.”

  Adonis ignored her and flopped back onto the bed. Who he did or didn’t have sex with was no one’s business but his own. And if he stayed in bed, and didn’t expend any energy, he could last another two weeks or so without having sex. Surely that would be enough to prove his devotion, to make Aphrodite see how much he needed Ivy. It had to be enough. An image of Ivy rose in his mind and the memory of his lips pressed against hers, her body warm and willing beneath him, dragged a groan from his throat. Blood rushed to his manhood pressed against the mattress and he buried his face in his pillow. That necromancer had better know what he’s talking about.

  “A more pathetic incubus, I’ve never seen,” the siren muttered. “You’re embarrassing yourself and me.”

  A few seconds later, she sighed and the bed shifted again. A haunting melody filled the air of his bedroom and Adonis gritted his teeth. The wench was trying to enchant him. Pure notes like the ringing of fey-crafted silver bells shimmered in the air. She crawled up the bed, dragging her pale body low enough to brush against him as she straddled his blanketed form. The sensuous slide of her curves should have heated his blood, should have called to him to throw off his blanket and take her. Nothing happened. His skin tingled at the magic inherent in her song, but his body remained indifferent. If anything, her song only cooled his blood, until his flesh was as disinterested as the rest of him. She froze.

  “Aphrodite’s Girdle, you’re in love. What on earth are you doing here if you’re in love?” the siren asked, bewilderment raising her voice an octave.

  In love. It wasn’t a thought he hadn’t had already, wasn’t a suspicion he hadn’t harbored, but somehow hearing it out loud gave the announcement all the more weight. Adonis’ eyes shot open and he reared up in the bed. He was in love. Painful, futile, unforgiving love. And if he couldn’t make Aphrodite see that, if he couldn’t convince the goddess of love and beauty to step in somehow, then he would be doomed to a life away from the woman he needed more than his next breath.

  He didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were glowing a hellish red. He hadn’t meant to fall for Ivy, hadn’t wanted to fall for Ivy. But somewhere, somehow, it had happened. He couldn’t stay away from her, couldn’t stop thinking about her. And the last thing he needed in his moment of misery was a naked siren sitting on his damned bed.

  The siren didn’t even flinch, just sat in his lap, staring at him like he was a new species of man she’d never seen before.

  “Get out of my room, Elene,” he snarled.

  “No incubus would turn his back on true love, it’s the reason for your existence,” the siren continued, completely unruffled by his threats. “Damn you, demon, why didn’t you tell your father? I came all the way out here for nothing!” She shoved a hand through her hair, tugging on the red waves in frustration. “There was a sailor I had my eye on, too.”

  “I have sworn an oath to Aphrodite that I will not leave this body,” Adonis snapped, too angry and too miserable to bother lying anymore.

  The horror on the siren’s face matched what he felt in his soul. Immediately she scurried off his lap, retreating to the side of the bed. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. The moment passed, and he was done feeling like an insect under a microscope.

  “The king and queen care for you like a true son,” Elene said quietly. “Surely they would release you from your oath?”

  “Their kingdom would be plunged into war,” Adonis answered, his voice muffled by the mound of down in his pillow. The words fell from his lips with monosyllabic numbness, an automatic response to a suggestion that had been offered too many times. “I would never ask them,” he added.

  “How about your love?” Elene pressed mercilessly. “Did you ask her what she wants?”

  Adonis wished for a moment that he had the energy to set her ablaze. Not unlike Ivy had done to him that first day… Gods, I can’t believe that actually registered as a fond memory. Take me now, Hades. “I will not allow her to put herself in jeopardy, or to resign herself to being one of my harem.”

  Elene arched one sculpted eyebrow at him. “Oh, but it’s all right for me to be one in a thousand?”

  Adonis ignored the bait. “I won’t do that to her.”

  “So you’ll make the choice for her? Is that any more respectful?”

  The siren’s words danced around in his brain like fleas on an emaciated wolf. He curled his hands into his mattress, ebony talons sliding through the soft material and releasing bits of downy fluff into the air. He was too exhausted to think, too weak to give her the thrashing she deserved for her endless pushing. “Damn you, vixen, you don’t know her.”

  Nonplussed, the siren tilted her head. “Do you? Based on your reaction, I’m guessing the young lady didn’t want you to leave. Perhaps she does not wish to be saved from the fate you’ve deemed worse than death?”

  Adonis opened his mouth to argue again, but the siren held up a hand.

  “Stop. Just stop. I’ve heard far too many men go on and on about why they know what’s best for their women, and frankly, I’ve heard enough. You think your opinion counts more than hers? Fine. Maybe she’s better off without you.”

  Elene swiveled her body around and slid off his bed. With one last toss of her hair, she sauntered out of his bedroom, hips swaying seductively. Adonis didn’t even bother pointing out that she’d left her clothes. No siren was ever naked without a plan.

  Her words haunted him. Had it been wrong to make the choice for Ivy? Was he showing her more disrespect by not letting her decide for herself?

  Stop it. Of course you couldn’t offer her the choice. How could you even say that option out loud? “Ivy, my love, will you be my wife and allow me to have hundreds, thousands, of mistresses on the side?” I think not.

  Even as he renewed his vow to leave her alone, Adonis found himself getting dressed in a plain red tunic, with a white over-the-shoulder sash. Whatever his resolve, the siren’s claims had planted the seed of doubt, of hope, and now his mind refused to release its images of Ivy agreeing to be his, of wanting to be his even though…

  It was impossible. It was wrong.

  It didn’t matter.

  Half way through putting his sandals on, he closed his eyes and sighed. Even getting dressed reminded him of Ivy, of the way her eyebrows had gone up when she’d asked him if he planned to continue visiting her while naked. A soft snort escaped him. Most of his lovers the past few decades had been experienced women from the forests and waters. It never would have occurred to him that he would show up anything but naked. Ivy’s intrigue had been amusing. He liked presenting her with new experiences, liked sharing in them. He dragged a palm down his face. When had the golden female so entrenched herself in his brain?

  More than one servant looked at him askance as he meandered down the palace hallways toward the front doors. At first he was afraid he hadn’t tucked his more demonic features back into his human façade, but then he realized they were likely just surprised to see him. He’d never really thought about it before, but he mostly took off from his bedroom window, flying to whatever destination he had in mind. Now that he considered it, he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d left the palace on foot.

  The eyes of kings and queens of Nysa long past seemed to follow Adonis with their eyes as he trudged past rows of paintings in one of the great rooms. Every couple seemed to be watching him, wondering, “Where’s your mate?” Nysa was a kingdom with a mind to reproduction and a healthy dose of romanticism. If anything were to happen to the king and queen, gods forbid, Adonis would be the first single monarch in the long history of Nysa.

  Perfect.

  He strode into the stables, slightly winded. A week in bed had not done him any favors. Still, though his body was complaining, his spirits had lifted somewhat. Adonis chose to believe it was from getting some fresh air, and not because he’d been foolish enough to get his hopes up that anything would
come of visiting Ivy. He seized hold of the slippery ends of his self-control and ignored the curious looks he was getting from the stable hands as he stomped up to the stall of the largest white horse the kingdom had ever seen.

  A white charger. Subtle.

  The stallion greeted him with a snort and a not so subtle stomp of a heavy hoof and he licked his teeth. “Now see here, old boy, it’s a good distance to my destination and you’re the only horse in this stable that can make good time without collapsing from exhaustion. I have absolutely no interest in any of the mares here, so wipe the challenge from your face and let’s get on with it.”

  The stallion tossed his hair and snorted again. Adonis was certain it was just his imagination that the horse looked…doubtful.

  “This was so much easier when I could just fly myself there,” Adonis muttered.

  Despite its obvious derision, the stallion allowed Adonis to lead him from the stall out into the yard. After a few point-making kicks, one of which came dangerously close to a treasured part of his anatomy, the horse permitted Adonis to climb onto its back. Adonis grabbed hold of its thick mane and squeezed his thighs together, urging the horse out of the stable and racing off out into the village.