by Mary Wine
She’d be sitting in a cell, a ward of the state, if it had happened. She forced the horror down her throat.
“Make no mistake. Dr. Nerval is a Helikeian and a prime example of just how savage his kind are. If he fails to recover you, he will be executed, along with his entire bloodline.”
“That is barbaric,” she sputtered. “Just because the knowledge that this Order is founded on goes back to the ancient world doesn’t mean we should act like them.”
“Yet clinging to that knowledge when the rest of the world was collapsing into the Dark Ages is what formed us. Inside our Order, learning continued without the interference of the rise of religions or the sanction of monarchs. Honor is still the core of who we are.”
“Yes, and that is what I admire about you.” She spoke without thinking.
For a moment, she was caught in the grip of renewed desire. He was so close, the scent of his skin teased her senses. She found his features too attractive, his dark hair gaining her attention. His jawline was always perfectly clean, no hint of stubble, only the slim sideburns he kept to a minimum. A ripple of sensation moved across her skin, awakening longing. She wanted to touch him, to allow her fingers to glide along the border between smooth skin and whiskers.
“Go. Now that you’ve performed your duty.”
Before she said anything else foolish, before she responded to him again.
His eyes narrowed, making frustration nip at her. It wasn’t easy. She wanted him to stay, to kiss her again. She forced her desire down and made herself recall her rights.
“According to the laws, I have the right—”
“To send me on my way once I have made my inspection,” Darius finished for her. His voice had lowered, becoming husky. “You also have the right to ask me to stay.”
And become her lover.
Of all the things she had learned in the last month, discovering the Illuminist attitude toward sexual activity had been the only thing that shocked her.
“I won’t be taking a man who doubts my integrity as my intimate companion, Mr. Lawley.”
She expected him to be frustrated by her rejection; instead, admiration appeared in his eyes. He reached out and stroked the surface of one cheek with the tips of two fingers.
Sensation shot through her, stunning her with just how intense it was. Despite his having touched her before, it was as if being apart had heightened her senses. Or maybe it was because she knew how much she’d enjoy his touch that her heart accelerated.
“Which is exactly why I wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. I am not just a Guardian. I am the head one here.”
So the man was testing her. Her temper threatened to boil over. “So your decisions concerning me must remain above reproach?”
He nodded, but she could see in his eyes that he didn’t care for her words.
Good, at least she wasn’t alone in her frustration.
“Kindly vacate my chambers, Guardian. If you’re satisfied, that is.”
At least she was becoming quite used to being tested. It made it easier to push her emotions down and lock them beneath the resolve she harbored for achieving her goals. She stared straight into his eyes now, able to aim steady confidence at him. Now frustration made its appearance in his eyes, but there was also something that looked very much like satisfaction.
“I am not satisfied, and neither are you, but I will leave.”
She closed the door behind the man, but the gears running the automatic workings of it didn’t allow her to slam it shut like she wanted to. The soft sound it made when at last it finished closing was far from satisfying.
Testing her.
That knowledge should have soothed her. Or at the very least given her more resolve to dismiss the man. Instead, she battled to keep her longing for him locked behind the logical reasons she’d spent too many nighttime hours assuring herself were valid.
Still, she felt the heat of desire licking across her skin. The damned need had remained persistent through her first month as an Illuminist. If her classes hadn’t already confirmed that infection came from bacteria, she’d be tempted to say her father had been correct in saying lust was a disease.
But it wasn’t. It was worse than that; it was part of her nature, something no amount of self-control might destroy completely. Oh, she might resist temptation, but the need would always be there to test her resolve.
At least, when it came to Darius that was proving so.
She moved into the bathroom and discarded her Asian clothing. Every other part of her training was beyond satisfying. There weren’t enough hours in the day to soak up all the new experiences at her disposal. Including taking a lover.
She stepped into the shower, as it was called, and let the cool water fall down on her. So much better than a bath, the continuous running water prevented dirt from lingering on her skin.
Healthy and logical. Such words formed the foundation of her life now, which should have allowed her to easily dismiss her longing for Darius. Her mother had never discussed with her the frank details of married life, but her Illuminist sisters had no blushes staining their cheeks when they teased her about the dark Guardian caught so often watching her.
In a way, it had been a relief to have him speak to her at last.
She sighed and finished washing her hair. Moving over to the heated air vent, she turned it on and raised the levers until it was warm enough to begin evaporating the water left in her hair.
She and Darius had been facing off like duelists, and plenty of members had noticed it. Which only made her angry; because the man was in charge of the entire complex, he could easily leave her to his men.
“His eyes follow you,” they teased her.
She knew that without being told. More times than she cared to admit, she’d felt his gaze on her and looked around to discover Darius watching her. Part of her wanted to rail against his distrust, but the other half found contentment in knowing he was near. Many would tell her she was being childish to cling to him. After all, she was her own woman now, one training to earn her way without the need to marry.
Illuminist women wed only for love.
Her father would call it low-class, and she finally understood just why she’d been raised to never stand next to Illuminist girls her age. Their ideas were vastly different, but Janette admitted she liked them. They had a confidence she envied and was working hard to gain. There was no topic forbidden, no information denied her because of some belief it would lead her down a path of damnation. Honesty was more important to the Illuminists—and being open to the hard facts as they appeared. That didn’t mean she was going to take Darius for a lover.
Her nipples drew into hard points in spite of the warm air flowing across her skin. She muttered something grumpy before moving off to find a chemise. She hurried because the air was chilly once she left the heated air unit behind. Yet her hair was dry, and she did adore being able to wash it regularly. Her skin felt smoother and cleaner too. The chemise floated down into place, but she still felt exposed. Even after several weeks of not having a matron dictating how many layers were necessary to preserve her morality, the feeling of her breasts being unbound was still very noticeable. But she slept so much better without the stiff stays.
The spring was giving way to summer now, and the air was warm enough that she enjoyed having her feet bare at night and not hidden beneath the ruffle of a nightgown. Her first night had been a shock when she’d opened her wardrobe to discover not a single full-length gown to smother her while she slept, only chemises that ended at her calves and hung off her shoulders by soft cotton yokes.
She was at ease and yet more aware of her body. Darius watched her from her dreams as well, tempting her with memories of his kisses and the longings they unleashed. She was a fool, but at least not so great a fool as to not have sent t
he man away without taking his bait. She wouldn’t invite him into her bed; she didn’t want him in her bed.
Liar…
***
“Where’s Decima?” Darius asked Lykos as he entered his office. The most common reason for his fellow Guardian to be in his Solitary Lodge was because Decima was hunting in the area. In spite of Decima’s full standing as a Guardian, Lykos rarely allowed her to perform her duty alone. A fact that frustrated her greatly. “Don’t tell me she evaded you.”
Lykos eyed him from the chair in front of his deck with a laziness Darius knew was false. Normally he was amused by his friend’s ability to appear so disinterested in his orders; today he wasn’t.
“Your dark visage sent her scurrying away for fear you’d use those teeth your growling displays so prominently on her soft neck.”
“I swear, Lykos—” Darius warned.
“Yes, I heard you quite clearly, as did the men in the outer room, because you let loose before the door was completely closed. You used three languages too, no doubt to ensure you made your point to any and all listening.”
Darius sat down. “Your point is well taken.”
“Good. I’d rather not give you Decima’s message. The important issue is whether you recognized just how deeply Miss Aston is digging into you.” Lykos grinned, offering Darius a view of the devilish good looks the man was blessed with: even teeth that were creamy white to complement his fair hair. “Decima put it ever so much more bluntly, and you know I don’t care to smear a lady’s name, even when she did charge me with delivering the message.”
Darius opened his mouth but shut it before demanding to know what his fellow Guardian had said. Decima was a female, but she could cut to the bone with her words as well as any man.
“Miss Aston is my responsibility, nothing more.”
“In that case, Decima suggested you visit a brothel before she’s tempted to geld you for the sake of mercy.” Lykos offered him a slip of paper with an address on it. “Decima does know a fine establishment from a poor one.”
Darius took the paper and crumbled it. “All Decima knows is how to follow you, my friend, and take down the name of the tart you run to anytime she sends you away unsatisfied.”
Lykos stiffened, but it was only a momentary crack in his polished exterior. “You seem to be misinformed, my friend. Decima has never satisfied me, nor have I asked for the pleasure of her rather notable skills.”
“And you dare to accuse me of being the fool,” Darius countered. “At least I haven’t known Janette as long as you have been hiding your interest in Decima.”
Neither man was comfortable with the topic. Tension filled the office as they faced off. Lykos never took unmasking well, and when it came to Decima, he was even less amused by having his emotions noticed. He shrugged at last.
“It is easier to judge than critique one’s own actions,” Lykos admitted.
Darius drew in a deep breath before turning the conversation toward business.
“Any word on Janette’s mother’s whereabouts?”
“None,” Lykos said. “She’s disappeared as cleanly as she did the first time, proving she’s a better Illuminist than we gave her credit for.”
“Raising a daughter among high society who could pass the entrance exam the first time while her husband opposes our ideals was clever,” Darius remarked. “We need to find her.”
Lykos contemplated him for a long moment. “To prove her innocence, or to confirm your choice to ignore how badly you want to be in Janette’s bed?”
“Finding her will force my hand one way or the other.”
There wasn’t another man alive Darius would have admitted it to either. Mary Aston needed to be found—alive. Watching Janette was his duty, one he felt tightening around his neck with each passing day because the situation was simply too settled for his liking; they couldn’t stay that way. His suspicions were aroused as he toyed with the idea that Janette was every bit as clever as her mother.
Had her illegal entrance into his Solitary Chamber been innocent? Or a carefully crafted test to see if she was a Pure Spirit? Was Mary continuing her treason through her daughter? It was a possibility he’d be a fool to overlook. It was also possible that every flutter of her eyelashes was carefully employed to snare his attention and redirect it away from the facts.
She’d kissed him back.
Why?
The question was burning a hole in his mind. Tonight’s visit to her chamber was a slip he couldn’t afford. He’d given into the urge to see what she was doing in her private space with his own eyes, distrusting his men and their reports on her activities.
Would he have declined her offer to share her bed?
He wanted to believe so but honestly wasn’t sure. Desire nipped at him constantly. It wasn’t fading as the days slipped by, and he ensured they had no chance to be alone. Instead, he’d allowed himself to be drawn to her tonight and found himself being grateful she hadn’t risen to his barbed invitation.
Was she innocent, or had she been groomed to dupe him?
“You have more than your fair share of suspicions,” Lykos muttered.
Darius drew in a stiff breath, cursing his mental wanderings. “They keep me alive as well as they serve you, or shall we discuss just what the root of the barrier is that keeps you from taking Decima to your bed?”
Lykos surprised him by laughing. “The root of the issue is while your so-charming distraction has only begun to study Asian fighting, Decima is a full master of the arts. Allowing her anywhere near my cock could be very costly if I misjudged her mood.”
“I’m sorry to hear you doubt your Asian fighting skills.”
Lykos stood and offered him a bow. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but you’d know I was lying. I believe I am going to try to shake Mary Aston out of the shadows now, because I do miss the congenial man you used to be.”
“Do convey my gratitude to Decima for her note,” Darius offered, his voice polished with gentlemanly grace.
Lykos grinned at him. “You’ll see her before I will. She’s decided to assist in your Asian fighting classes in an effort to befriend Miss Aston. No need to thank me. I’m sure you would have thought of a similar course of action…eventually. After all, women will seek out other women for confidence before a man.”
Lykos sounded playful, but he was studying Darius’s response. Tension returned to needle him with just how deadly the game might turn. But the fact of the matter was they needed to trust Janette. Deep Earth Crystals powered their world. Only a Pure Spirit could hear them, and such individuals were born so rarely. The ruling council was no doubt counting the days until Janette took her Oath and they might put her into service. Mining was pitifully slow without a Pure Spirit. The dirt had to be lifted away with blasts of air because any trauma to the crystal would kill it.
They needed to trust Janette, and yet her mother’s actions had made it almost impossible. Darius waited until the door closed securely behind Lykos before cursing again.
***
“It’s nice to see another woman in class.”
Janette looked up from her stretching to see the woman from the Brimmers’ party watching her.
“I am Decima. I don’t believe we were introduced.”
“No, but I remember you,” Janette said, trying to hide a grimace as she reached for her toes.
A soft laugh came from Decima before she sat down next to her and assumed an identical position. The woman could lie all the way down, hooking her hands around the arches of her feet.
“That just isn’t fair,” Janette muttered.
Decima turned her head to look at her over the top of her kneecap. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t have Asian fighting arts included in your education. I hear she did a very good job preparing you, in spite of you
r father’s disdain for our Order.”
“I see Darius has given you the details of my family.”
Decima never blinked. “I am a Guardian.”
Janette was stunned but smiled because it was wonderful to see another example of how woman weren’t kept out of any part of Illuminist life. “I’d never even heard of Asian fighting until I came here.” But she was going to learn. It was another amazing thing the Illuminist lifestyle offered, a type of fighting that allowed a smaller person to have just as much impact as a large, muscular man.
Of course such a skill didn’t come for free. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to stretch. The muscles along the back of her leg hurt, but she succeeded in grabbing her toe. Flexibility was a key factor in some of the kicks, and she had a long way to go.
Janette stood as the instructor walked toward the front of the classroom. The floor was polished wood and might have been used for a dance studio or sword instruction, but hidden in the back of the Solitary Chamber, this room was used to teach a type of fighting that made boxing look like child’s play. The pugilists competing in gentlemen’s clubs were amateurs when compared to the skills she was beginning to learn: graceful kicks that were brutally effective, hand techniques that could shatter wood, or even concrete.
Not that it was going to be easy to learn the art. There were very few women in the class, and by the second day, Janette knew why. When she’d awakened, she hurt in places she hadn’t known could hurt. By the end of the first week, she was sure she might never walk again because her thighs hurt so much. Sunday was the only day of the week the class didn’t meet, and it had given her enough of a break to restore her determination not to allow anything to intimidate her into quitting. Or admitting she just didn’t have the will to continue.
