Handmaiden's Fury (9 page)

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, m
y 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.

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 me 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 h
e 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.

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.”

He had said the words, and then
struck me with a flurry of blows. I had lost count as I screamed.

“Pain cannot be truly borne,
Handmaiden. It can only be experienced. In this, it is like both pleasure and
love.”

Dorian screamed wordlessly and
dropped his sword. Strips of scarlet blossomed on his hand where the flail tore
away his flesh.

He was no Jyannza.

“Leave.” My Sire’s tone was stark,
flat. “Turn to the city and leave. Do not return. Raise no alarm.”

Dorian snarled. “I won’t run.” He
brought his fists up into a poor parody of one of the Jyannza fighting forms.
“The Lord done—”

Sire Mattias stepped in again, and
the flail sang. I saw a burst of blood as the flail caught the side of the
guard’s face. It tore most of his cheek away.

“I do not toy with you. Leave now, or
I will take the iron rod from my back. I will beat you to death, and we will
move along regardless.”

The man glared at my Sire, and
silence settled between them. He lowered his hands.

“No one. I won’t say mum.”

“Then I will not hunt you and leave
you for dead in the street.” Sire Mattias nodded at the bleeding man. “Go then,
and good omen to you. We have business here.”

The man gave us one last look and
then made for the front gate. My Sire made no move to stop him but simply
watched him go.

“Do you think he can be trusted?”

He gave a short bark of a laugh. “Of
course not, Handmaiden.” Sire Mattias took my hand, and we vanished in the
mist.

Orin’s manse loomed ahead.