In the House of Five Dragons
38. The Fire and the Flower
“It was the first night of the new world.”
— From Our Red History, by Avilla Sallusi
Under the leadership of General Cadmus Castor and his knights, the fires were finally contained. They claimed most of the inner district before Sun Court water wagons could beat back the flames. Armed with axes and sledgehammers, VEIL knights led laymen and soldiers out into the surrounding temples and market streets to smash down and remove anything that would burn. The hurried firebreaks caused almost as much damage as the fire itself.
Castor ordered sails soaked in the river and then hoisted on high posts around Mazrem Square to catch the flying grain embers. Burning wheat sizzled against the wet cloth and darkened like dying fireflies.
With the Sun Court in charge of containing and putting out the fires, it fell to the other courts to restore peace. Most of Dormaen’s people thought only to flee the flames, but all too many had found opportunities in the smoke: looting, robbery, even rape and murder. With Marus’ help, General Hern collected the knights of the Moon Court. They spread across the city in teams of three knights and ten soldiers.
As blackened, charred buildings collapsed, there were more deaths. Rikard set his own Star knights sifting through the ashes and collecting the bodies. It seemed almost pointless… They would burn in the fires here or else in the cremation kilns. What did it matter anymore?
Two thousand knights failed to return to duty that day, either dead or fled. Gaius loudly expected the latter. Rikard didn’t think about it. Thirty-seven more died combating the fire, caught in collapsing houses or locked in battle with the rioting crowds. The civilian body count was imprecise, but at least a few reports seemed to agree on a number of two hundred sixty-two dead, some four thousand injured. Burned, beaten, bones cracked when the crowd broke and ran.
The shortage of manpower meant that no one stood idle in Dormaen. Nikas Hern patrolled the city with his knights. General Castor stood astride one of his water wagons and held the oiled leather hose in his own hands. Rikard, Saul and Gaius dug through the charred ruins of the inner city until their hands burned and blistered.
No one asked the Alterra for help.
When the sun finally set on the Day of Bells, lanterns remained unlit. The work stopped and would not resume until morning. There were no stars and the moon cowered behind a thick shroud of smoke. Dormaen lay still and silent under a thick gray blanket of grit and ash.
Even after Rikard could no longer see well enough to dig, he remained kneeling in the blackened remains of a school hall. Gaius prodded at his father’s thigh with the burnt toe of his boot.
“We have to get home and close the gates. Things are going to get a lot worse tonight.”
“Worse?” Rikard asked. A dry, cracked laugh boiled up inside him. “How could anything in the worlds be any worse?”
“The people had something to do today. They were shocked and then they had to put out the fires, save their families and shops. But tonight, they’ll have time to think. Time to lay blame.”
“Blame me.”
“Blame all of us,” Gaius said. “Saul’s gone off to give final orders to the city soldiers. They’ll keep the peace as best they can until morning.”
“We can’t run now!” Rikard rasped. Everything tasted like ash. “VEIL will watch over the city.”
“No one is going to listen to that order. The knights know what’s coming, even if you don’t. And who do you think you’re helping, Rikard? The only thing holding this city together is panic and their hatred for every knight in VEIL. Let them stew in it, if that makes them feel better. Maybe even throw a few stones through the archouse windows. But if you leave VEIL knights out there on the streets tonight, all you’re going to do is get them killed. Civilians, too, when our men fight back. Let them go home. Let’s get ourselves home, too. I found a wagon and a mule. I’m not walking all the way to the Everstones on these blisters.”
Rikard had no strength to argue. He stood slowly and followed Gaius to an ash-covered flatwagon. The mule before it brayed unhappily at them and flicked its long ears.
“Who do they belong to?” Rikard asked.
Gaius snorted. “Who cares? If he’s not dead, then I doubt he’s worrying himself much over a wagon. We can return it tomorrow, if you want.”
They drove back through charred and empty streets in silence. As Gaius drove up the hill of the Everstones, Rikard stared out across Dormaen. The glow of the last flames lit an artificial sunset to the south. Ashes sifted down from the roiling black sky. In the distance, even the elegant vastness of the white imperial palace loomed and brooded like a great dragon charred by its own flames. Lights moved through the city streets, but they were small and painfully few. Dormaen lay dead beneath him. The wagon lurched to a sudden stop.
“Bloody hell,” swore Gaius. “It’s me, you idiot! Let us in!”
Rikard looked up. They were home, but the house gates were closed and a knot of guards and soldiers hid behind them. Every one of them was terrified. A knight in Star Court dress stood at the gate, one of those who had not volunteered his blood for the cleansing and so had been assigned other duties for the day. He gripped his gladius tightly and his knuckles were as white as though they had been daubed with paint. Karl shoved the terrified knight out of the way and peered out into the street.
“It’s Lord Mazrem!” he called back. “Open up! Open the bloody gates!”
The gates swung open and Gaius drove through. They were pulled shut quickly behind Rikard and his son. Guards and knights shouted over one another, full of terrified questions. They had little idea what was going on in the city outside. When the bells had sounded, they closed and barred the gates, fearing a riot. There were no orders and everything was in chaos.
Rikard closed his eyes against the immediate blade of pain in his skull and shoved his way through. They were all so frightened and it hurt.
“Calm bloody well down!” Gaius shouted. “I swear that I will personally punch the next man who speaks over me or anyone else. Unless you feel like being so honored, calm down! If you shut up, I’ll explain…”
Rikard did not feel like lingering to tell stories or share news.
“Karl, with me,” he said.
The Lyncean guard jogged to his lord’s side and followed Rikard on the long trudge up the hill to the house.
“Where is everyone?” Rikard asked. “There should be twice as many guards on the gate.”
“They went with Lady Mazrem, my lord.”
“Where is she?” asked Rikard. “Is she alright?”
“I think so, sir. She left in the morning. I… I thought you knew! Lady Mazrem took most of the house guard with her to stay with one of the consuls. My lord, weren’t those your orders? Lady Mazrem said that… that you wanted no distractions from the preparations today. We weren’t to expect her return until tomorrow.”
“I gave no such order,” Rikard said. But he couldn’t be angry. Maybe Laurael had said something like that and he had forgotten. The past few days felt even longer than the thirty war-torn years before them. “Send someone immediately to make sure my wife is safe. Not one of the knights. One of the guardsmen. No, four. Tell them to wear no family mark and to go armed. Dormaen is dangerous tonight.”
“Hae, Lord Mazrem.” Karl bowed and ran back down the hill.
The sprawling house was dark and very nearly empty. A maid haltingly informed Rikard that Laurael had taken most of the staff with her into Dormaen. He went to the kitchens, startling the lone remaining cook, and took a plate of bread and cheese back to the atrium. In the starless darkness, the lush garden seemed more like a menacing Jumaari jungle.
Rikard sat. His mouth was as dry as sand. A few bites of bread came right back up, curdled in stomach acid and swallowed ash. Rikard flung the plate away with a ragged cry. It shattered against a stone planter and clattered to the atrium floor. He wiped his mouth and stared at the soot smeared over his skin, caked in the clasp of his cannula.
The bathhouse was dark and empty, too. Rikard stripped and stood waist-deep in the cold water. Shivering, he scrubbed his skin clean and washed away a day of sweat and worse. After he dried and combed his black hair, Rikard went to his room and sat naked on the bed. He stared down at his toes, the beads of water on his skin. Someone had thought to light a small, shielded lamp in here. The flower-bright drapes fluttered in the dry, smoky wind.
Rikard didn’t want to think. What was there to think, anyway? None of it mattered anymore. Rikard closed his eyes. He fell back into the blasphemously, unfairly soft sheets and wished he had never returned to Terra.
He didn’t know how long he lay in bed feeling sorry for himself when he heard shouting outside and then someone pounded on the bedroom door. Rikard barely had time to snatch up one of Laurael’s sleeping sarongs from beside the bed and tie it around his waist before Karl kicked open the door, not waiting for permission to enter.
“Lord Mazrem!” Karl shouted. “Thainna’s at the gate and… and she’s covered in blood!”
Thainna? Rikard sprinted for the open face of the bedroom, swatting the hangings out of his way as he went. Karl ran after him, still talking.
“I tried to convince the others to open the gate for her, but Lord Mazrem — your son, I mean — told them about what happened in the city today and they’re not opening the gates for anyone. Gods, if only Lady Mazrem hadn’t taken Bastil with her! He would never stand for this nonsense!”
Rikard ran barefoot down the hill on the ash-encrusted grass. The moon and stars were hidden behind smoke and the only light came from the fire that still smoldered in Dormaen, down below the Everstones. Just as Karl said, the guards and knights were clustered together in the dim red light, staring through the closed gates at the road beyond.
“Open the gates!” Rikard roared.
The guards turned to gape at him.
“But she’s been fighting, Lord Mazrem,” one of them argued. “Look! She’s bleeding!”
Rikard shoved the man out of his way. The others hastily pulled the gates open and let the legens past. A dark, bloodstained shape lay curled in the street.
Thainna.
Rikard screamed in wordless fury, a primal howl of agony. The Fiori girl lay in the road like a broken doll, blood and ash smearing every inch of her pale skin. Her face was distorted and puffy, eyes swollen shut. It was a wonder Karl even recognized her. Her bright red hair was black with soot and blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. It bubbled up from her lips with each rattling, rasping breath.
Thainna’s eyes flickered beneath their bruised lids. The whites were crimson with blood leaking from broken veins. She smiled weakly up at him.
Rikard. I came home.
Gently, Rikard scooped Thainna into his arms and carried her up to the house. Karl called for the other guards to close and bar the gates again, and then chased after Rikard. Once more skipping the formality of the doors, Rikard carried Thainna between the columns of the bedroom’s southern face and laid her gently on the bed. She whimpered, clutching at his bare chest and trying to say something. He leaned close, but could make out none of the words. Reaching yielded little more. Thainna was terribly wounded and fading fast.
Karl stood over the bed, wringing his hands. “What happened? How is she?”
“Bad,” Rikard whispered. He couldn’t catch his breath. His heart filled his chest painfully and seemed to be tearing itself apart. “I think she’s bleeding inside her head and maybe her stomach or lungs.”
“I’ll get a foster.” Karl bolted for the door.
“The temples were evacuated this afternoon,” Rikard said. He didn’t take his eyes off Thainna. “Go to the Lyceum. It’s been set up as an emergency fostral. Remember, no insignia. Ride quickly and take your sword.”
“Hae, Lord Mazrem!”
Rikard stroked Thainna’s dirty hair back from her face. Fury boiled inside him, but Rikard kept his touch gentle. He probed Thainna’s scalp gingerly and felt warm blood. The flesh beneath was swollen, soft beneath that. Cracked. Rikard pulled his hand back and stared at the blood.
His sight blurred with tears. Thainna had a concussion and was bleeding inside. Rikard had been a soldier long enough to know that the wounds were fatal. Not immediately. No, she would survive to see the foster Karl brought, perhaps even to have her skull drilled to relieve the pressure. Long enough for the wound in her brain to choke out every cherished memory. But in the end, she would die.
Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone in this world, Thainna!
Rikard pulled the girl into his arms with a broken sob. Tears ran down his nose and splashed on her shattered cheek. His hands trembled so hard that he almost couldn’t make them obey his simplest command, but Rikard fumbled his cannula open. Blood welled up on the gold tip.
Rikard stared at it. What if he made things worse? Maybe the other knights had been right all along. They feared Alterrans and their pacts. What had loyalty to those forgotten bonds and rusty old honor ever won Rikard? Thirty years gone from his world, his family. Dormaen in flames. VEIL forever disgraced. Hundreds dead and thousands wounded because he — the great hero of the empire! — could not leave well enough alone.
Don’t leave me, Thainna…
The red bead of blood grew too heavy to sustain itself and dripped down the side of Rikard’s finger. What made him think it would work, anyway? Something was wrong, horribly wrong in Alterra. Would anyone even answer his call? Was it too painful to hope?
Rikard stared down at Thainna’s battered body and heard a ragged sob from his own throat.
No, nothing could hurt more than this.
Gently, Rikard cleared a spot in the center of Thainna’s forehead with his thumb. There was more than enough of her blood, but it was important that he mark her with his, or else the Alterra might mistake her for any one of the all too many wounded in Dormaen. He touched his finger between her eyes and drew the circle there, then quartered it with a pair of lines.
Flickerdim, my oldest friend, can you hear me? Please see my blood on this girl. Please help her!
Silence. Rikard held Thainna to his chest. Her breath fluttered against his bare shoulder, as delicate and fragile as the beat of butterfly wings. He kissed her ash-matted red hair and choked on the fetid smoky smell. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right! Thainna deserved better than this.
I wanted to give her better. The thought was startlingly intense. I wanted to give her a life… with me.
You burn for this girl.
Rikard felt Flickerdim’s unmistakable presence in his mind, as cool and steady as stone, but weak. It must have been exhausting to push his thoughts through the veil. It rebelled against all things.
Stumble says you’ve bled for her. I cannot see it — my wounds are too great — but I feel your need.
Your wounds? Rikard wondered. The attack on the tower. I saw it when we tried… when the fires started.
The Shatter are here and the leaves are breaking. I have little time and no eyes, Flickerdim thought. The old wisdom’s granite presence, so long full of hard truths and sharp clarity, was now cracked in places. He was wounded almost as badly as Thainna. I feel your need, Rikard. You need the girl restored, like the wheat that burned. I’m too weak to mend the grain any longer, but one human girl…? This I may be able to do. I will.
Relief and joy flooded through Rikard, so deep and profound that words would surely break under it. But Flickerdim needed no words. He felt it with Rikard.
What is the price of your pact, Flickerdim? Rikard asked. No payment could be too high. Anything!
Remember that we do not take out of spite, my young friend. But our need is great, too. There’s little time and I must be swift. The Uprising is falling even now. Lend me your fear. You know how sharply it cuts, Flickerdim slithered. And I have felt how you fear for this woman in your arms.
Rikard nodded. Take it.
The sharp bile-bite flame of fear vanished from Rikard’s mind, doused as though by water. Flickerdim’s unseen — but nevertheless still tenuously tangible — presence bristled with cold starfire. It was a brittle thing, as fragile as glass, and thrice as sharp.
If we die tonight, Flickerdim mused, it will not be silently and it will not be easily.
Will it be enough? Rikard asked.
No, but it would be unwise to refuse any advantage at this late stage of the game. Better to pass in battle than in silent regret. Time is gone. Our enemies are here. They have brought all the ghosts of Mask and more against us. Now show me the girl as she was. I will restore what I can.
Rikard remembered Thainna as he had seen her that morning, in the Star Court yard. A lifetime ago. She had smiled, full of joy. She thought him too busy, but he had seen Thainna, if only for a moment. Hair like barely contained fire, skin like fine white satin but for the sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Wide green eyes, as hard as jade or soft as spring grass. Her long, slim legs… Rikard blushed to think of the rest, but Flickerdim needed to know. The graceful curve of Thainna’s lower back, the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her blue tabba…
Enough. Flickerdim sifted through his memory with a veteran’s expert eye. I understand.
The mark of blood on Thainna’s forehead shone with an inner fire, the scarlet intensifying until it was almost unbearable to look at. Nothing in the world was so red. It was something else entirely — a pure idea of blood, the red river of life. The blood on the hero’s sword as he battled the dragon in a child’s bedside story. The blood of a princess who pricks her finger on a magic needle. The blood that thundered through Rikard’s heart when Thainna was close.
And then it was gone. Thainna took a deep, shuddering breath and opened clear, bright green eyes. The dirt, the bruises and broken bones had vanished. Thainna was just as she had been that morning. With a wordless cry of joy, Rikard held her close and wept grateful tears into her copper hair.
Thank you, Flickerdim! Thank you, thank you.
Be gentle with her. There are wounds to places with which you are unfamiliar that I could not heal. And be careful. You are without fear until I return it to you. By your own vow, your life still belongs to us… if we somehow survive the night.
With his comfortless caution now delivered, Flickerdim’s presence vanished. He had his own war to wage and Rikard had armed him as best he could.
Who was that…? Thainna wondered. He felt so sky…
That was Flickerdim, a very old friend. He helped you, Thainna. How do you feel? Rikard asked.
“I’m… fine, I think,” she answered slowly. “I don’t understand how, though.”
Thainna flexed her fingers and toes experimentally, but Rikard’s tight embrace made it impossible to test further. Reluctantly, he released her. Thainna sat up on the edge of the bed and kicked her legs.
“All of the blood’s gone, too, and no scars. The Alterra I heard, Flickerdim… He did this?”
“Hae.”
“What… what did it cost you?”
“My fear. The Uprising is under attack and Flickerdim needs weapons. I gave him the sharpest one I know.”
“How long did he take it for?” Thainna asked. “Forever?”
“I don’t know,” he said. I didn’t ask and I don’t care. I just need you, Thainna.
Thainna looked down at her clean, so-strangely intact tabba. “Don’t say that. And don’t think it,” she added before Rikard could correct her. “Please don’t. You shouldn’t have… You should have left me outside the gates. Even if it only cost you a grain of sand, it still would be too much.”
Her pain was palpable, even without the deepening bond they shared. Thainna would not raise her eyes and she hunched, pulling inward. Away. Rikard took her shoulders gently, mindful of Flickerdim’s warning, and turned Thainna to face him.
“Who did this to you?” Rikard asked. “You’re ashamed, I see that much. But… why?”
Thainna pulled away and stood, wrapping her arms around herself as though she were cold.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I’m alright now,” she said.
“Of course it matters! Was it…?” Rikard’s already hoarse voice cracked. “Did someone in the city streets do it? The riots… Is this my doing, too?”
No! Thainna crackled fiercely. “How could this be your fault?”
A soft brush of curiosity against his hard indignation surprised Rikard. Thainna had no idea what had happened in Mazrem Square. Thainna followed his curious touch back and into his own memories of the day. Hopes burned in spreading fire and inspiration reduced to ash. Thainna’s eyes widened and she started, dropping her hands to her sides and clenching them into tight fists. A moment later, she shook her head in weary horror.
“Gods, Rikard,” she breathed. “What went wrong?”
I don’t know… The attack on the Uprising, I expect. Flickerdim and Stumble lacked the strength to seal such a large pact. Maybe the Shatter interceded, turned it, perverted it. I don’t know. But it has been chaos, violence in the city. Please, who hurt you?
“No one,” Thainna said shortly.
Tell me who would do this to you, please. Did I do it? One of those angry men stalking the streets… I made them today.
Thainna sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, close beside Rikard. She curled her fingers into the coverlets nervously and slid them up over her thighs, wiping sweaty palms on her tabba. A sudden change in the wind tugged the curtained wall, filling the room with a soft rustling that punctuated her silence and made it all the heavier.
But Rikard felt Thainna’s indecision like a great gray distance between them. Was her pain of his doing? Because of his ridiculous, endless need to mend VEIL and his beloved Carce? None of it was worth anything, not if it hurt Thainna. Not if it could have killed her today.
It wasn’t you. It was a man.
Thainna’s thoughts lingered on an indistinct shape, a shrouded figure sitting on a green throne. Rikard fixed on the seat, one he had only seen once before, when he swore himself, along with a hundred other raw young squires, to VEIL before the old king, Emperor Tychon’s father.
That’s the Jade Throne! Who is that upon it? Rikard wondered. Why did he hurt you?
Thainna’s lower lip trembled and tears fell unchecked down her pale cheeks. She brought up her fear, the sharp-thorned barrier that shielded her most private thoughts since the night they met in the Rows, but now it cracked and crumpled before the greater need to comfort Rikard.
It’s not your fault. It’s not. I’m sorry. Rikard, I’m sorry.
I don’t understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. A heavy, spiteful ball of anguish bubbled to the surface of Thainna’s thoughts, too tangled to immediately make sense of.
Slowly, Thainna!
“I… I’m not a foster. I’m a Talon of the House of Five Dragons, Rikard,” she said in a choked voice. “I’m a thief for them. When you first saw me out in the Rows, I was going to pick your pocket. I thought you were drunk.”
“What?” Rikard asked in a flat whisper.
“After I ran away from you, the Crest — my master — ordered me to come to your house and pretend to be a foster.”
“You lied? Why? To what end?”
“To control you. They gave me drams and told me to… to seduce you to my bed, if I needed to. If I could. Blackmail you, if I could find a way. The Crest wants to control you, Rikard. I was supposed to do that for him.”
The entire world contracted to Thainna’s tear-filled olive eyes. If what she said was true — and he sensed no deception — then why did it pain her so much?
“Speak on,” Rikard said shortly.
“I couldn’t split you on drams. I tried bluering once, but Gaius drank it instead. You… I wasn’t doing the job well enough, so the Crest summoned me. He was the one who poisoned the Erastrasus grain in the first place, to get leverage against the Nianese consul when he lost his investment.”
“To control him, hae,” Rikard said, nodding. It made a sick sort of sense.
Thainna spoke so quickly now that her words threatened to become as tangled as her thoughts.
“The Crest is angry with what you did. What you tried to do. With VEIL, with the wheat shipment. He wants you distracted for a while, until he figures out what to do next. So he ordered two of the other Talons to… to… And then he sent me home.”
“He thought I would care for you,” Rikard said. “Mourn for you when you died. How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
I crawled.
All the way across Dormaen? Rikard was horrified and livid, but helplessly proud of Thainna’s determination and strength.
“What does your Crest want the time to do?” he asked.
“Figure out if you’re a good investment. I think he wants you to be the next emperor, unless you prove too hard to control. Then I think he’ll kill you and use Gaius. I know he’s been trying to get Gaius split on a couple of different drams.”
Rikard jumped to his feet and only barely fought down the urge to grab Thainna and shake her. Hard.
“My son?” he snarled.
“Hae. I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but… but I’m sorry.”
Rikard couldn’t look at Thainna.
“Why?” he asked. “You didn’t know me before, except perhaps as some name from before you were born. Or the rabid animal that tried to strangle you. But since then… No one has meant more to me than you! Yet you said nothing of this?”
Thainna said the only thing that could make the whole twisted world make sense.
“The Crest has Thain.”
Rikard was furious, of course. But all Thainna wanted — all she had ever wanted — was to keep her brother safe. Would Rikard have done any differently for those he loved? Rikard glared longingly at Thainna.
“And he… this Crest… had you beaten to get to me?” he asked. “Just to keep me busy for a little while?”
“Hae.”
“And he would have let thousands starve just to control the Lyceum. Gods! Why do you work for such a man?” Rikard asked. She did not seem at all the type for such heartlessness.
“I was born in the Rows. My father keeps ledgers for the House. I couldn’t go to school… and there was Thain to consider. What else was I to do?” Thainna asked.
Another shadow flitted through her thought, a guilty thorn in a prickly rose hedge of regrets.
“I… I stole from you, too,” she admitted.
“From me?” Rikard asked. There were images of a number of trivial baubles in her thoughts. “Why? You have everything here, Thainna.”
“There’s an Auction held every five years. The highest bidder becomes Crest of the House of Five Dragons until the next Auction. I’m trying to win the bid.” Not for me. For Thain. He’ll fix everything. Like… like you’ll fix VEIL.
Rikard sucked in a pained breath. Not likely now.
“Don’t, please,” Thainna said. Don’t say that. Nothing’s beyond fixing, is it?
The question hung in the air between them. Thainna sat up straight and lifted her chin. She was waiting for Rikard to answer, wondering. Would he hate her? Pity her? That was even worse… if he forgave her because she was no more than a hungry dog that couldn’t be faulted for snapping at his fingers.
Rikard shook his head. No.
He knelt and cupped Thainna’s face in his hands. His thoughts brushed over hers and felt the reflexive fear that so often kept him at bay. But where was there to hide now? Thainna let out a soft sigh and leaned into Rikard’s touch, into his thoughts. She was so soft but so strong against him.
I’ve seen where you live, Rikard thought. The filth, the misery. You never lived in the Surmaen temple. Thain did, but not you. You’ve taken money enough to live a better life, but you saved it all. Even when it meant you went hungry. For Thain, for the other agents of the House, all of those abused by the Crest… like Caelin. Never for you.
Rikard was so proud of Thainna. Furious, too. She had badly violated his trust, even if he couldn’t fault her reasons. Thainna put her hands over his, held his fingers against her cheeks, and closed her eyes. She was proud of him, as well, for what he had tried to do. Even in the face of his dreadful failure, she kept her faith. She understood the desire, the need as driving as breath, to mend something terribly broken. Though it had all fallen apart, she understood.
I’m so proud, Thainna told him.
And beautiful.
Thainna’s eyes flew open at his thought. I didn’t want to hurt you, Rikard. I love you. But I love Thain, too, and he’s not as strong as you are.
Rikard’s heart raced and his whole body seemed made of heat and golden-thick honey. Anything, everything else seemed unimportant. The world could vanish in fire and still Rikard would be there on the floor, grinning like a fool. Thainna loved him. Slowly, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, soft and warm and perfect.
I do love you, Rikard. Gods, let it be enough. I have nothing else to give. Everything else belongs to my brother.
It is enough. Rikard tasted her deeply, the smooth-grass scent of her. It’s all I want in the worlds.
Rikard rose, lips still locked with Thainna’s, and they tumbled together into the bed. They tugged at one another’s clothes with trembling fingers until those barriers could be thrown aside, forgotten. The smoky warmth of the evening paled beside the sweet-searing heat where their bodies touched.
Thainna desired Rikard with a raw red lust that startled them both with its intensity. She reveled in the rich contrast of her soft skin over the knight’s stark, masculine hardness, so very different than her own body. Through their mingling, interlaced minds, even that was new. She had never considered herself a great beauty, but through her new lover’s eyes, Thainna beheld a goddess.
Rikard guided her at first, but her wild abandon quickly turned the tide. Lovemaking with Thainna was no stately dance, with steps learned and memorized and practiced until perfected. It was untamed, unbridled as the wild sea. Rikard had never known anything like it and quickly found himself willingly drowning in the storm of sensation.
Thainna didn’t coax pleasure from Rikard with Laurael’s seductress skill. They explored and climbed together into the dizzying rise of passion. Intertwined, Rikard and Thainna felt one another’s peaks of pleasure, urging each other ever onward, ever further and higher and more.
When their bodies could no longer endure the rigors of their fervor, Rikard and Thainna lay in each other’s arms, thoughts still intimately entangled. One body, one mind. Not forever, but for now, in one pristinely perfect moment. Rikard held Thainna to him and felt her heart flutter against his sweat-slicked chest. The heart that loved him, as delicate and full of song as a nightingale. The heart torn, that turned her traitor against Rikard for love of her brother. Thainna stroked Rikard’s tangled hair. She loved so much, so intensely that it seemed it might set them both on fire.
I love you, Rikard knew.
Thainna felt it, strong and certain. A truth solid enough to build nations upon. He loved her. All of her.
I love you.
Rikard laced his fingers through Thainna’s and then kissed her, tasting sea-salt tears on his lips. It no longer seemed to matter who they belonged to. Enfolded in each other’s arms, they fell at last into deep sleep and shared dreams.
