Chapter V. The Trouble With Maids
V
THE TROUBLE WITH MAIDS
“OUT INTO THE hallway and up the narrow stairs we ran, shoving past a terrified boatswain in our haste to escape. If our heart had still beat, it would have flung itself through our rib cage in fear. Stumbling to Dawnseeker’s railing, fingernails digging into splintering timber, we hissed his name at the rolling waves.
“‘Wulfric.’
“My teacher. Gabriel’s father. Tutor and tyrant, in equal measure. God, I could still remember the night I first met him. Our years in San Yves, the wonder and terror he’d instilled, filling us yet and ever to brimming.
“I could feel him now, rising slow through the ocean of voices within me. And to fend him off, I closed our eyes and clasped our hands and whispered, desperate—the first prayer great Illia gave her followers. The first prayer Wulfric ever taught us.
“‘O Lord of Love, O God of Blood,
“‘O King of Wolf and Lamb,
‘“Thy will be done,
“‘Thy judgment comes,
“‘Alike to bless’d and damned.
“‘Though Dead, by thy word I yet live,
“‘Though cursed, by thy will I now rise,
“‘Bonds earthly I sever, thy servant forever.
“‘And evil I do, lest evil I be,
“‘No more than the monster ye made me.’
“I opened our eyes. And though the choir of souls within me still whispered, relief came as we realized Wulfric had receded, sinking back below our surface.
“We dragged one hand through our hair, letting the ocean sigh upon our skin. I’d not felt like this before.
The pieces of the souls I’d saved had always been a part of me, but their voices had never been so loud, nor their faces so clear, and I wondered at the why of it.
We knew from the argument we’d just overheard in Maryn’s cabin that our Priori was also feeling this discord, and we might’ve asked her about it.
But to draw attention to the souls within me was to risk my Priori discovering Wulfric was among them.
Her brother in blood. One of only four Esana to escape the massacre at Charbourg.
And though I’d no clue what punishment she’d mete for my crime, the memory of her fangs in my throat …
“Truth was Maryn terrified me, Marquis.”
The Last Liathe shook her head, eyes downturned.
“And so, I determined to deal with this as I’d dealt with every obstacle life had thrown my way.
Alone. So turning my mind from those shadows, those whispers roiling within me, I set thought once more to my vigil on Dior.
Looking about the decks, I could see no sign of her, or Reyne.
But as I said, my eyes were not the only eyes I had on Dawnseeker.
And turning my thoughts inward, I focused on the tiny moth of our blood.
“It had secreted itself inside the Grail’s jacket as she’d departed. We sensed it belowdecks now; shrouded in darkness and muffled sound. Closing our eyes, we slipped inside it, willing it into motion with the stolen power in our veins.
“We fluttered our wings. Stretched our legs. Crawling from crumpled fabric, we found the coat not resting upon Dior’s shoulders, but lying on her cabin floor. And looking up to her small bed with tiny blood-red eyes, we learned the whys of it.”
The Last Liathe rubbed her chin, wincing.
“Reyne and Dior were … occupied with each other.”
“Ah.” The historian sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders. “Excellent.”
“… What is?”
“I was just thinking it had been altogether too long since we had an indecent interlude in this history.” Jean-Francois cracked his knuckles, dipped his quill into his inkpot. “I confess I’m rather in the mood for some tastefully recounted debauchery.”
“You wish me to … describe their intimate moments?”
“Why not?” Jean-Francois asked. “Your brother tells me about his.”
“Does he.”
“Oh, oui. Every chance he gets. He’s actually surprisingly talented at it. Nothing too lewd nor lascivious; no proudly pulsing manroots or dewy lady gardens or whathaveyou.”
“Lady gardens.”
“So I’ve seen them called. By lesser narrators than your brother, of course.”
“Sweet God in heaven, Gabriel…”
The Last Liathe turned her face skyward, eyes closed.
And though she’d no need for breath, still she inhaled, as if in search for calm.
For five long beats of a mortal’s heart Celene was still as stone.
And when she exhaled, she opened her eyes, her stare so cold she might have froze the river between them.
“Soak me in oil,” Celene declared. “Burn me with flame. But I will not be recounting the bedroom exploits of the Scion of Heaven for your base amusements, seigneur.”
“Why? Are you shy?”
“No. I am simply not a pervert.”
“Ah.” The historian smirked, twirling his quill. “A prude, then.”
“I find it remarkable that a kith decades dead is interested in hearing about the sexual exploits of a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“I find it remarkable you are squeamish in recounting them, whilst perfectly content to describe decapitations, dismemberment, and wild-eyed cannibalism. Graphic violence is perfectly acceptable, yet amours between loving partners is somehow abhorrent?”
“Might I continue, seigneur? I believe that at least your Empress is of the opinion that time is of essence here.”
The historian rolled his eyes.
“You’re the one who brought us into her bedroom, mademoiselle.”
“Only as a prelude. For while we’ll not violate her privacy, we will say this: In the dance upon those sheets between Grail and Princess, Dior was the seasoned hand, and Reyne, the trembling novice.
And while the Princess á Maergenn was doubtless pleased to find herself bare and breathless beneath the gentle press of the Grail’s lips and hands, she lacked the experience Dior quite clearly possessed. And finally …
“‘Stop,’ Reyne whispered.
“Dior was lost in the moment’s heat, unaware of how close to Reyne’s limits she’d strayed. Her descent continued; a wave of warm kisses down the Princess’s heaving belly, breathing her in as the flame breathes air.
“‘God, you smell good enough to—’
“‘Dior. I said stop.’
“‘Wuh?’ The Grail surfaced, lips flushed, parted as she blinked. ‘What’s wrong?’
“‘Nothing.’ Reyne pulled Dior back up her body. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’
“‘Are you not liking…’
“‘I like it fine.’ Reyne caressed Dior’s cheek, dragging the messy mop of hair from her brow.
And after a long, sweet kiss, the Princess drew back to search Dior’s eyes.
‘God, I more than like it. You make me feel like I was never alive before I found this. Just … not there. Not yet. You understand, oui?’
“Dior sat up, drawing a deep breath and blinking hard.
“‘Oh. Of course.’
“The Grail glanced around the darkened room, as if coming back to herself.
“‘Well. Shit.’
“‘I’m sorry,’ Reyne murmured.
“‘No, don’t be.’ The Grail found a smile, pressed her lips to Reyne’s. ‘As my Queen wills, shall it be done. And if wait she commands, then wait I shall.’
“Reyne smiled in return, running gentle fingertips over Dior’s mouth.
“‘Am I? Your Queen?’
“Dior smirked, smacking the older girl’s bare backside. ‘Not today, apparently.’
“Reyne frowned as the Grail rolled out of bed and dragged on her shirt, scooting her britches up over her hips.
“‘… Where are you going?’
“‘Fancied I might throw myself over the side in despair at your rejection.’
“‘Dior…’
“‘I jest.’ The Grail grinned, kissing her Princess again. ‘Just … restless is all. If I can’t spend some sweat on you, think I’ll go have a smoke. Settles the nerves, oui?’
“‘… Are you sure you’re aright?’
“‘I’m better than aright, Princess.’
“Dior pressed soft kisses to Reyne’s cheeks, nose, mouth.
“‘I’m in love.’
“Reyne’s eyes grew wide at that, a flush rising on her cheeks to match the smile on her lips.
But before she could reply, Dior tossed on her jacket, whisking out the door in a flurry of blue velvet and ashen hair.
Leaving the naked Princess behind us, we rode along with the Grail, tucked in the shadows beneath her coat’s collar.
“Dior thrust her fists into her pockets, nodding to Joaquin and another of her Unbound, standing on guard a tasteful distance from her door. The pair fell into step behind, Elaina following with tail wagging as Dior fairly stormed up the spiral stairwell to the Dawnseeker’s forecastle.
Another pair of bodyguards joined Joaquin and his comrade, standing about the Grail as Dior propped a cigarelle on her lips and struck her flintbox.
“She breathed deep, lashes fluttering, holding the smoke inside her lungs. And opening her eyes, she glanced at Joaquin, exhaling a word in a cloud of thin grey.
“‘Maids.’
“The lad chuckled, brushing long dark locks from his face. Joaquin Marenn was a handsome young fellow and he knew it; no doubt experienced with the inexperienced.
“‘Still no blessings from Angel Fortuna, Mlle du Graal?’
“‘Three weeks aboard this bucket and barely a nibble.’ Dior dragged fiercely on her smoke. ‘If I’d a pair of balls, M. Marenn, they’d be blue as this fucking ocean used to be.’
“‘She is a princess.’ Joaquin winced. ‘Never the easiest mark to hit. But she’ll be a prize worth the wait, I’ll wager. She’s a beauty, your girl.’
“‘So am I!’ Dior cried, taking in her body with a wave. ‘Look at this plunder! Young! Plucky! Not much in way of cleavage admittedly, but you could bounce a gold royale off this arse and get an emperor’s ransom in change.’ She began pacing, dragging on her cigarelle as she glanced at Joaquin.
‘Fucking hell, I’m almost thirsty enough to jump your bones. ’
“‘I live to serve, holy maid. Shall I get my kit off here, or march down to the galley and smother myself in ship’s gravy?’
“The Grail chuckled, kneeling to scratch Elaina and looking the houndboy over. ‘You know, I like you, M. Marenn. You’re pretty. You smell nice. And you’ve some cheek on you, too. You’ve not got a dark secret, have you? Not actually a girl dressed in boy’s clothes?’
“‘That’s a bit clichéd, don’t you think?’
“‘Fuck you.’