10. Hevva ducks out early.
ten
Hevva ducks out early.
L ady Hevva sat dutifully while Aylin tended to her hair and makeup. It was the final night of Kas’s beloved symposium, and while she’d been hesitant to attend, she couldn’t quite say she regretted it by the end of the third day. Something purred deep within her chest, a creature there lay curled up and sated...for the time being.
That creature, she knew, was Saka. While the name of her aliases shifted regularly, her desire to explore, to be one with the people? That never wavered. Her lips twitched at the memory of Miss Saka’s night in Rohilavol and the way Berim—for it hadn’t been the king, not really—had kissed her senseless in front of one hundred sets of eyes. She squirmed on her stool.
“Lady, sit still,” Aylin scolded her gently as she pinned up another heat-curled strand of Hevva’s hair. “Tell me everything. What did you get up to last night? I know you’ve been thinking about it all day.”
The maid’s sparkling eyes met her own in the mirror, and Aylin gave her a “don’t even think about holding back because I know you didn’t go out dressed in finery last night” sort of look. Hevva knew it well.
So, Lady Hevva introduced Aylin to her friends Saka and Berim and filled her maid in on their wild night in Rohilavol.
“To what you said earlier, it was terrible, being dragged through the water like that. But I— Saka knew Berim would get her safely to the other side. ”
Aylin chortled and pinned the final curl into place. “Finish telling me while we get you dressed.”
Hevva stood as Aylin helped her out of her banyan. “I can do this myself, you know.”
“Psh.” Her maid waved off her comment. “Let me be useful.”
She smiled.
“Make your self useful and finish your story.”
“All right, so, Berim planted that kiss on Saka after the race. Then, he scooped her off her feet and—”
“Again?”
“Yes, again. Berim, apparently, has a thing for that. Now let me finish.” She smirked at Aylin, who rolled her eyes with love. “Berim walked— You know what, I can’t do this.” She shook her head free of alternate names and went on with her tale. “The king walked us through the alley and after he finally set me down, we decided we were too soaked from the dip in the pond to continue gallivanting in town.”
Her maid nodded.
“Well, that, and I lost my shoes. I didn’t want to admit it yet, though. I don’t know why. Pride, maybe? Anyway, we were walking back up here, absolutely exhausted, when he snapped at me—that absolute sausage—”
Aylin snickered as she helped Hevva step into her gown.
“He said I was walking too slowly. And you know I never walk too slowly. So, I had to tell him about my shoes, and he carried me the rest of the way up the hill.”
Aylin made a thoughtful noise as she began to tighten the laces on Lady Hevva’s bodice. “And that was all?”
“Yes, that’s all there was.” She sighed dreamily, though she would have avoided describing the sound as such if she could have gotten away with it. “A fun night with a common man.” Unfortunately, not a suitable prospect.
Hevva’s mind lingered on the king’s broad chest and the way his soaking wet stable boy’s tunic had strained against those well-defined muscles as he’d leaned down to scoop her up, since she had no shoes. She’d thought Berim was going to kiss Saka again, on that stretch of road shrouded by trees as they climbed toward Hewran Hall. But he hadn’t .
Now, Lady Hevva was due to ride with King Hethtar to the symposium’s closing gala, along with her younger brother, and the king’s former tutor, Hothan Tarisden—she finally learned his name—in one carriage. Mr. Tarisden was one of her little brother’s newest idols.
Never mind the gods, Kas primarily worshiped academically minded folks over the age of fifty. And the little lord made sure she knew it. They were both well aware that Hevva couldn’t deny her sibling’s repeated pleas peppered with compliments. And so it was that she found herself roped into the shared carriage when she may, possibly, have preferred to take her own.
The other “unexpected guests,” as the king had taken to calling them all, would be riding separately, but they planned to travel to the gala together in a train of carriages. It was all very...proper.
When Hevva descended the stairs, in her lavender and lace gown, she had eyes only for her adorable little brother. In fact, she didn’t even notice the way the king quite rudely abandoned his animated conversation with Mr. Gulan mid-sentence.
“Kas! You look fantastic.” She grinned as she eyed his ensemble. He looked like a little man with his tailored black jacket, trousers, and shiny shoes. An artfully arranged lavender cravat dripped from his neck where it lay over top of his starched white shirt. The single pop of color on his outfit matched her dress. It was too cute. “And you match me!”
He groused. “That was Aylin’s idea. Stop that. Don’t touch my hair or it’ll be rumpled before we get there.”
She laughed. When did he become so concerned with looks?
Kas prattled on about some specific attendees he was hoping to speak with at the event, and she obliged him, nodding dutifully and chiming in with well-timed “wonderfuls” and “fantastics.”
“Care to join us?” the king’s voice boomed out across the foyer, and her eyes snapped to where he stood, alone. All of the other guests had left through the open doors.
“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Kas answered for them as he sped across the room and ran outside.
“Countess?” King Hethtar extended an arm, offering escort but also prodding her along.
That’s when she realized she hadn’t moved an inch since he called for them. Is paralysis part of his power? She forced her feet to step forward, though her heart stuttered as she moved. The king cleaned up nicely, and he now wore a suit strikingly similar to her younger brother’s, although Hethtar’s was complemented by a snowy white cravat rather than pastel purple. He’d also shaved and looked...fresh. Regal .
She kind of missed the beard.
As planned, their carriages rumbled down from Hewran Hall to Rohilavol. They waited in queue for some time until finally drawing to a stop in front of the public hall. Kas alighted and rushed inside, like the child that he was, to select a choice table to sit at during supper. He’d made it clear to Hevva that, under no uncertain terms, was she to embarrass him or yank him away from any riveting conversations. The few days from home had honed the boy’s maturity...as if he needed it.
She rolled her eyes.
King Hethtar’s gigantic knees knocked against hers, again.
Mr. Tarisden climbed out next, pushing his tall body through the door frame. It was a wonder that both the king and his former magic tutor could even fit in the same carriage, the two men were up there in enormity. Combined with the heights of her and Kas? It had been a tangle of legs the whole way down the hill. She wasn’t looking forward to the return trip.
“Lady Hevva,” the king began, as he pushed out of his seat and struggled through the door. “Give me one— second— here.”
His giant palm popped back through the now empty doorway. She took it and alighted.
On her way to the ground, the king’s long fingers closed over her own and the pad of his thumb brushed so lightly across the back of her hand that she thought she may have imagined it. The static that sizzled through her confirmed its existence.
Find a nice common boy.
They dined together at a table with many others, including the Ladies of Napivol and Rohapavol, plus the lords of Turkhane and Kashuvol. The ladies were lovely, the two barons left much to be desired. The only reason she sat beside the king was because they’d entered together. Well, and because he’d asked. She couldn’t very well refuse him twice in as many days, she’d be blacklisted from every dull social event the kingdom had to offer for the rest of her life. That final thought had made refusing his invite the tiniest bit tempting.
After dinner, the ball began. King Hethtar moved to the front of the hall where he could greet subjects away from the fray. Lady Hevva floated around the perimeter, sipping champagne. She had a couple of brief conversations: one with Shilan Gulan that was quite enjoyable, and one with Baron Turkhane that she couldn’t get away from fast enough. Mostly, she enjoyed glass after glass of champagne and eavesdropped, all while trying not to look in the king’s direction too often. She didn't want to be weird. It was during her third casual conversation, which had turned into her first dance of the night, that she was interrupted.
A young man, only a year older than she, led her around the floor during a tepid tune as they discussed their respective hometowns. He was the third son of a papermaker from near Napivol in the west. Funded by his family’s business, the young man had struck out east to attend the Institute and stayed in town after earning his credits. He was well educated, kind on the eyes, a little bit taller than her—always a plus, rarely a possibility—and not beholden to any familial duty, for that all fell to his older siblings.
A nice common boy. He certainly fit the bill.
The song ended and they were exchanging information when a shadow fell over the pair’s conversation. The young man nodded to her politely before stepping away and vanishing into the crowd.
“Countess, may I have this dance?” the king’s voice came at her in a low tumble of notes that threatened to buckle her knees.
She turned to him, a look of schooled pleasantry on her face. “I would be delighted, Your Majesty.”
And so, they danced. The next song was livelier than the last, the type of group frolic that forced them apart and drew them together several times over the course of the routine. The gala, she’d found, was the oddest mix of traditional court custom contrasted with the sort of party one might find in a seedy pub in some half-named village in the middle of the country. She loved it.
“Lady Hevva,” the king began when the steps brought them together after a phrase. His enormous palm lay flush against her lower back, and he leaned in to speak with her as they turned and stomped in time with the others. “I was speaking with my friend Berim...” He trailed off, aware he’d succeeded in getting her attention, as if he hadn’t had it already.
“Ah, and what did Berim have to share?”
“Oh, not much. Though he was asking after a certain Miss Saka. Have you seen her anywhere this evening?”
Before she could concoct a reply, the dance pulled them apart again. As Hevva took a turn with a temporary partner, she caught the king’s eye, and he winked at her. He winked!
When next they were in each other’s arms, she had her response at the ready. “Miss Saka informed me that she would be late this evening. Though, I do believe she was hoping to speak with Berim.”
“Ah, well it appears I will not cross paths with Miss Saka. I am leaving after this dance. But I’m certain my friend Berim will be turning up shortly.”
The steps necessitated parting ways again, and when they were brought back together, Hevva’s slender fingers rested upon the king’s hand and she quipped, “Ah, well it appears I will miss seeing Berim, for I too am departing after this dance.”
He twirled her beneath his arm, and she was fairly certain she spied a shimmer of a smile beneath his schooled expression.
“Well then, should you cross paths with Miss Saka whilst taking your leave, please inform her that Berim will be ensconced in the king’s private salon. I’ve offered him use of the space, you see. He’s feeling a bit...non-conversational this evening.”
She laughed as the song came to an end, and they made their formal goodbyes. Then, King Hethtar walked directly out of the main doors to the public hall, while Lady Hevva scurried off to find Mr. and Mrs. Gulan.
Feigning stomach troubles, which wasn’t too difficult after the shellfish situation at their first meeting, Lady Hevva persuaded her new friends to look after her brother and return him to Hewran Hall safely. They happily agreed, as they had no children of their own and had grown rather fond of young Kas. So, Lady Hevva Tilevir, Countess of Kabuvirib made her escape, ducking down a discreet side hallway where she vanished.
I nterestingly, Miss Saka turned up wearing an identical gown.
Locating the chamber was easily done due to the pair of guards standing watch outside. She dipped her chin at them, and they returned the gesture with infinitesimal nods, granting her access. Clearly, they’d been told someone would be stopping by. She hoped to the gods they were discreet. Saka, or Hevva, or some combination of the two, rapped softly on the closed door before trying the handle. It was unlocked, so she slid into the space before shutting it behind her. Hevva was the half of her who had the courage to approach the king’s soldiers, Saka the half who had the courage to approach the king.
“Lock the door, Saka,” Berim growled from across the room.
Her heart thundered, and she obliged.
In half a moment they’d closed the gap and crashed into one another, a tangle of long limbs and roaming hands. Soft mouths partnered in a dance far more lurid than anything she’d ever experienced at any ball.
“You are so beautiful.” His breath was hot on her skin as he trailed his tongue and teeth down the length of her neck. “This gown, lavender and daisies. Like the crown I won for you last night.”
She laughed, sultry and low as he continued his downward trajectory, peppering kisses along the soft swell of her bosom.
“Your gown is exquisite.”
“That’s a big word, Berim.” She moaned when he tweaked her already sensitive nipple.
He ignored her comment. “I’m going to ruin it now.”
And he did. On the heels of her responding grin, Berim, the stable boy, tore Saka’s lovely lace and lavender concoction right down the center of its embroidered bodice.
Picking at the buttons of his shirt, she rid him of the offending fabric as he lapped and sucked her bare breasts. And then he was lifting her, as Berim was wont to do. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as they tumbled across the room, crashing onward, until her bottom came down atop a smooth surface.
His mouth angled down over hers with such fervor that glasses rattled. It seemed that she was sitting atop the bar. Here they kissed for quite some time, no longer were they racing toward some invisible finish line. Instead, their initial burst of speed slowed to a languid sort of stroll.
“Did your papa find out about our adventures in town?” He nipped her lower lip.
“He did not. But— oh, Berim— my sister found them endlessly entertaining.”
In this way they talked nonsense between feathered kisses and wandering hands. An explorer taking to the ripples of his abdomen, she traversed hills and valleys until she reached the flat plain that ran from his navel to the south. Her fingertips located two grooved ravines, and she followed the trails down, down, down, dipping into his trousers.
He moaned into her mouth and as his fingers wound their way beneath her layered skirts. And then the race was on once again. Without breaking their kiss, he pushed the fabric up ever higher, until she could feel cool air against her exposed thighs. He found her center as she claimed his hard length, running her palm along it before squeezing gently and beginning to stroke.
“ Oh, Bear ,” she moaned, having given his alias a new nickname.
He teased her dexterously, trailing his wide thumb up and down the length of her slit before applying gentle pressure near her entrance, parting her. Slick with her need, he slid up her wet center, locating and teasing her most sensitive spot in exactly the way she needed.
Hev— Saka leaned forward into Berim, reaching down into that space between them as she twisted and tugged on his substantial member with an urgency she could not begin to question. She just knew that she wanted to bring him pleasure, drive him wild with need, as he was doing to her. While she wound him higher and higher, shoving her other hand into his pants to grasp his sack, his own roving fingers slowed their activity.
He’s close. So close. He tightened beneath her massaging fingertips as his shaft expanded in her fisted hand. She focused her attention on the lip of his head, swirling her own thumb against his sensitive skin, her fingers squeezing and pumping rapidly. A muscle in her forearm burned, but she would not stop. Not until he came for her.
A groan into her mouth, an explosion into her hand, and the king’s— Berim’s shuddering body curled over her, bringing her immense pleasure. He panted for air before capturing her mouth again. She gyrated wantonly against his clever fingers, seeking more pressure, silently begging him to resume his attentions.
And he did, the pad of his thumb swirled against her clitoris as his palm applied gentle pressure to her mound. She bucked into him. “Not yet, Saka,” he commanded before dipping down and taking her breasts into his hot mouth, one after the other. “I need to taste you,” he bit out, laving his tongue over her rose-tipped peaks.
She was so tightly coiled she could only manage a mewling sound in response.
Dropping to his knees before her, he stared at her for a moment, down there. “So perfect.” Those big hands came around her thighs. He tossed her legs up over his shoulders and lowered his head.
When his hot, wet tongue found her center, she screamed. Fleetingly, she worried the guards would burst in, before remembering she’d locked the—
The tip of his tongue teased her, and she arched, pressing her swollen sex against his mouth. She wanted him to eat her up.
He brought his hands beneath her to cup her bare bottom and raise her off the countertop for easier feasting. And feast he did, lapping firmly and suckling her tenderly, teasing and retreating from her sensitive bud over and over again until she thought she might scream out once more. Her thighs tensed, squeezing his ears as she trembled beneath him. There, there, there. And she broke through the finish line, shattering into a million tiny pieces as she shuddered around him .
He set her back down, sliding his hands out from beneath her bottom. Then he reached up to the back of his head to unclasp her fingers and unwind from them the tangled strands of his hair, which she hadn’t even realized she’d done. She lowered her legs, sliding them down over his arms until they dangled above the floor.
“Well.” Berim grinned, like a cat who got his cream.
“Well,” she replied, panting and feeling quite the same way.
“Shall we return to Hewran Hall?”
“I believe that would be wise.”
He gave her his coat to wear, in case his temporary magical bodice should fail. And they snuck out a side door and into the waiting carriage, which would make a return trip for the abandoned members of their party.