25 #2
Satisfied, Cordall picks up his canvases. “I’ll go and pack.”
When he has left the room, I slip my arm through Vawn’s. “That was kind of you.”
“My reaction to those pictures wasn’t his fault, and he shouldn’t suffer for it,” Vawn responds, covering my hand with his.
“My sweet protector, I do hate letting you out of my sight, but you’re the only one I trust to get him safely to the border.
Once you’ve dropped him off, you’ll come right back? ”
“About that.” I wince. “I’ve been thinking… there may be a better plan.”
As I expected, Vawn hates my plan, because it involves us being apart for a while. I hate it too—and yet it’s the option that gives us the best chance of taking out the Exemplar and his Redeemers.
We argue about it during a meager dinner with Jillia, Cordall, and Inaya, and then we continue the argument on the way to Vawn’s chamber.
Inaya made his room a priority after the Twins’ passing, and it has become semi-livable, although clearing out the hoard revealed numerous unsightly stains and several ragged holes in the walls.
The holes have been boarded up, but I still hear things scritch-scratching inside them at night, when I’m lying next to Vawn.
He and I haven’t fucked more than a couple of times since our reunion in the cottage, partly because of the decrepit state of the palace.
It’s difficult for me to stay aroused, what with the smell and the stains and the scratching.
Even Vawn, who gets hard if I so much as wink at him, has a thorough disgust for the place, which he voices often.
As we enter his room, he continues complaining about the strategy I’ve devised. “You’re going to leave me here. Alone. In a strange country, without anyone to protect me. You don’t care that I’ll miss you terribly.”
“We’ve been so busy we barely get to spend time together anyway,” I counter. “Whenever we aren’t dealing with visiting leaders, you’re painting glyphs on Tularesk soldiers. With me gone, you can focus your attention on that task.”
“I don’t like the invisible paint. It disappears within a minute of its application, which is extremely annoying and makes it impossible to paint anything but the simplest glyphs. It’s been terribly difficult.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“That’s why you love me. Because I’m so pathetic and I need you so badly,” he says. “What if I use a silencing glyph on the rats in the walls tonight? Will that ease your mind enough for love-making? I promise I’ll make you forget that you ever wanted to leave me.”
“Vawn, please.” I face him, exasperated.
“You are clever enough to know that this plan is the best one. You’re reasonably safe here.
The Stewardess likes you, and so do the guards.
You’re everyone’s best chance to get out of this kingdom alive, so they won’t harm a hair on your head while I’m gone.
And as much as you like to pretend that you’re utterly helpless, you’re not.
Who carried me through Zeletas at night, when I was paralyzed?
Who beat the second bounty hunter into a pulp?
Who beheaded that rapist in the cottage? ”
“I only do heroic things on occasion, to protect you. I must have my beautiful bodyguard with me, otherwise I am useless.” His playful pout shifts into something darker and more desperate. “Otherwise, I am lost. Darling, if something happened to you—”
“It won’t,” I assure him. “I’ll be playing the role of Cordall’s assistant, and I’ll have a very specific set of glyphs, the exact ones I need to accomplish this.
Besides, you won’t be alone—Severin will come back to you.
He’ll be able to sense me when I call. I’ll say his name every night so you’ll both know that I’m still alive, and he can tell you exactly where I am. ”
“I’d rather you say my name every night.”
“How about this… If I outlive you, I’ll put my memories of you into a magic carpet and moan your name while I ride him all night long.”
“Such a filthy, lovely mind you have.” Vawn walks me backward, and I let him press me against the wall, feeling the pulse of arousal between my thighs—but with a sodden crunch and a snap of rotten wood, the plaster surface and the narrow beams behind me give way, and I almost fall backward into the foul interior of the wall.
A shocked scream leaves my mouth as several ice-rats skitter away from the hole, fleeing into the bowels of the palace.
Vawn yanks me against him, and we clutch each other, staring at the opening.
“Your Highness?” Inaya’s voice comes through the bedroom door. “I heard a scream, and it didn’t sound like the pleasant kind.
“How perceptive,” Vawn replies. “You may enter.”
She peeks in, then pushes the door wide. “Well… shit…” She presses a hand to her forehead, gazing at the rotted wall. “May I suggest something? I know it’s a bit of a risk, given the state of our terrain—”
“We’re open to risky suggestions,” I say.
“There’s a fine house on a neighboring street, belonging to relatives of mine.
It has stood empty since they fled south.
The two of you could have it for the night, if you like, especially since Syth is leaving us tomorrow.
The rooms are clean, and there are no ice-rats.
It’s close enough to the palace that its foundation resides at least partly on the same bedrock. ”
“I would love that,” says Vawn. “If my lady agrees.”
It takes me a second to realize that when he says my lady, he means me.
The title thrills me, but I can’t fend off a slow chill of dread, too, because there’s a very real chance that this could be my last night with him.
If anything goes wrong with our plan—anything at all—we could be parted forever.
We walk to the house in the bitter cold, under a blue-black sky drenched with stars. Vawn unlocks the door with the key Inaya gave him, and we step inside. I lift my lantern and turn in a slow swivel, illuminating the front room.
“A fine place,” Vawn says. “Let’s get the fire going.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Let’s? As in, both of us?”
“Why not?”
“The closest you’ve ever come to making a fire is using the lighter for your cigarettes. I’ve always built our campfires.”
“Not when you were unconscious.”
“You built a fire.”
“Once.” He looks sheepish. “It wasn’t a good one.”
“Severin helped you, didn’t he?”
“Of course he did,” Vawn admits. “He was full of advice. An expert on fire-making, even though he won’t go near one. The closest he came was the night we fell into the lake, after Zeletas, when he reflected the heat for us.”
“Ah yes. Good times.”
“Terrible times, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of my head, and it’s such a sweet, casual gesture of affection that my heart dissolves into a yearning puddle. But he doesn’t pause—he’s off again, his long legs carrying him through the first-floor rooms until he finds a cozy parlor to his liking.
I build the fire and crouch in front of it, nudging things into the perfect position for extended burning. Vawn bounds into the room, his arms piled with blankets and a bottle in his hand.
“No food, but I found a bottle of very fine wine,” he crows. “And Inaya was right—it smells so much better here. Just think, we could have been enjoying ourselves in this place for the past fortnight. She’s been holding out on us.”
“It is her relatives’ home,” I say. “It’s probably a sensitive subject with her, given the…
” But I stop myself from speaking about the plight of the Tularesk people or the instability of the ground.
We’re both well aware of the state of this kingdom.
There’s no need to dwell on it when we could be enjoying a nice evening together.
On the floor in front of the fire, we make a nest of blankets and pillows.
Heat soon radiates through the room, and Vawn challenges me to a game of archstones with some moharganth tusk dice he found during his exploration of the house.
He explains the rules, including the penalty of losing a round—the removal of one item of clothing.
When Vawn loses the first five rounds, along with his boots, his shirt, his pants, and his underwear, I narrow my eyes at him while shaking the dice around in the bowl. “You’re very bad at this game.”
“Oh, no, my love.” He gives me a dastardly grin and takes a gulp from the bottle of wine we’re sharing. “I’m very, very good at this game.”
And then he starts to win, over and over, until I’m in my bare skin. The glow of the fire, the fine wine, and the flush of arousal are keeping me toasty warm, and I’m feeling deliciously naughty. Downright frisky, in fact.
“Let’s change the game,” I suggest. “Let’s roll for who gets to touch the other, and with which body part, and where.”
“Oh, I like this idea.” Vawn licks his lips, his eyes glittering with lustful malevolence.
We discuss the rules and assign numbers to body parts. Then he says, “Go on, darling. You first.”
“Very well.” I roll and receive an even number, which means he gets to touch me. Then he rolls for a body part and gets a twelve.
“A toe?” I make a face.
Vawn grins. “Your turn, sweetheart. Roll for where my toe goes.”
I shake the dice and let them tumble onto the blanket. “A ten. But that’s—”
“Your pussy. Excellent.”
“Are your toes clean?” I wrinkle my nose.
“Clean enough. Smell them.” He lifts a narrow, well-kept foot and pokes it toward my face.
“Ugh, no!” I wriggle away, but Vawn grabs for me, seizing my ankle and wrist, and drags me back to him. I struggle playfully, letting him press me down into the blankets and fling himself on top of me.
His skin is hot and smooth, his muscles surging like stone beneath silk. Feeling the entire length of his long, muscled body against mine sends me into a delicious panic. My heart is racing almost as fast as the carpet at top speed.
“Move your thighs apart, Forsythia.” His voice is quiet, dominant.
I shift beneath him, opening access, and he reaches down, notching the tip of his cock into my entrance.
“This isn’t part of the game,” I whisper.