Chapter Twenty-Four
In the Palace of Xy
“What if I am?” Nora asked softly. “What does that matter?” Her skirt rustled as she rose to her feet. She drew close enough he could feel her heat on his skin. “Commands are not always unpleasant or…unwelcome.”
Riven swallowed hard and turned to look at her.
She was looking at him through her dark lashes. “We are free to take our pleasures,” she said as she put her hand on his chest.
Riven tried to step back, step away, but his body betrayed him. The heat of her palm burned through his tunic. “You are not free,” he said hoarsely. “You are Bound.”
“Is anyone commanding me now?” she stepped even closer, her voice soft and husky. “No one is here, but you and me.”
“You are not free,” Riven rasped. “You are Bound to her will. Have you ever had a desire for lovers? Sex? Craving for a food? Ever pleasure yourself in the night? Or with your sisters? You have no desires, no thoughts beyond the Queen’s.”
“The Queen does not desire you,” Nora purred. “I do.”
“Is this in the instructions?” Riven asked, desperate to be certain that this was really her desire. “For casting the spell?”
Nora shrugged as she stepped closer.
“Don’t know,” she said, her eyes glowing with mirth. “The Bonded never allows us to read those scrolls.” She chuckled as she lifted her mouth close to his. “But if it says that, well, then, thanks be to the writer, who has placed a handsome male in my path, for my pleasure.”
Riven shook his head, putting up his hands, but Nora took fistfuls of his tunic with both hands.
“You think too much,” she said, her voice was low and passionate. “You smell of chalk and dust and something spicy,” she nuzzled his throat.
“Probably the candied horseradish,” he said, holding still, breathing in the scent of her hair.
Nora laughed, her lips barely brushing his skin, then lifted her head to meet his gaze with her own.
To Riven’s relief, there was no dullness in her eyes, no sign that the Bond was asserting itself. He invoked his mage sense, and beneath the golden webbing, all he could see was…a lack of resistance. It confused him, just as her body pressed to his confused him.
Although confused was not the right word. Overwhelmed, perhaps. Intoxicated.
Aroused.
“Nora,” he begged, and he wasn’t sure what he begged for.
“You talk too much,” she whispered, and kissed him.
He expected an assault, but the kiss was soft and sweet. Her tongue flickered between his lips, dancing and teasing him.
He had some experience with this, at least with the act. A few whores, some willing barmaids. It had been just a physical release, to ease tensions in his body. He never let it distract him from his purpose.
With Nora? He was no longer sure where the floor was, much less anything else. She was in his arms, there was her skin, her hair and scent, her—
They were in the bedroom with the door closed before he could utter another protest. She turned her back to him, sweeping up her hair. “Unlace me?” she asked.
He reached for the ties with trembling hands, loosening the laces. Nora was swaying, humming as his fingers brushed her bare skin. There was every indication that she wanted him.
Riven stilled his hands and forced himself to remember. She was Bound to the will of the Bonded. “You are doing this because of her. Because she ordered you to.”
Nora looked back at him over her shoulder. “I already told you that I don’t find it objectionable, if that is what you are asking.” She shivered and her dress slid down, clattering as it hit the floor. Hidden daggers, most like.
He lost that thought at the sight of the scars on her back.
Before he could ask about them, Nora turned to face him, her eyes intent on his. “Do you think for one moment that you could force me into bed?” She stood there, muscular and fierce and ever so beautiful.
“No,” Riven whispered.
“Here I am,” she said. “Willing. Warm.” She drew closer. “Wet.”
“I—” Riven swallowed hard.
“You have too many clothes on.” She reached for his tunic, pulling it up and over his head.
“I—” Riven recovered as his head emerged from the garment.
Nora pushed him back so that he sprawled on the bed. She reached for his trous but he stilled her hands.
“Nora, if you don’t want to do this, we can just tell the Queen what she wants to hear, later.” Riven said.
“Your idea of pillow talk leaves much to be desired,” Nora grumbled. She gave up trying to remove his trous, instead sinking down to lie on top of him, her breasts flattening against his chest. She kissed him, slow and deep, and his mind fled to other parts of his body.
Her skin was velvet, the scars a lace of ridges on her flesh. He wanted to touch every inch, and she hummed as he explored. Her hands were not idle, exploring him as well.
“So soft,” her fingers trailed over his back and down his sides, not quite tickling. “I can’t feel your ribs anymore.”
A storm of emotion washed over him. Riven lifted his head to look at her. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, and yet there was a warmth in her eyes, and her touch. Still, he should stop this, refuse her, turn away.
Nora trailed her fingers down his stomach, then slid them under his trous to take him in her hand.
Riven arched up, gasping at the touch. He rolled her over, kissing her hard, pressing himself down into her hand and gave himself up to pure pleasure.
He was a weak, despicable, spineless fool.
There was no time as he lost himself in her. As addictive as letheon, but far more pleasurable. Even after he found his release, he enjoyed causing hers, watching Nora’s responses to his touch, his mouth. They each took pleasure in the other, and he wished for the night to never end.
When he woke, she was gone, leaving nothing but the scent of her hair on the pillows.
All his doubts flooded back in as he pressed his face to the cloth.
No one came with the scroll that morning. Witless just shrugged when asked, so Riven focused on the matrix. Later that afternoon, Mira appeared and gestured for him to follow her. “The Queen has arranged for your request,” she said, her dimples showing.
The guards let them pass easily enough. Riven noted that they were eyeing him with little curiosity and plenty of suspicion. He’d clearly been marked as one to watch.
They wound their way down the stairs, then toward what Riven soon realized was the kitchen area. Then even further, to a door close to the roasting pits.
Mira knocked.
A woman stepped out, a broad woman with a horse -face and a frown. She closed the door behind her, but Riven caught the faint whiff of a familiar odor. Been a while since he’d gotten the full stench of a killing yard.
“This is the lad?” she demanded, in a rough voice.
“Yes,” Mira said.
“Humpf,” came a rude noise as he was sized up. “How’s this skinny lad to wrestle a cow to the slaughter?”
“I’m stronger than I look,” Riven said. “Besides, best practice is for two, one to extend the neck, the other to hold the stunning hammer.”
That got him a closer look. “You’ve a boning knife?” she asked.
“No,” Riven answered, looking her straight in the eye. “My father butchered, and he taught me well, but I…” His throat closed unexpectedly and he had to clear it. “I did not follow him into the trade.”
“Perhaps you can earn your knife here,” she said.
“No,” Mira said firmly. “He is to take no knives from this place.”
“A boning knife is one of the marks of entry into the craft,” Riven explained. “I will obey my instructions.” He returned the woman’s suspicious glance with a weak smile.
“Humpf.” The woman glanced at Mira and gave her a sharp nod. “We’ll see how he does,” she pronounced.
Mira nodded back. “That is what the Queen requires.”
“I am Kenda, Master Butcher,” the woman said, turning back to Riven. “This is my slaughter yard, and all is done here as I require. You obey or you are out, regardless, understood?”
“Aye,” Riven said.
“Come,” Kenda said, opening the door. Mira stepped back, clearly intending to wait in the kitchens.
Riven followed, bracing himself for the usual, often eye-watering, stench. It would take time for his stomach to adjust.
But the first smell to hit him was soap and water, in a yard as clean as he’d ever seen. The workers were scrubbing the floors, and he could see carts leaving out the back gates. There was a faint scent of old blood and meat, but naught else. Startled, he looked at Kenda, who barked out a laugh.
“Aye, you’ve experience, that’s clear.” Kenda said. She stood with fists on hips. “I endured years of stink and rot. When I got my mastery, I vowed there’d be none such in my yard. Can’t abide rot or waste. No reason for any of it and you will find none here.”
She walked off and Riven followed.
“Animals come in, and we slaughter, skin, and butcher. Meat to the kitchens, bones to the soup caldrons, blood and guts to the sausage cooks. Skins and feathers set aside for the craft guilds.” Kenda showed him the racks and tools.
“We start at dawn, scrub and wash every day after the slaughter, and are done by the nooning.” Kenda said.
“New animals are delivered in the afternoon, and we wash and check them to prepare for the next day.” She frowned at him.
“I’m told you are not to be a part of that. ”
Riven gave her a weak smile. “I have other duties.”
Kenda snorted. “Whatever. We need every hand while we prepare for the Summer Solstice celebrations. Be here at pre-dawn, every morning.”