The Plains of Kallanash (13 page)

When they pulled apart, he said, rather breathlessly, “Would you like to touch me?”

For answer, she reached for the knot on his robe and
, after a little fumbling, got it undone. She put her hand inside and began to stroke his chest. He wondered what she made of all the hair on it, for Jonnor had none, but she made no comment as her hands moved over him. Inevitably, the robe fell open and revealed his erection. She stopped at once, eyeing it with an unreadable expression on her face. Was she nervous? He couldn’t tell.

“It’s big, isn’t it?” she said, and then looked up in surprise as he laughed.

“About average, I think,” he said, and then had to explain the humour to her. It felt so good when she giggled. They had always talked openly, but to be sharing a joke at such a moment, surely that was a good sign?

“Would you like to touch it?”

“May I?”

When he nodded, she delicately ran one finger down its length, and after a moment he showed her how to hold it and what to do with it. He didn’t need the stimulation, but he supposed it was a skill Jonnor would want her to acquire. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure of it, but when she started to kiss him again he realised he had to stop her.

“Let’s go through to the bedroom,” he said thickly, and before she could speak he swept her into his arms and carried her into the adjoining room. He watched her carefully, but there was no sign now of fear in her. She wrapped her arms round his neck and allowed herself to be lifted. She was so light, like a child, he could have carried her all day without effort.

He set her down near the bed, shrugged off his own robe and helped her out of hers. Then she was in his arms, he was kissing her, touching her, pressing himself against her, and her hands were all over him, running down his back, onto his buttocks, between them… He stopped abruptly, his breath ragged. This would never do, it was too soon, he needed to calm himself down and focus on her. He lifted her again and laid her down on the bed, and she watched him, smiling but saying nothing.

He lay beside her, touching her breasts again and then licking them and taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Was it his imagination, or did she sigh? And gradually, he made his way down her body until he came to rest between her legs. When he kissed her there, she gave a little ‘Oh!’ of surprise, and then a longer breath, almost a gasp, but she made no protest. He could hear her breathing becoming heavier, and then little mewing sounds, and he knew it was going to be all right.

Mia woke the next morning in Hurst’s bed. It took her a moment to realise she was back at the Karninghold, and then memory of the night before flooded in, and she smiled. She had read about such things in her books, quite detailed descriptions, sometimes, but nothing came close to the actual sensations she had experienced. She still glowed all over. And if, at the back of her mind, she wished it had been Jonnor who brought her such delight, she suppressed the thought.

Hurst was still asleep beside her, his face softened in repose, making him look younger, less fierce. She smiled, resisting the urge to stroke his face, and waited patiently for him to wake. As soon as he opened his eyes, she slid closer to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist, softly kissing him on the nose.

“Good morning, Most High,” she said, and giggled.

“Good morning yourself,” he smiled, and made no protest when she kissed him properly, a long lingering kiss that reminded her of other kisses. When she broke away, she giggled again, and tossed the covers down the bed.

“Oh!” he said, clearly surprised. “What’s this?”

“I have to practise,” she said, laughing at his bewilderment, and with that she scrambled down the bed and took him into her mouth, feeling him harden under her attentions. “Am I doing this right?” she asked after a while, but a husky, “Fine… don’t stop…” was all the answer she got.

For three days Mia practised, sometimes in Hurst’s bed, sometimes in her own, and once on the soft rug in front of the hearth on the living floor.

“Aren’t we supposed to rest during the stillness?” Hurst had said.

“We’re lying down, aren’t we?” she answered, and he gurgled with laughter.

Hurst even showed her some of his erotic books to see what she might like to try, and she spread the strips out in amazement.

“I’m not sure I can bend like that,” she said, pointing to one drawing.

“How about this one? That would break something vital, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps the picture’s upside down.” They could hardly stand, they were laughing so much.

She felt she should be exhausted, but instead she was exhilarated and could hardly wait to show Jonnor all the new skills she had learned. On the last morning, when she prepared to minister to Hurst one final time, he touched her arm and shook his head.

“No, this one’s for you,” he said, pushing her firmly back onto the bed, and then he took her once again to that magical paradise. One of her books had talked of sex as a gift from the Gods, but she had never understood what that meant before. How she longed to share such a moment with Jonnor.

He arrived late in the afternoon, delayed by heavy rain and in a towering temper. It took all Mia’s efforts and a lot of wine to restore him to some degree of equanimity. While she attended to the roast in her little kitchen, she heard the two men whispering together, but by the time she emerged, Jonnor had disappeared and Hurst was bent over a map. Probably they were talking about skirmish tactics. A pang of disappointment washed over her. They were engrossed in something so mundane, when she could think of nothing but the coming night.

When the meal was ready, she could barely eat for excitement. Finally, she could please Jonnor as he deserved. Hurst silently helped her clear away after the meal, and then diplomatically disappeared. Jonnor sat on at the table with his wine, and after a moment’s hesitation she fetched a book and sat down opposite him, pretending to read but in reality waiting in increasing impatience to go to bed. At last he got up, and she jumped up at once.

“Are you going upstairs?” she blurted out.

He smiled. “Eager, are you, little wife?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. What if he were too tired? If she seemed too keen, she might pressure him into something he was unwilling for.

Luckily, he didn’t wait for an answer, patting her rump as he went past. “Excellent! I’ll see you later.”

“Shall I come to your room?”

“Oh – no, I’ll come to you.”

Mia had had a few days to consider her room, and its unfortunate associations with Tella. There hadn’t been time to do more than change the cover on the bed, dot some painted screens about and fit coloured glass covers on the lamps. She hoped it would be enough. She undressed and threw a robe on, and then sat waiting on the edge of the bed. As soon as Jonnor appeared, she jumped up and rushed across to him, putting her arms around his neck.

“Shall I undress for you?” She kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Good idea.” Then, when the robe was cast aside and she stretched to kiss him again, he said, “Will you kneel?”

“Kneel? Oh! Of course.”

He opened his robe for her, and she saw that he was already aroused, a good sign, she thought. As soon as she took him in her mouth, he groaned. He pushed her head closer, and began to move, and rather more forcefully than she was comfortable with, but she supposed his need was urgent. His groans became louder, and she began to worry that he might not want anything else. She had read about that, and she was quite prepared for it, naturally, but Hurst had always pulled back before the critical moment, and she was a bit nervous about attempting it for the first time with Jonnor. She wished she had thought to practise it beforehand.

She was thankful when he told her to stop, and as soon as she stood up he pushed her back onto the bed. Within moments he was on top of her, inside her, thrusting hard into her. She lay without moving, her heart pounding with his body so close, watching his face contorted by his exertions, his moans loud in her ears. It wasn’t painful, thank the Gods, but it was not quite comfortable either, and certainly not pleasurable. But that would happen in time, she supposed, once they got used to each other.

It was a relief in some ways when he finished and rolled off her.

“Well, Hurst
has
been teaching you some tricks, hasn’t he?” was all he said. Then he gathered up his robe and left.

~~~

The disadvantage to sleeping with two men, Mia found, was that comparisons were inevitable. She loved Jonnor dearly, of course, but she also fondly remembered Hurst’s gentleness, his intimate smile, the way he kissed her. Especially the way he kissed her. It was not that she was disappointed, she told herself many times, but Jonnor was different, there was no doubt about it.

There was no time to agonise over it, fortunately. The skirmishes began again almost at once, and Hurst was away much of the time, while Jonnor was busy with training and dispatching Hundreds to this boundary or that, as they were needed. There were petitions to hear, and household matters to settle, and the children to see to, and villages requesting assistance, and only Mia and her Companions to deal with everything now. Tella never seemed to involve herself in such matters, but she had always had the power to smooth any troubles with just a word here or there. Without her, everything seemed more difficult. Tessa, Tenya and Tersia were badly missed, too, and not just by the children.

But each evening Mia could leave the stresses of the day behind, and retire to the high tower with Jonnor. With Hurst away so much, she had him to herself, and that felt very intimate. And yet in some ways nothing much had changed. She cooked the roast, he carved it, they ate together, Jonnor drank a lot of wine and then went upstairs, decanter in hand, while Mia read a book. If he was a little less talkative than he used to be, that was not unexpected.

Later, often after she had gone to bed, he would amble into her room with his wine. They soon settled into a routine. She would warm him up, as he called it, either with her hand or by mouth, and then he would get straight down to business. He didn’t like her kissing him, he didn’t like lying down, he didn’t like staying with her afterwards. What he did like was Hurst’s sexy books, and often brought one through to look at while she worked on him. And his favourite thing was to enter her from behind, so that she couldn’t even enjoy watching him attain his pleasure.

But he was happy, she told herself, he enjoyed what she did for him, and that was what mattered. She was there to please him, not the other way round, although sometimes she thought wistfully of her brief time with Hurst. She had hinted sometimes that perhaps Jonnor might take things more slowly, kiss her for a while, stroke her breasts, perhaps, but he never took the hint. Once she had even asked him outright if he would kiss her special place, the one that gave her such wonderful feelings, but he had been horrified.

“Mia, that’s disgusting! Where do you get these ideas? Did Hurst
—? He spends too much time in the guards’ quarters, hanging around with their women. That’s whore behaviour, it’s not for Highers.”

Then she felt ashamed of herself.

~~~

When she had a little free time, she set herself the task of rearranging her bedroom. She’d bought some new furniture at the Ring, in the lighter wood which reminded her of her northern home. There was no space for it, however, for the room was filled with Tella’s dressers and wardrobes, and they were still full of her clothes.

Mia set about sorting them, helped by her senior Companion, Morsha. Some could be adapted for Mia herself or one of the Companions, and the rest would go to the Ring to clothe those with smaller allowances or greater needs. It was a slow, sad undertaking, for almost every garment brought back memories of Tella. Here was the riding coat she had worn to hide the later stages of pregnancy when she was not supposed to be on horseback at all. And here was the exquisitely embroidered silk tunic that Jonnor’s father had once given her. There were personal items, too; a dried flower from their mother’s exotic garden, a piece of polished jade, a baby’s bonnet, the halter from her first horse.

Tucked at the back of a drawer full of winter riding scarves and carefully wrapped in a square of silk was an ornate wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

“That’s very pretty.” Morsha looked up from the undergarments she was sorting. “It’s like a jewelry box. Is there anything inside?”

“Yes, it’s— Oh!” Mia’s eyes widened. It was a golden dragon, as big as her hand, intricately carved and studded all over with precious gems. Even the claws were tiny diamonds, and the eyes two great emeralds. She lifted it from the box, so that the jewels sparkled like little suns. “Here. Feel the weight of it.”

Morsha took it reverently in her hands. “So heavy!” she breathed. “What must a thing like that be worth?”

“A kingdom,” said Mia at once. “Pieces like this were marriage gifts to commemorate an alliance between the Petty Kingdoms. Solid gold, and as many gemstones as the king could afford. No wonder only the eldest sons and daughters got married off.”

“What happened to the younger ones?”

“The princes were sent into battle, and the princesses stayed locked inside their towers.”

Morsha shivered. “I’m glad we’re more civilised now. Here, pass me the box and I’ll— Oh!” The box slipped from her fingers, and the silk cushion where the dragon had rested fell to the floor. Something else fell, too, a folded paper. “What’s this? A letter tucked underneath. Ooh, do you think it’s a love letter? Was this a gift from a lover?”

Mia picked it up, but she hesitated. Tella had always had admirers and received gifts from them, and she had often shown them to Mia. “Look what he’s sent me!” she would say, dangling a necklace from her elegant fingers. “Such fools men are! Does he think he can buy me?” Then she would toss it contemptuously into a drawer.

This gift was different, and not just in value. It had been hidden away, something Tella wanted to keep from the world.

“Do you think we should read it?” Mia turned it over and over in her hands. “It may be private.”

Morsha raised an eyebrow. “It probably is. Tella had her secrets, but they can’t hurt her now. Don’t you want to know?”

Mia wasn’t sure she did. Once the letter was read, it couldn’t be unread, and if it revealed something dreadful about Tella… So tempting to toss it into the fire and be rid of it. Yet there were still unanswered questions about Tella’s death, like why she had ridden north instead of south, and that strange message she had written just before she died.

With trembling fingers, Mia unfolded the paper. Something fell out, a lock of hair so fair it was almost white, tied with a sliver of blue silk. “Oh, she kept a lock of the baby’s hair!” Mia cried, relief washing through her. Just a mother’s keepsake.

But no, that wasn’t right. Jinnia was a year old now, and her hair was still shorter than this, and finer, more delicate. Morsha’s silence confirmed it.

“It’s not the baby’s, is it? Then whose?”

“Read the message,” Morsha said softly.

Mia opened the paper fully. A strong hand, slanting across the page, and not one she recognised. At the bottom, instead of a signature, a single letter:
I
. She read aloud.

“My darling…”
Her voice shook. A deep breath.
“My darling, it seems an age since we were together. My life is unbearable without you, and especially with this wondrous news. You sound so calm, yet this is dangerous for you. Let me come for you, my love. Then we can be together always, we can raise…”
Another deep breath. The paper quivered in her shaking hands.
“…we can raise our child together…”