The Shrinemaiden (The Maidens) (20 page)

He was more muscular than she thought, well-built in all the right places. Sex had sapped Daken’s anger, his resentment toward his father. In its place was a passionate young man, if somewhat ashamed of his previous actions. He had spewed his seed inside her only several minutes before, but already his cock was large and turgid, pressing insistently at her backside. He made no move to slide into her again, content for now to kiss and caress her thighs, her breasts.

“Yes,” Adelai murmured, tilting her head back against the pillows and sighing softly while he played with her nipples, tweaking them. Daken had a fascination for breasts, could not stop kissing them, touching them. “It is the one service that shrinemaidens honor most of all.”

“And what if I am not your contracted patron?” Faint jealousy remained in Daken’s voice. “I did not purchase your services. My father did.”

“All secrets are honored, milord. Not even a patron can demand to know what another has given in confidence, even if he was responsible for the transaction.”

Daken was silent for awhile, though his hands continued to wander. Adelai had been surprised to learn that behind his surly, rebellious facade, the young man was a giving lover, who delighed in watching her reach climax.

“My father is a sadist,” he finally said.

It was not a term Adelai would use to describe the earl. “Why would you say so?”

“What do you know of the earl of Sevrigne, Adelai?”

“That he is a cousin by marriage to King Garrant, and that he is one of those the king goes to for counsel. They say he is an upstanding member of the court, that he is an intelligent man not one to give in to petty quarrels and intrigues. What’s wrong?” Adelai asked, as Daken’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“I am merely amused by how well my father has been able to hide his deviancies, even from the people who believe know him best. It is true that my father has many business interests in the city - our wealth is invested primarily in the lands he owns, and he has many - but that does not even sum up where the bulk of his wealth has originated from.”

“And where is this?”

“From slavery.” He smiled grimly, at the soft gasp she made. “It was his idea to hold the slave auctions and the shrinemaidens’ biddings at once - most of the slavers work for him, you see, and he thought it a very good opportunity to reap in large profits, which he had. The sale from General Khalid alone…”

He shook his head. “He operates at a loss during peacetime, Adelai, and flourishes best when nations are at war. I do not like it. Many of the people in the city do not wish it either, but my father has the king’s ear, and the king has acquired a powerful bloodlust. We will be swamped in death and bodies soon enough. We need more people who are brave enough to stand up to the king, to argue for the right to live in peace. And if the king refuses to listen to us, then we have no recourse but to rebel, to put a stop to any more bloodshed. And that is why….”

He kissed her shoulder, turned her over so he could look into her eyes, his own burning with fervor. “I am a patriot,” he said, pleading. “To betray Sarcopia is to stand back and do nothing, while Sarcopia continues to rape and pillage other kingdoms. To close my eyes and turn a deaf ear when the other nations might rise up and oppose my king. Not even Sarcopia’s armies can withstand it if all the other kingdoms unite against us. Even if it means to oppose my father. What else can I do?”

Adelai laid a hand against his cheek, her touch cold and soothing against his hot skin. “But what have you already done?” She asked, and he plunged on, emboldened by the sympathy in her gaze.

“There are many others who feel the same way. Not just in Arbentide, but in many others - from the poor farmers to the merchants to even some members of the nobility and the royal military - all the way up to the highest ranks. We would like Atalantea’s help, and other kingdoms besides - but they will always suspect a trap.”

“To say that there are rebels there might only be hearsay,” Adelai murmured, trying to quell her own emotions. “Do you know of any names?”

“I do not,” he confessed, and she hid her relief. “I am but a lowly member of these groups. It is necessary for me to be so, as my father is an avid supporter of King Garrant, so I may sometimes come under suspicion. Truthfully, I wish I can do more, but the best that I can do is to spy on the earl whenever I am able, but he is a wily bastard, and I do not find much.” He laughed. “It is a load off my mind, telling you all this. I have kept it hidden for so long, that it feels almost cathartic to have someone else know of my troubles. Will you promise me, Adelai? That no word of this shall ever reach my father? It will be my head on the block, and all his influence will not save me from the ax.”

“A shrinemaiden’s word is binding, milord.” Adelai said tenderly, forcing back the guilt she felt. Her words were true enough without being forced to lie to him. She did not want to put Daken in any further jeopardy than he already is.

“I was angry when he bought you, at first,” The kisses on her shoulder turned into playful bites. “I thought that you must have liked the same perversions he had. In all the time you stayed here you had said nothing about him, had given no other indication other than that you enjoyed his company. If you were disgusted, you hid it well.” There was a question in his tone.

Adelai pressed closer to him. “I am afraid you are in error, in at least one assumption, milord. The earl had never taken me to bed since I arrived at Arbentide.” She smiled at the shocked expression on his face. “I speak the truth. He has been nothing but kind and gracious to me, and I suspect that one of the motivations for buying my contract was so I could serve as a companion to you.”

“He never touched you?”

“Is it possible that perhaps your opinion regarding him has been colored by your relationship?”

Daken frowned. “You do not know what he does, Adelai. I have seen what he has done to slaves priced too low to be placed at auctions. I am glad he has not taken you. In many ways I was angry at you as well, but I know now you are innocent in all this. Forgive me.”

“I can forgive you almost anything for your talented tongue, milord.” Adelai teased.

“Almost anything, you say?” His mouth moved past her shoulder, now poised against the tip of a nipple. His voice was low, seductive. “Perhaps I can convince you to forgive me
everything
, then.”

A tongue circled the pink bud, and Adelai cried out softly. Before long, Daken was laving and sucking, his hands already stealing down to part the curls in between her thighs, preparing her for entry. A long finger slid in to the depths, and Adelai’s hand found the back of his head, hips moving in time with his.

“My father was right in one thing,” Daken groaned. “I want you, Adelai. I wanted you since that first day. The way you looked in that dress, so beautiful….”

He withdrew his finger, forced her to turn over again on her stomach so she was on her hands and knees before him, her sex presented to his gaze. He pushed her legs further apart. “All those days spent in the city, unable to keep myself from lusting after you, and blaming you and my father for it.” He surged into her without warning, and she gasped at the sudden thickness of him filling her, her walls clenching around his shaft.

“Your excursions in the garden, making me watch - you knew I was there, didn’t you? Knew I was watching you pleasure yourself, wishing it was I between your thighs, plowing into you.” He suited those actions to words, as he began moving in earnest, driving into her body with long, sure strokes. Adelai clutched at the bedsheets. With Daken’s hands on her waist, he was preventing her from moving against him even as he teased her, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. “Please,” she panted, trying to quicken the rising pleasure that he was deliberately circumventing.

He built up speed, pounding into her for several more minutes before spewing his seed inside her with a low groan, just as her body shook, finding her own release. Adelai collapsed onto the bed, Daken’s hard body nestled beside hers as he followed, his breathing hot and heavy against her neck. After a minute, he moved closer, a hand thrown possessively over her waist.

“Daken?” She murmured, curling beside him.

“Hm?”

She laid a hand on his chest, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. “You say that the other kingdoms will not believe the rebels if they ask for help.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But they would believe a shrinemaiden, wouldn’t you think?”

Daken looked at her. “You would do that for us? What about your oath?”

“Our personal safety always supersedes any oaths we might make, especially in war. If I have any reason to believe that Sarcopia is gearing for war, then I have the right to ensure I and my other sisters are safe - if only for us to get out of harm’s way.” It was not the best of excuses, but the boy seemed to believe her.

Daken’s smile was wide. “I promise to see what I can do.”

He was asleep within minutes. Adelai found a more comfortable position against his chest, and studied his face. In sleep, Daken looked younger and more vulnerable. He was an excellent lover, but she always found that in the aftermath her thoughts would constantly return to the captain, and resisted the urge to cry. It hurt to know that he could be out there with someone else as well, though Adelai’s own emotions stemmed more from sadness than from anger or jealousy, or anything else. She had no right to dictate his actions and choices, after all. She could not shirk from her responsibilities as a shrinemaiden, even though she would have pledged fidelity to Thornton if it had been possible.

Even now, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about Daken. She was raised to entertain men who were wise in the ways of the world. For all his expertise in bed, she sensed that Daken was still rough around the edges, still too inexperienced and too innocent in comparison, especially after all his talk about patriotism. She had thought to seduce him only because he seemed the only link she had to any rebel factions in the city, where she could find out more.

When the earl of Sevigne returned from his business trip, he was pleased to discover Daken no longer sulking and angry, was quick to realize Adelai’s intervention. “I had not expected results so soon,” he admitted to her in private, “but Daken no longer looks at me like I am about to kill a favorite pet of his. I presume you are to be commended for all this?”

“I only took the liberty of spending more time with him,” Adelai admitted, with a small blush.

“I see.” Allan said, knowing. “And what of his sneaking out into the city?”

“He asked me to accompany him this time. He wanted to show me around, as I have had little chances of doing so since arriving. His association with any rebels in the city might not run as deep as you first feared, as all he seems to be is interested, at least in my opinion.” She shrugged. “It might be wise to keep a guard on him when we both venture out into the city, if it would help to ease your mind.”

Allan thought about it. “If you are accompanying him, then I do not think he would be brash enough to seek them out in any case, even if he still continues to consort with criminals. I hope I didn’t put you in a compromising situation, Lady Adelai. I know that you are prohibited from divulging any secrets. Even, I suppose, a son’s secrets.”

“Your son said very little to me,” Adelai assured him, “Most of what I say are based on my own observations. I would beg you not to ask me of what he thinks about your earlship, on the other hand. I’m afraid it does not bear repeating.”

The earl laughed. “I will respect your privacy. I am only happy his behavior has improved.”

Daken’s words had put Adelai on her guard against Allan, if only a little. She still had trouble imagining the kindly earl as having a sadistic streak. His dealings with the slavery trade did not always mean a deviant, merely someone who was taking advantage of a lucrative business. Priestess Saleia had always told them never to trust anyone, not even one’s patron. When one resides in a world of intrigue, where most of its inhabitants can make or break nations, there is much reason to heed her words.

Adelai knew that Allan was still sending spies to keep watch on Daken’s comings and goings, and it was her idea to keep him from meeting with his co-conspirators for a few days. “If you are to bring me into the city,” she explained to him, “then it would do well to convince the guards tailing you that you are showing me around, instead of using me as a disguise. I do not think your father would take my word on its own. You must also prove to him - or to his spies, anyway - that you have rid yourself of any influences against the crown.”

Daken had grumbled but eventually complied, bowing to the wisdom of her words. They spent many pleasurable days in the city instead, and Daken was careful not to contact his rebel friends during that period. Instead, they visited the local marketplace, and Daken was amused by Adelai’s delight, having never seen a place so bustling and alive with people before. “I would not have expected one like you to be so sheltered,” he noted, when she persisted in spending a few minutes at every stall that took her fancy, from those that sold exotic fruits like pomegranate and mango, to those that offered perfumed vials and rich silk.

“I am only used to courts and politicians,” Adelai admitted.

“Do you have any regrets? If things had been different, you could have been like any of them.” Daken gestured at some of the sellers.

“None whatsoever,” Adelai said, simply. “I am glad to have had this path to walk.”

It was easy enough to spot the guards the earl of Sevrigne had placed to follow them. Given the sometimes secretive nature of her position, Adelai had been trained to be observant in such matters, though the primary reasons for such training had often been to ward off the jealous wives and lovers of patrons wishing to cause mischief. For two weeks they wandered the city, and Adelai continued to convince Daken that establishing any kind of contact with his fellow rebels would be detrimental to their purpose. She had also taken the opportunity to memorize the city’s layout, and poor Daken was dragged, in her enthusiasm, through practically every corner of Arbentide, in ever road and side street she could find.