Hello Friends:
Well, this tale is almost over. Only one section to go. As always, I welcome your comments and votes.
*****
Chapter 25
Angela gave a startled squawk of shock and surprise. She scrambled over Abiron's body, seeking to put him between her and the High Priestess' wrath. Trembling, she raised herself on one elbow so she could look over Abiron's shoulder.
"Hello, Mother," Abiron's voice was...amused? "It is polite to knock."
"So it would have been, had these not been my own rooms as well as yours," said Ariana. The High Priestess was, she saw, spectacularly nude, dark hair trailing down her back in a wave, magnificent as a queen out of legend. One hand was lightly fondling one breast, the brown nipple high and hard. "I thought to spend an hour in love-play before we slept. How rude of me not to realize that you had already found a bedmate for the evening."
Ariana scrambled out of the bed. All fears for herself were gone. She placed herself between Ariana and her lover. "My lady, please! Do not fault Abiron! It is I that seduced him. I...I..." her voice broke. How could she have thought that she could ever contend for Abiron's heart with the vision of beauty which stood before her? She sank to her knees. Incredibly, she heard a small laugh.
"You wanted a happy memory to accompany you into exile," the High Priestess said with a small smile. "Oh, get up," she said impatiently, "I am no Goddess for you to prostrate yourself. And this is not a competition." She lowered her hands and raised Angela to her feet. Smiling mysteriously, she examined her, walking in a small circle so she could look at her from all sides.
"I was right. You are a very comely lass. And you will be even more so in days to come. Yes. You will do nicely." A finger ran down her spine, stopping just short of the cleft of her buttocks, and Angela had to bite her lip to avoid giving voice to an unexpected jolt of desire. She had the feeling that she had missed something very important. What was it that Abiron had said?
"Well, children," and the High Priestess' voice was amused, "I think you should finish what you have begun so well. Get back into bed, Angela. No, do not trouble yourself, Abiron," she said, as he began to get up. "I can make up a bed on the couch by myself. I am not yet decrepit." She walked to the wardrobe and removed a pair of blankets. She stopped at the bedside and took one of the pillows, as well.
"I'll see you in the morning, children." And with that, she walked out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Hello, Mother...Go back to bed, children.
She turned to Abiron on the bed, eyes wide and blank with shock.
"She's your mother," her voice was flat with disbelief.
He met her eyes. His own were guileless. "Yes, she is. And she is my wife, as well. And the High Priestess. I think you knew without knowing, my angel. You called her my mother yourself when we were having our
chai
earlier this evening."
Ariana knew she should be screaming in outrage. This was one of the foulest sins possible. A son married to his own mother? But it seemed her capacity for surprise had finally been reached. What was one more impossible thing when measured against the events of this lunatic day?
"How?" she asked dully, not even expecting an answer.
In answer he pulled the blanket over them and gathered her close, one hand cradling her hip, the other snug and warm against her back. Despite herself, she gave a small sound of comfort and wriggled closer to the heat of his body, muscles relaxing, drifting towards slumber.
"It all started a few months ago, when I was woken from a deep sleep by an incarnation of the Deity..."
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So you were ordered by your god to marry your own mother?" Ariana's voice was a mingling of shock, horror, and sympathy.
"Yes. I would have thought it nothing more than a dream, if my mother had not confirmed it the next morning. And if the Deity had not shown up various times the next day to harangue me into accepting the fact." Abiron's voice was dark with amused remembrance.
"You poor boy," she said. "How do you bear it?"
Abiron drew away and looked her in the eyes.
"I do not think you completely understand, my lady. My marriage to my mother is the single most joyous event in my life. I love her, both as my mother and my wife. And I hope soon that we may make a child together. I do not regret an instant of it."
Indeed, she could feel the proof of his regard for his mother pressing against her even now. And something dark within her responded to it. How freeing, how liberating, to set aside all restrictions, and to couple with the one most capable of bringing you joy. Memories of the High Priestess stirred, mixing with her appreciation of Abiron's body. Indeed, their Deity had blessed their union. Beauty and joy and power, and the bond that lay between mother and son. Thinking on it excited her to a degree she had not thought possible. She felt her nether lips warming, dampness pooling between her thighs, and that damnable
itch
rising within her again, one that only his cock could scratch.
With a convulsive movement, she hurled the blanket off of them. Laying on her back, her legs spread wide, leaving her sex exposed and vulnerable. Her hands framed it, fingers softly stroking the tender skin of the inside of her thighs, upper arms pressing her breasts together so they stood up in cheerful little hillocks on her chest.
"Take me, Abiron. Take me again."
Without words, knowing what she wanted, he rose above her. Braced on his elbows, he lowered his mouth for a searing kiss that left them both breathless. Unguided except by their love, the head of his phallus tickled her loins. Strong and sure and hard, he drove his hips forward and found her hot and wet and eager for him. With a soft cry, she pulled her lips away from his and drove them into the angle where his neck shoulder met, biting his skin softly, eyes closed, blind to everything but the heavenly sensations pouring through her.
"Harder. Harder, Abiron.
As you love me, fuck me harder!
" she begged breathlessly. Oh, it was too much! In response to her urging, his pace doubled, and his thrusts grew powerful and relentless. She could feel her climax approaching and rode it like a ship rode the sea. Her fingers clutched his back, nails scoring his skin as she clawed him frantically. Hissing in pain, he tried to pull away, and she retained just enough of her sanity to gentle her touch, whispering soft apologies as he pounded into her. Suddenly the coiled heat in her womb flung itself outward, and with a convulsive cry she reached the pinnacle of joy, all but mindless of the wash of seed as Abiron spent himself within her.
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She left in the dark, cold hours before dawn. She and Abiron had made love, gently, one last time. Almost too gently, she thought, and smiled in hazy memory at the look of wariness in his eyes as they came down from their second bout. Her fierceness had frightened him, it seemed. Well and good, she thought. Now he knew her.
She caught a few hours of sleep, but woke when the birds began to sing outside her window. She dressed swiftly and went to her door, where she was happy to see that her guard had changed.
"How long until the audience?" she asked.
"Still more than an hour, mistress," he answered.
"That is well," she replied. "When my maid arrives, please ask that I be bought breakfast. Also, I have several items which will need laundering before I take my leave. Can you ask that this be attended to?"
He smiled at her. "Mistress, I will."
Smiling, she thanked him. Closing the door, she entered her bedroom, and one last time she prayed for guidance. Just like every other time, no answer came. Hearing soft voices from the sitting room, she saw her maids setting out breakfast, a warm bowl of porridge and a small tray of fruit. More at ease in her heart than she had been in years, she took the time to thank each of them kindly for their service of the past few weeks. She then asked that her clothes be cleaned and brought back to her rooms to be packed once the audience was over. With their aid, she dressed and groomed herself. With a grimace, she slid her dagger-sheath into her boot, and secured it firmly. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her face was pale, except for two hectic splotches of red, high on her cheekbones.
She took a deep breath, opened the door, and looked at her guard.
"I am ready."
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Abiron and Ariana ate in silence together. Once finished, they dressed in full regalia as High Priestess and High Priest, the gold sunbursts hanging from their chains of office, splendid against their robes of office.
Standing at the door, Ariana took a moment. She stepped close to her husband and brushed a stray lock of hair back from his brow.
"Well done, my son."
His lips quirked. "So I am forgiven, Mother?"
She smiled at him ruefully. "You know there is nothing to forgive. She is a beautiful child. My only regret," and here her voice deepened with humor, "is that somehow I have spent two weeks here, surrounded by beautiful men like Prince Alan and Brother Paul, and have yet to find someone besides yourself willing to take me to bed.
"It could," she said solemnly, "make a woman wonder if she is as attractive as she thought."
Arm in arm, they left their rooms together.
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The last trickles of sand ran through the hourglass. Grit in his eyes, Kris levered himself to his feet and with a grin brought his baton against the bars of the cell with a
clang,
enjoying the sight as Titus jerked to a sitting position.
Producing a set of keys, he opened the door, then held out a set of manacles. Sighing, Titus allowed himself to be cuffed. Guards surrounding him on three sides, the spy was led to the upper levels of the palace, and by back halls moved to a bare room a short distance away from the audience chamber, where they would wait for Captain Diogenes for the right moment to produce him.
Kris sat down, back against the door, dizzy with weariness.
