Of all of my brides, none has inspired the worship of Tanyth of Clan Abibaal. Crimson Tanyth, Tanyth the Fair, the Crimson Flower, Angel of Castellandria, she has as many epithets as she has admirers. Her beauty is legendary. Many look upon her statue in the ruins of Mercy Square, one made by a master sculptor and as true to Tanyth's features as a mirror, and wonder if such a sublime creature could have ever been flesh and blood.
Even those who admire me wonder how I could have possibly wooed her. I say now that I do not know how I won her heart. I know only that she loves me and I her. I was able to give her a life beyond dreaming, and she continues to give me uncounted years of joy. She could have stayed in decadent Kharsoom, been renown for her beauty, perhaps her mercy, her kindness, her bravery. But when she became my wife, she found immortality in every sense of the world.
I did not know how our love would bloom when I beheld her in Ghanappur, nor when we fled with the fighting men of Clan El on our heels. I knew only that she was exquisite, a prize any lord of Kharsoom would go to war over. Even then, I would have stood against an army for her. I do not believe any who have been in her presence would not.
Our route took us into the wasteland, where our pursuers would fear to follow. We had an advantage that Clan El could not duplicate. They needed clean water. We could drink poison. Tanyth expressed amazement over my sweetwater goblet, and once again I told its story. When I handed it to her, her delicate finger traced the lines of the dead barnacles encrusting its tarnished silver surface.
"The magic only works on the inside of the cup," she observed.
"Exactly right, Your Highness," I said.
We paused to fill our bellies and our skins only once, at a stinking mud pit. I was alert to another ghalak ambush, but none came.
"The scent isn't strong enough," Shaluvia said, reading the tension in my shoulders. "Ghalaks were here, but not anymore. I think."
"Your certainty fills me with comfort."
The warmaid smirked. "Hurry, we are not deep enough into the wastes to slacken."
We mounted our qobads and rode hard through the day. The sun beat down on us, drying the sweat as soon as it hit the air. Dust bit my face. By the time we stopped for the night, I was beyond exhaustion.
The wind had teeth that night. We found a place between high rocks that would shield us in part, but nowhere in the Red Wastes could be truly comfortable. I barely had the strength to hobble the birds, and Ksenaëe had no desire to do anything but roost.
Shaluvia and Tanyth shivered, the princess hugging herself. "I'll build a fire, my lady," Shaluvia said.
"With what?" Tanyth asked, looking about at the rocks as she hugged herself.
"I will look about. I will find something. We need to keep warm."
"You will get lost in the dark. We have furs. We will make do with them."
"Two furs for the three of us."
"We will share."
"Your Highness, you can't share with him!"
"Don't be foolish. My survival is far more important than any lascivious rumors, and besides, there will be no rumors because no one here will talk."
Shaluvia glanced at me. "He is honorable."
"There. You will be between us anyway. He could not defile me without your help. I am freezing and will hear no more discussion."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
We gathered ourselves with some difficulty, wrapping ourselves in the furs. As we planned, Shaluvia was in the middle, on her side. I was behind her, and was careful not to wrap my arms completely around her. That would have caused me to touch Tanyth, and that was not to be. One hand remained resting lightly on Shaluvia's hips, and I could not escape the memory of what I had been doing the last time my hand had been there. As for the Princess, she was face to face with her warmaid, the larger woman embracing her charge. The heat from our bodies joined and covered us, giving some comfort against the bitter Kharsoomian night.
I was exhausted in my bones and assumed that sleep would come quickly. Yet I was still buzzing from the escape from the castle, and I could not be so close to two such exquisite beauties and not be aroused. The fact that Tanyth was forbidden only made her more alluring. She was, she
is
, the sort of woman one writes poetry about. The kind of woman one starts wars over. The kind of woman one tears pieces of the world out from their roots to please.
I concentrated on falling asleep, but the more I tried to embrace my exhaustion, the more I was aware of the body pressed into mine. Shaluvia was not still. A shift here or there, her buttocks caressing the front of my loincloth and banishing any dreams I had of sleep. My entire world was the warmth of the warmaid against me.
I remained as still as I could, resolutely fighting the urge to press myself into her. Yet she would not stop moving. Her buttocks pressed back into me, capturing my staff between each hemisphere, then moving in a slow circle. This could not be an accident.
She was a madwoman. I knew that. I had seen her in battle and lain with her afterwards. She would take so foolish a risk for the pleasure of the reward received. She would not let me lay with Tanyth, for honor forbade it, but teasing me? Yes, that was Shaluvia.
I sucked in a breath at the back of her neck, taking in her womanly scent. My fingertips played over the hard muscles of her hips, caressing where they coiled beneath her taut flesh. I traced the line of an old scar, a memento of one of her many battles.
She gave a tiny moan on the edge of hearing. My suspicions confirmed, I briefly wondered what I would do. Then I remembered something important. I was not Kharsoomian. I was not sworn to Tanyth's virtue. I was, as I was continually reminded, a barbarian. Such a savage would not allow matters of simple decorum to restrain his lust.
Carefully, my fingers curled around the iliac points of Shaluvia's pelvis, pulling her to me as I pressed my hips forward. The line of my staff found the cleft of her buttocks. I was rewarded with the circling of her hips, the muscular hemispheres caressing me. Any lingering doubts I had were gone. There could be no mistaking her intent.
I kissed the back of her neck, my tongue running up her spine. I tasted the wasteland itself, the bitter dust that clung to her skin. My hands caressed her, from her hips, over the leather belt, to her waist. Scars were picked out in the contours of her muscles. She pressed back harder.
I could resist her no longer. I pulled my loincloth up, freeing my staff, now turgid with need. I briefly thought of the amusement of my various Kharsoomian paramours at my penchant for the garment. This would have been easier without it.
I reached between the warmaid's legs, finding her spreading. Her thighs were already slick with arousal. Her orchid was hotter than a shadeless stone at noon, but so soft and inviting. She needed this as much as I.
This was mad of course. Tanyth was in the furs with us. I could not think clearly, though, when Shaluvia placed me at her gates, and pushed her hips down. We gasped in unison as I entered her. I kissed her neck, my hands finding her hard nipples. Thoughts of Tanyth were gone now, even as we were cloaked in the same furs.
We found a rhythm, nothing more than simple rocking. My hands played, down from her breasts, over her belly, down to tease at her pearl. She hissed in pleasure, taking me deeper. I forgot Tanyth was anywhere close. This was merely what Shaluvia and I did.
I pushed myself up, to drive my staff deeper into hers, and I looked over the warmaid's shoulders into a pair of violet eyes bright with lust.
"Keep going, boldisar," Tanyth said.
