Aries Fire (33 page)

Attila pushed the blanket aside and lifted her body with one hand. She let him. Naked soft skin brushed up against a furry vestment. His broad shoulders arched back and the vestment fell easily.

Seira knew she needed to release Bleda from her body and Attila from her life if she were ever to be with Alexander in the way she hoped. Attila knew this too.

Seira leaned back on her arms and bent her knees.   Trembling legs dropped apart.  Attila glided his palms from her ankles to her knees then rose up to straddle her. Seira let a small sound escape her lips. Neither of them knew if it came from anticipation or fear.

Attila held her knees in his hands. He slowly brought them together and lightly pushed her legs onto the bed.  Seira frowned slightly in confusion.

He removed his pantaloons and knelt over her on the bed. He kept perfectly still. Chiseled muscles defined his body. A very visible erection rose above her. Anxiety replaced confusion. Seira breathed erratically. A strong gentle hand reached over to take hers. He put her hand on his penis. It felt hard and warm and smooth all at once.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Attila gave her the right of power.  Full lips clenched slightly and trembled.  Attila stayed motionless. A short, quick breath and she brought her fear into the present. A long, extended exhale and she let it go. She looked at him like the mischievous girl she once was.

Seira roused to her knees to meet him face to face. The bed bounced beneath them. She leaned into him; her body sensed his, arms folded around each other.  They kissed passionately. She bit his upper lip. He gripped her arms and pushed them back, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

Seira reached forward and took hold of his erection.  She put his hand on her crotch and squeezed his wrist. He fondled her and she moaned. Passion fully awakened now, Seira pushed Attila down onto the bed. Slender legs straddled above his hard manhood. She leaned over and bit his hip, pinching his nipples with her fingers. Her own nipples protruded and grazed his penis. He sat up and grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back onto a pile of pillows.

A fire alit. Lewd reactions overcame her, commingling with fear and the need to defend herself. She slapped Attila’s face hard and erased Bleda’s face from her mind. Again and again until her hand stung and Bleda’s stench evaporated. Attila leaned his head back and shook the hair from his eyes.  Attila gave his lover the freedom to spew her rage. Behind it lay the raw sexual feeling he knew was meant for him. 

Seira held his face in her hands and looked at the angular lines that could only belong to her dearest friend.  She suddenly grabbed his braided beard to pull him closer to her mouth.

An eager tongue licked his body. The more she tasted him, the more aroused they became. Attila fought the impulse to take her and let out a deep gruff grunt. His sounds excited Seira and she wanted him even more. Attila gripped curved hips and yanked her toward him. He hovered above her and scavenged her body like a hunter. A hot tongue enveloped her breast.  She arched her back and was taken by sexual hunger beyond lust.

Seira grabbed stiff buttock cheeks and pulled him in. Attila paused, looked through her with warrior intensity, breathing hard.

“Yes,” she simultaneously begged and commanded, giving him permission.

Taut arm muscles bore brawn weight.

“Seira, szeretlek,” he barely said.

Szeretlek, Mundzuk whispered to Aymelek.

I love you, too, Attila.

This time he spoke her name and it felt intimate, as if he’d always been saying it.

Attila entered Seira with passion. Inside each of them an explosion of light, of lust, of love, and a simultaneous beginning and ending.  She cried out in ecstasy and Bleda died.

The Nightingale stopped to listen.

Chapter Fourteen

An opportunity to face the truth

Or Jupiter conjunct Pluto in the 10th

A
ETIUS HEARD THE
Nightingale song’s stop as he lurked in the shadow of a Doric column on Ruga’s balcony.  Ruga sipped an almond liqueur and looked up, admiring the sky.  He cleared his throat and then coughed.  Sweat beaded on his forehead. Ruga coughed hard and wheezed.

His fat fingers gripped his bulging neck. The delicate cup made of clay slipped from his hand, its contents already emptied in his mouth. Not a drop spilled on the tile flooring. He panted and fell.  Layers of silk robes buried fat flesh as Ruga gurgled, then slumped to the floor, writhing on his back in silent horror.

Aetius skimmed past the shadow of the column and stood over Ruga. Sturdy arms rested on narrow hips. Dark green eyes peered at a dying man.  Ruga grasped at the General’s feet. Aetius stepped back.

“Good evening Khan. Oh, but where will you go?” Aetius toyed with Ruga.

Ruga tried to put his fingers down his throat to vomit the vile poison. The general stepped on his hand. Ruga’s mouth opened wider. Drool dripped from the corner of his lips.

“Yes, you see now. There is no need to struggle. There is no sound you can make that can be heard. There is no one to save you from peril.”

Aetius knelt over Ruga, still tread upon his crushed hand. Ruga’s eyes bulged. He gasped harder.

“I am not without compassion, Illustrious Khan. But alas, I have little control over the time it takes for you to die.  I could not, for the sake of decorum in an imperial palace, slice your throat. That would have been quicker and by all accounts, painless as compared to being poisoned. Although consider my position. No. I might suffer impeachment for my actions.”

Ruga went instantly mad, gesticulating wildly. Aetius leaned in to his ear.

“But I hear tell that this particular poison courses through the veins faster the harder one struggles.”

Ruga glared at Aetius, unable to speak.  Terror shone in his eyes.  A silent scream twisted his mouth.

“Yes, the paralysis ensues, enveloping the entirety of the body,” Aetius said.

Ruga flailed one arm across the floor. He attempted to slide across the balcony, toward the door.

“I lived with your brother for quite some time. Did you know that? Where I learned the art of bloodless deaths.”

Aetius paused and walked over Ruga’s enormous body, blocking his path.

“Your brother, Mundzuk, knew you to be an extravagant and insolent fool. Now he was a khan, a true leader among the ranks of warriors.  He was a worthy opponent and a brave man. But not like you, no.”

Ruga tore at his clothes and at his chest with the hand not yet paralyzed.

“Yes. Hmm. I believe that you’re feeling a most wicked fire in your chest. I’ve seen this poison work before. Your lungs are melting or imploding. I’m not certain which. But it is a most effective method for our purposes.”

Ruga stopped moving. Aetius bent over him and studied him closely.

“You can hear me still, I know. You have failed,” his voice low and callous.  “Your nephews will die, soon. And the Huns will become as dust in a storm that will rage no more.”

Ruga involuntarily sputtered blood from his mouth. It dribbled down his chin. His body finally collapsed, tension eased, breath withered to nothing.

The General placed a steady hand over Ruga’s heart. The great khan of the East was dead.

Aetius removed Ruga’s sandals to prevent trails of foul play.  He dragged Ruga from the balcony as his bulging neck muscles bore the weight of the obese, dead khan. A gold Foederati medallion shimmered and jangled in the dim light of the lamp.

Cold lifeless eyes stared at the General with a startled expression. One heave and the body landed in bed.

The khan appeared to die in his bed of overindulgences.  Aetius picked up the cup that lay near Ruga’s sandals.  Good fortune kept the cup from shattering on the tiles. Sniffing the faint almond drink he felt satisfied. There was no odor of the poison that laden the drink.  He put it casually in the khan’s lap and wiped the spittle and blood on his chin as evidence of his timely, peaceful and natural death.

The General left by the route through which he came. No one saw.

“Such a lovely song,” Eudocia said of the distant sound as the Nightingale started singing again. “No, it’s best we let her sleep. Poor dear has endured too much already,” she said.

Even with her statement, Eudocia suddenly thought of how Attila kept Seira close and how he looked at her.  She glanced at Alexander and kept her thoughts quiet. Alexander stayed far from the balcony window. He knew how well voices carried to unwanted places.

“Madame Empress,” Alexander said quietly.

“Please do not stand on formality in my house. I feel as if I know you,” she said.  “You must call me Eudocia,” she said, clasping her hands together and smiling.

“Eudocia. I am grateful for your generosity and your willingness to help us. My concerns lie with Attil…” he said and was interrupted.

“No,” she said, raising her hand. “Attila is not a threat. I’ve seen how he protects her.”

And how he worships her.

“Eudocia,” Alexander said. “Attila reveres Seira. I do not think he’ll harm her. As I was about to say,” he said warmly and paused. Charm surrounded his words and the Empress relaxed on the divan in her library. “My concerns lie with Attila’s brother.”

Eudocia frowned and tilted her head.

“But why? He seems a brute that is more concerned with money and competing for power with his uncle. What threat do you suppose from him?”

Alexander didn’t feel the need to elaborate but to impress upon her the significance of Bleda and the Bishop Cyril’s presence alongside each other in the Palace. He spoke calmly to articulate his thoughts clearly.

“The Bishop Cyril is here in this Palace. Attila’s brother is here.  Once, long ago, the Bishop contracted Bleda to kidnap Seira,” he said.

Eudocia stood with urgency. Her sharp mind grasped the consequences of Seira’s dilemma.

“Kidnap? By whose authority and for what purpose?” she said.

“This is why I must go to Seira and keep watch on her room,” he said.

“Wait,” she could not move Attila from her mind.  “I’ll send my valet to place a guard at her door. You of all men ought not be out and roaming my Palace. Of course you realize this?” Eudocia spoke with authority. “And how do you come by this information?”

Alexander considered the Empress.

“I keep my course set on every twinkling star and every tempest,” he grinned at her.

“Indeed.” Eudocia laughed as she walked to the library door and opened it.

Paulinus received her instructions. She promptly returned to Alexander.

“Well, my dear sir… we need to hide you until tomorrow,” she said, scrutinizing him with one rapid glance. Eudocia tugged at her earlobe, playing with her earring. “Does Seira know this business with Cyril and Bleda?”

“She is aware of Cyril but… having only just reunited with Seira, there are years of details in her story I’ve not yet heard,” he shrugged.

She reached out and took him by the hand.

“Come. Since I cannot have you for my own,” she said.  “I’ll take you to my valet’s room. We’ll keep you there until tomorrow evening. Let me share with you our plans for your freedom.”

Alexander was hesitant. To be so near to Seira and remain at a distance bothered him.  Trusting his instincts, he felt her to be safe, but silently questioned if Seira slept at all.

Satisfied with the bargain, Bleda left Cyril’s room.  He strode arrogantly through the hall, confident of his plan. He would deliver Seira to the Bishop tomorrow at sunset, after the negotiations and after Attila was back on board the ship.  The talks would not resume until after the midday meal, giving everyone time to rest and space in which to regain their tactical positions.

Cyril’s door clicked loudly in the hallway, ashen fingers still gripped the handle.  Adrenaline coursed through him. Short, shallow breaths matched thoughts that raced and jumped. Unsure if he ought to wake Deacon Leo, he looked at the iron handle and finally released his hold.  There was nothing to be done at this late hour.

In the door handle was an angled slit that held the key in place. Cyril turned the flat key to one side. The lock mechanism pinged. He heard the tick.  Although locked, Cyril doubted that the key would keep Bleda out of his room if his intentions were to reenter.  A dry smile slid across his lips.

Eudocia entered her suite excited over the day’s events. To her surprise her husband reclined in her bed rousing from a deep sleep.

“My dear,” he said. “The hour is late. What has detained?”

“Husband, are you unwell?” she asked as she walked to his side and leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

“Aelia,” he said, calling her by her childhood name. “These negotiations have given me a sour stomach. I had a dream. A dire omen perhaps. I came to talk with you and fell asleep,” he chuckled.

“I’ll call for a tonic at once,” she rose from the bed.

“No, no, come sit by me.”

Eudocia slid her dress off easily. “I’ll do more than that,” she said, getting into bed next to him.

Her love for Paulinus did not stop her from respecting her husband.  She cared deeply for Theodosius II. They once lived a romantic life within the confines of politics until two of her children died from illness. Something within her died, too, and she gave her attentions to her remaining daughter and to the path of freedom for all children.

“The Deacon spoke with me in private,” he looked at her soberly.

“You are a courageous woman, Aelia. I fear the Deacon makes a true argument regarding your sympathies for the Jews,” he said, holding her hand.

Eudocia snorted. Theodosius placed his fingers over her lips.

“I adore you, Aelia,” he said. “You are a just woman. But the Jews? Well, it matters not.  I cannot deny you your passions,” he paused and looked into her eyes. “Any of them,” he said.

Heartfelt humility overcame her.  She swallowed guilty tears. There were things unspoken yet he knew what secrets she kept to herself.

“You are a gift from the everlasting God. I do not deserve your kindness,” she said.