Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (24 page)

Gynevra solemnly inclined her head as he let himself out the door. She'd scarcely had time to complete the self-cleansing ritual necessary after each healing when there was a knock and a novice entered with a request for her to attend the Lady Darlen once again.

Gynevra passed through the curtain of golden bells expecting to see Lord Kah with the Archinus. But Lady Darlen was alone, and she greeted Gynevra warmly, offered her a cup of herb tea and some delicate little sweet biscuits that were quite delicious. Gynevra smiled later, thinking back to how cleverly Darlen had hooked her, first with the dainty morsels and then by asking if she was comfortable in her rooms. She'd been effusive in her praise of both and could scarcely demur, even in the slightest, when Darlen had requested she perform as Adonai at the Sacred Joining of the Gods for the Harvest Festival in one month's time.

The crafty Archinus ushered her out with a beatific smile a little later and Gynevra imagined her rubbing her hands in glee at the revenue accruing to Ceabryn through having a Princess, with light skin and golden hair, stand as Adonai. Every Paggi lord with a qim in the stadrag would offer a high uson to be allowed to fight for the privilege of standing as Rafid—and siring her first child since it was obvious she wasn't swelling with Gotham's seed yet.

A child who would become King of Trephysia after Gotham, or before him if her growing fears for his fertility were substantiated.

Although it wasn't important the Goddess conceive at the Harvest Festival Ritual she couldn't imagine Gotham willingly moving aside to allow any man the chance to sire his first child—and if Taur came back in time to join the list?

She shivered. Her body leapt to instant wanting. Nothing it seemed could change that. But her heart cringed. She had a definite feeling Taur would be safer at war until this Sacred Joining of the Gods was over.

The efficacy of the Princess's healing powers had spread rapidly through the city and the waiting area was full every morning. The Archinus had insisted the only way to keep the numbers manageable was to charge high uson but notwithstanding what Gynevra privately thought an exorbitant price, the Paggi of the city continued to flock to her clinic. Many came, she was certain, for no better reason than to have close contact with the fair Princess who would one day be their Queen.

And then there were piacani like General Yadu who swaggered into her clinic next morning for the second time since she'd arrived at the Temple. On the first occasion he'd claimed to be feeling unwell and running a fever. His skin had certainly been clammy and his eyes over bright but the only problem she'd been able to ascertain was a constant and impressive erection, which she’d decided could certainly account for any discomfort he might be feeling. She'd passed him on to Difleer suggesting one of her herb tisanes and a little ‘rest’ might be beneficial.

Now he was back. A Son of the Dragon sired by Isidor himself, he was several years younger than her father but still more than old enough to
be
her father. His scarred and weathered face wore a scowl of haughty command as he made it quite clear he wanted something other than healing and he wanted it from Gynevra, not Difleer. Gynevra immediately tapped an agreed signal on the tiny brass gong on her desk and within seconds two of the Temple giants appeared. At a nod from Gynevra and totally ignoring the General's lurid curses, they forcefully escorted him from the room.

As she lay back in her bed that night, she wondered how Gotham fared in her absence. Did he know of the General's visit to her clinic? What was he doing right now? Heat, sudden and raw, infused her body and she clutched her knees up to her chest and ground her teeth. It was impossible not to imagine him slaking his thirst for her on some other willing body. There were precious few who weren't willing. Thumping her clagren, she wondered if Dogon fancied a round or two with the fighting sticks. Little more than a month gone.

Cloaba! Cloaba! Cloaba!

Next morning Gynevra was halfway through a healing on Lord Rogid, an elderly man who was having concerns about his failing libido. For men who held high government positions, it was important to maintain, and display, virility. If they looked like losing their sexual potency they were deemed to have lost mental potency also and were laughed out of office. There was no redress. Padopan or get out!

Gynevra was wondering whether Difleer's brand of healing might not be more beneficial when she caught a glimpse of a golden head peeping through the curtains of her healing room.

Gotham? Here? How could that be? For a breath or two there was a trembling in her hands and a fluttering in her breast as she wondered if he was ill, or whether he'd already heard she'd agreed to be Adonai for Harvest Festival and come to cause a scene. No matter. The distraction and the heat that had kept her tossing and turning through the night threatened to close down her healing channel. Could she tell Difleer to get rid of the other patients who waited? Could she tell her to go somewhere and not hurry back?

He looked round the door again and made an impatient grimace at her. She strove to ignore him. Her first responsibility was to the patient.
Why
was he here? Training asserted itself and she closed her mind to all but Lord Rogid. But as soon as the healing was complete, Gynevra hurriedly ushered him out. Then with heart thumping wildly she entered the common room and leapt into Gotham's arms.

‘What are you doing here? Are you ill? You don't look ill. You look—Oh Cronos, kiss me. No kurn me. I've missed you. I
need
you!’

Difleer, who'd been lurking as close as she'd dared to the gorgeous prince, sighed and dropped back towards the bedroom for, as she told Gynevra later, it looked as if neither of them even noticed her and were going to scrog right there on the common room floor.

‘You've missed me, Princess?’ he asked with a note of disbelief.

Later she'd remember that tone in his voice but now she was only aware of his presence and her healthy young body took over the thinking. Dragging his head down so she could reach his mouth, she set about showing him how much she'd missed him, showing him it wasn't words she needed.

With a deep growl, Gotham swung her up into his arms and backed into the bedroom. Beyond the door Difleer watched agog. If she hadn't moved fast she'd have been discovered. With an agility born of frequent practice, she concealed herself beneath the gowns and robes in the king's high gerlain.

Dropping Gynevra back on the bed Gotham ripped the gown from her body and tossed it to the floor with his own clothes, then dived into her waiting arms.

‘What was it you wanted me to do, woman?’ he demanded.

‘Kurn me. Oh Go', please don't tease me. I really need you. Just do it!’

The suspicious scowl darkening the handsome face lifted and with a shout of pure triumph he complied with her wishes. The familiar rhythm was with them immediately, hard and vigorous, exactly as she'd come to crave. In no time at all she was crying out her release and his deep shout of fulfilment soon followed.

Gynevra clung to him, tasting his body scent with every rasping breath she took. How was she going to last out the rest of this term of imprisonment? Perhaps he'd come again.

‘How did you get past the guards?’ she asked when she'd caught enough breath to speak.

‘I limped and told them I had need of healing for the jungle fever tektyti on my feet.’

‘Have you got them?’

‘Of course not!’ he said and rolled onto his back looking very pleased with himself. ‘But they weren't about to make their Prince take off his boots to prove it.’

‘So why did you come? Did you miss me too?’

To her annoyance Gynevra found she couldn't keep her voice entirely even, as she asked.

‘To see if you swell with my son yet.’

Unease gripped her midriff.

‘I don't think so.’

Looming over her, he squeezed her breasts and Gynevra yelped a little.

‘Don't. That hurts.’

‘They're not swelling,’ he growled. ‘When will you conceive? More to the point, who will be the sire?’

His face darkened again. The thud of her heart took on an uneven pace. She said no more. If he wanted to dispute her performing as Adonai, he must do so with Darlen. He continued to tease her nipples, only a little less cruelly than before.

‘Yadu said he came to you for healing and indicated you were the best breara healer he'd ever found and he was definitely going to be sick regularly from now on.’ A low rumbling snarl emanated from him, and his fingers tightened on her breast once more. ‘You follow me, Princess?’

Gynevra couldn't believe she could feel so sated yet so cold, all at once. Nor could she believe only moments before she'd been so delighted to see, to hold, this angry stranger.

‘The General came for healing,’ she said slowly. ‘It wasn't precisely healing he wanted. Difleer dealt to his needs the first time. The second time I had the guards remove him.’

‘Arabo! That's it! Difleer. Get rid of her.’

Fire flared in Gynevra's belly. Attacking her was one thing. Attacking those she cared about was another entirely.

‘You have a reason?’ she asked, flinging her body away from him, and leaning up on one elbow to glare at him.

‘It's obvious,’ he hissed. Following her across the bed, he thrust his face close to hers and said, ‘Yadu came for healing. He wanted you. He got Difleer. He came back again—didn't he?’ he snarled. ‘Where there's one delilah men will expect to find another.’

The mask-face of contorted fury above her was totally alien. Her body, her heart, were as cold and rigid as the polished granite statues lining the Great Way in Fyr Poseidyr.

‘Difleer—suits me—very well,’ she said slowly and clearly so Gotham couldn't mistake her stand.

Suddenly he was up and pacing in long, violent strides back and forth beside the bed, skin highly flushed, eyes wild.

‘You'll get rid of that woman, Princess. Cronos—while I waited all that infernal time for you to find time for me, she was ogling me like she'd not had a decent scrog in her life—and we both know that's not so. Don't we, Princess?’

He loomed over her, gripping her upper arms and pulling her to her feet. His eyes were wild and little flecks of foam appeared at the corners of his lips. Gynevra stayed absolutely still in his hands. He shook her, suddenly, viciously.

‘I'll not have men coming here and scrogging her in this room, or wherever, and then thinking they can come and scrog with you too. Next thing they'll be queuing up and who in Hyades will know who's sired your first child?—She goes. Where is she?’

‘You have no jurisdiction over me or anything I choose to do while I'm in the Temple, Gotham. Now get out or I’ll tell Difleer to call the guards to throw you out.’

He shook her hard. Fearing he’d lost all rationality Gynevra used a move Dogon had shown her to break from his grasp. Grabbing for the fighting stick leaning against the wall, she swung round in one movement and whacked him solidly in the solar plexus. It was like hitting a slab of rock, and almost jolted her off her feet.

For the merest breath of time he stared at her in surprise, then before she could recover her balance, he wrenched the stick from her hands, threw aside the heavy curtains of the gerlain and thrust it into the back. There was a pained yelp from among her gowns and before Gynevra's horrified eyes he delved in and hauled out a struggling Difleer. With a grunt of animal fury he threw her across the floor into the common room. Gynevra was only dimly aware that while Difleer's body lay still where she'd fetched up against the leg of the table, her mouth was not. She had some very choice animal analogies for the great Prince of Trephysia.

All Gynevra's attention was on Gotham as he followed Difleer as if intent on further injury. There were no other weapons in the room and if there had been she probably wouldn't have thought to use them, so great was her fear for Difleer in that moment. Leaping through the door, she launched herself at him, teeth bared, nails raking, knee aiming for that part of him he was most in tune with. Words ground between her teeth, incomprehensible and ugly.

As her nails opened up a livid rake down the side of his face he plucked her off his body and threw her like a cloth doll back into the bedroom. Her head smacked with a dull thud against the corner of the gerlain and she crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Gotham followed her across the room, smashed a fist through the thick oaken wall of the gerlain, then stepping over her back into the common room, slammed the leathern door aside and stormed out into the corridor.

Neither woman had time to draw breath or move before he was back, striding once more over Gynevra where she lay, to snatch up his clothes. To Gynevra's horror, Difleer sat up and leaning against the table leg began to laugh, a raw ghastly sort of a cackle.

‘Well, Prince,’ she wheezed. ‘You look like a frigged out prune, or a frizzled lump of meat. Pity you can't scrog worth a damn. Maybe you could take lessons from General Yadu.’

Gynevra held her breath. Sacred Ist, don't let him kill her, she prayed. With his clothes dangling from his hand, Gotham crossed to Difleer, aimed a kick at her head, which barely grazed her ear as she threw herself sideways, then stalked out of the room once more. Later Difleer would speak to her mistress of the comedy of the moment as Gotham strode naked into the Temple hallway where he had no business being, even fully clothed.