Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) (32 page)

His feet were on the floor before his brain had a chance to emphasize to him the importance of staying in bed. His chest was bare as well; he was clad only in breeches. Poxy lifted her head in lazy confusion at the sudden movement but, seeing no imminent danger, yawned and plumped her head back down. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet.

She just wants to talk. She has things to tell me that might be of use. Don't make more of this than it is.
All these and more did he tell himself, and the entire time he hoped that he was wrong.

He emerged into the hallway, and he saw her disappearing around a corner, the slightest flutter of her nightgown indicating that she was indeed just down the way.

As he reached the end of the corridor, he glanced at the far end behind him. He thought, although he wasn't sure, that he saw one of the servants, Bell, coming around the corner. He ducked around after Sabrina, reasonably sure that Bell hadn't seen him although he wasn't sure why it would have mattered if he did. Thomas was of age; he needn't concern himself with what anyone thought . . .

But the pounding at his temples was enough to drive any further thoughts right out of his head.

There was a door hanging open to his left.
It's a trap. That's it. It's some sort of trap,
he thought.
The absolutely last thing you want to do is go into that room. Turn around and run before it's too late.

He entered the room.

It was pitch-black. He could see nothing at all.

He suddenly became aware of someone breathing behind him. He turned, and he had a brief glimpse of Sabrina standing there, her hand on the door. Slowly, she shut it. There was a single taper in a gold candle-holder, the flame flickering.

Thomas gulped deeply. He whispered, having no idea why he was doing so: “Did you want to see me?”

Her voice was low and amused. “Actually, I thought you'd want to see me.” She reached up to the thin straps that were holding up the shift and slid them down her arms. With nothing to support it, the nightdress slid to the floor and gathered at her feet.

She stood there, nude in the candlelight. Thomas had seen countless sunrises and sunsets, and a vast blue sea, and mountains and forests and all the glories that the land and nature had to offer. Yet he knew, without question, that he had never in his life seen anything as beautiful as what he was beholding now.

Sabrina let him drink in the sight of her, and then she turned and blew out the candle.

He whispered her name in the darkness, and then her warm flesh was pressing against his. “Are you sure?” he said softly. “If . . . if you're doing this just to spite your father—”

“I'm doing this”—and she kissed him again—“because I want to take myself out of myself. Just for one night, I want to leave what I am behind. I want someone to make me feel like something different.”

“And what do you want to feel like?”

“Like I'm yours.”

Then she stopped talking and started doing things with her hands to him. And as she guided him backwards onto her bed, the last vestiges of both his clothing and his restraint were stripped away. There was only him and her and warmth and heat, and the rest of the world was gone.

“Apologies, Majesty. I hope that I did not, in the graphic nature of my tale, embarrass you in any way
...
”

“Do not be absurd. An old man I may be, but still a man, and in spirit a young one. I had my share of fair young things in my life, and I
...
” I am suddenly wistful. “The young man who still resides within me looks at young women now, and lusts after them as much as he ever did. But he sees them as if from across a great divide, for age has distanced me from them.”

“Not at all. Were I in his position, I would likely have done the same. I never claimed to be pure of heart and chaste in mind and body. Why should I expect more of
...
”