Hers to Choose (13 page)

“Mistress Turner.”

“Sir.
Magister
DeStroia. You asked to be awakened before daybreak, and your men have been fed this past hour. Will you be wanting to breakfast in your room, Sir?”

“
No need, Mistress. We’ll dress and be down.”

Sophi listened sleepily
, then rolled over and spoke loudly enough to carry to the door. “My robes. I need my robes.”

From the hall, she heard Mistress Turner answer. “
Yes,
Magistra
DeLorion, we folded and put them in
your
room, m’Lady. Um, we added a few things, m’Lady. We hope you like them.” Mistress Turner’s effusive voice continued. “Sir,
Magister
DeStroia, thank you both, thank you and Lady DeLorion for your kindness. We have gone so long without. Well, everyone has gone without. You have such important matters on your mind and for you to think of us, of our small village. Just thank you, Sir. We are so very grateful.”

She heard
the question in Eric’s answer, “Ah, yes, yes, of course. You’re welcome.”
Without what?

“I’ll just be off to get your breakfast ready, Sir. And again, thank you
. Thank you so very much.”

Eric wore a puzzled expression as he returned and sat on the bed, stroking her hair away from her face gently. “What do you suppose all that was about?”

* * *

Sophi
exclaimed in pleasure upon entering her room. Crossing to the bed, she examined the supple satin gown of azure blue with a silk brocade over-robe of violet and peacock, and the bejeweled belt of precious metal. A pair of finely worked, soft leather boots sat on the floor beside her bed.
Such rich gifts for such a small village. These people have so little. I have done nothing to deserve this.
She tossed aside the utilitarian garment given her by the innkeeper’s wife. With a chirp of purely feminine appreciation, she slid into the glorious satin and silk brocade garment, and settled the belt on her slender hips. Pausing to catch her reflection in a mirror, she gave a sigh of pleasure. She smiled inwardly.
I wonder if
this
will get a reaction from him.

An
empty hallway greeted her when she peeked around her door. With a small skip in her step, she pattered down the staircase into the public room—a public room ablaze in the early dawn hours with the warm light streaming from
diaman
globes.
Diaman globes? Last night the inn had only candles.
Silent villagers filled the spacious room. The town mayor, by his dress, had Eric’s hand clasped in both of his and was pumping it enthusiastically.

When her appearance
on the stair drew notice, a hush fell over the room and to a man and woman, all bowed or curtseyed, with murmured, “m’Lady” or “
Magistra
” repeated again and again.

With a nervous smile
, she acknowledged the crowd’s greetings and moved to Eric’s side. In an undertone she whispered, “What’s going on, Eric? They’re addressing me as
magistra
. I’m an aristocrat, but I’m not schooled in the
Lesser
or
Greater Rites.
I haven’t earned that title yet.”

“Later,” he murmured.

Extricating his hand from the town official’s, he addressed the gathering. “Thank you for your welcome. The Lady DeLorion and I wish to break our fast before hearing your petitions.”

The town official stumbled
over words of gratitude. “Of course, of course, we didn’t mean to be rude, Sir. We was just that surprised and grateful. We didn’t want ye to leave afore we could tell ye.” The town official turned and shooed the gathered villagers toward the door. “When ye and m’Lady be ready.” With a respectful nod, he followed the crowd through the door.

Mistress Turner gestured to Eric and Sophi. “This way, m’Lady, Sir. I have
a private dining room set for you.”

S
ophi and Eric settled to their breakfast with speaking glances. When they were alone, Sophi asked, “What is going on, Eric?”

“
Magick.
Something these villagers have not seen since the Haarb invasion.”

She could not interpret the look on his face.
Satisfaction? Bemusement?

“
Magick
?” she asked. “But that requires a
magister
and a
magistra…
oh.”

He answered her but questions
lurked in his eyes. “Think about it: our activities renewed their
diaman
crystal light globes. The townsfolk once again have light without candles or lanterns. You can understand their astonishment. A function dormant for years suddenly returned to life.”

Profound astonishment made her sputter. “But, but, we, ah, we
...
It wasn’t on purpose!” she finally got out.

“Yes,” Eric mused. “Our mother
planet is full of surprises. I wonder what the
docenti
in Sylvan Mintoth would make of this spontaneous interaction. I certainly spoke no ritual words. Did you?”

“No!
I, well, it never occurred to me to try,” Sophi said.

Between bites of butter
ed scone, he threw out, “By the way, you look particularly lovely this morning.” He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Though I vastly prefer you in nothing.” He gave her a quick wink and a smile.

Pleasure out of all proportion swept through her
, followed quickly by irritation at her desire for his notice.

“
I told Headman Stumpf we would take petitions from the villagers for
magick
services they needed that we might be able to provide. It remains to be seen if we can direct the energy we produce.” After he swallowed another mouthful, he caught her eyes, a kind smile on his lips. “They are deserving, Sophi, and it is what we do.” He frowned slightly. “Well, what we used to do. We will stay another night. Brush up on your
Lesser Rites
. I noticed a copy of
Libre de Diamantorre
in the bookshelf. I could stand a refresher myself.”

What!
She missed her mouth and hurriedly brushed the shattered scone from her lovely over-robe. “But I am not trained! Eric, the villagers looked at me with, well,
reverence
.”

“And well they should.
Since the Haarb’s butchery of our women, you are a creature of myth—a Verdantian
magistra
. Sophi,
this
is your birthright. Finish up. Hearing their petitions may take all day.” Eric shoveled more food into his mouth.

She sat in stunned
confusion.
What if I can’t become aroused? Last night was easy, but there were no expectations, no pressure.

That afternoon, Sophi sat beside Eric in the same private dining room where they had eaten breakfast and then a late lunch. The villagers presented request after request until her head reeled. Sophi admired Eric’s handling of the situation. Ever gracious, he listened carefully, made notes on a tablet and then escorted the petitioner out and called for the next. Clearly, he had performed this function before.

Dull
gray
diaman
crystal, in varying sizes, obscured the top of a large trestle table. Every now-inert lump of rock had fueled some vital service these people had done without for over six years. Sophi realized she had taken much for granted. Her father and mother had most likely performed the
Lesser Rites
on a consistent basis to keep their estates functioning with all the amenities: ever-present heat and light, fertile productive fields, and powerful healers. The
Oshtesh
never used
diaman
crystals so she had given their absence no thought.

Each petitioner handed his or her
crystal across the low desk with a look of such hope Sophi shuddered at the thought of disappointing them. This entire situation had ambushed her with surprise but now that the opportunity presented itself, she desperately wanted to help. Mother Lyre, her brother, Eric—all of them had spoken the truth. Verdantia summoned her, and those like her, to this purpose. This was her birthright; even more, this was her obligation to the people of Verdantia.

“Eric,
I want to do this but what if we cannot renew these crystals? You told them I am not a trained
magistra
but I could see they put no stock in your statement; all nobles are alike to them. I fear I cannot live up to their hopes.” Sophi wrapped her arms around herself with a dubious sigh. She didn’t mention her other fear—that under pressure she would not become aroused.

“We will do what we can. What
ever we give them will be a gain.” Eric surveyed his long list of notes. “I need to get up and move. Walk with me. Mistress Turner tells me there is a path to a lovely fish pond, just back of the inn.”

Sophi smiled. “
What? You don’t want to ride?” she teased.

“Ah, no,” Eric chuckled.
He stood and pulled back her chair with a courtly, “Shall we, m’Lady?”

As they strolled down the
carefully tended gravel path, Eric cautiously felt Sophi out with an idea he’d had earlier. “Sophi, have you ever taken
cinnagin
?”

She turned a startled face to him. “The
Great Rite aphrodisiac? No! How could I have? I have not yet been initiated into those rites.”

“It is not as improbable a question as you
imply.” With a smile he continued. “Many young nobles have snuck a grain or two to experiment with its violent sexual arousal.”

Sophi cast a sideways glance at him. “Did you?”

Eric shrugged with a lopsided smile. He cherished that night of youthful indiscretion.
Ah, youth.
Ten years later, the bordello madam still treated him like a sex god.

Sophi snorted. “Mother lectured Doral and
me about its sacred nature and precious rarity until our ears closed from fatigue. I would not have dreamed of sneaking the least grain of it.” She turned a mischievous look his way. “Is it as they say?”

At his wide grin
, she burst out laughing.

“I have been
gifted a sample,” Eric said carefully. “When the Haarb murdered the
magistra
and
magister
residing at the estates near here, the
medica
who prepared the bodies for burial found it. She hid it and told no one.”

“Yes. I remember you stood in the doorway speaking with her. I wondered
what you talked about,” Sophi said.

“I want you to take it,” he said. “Now.”

“Why?”

He stopped and faced her, picking up her hands. “We don’t have the luxury of staying
past tonight. You have seen the quantity of
diaman
crystals on that table. They feed off female arousal. Simply put, the longer I keep you highly aroused, the greater chance we have of re-energizing all those crystals.” He watched her expression carefully.
Good, she’ll take it.

He had seen the uneasy doubt that crossed her face. He guessed sweet Sophi had a tinge of performance anxiety
—totally common to untried
magistras
—and easily remedied.
My preference is to spend more time with her, lacking that, the cinnagin will serve nicely
.

Sophi inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“All right. Do all those rocks go to the bedchamber?”

He smile
d at her wry tone. “Yes. But I want them to stay in the dining room, in your presence, until we retire. I want them exposed to your energy
as we go over the
Lesser Rites.
When you feel comfortable with the rituals, we will go to the bedchamber with the ‘rocks’.”

At Sophi’s smile
and nod, he dropped her hands and reached into his tunic. He brought out a small square of folded parchment and held it up between two fingers.

“That’s it?” Sophi asked.

“Ummhmm.” He unfolded the parchment with exquisite care. A small amount of red-brown powder collected in a crease of the wrapping. He licked his finger and barely touched it to the edge of the powder. “Lick my finger, Sophi.”

She held his forefinger in
front of her face and peered almost cross-eyed at the tip. “I don’t see anything.”

“Just lick my finger, Sophi,”
Eric repeated. With a shrug, she brought his finger to her mouth and covered it with her lips. Her warm tongue sucked on his forefinger in a slow glide. Parts below his waist took notice.

“Mmm, spicy,” she murmured, sliding his finger out. “I couldn’t see
anything but I definitely taste something.”

Eric returned
the parchment to an inner pocket and told his lower parts to behave themselves. “You will soon begin to notice the effects. Dizziness is common, but that will pass.” A thought blazed through his brain.
Ah, fuck! We should have discussed this first.
“Sophi, you do know the other effects of
cinnagin
?”

“
Other effects?”

He
groaned inwardly.
She hasn’t a clue.
This would be a delicate explanation. He scratched his head. “Ah, yes, well. My semen and the
cinnagin
will create a neuro-chemical bond between us during your first climax.” He stalled.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Until the
cinnagin
clears your bloodstream you can’t climax again unless I spend in you.”

“So? You and I will
be together until the
cinnagin
wears off. Why the guarded tones?”

“
While the
cinnagin
is active in your system, if I spend in you more than once, twice at the most, the effect becomes permanent.”

They had reached the little pond. Sophi sat on the grass and leaned back against a tree trunk, silent. He sat next to her a
nd waited for her clever brain to assemble the pieces.

“Insane arousal will course through my body, aided and inflamed by you for as long as I can stand it,”
Sophi stated flatly.

“Yes.”

“We will climax together, you coming in me.”

“Yes,”
he agreed.

“
But I will remain insanely aroused, unable to come unless you spend in me.”

“
Until the
cinnagin
wears off, yes. You will have some respite after the first climax, but your arousal will probably build again, yes,” Eric murmured.

“But you can’t come in me again
more than a couple of times or I risk becoming dependent on you for every climax for the rest of my life.” Sophi’s voice rose at the end.

“Well, yes, but
I didn’t give you much.”
This is not going well.
Sophi turned and his left cheek exploded in pain. He saw her slap coming but did nothing to stop her.

“That was for telling me
after
you gave me the
cinnagin
.”

“I deserved that.
Don’t do it again,” he growled.

“See that you don’t deserve it again.”
Her aqua eyes held his steadily. “My nipples ache to be touched. I feel flushed all over and I can’t begin to describe what I feel between my legs. Let’s make some rocks glow.”

She
rose to her feet and marched away.

His head rolled back and thudded into the tree
adding to the ferocious sting of his cheek.
I am going to spend the rest of my life chasing after this blasted woman.
He imagined performing the
Great Rite
with Sophi – a ritual where they
both
consumed
cinnagin
.
Oh Great Mother, preserve me.

* * *

Sophi entered the dining room with the
Libre de Diamantorre
clutched to her chest, crossed to the low table they had used as a desk and laid it on the top. She scanned the bewildering Table of Contents.
I don’t know where to start.
The sound of Eric entering pulled her eyes away from the tome. His sculptured cheek bore the clear imprint of her hand.

He pulled out the chair next to her but paused
before sitting. “Is it safe?”

She
ducked her head to hide her smile. “Yes. Please tell me what of this I must learn.”

Eric
sat, wrapped a strong arm around the back of her chair and then leaned over to scan the large volume. Hyperaware, she detected faint waftings of the clean smell of his soap and the underlying masculine smell of the leather he wore. An image of nuzzling into his neck to taste his skin appeared in her mind. His deep voice vibrated down her spine into her core with caressing fingers of erotic fire. She shook herself mentally.
Focus, Sophi.

“We will begin with the
Lesser Rite
for Small Flame and continue down to the
Lesser Rite
for Fertile Fields. His finger indicated a number of titles. “We can skip the next several and go to the
Lesser Rite
for Bodily Healing.”

Eric
pulled back for a moment and looked at her. She could read apology in the soft green of his eyes. “I’ve not had a partner who wasn’t intimately acquainted with the effects of
cinnagin
. I forgot that you might not know. I’m sorry.”

She reached out and gently touched his cheek
and ignored the sparkling tingle that resulted. “I’m sorry I slapped you. Please, teach me these rituals.”

* * *

The hours passed as Eric’s deep voice recited verse after verse of the various rites. Sophi mimicked his phrasing and intonation, trying to ignore the swirling firestorm of sexual arousal that boiled in increasing ferocity beneath her skin. Part of it was the
cinnagin.
Part of it was simply proximity to Eric. She discarded any attempt to disguise her burgeoning sexual arousal. Eric stopped briefly and poured them both glasses of water.

“Sophi
, how are you doing?” he asked after examining her for several long moments. She stared into her cup, holding it tightly with two hands.

“
Mother Lyre makes a paste of pepper seeds. It is an acquired taste, insanely hot. Moments after I first tasted it, my mouth and lips felt as if I had eaten live coals. Hours later, my mouth still felt swollen and hot. My lips itched fair to drive me mad.” She took a small sip of water. “My lower lips, my inner sheath, my nipples—they feel as the lips of my mouth did that day.”

Sophi held Eric with a steady gaze. “I am useless for more study. I cannot think past my body. I want more than life to drop this cup and put my hands between my legs for relief.”

He rose immediately. “Can you make it to our chamber on your own? I’ll carry you, if not.”

She shook her head. “You
needn’t carry me. I’m not that far gone; and I’ll help you with those ‘rocks’.” She followed him to the table holding the
diaman
crystals.

The weight of the cold
stone pressed into her forearms as Eric placed crystal after crystal in her over-robe.

“What are they doing?”
The cold, gray pieces of rock cradled in her arms slowly tinged to deepest violet and then to dark blue, emitting a soft hum of sound. Bemusement filled Eric’s face. He shook his head slowly. Extending several fingers, he touched a small piece nestled in her arm. It began to turn a lighter blue.