On Azrael's Wings (18 page)

“In any case, it was quite some time before she climbed off her high horse as far as Midia and I were concerned.” Felicia shrugged, smiling. “It’s only a matter of time before she’ll do the same with you.”

“Will she?” Ursula asked. “As she’s been sure to mention in my presence, she’s a well trained courtesan. I’m a simple peasant with no experience.”

“Oh, you’ve some experience,” Midia said, raising an eyebrow.

Ursula blushed at Felicia’s giggle, her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. ”That’s not what I meant.”

“Nevertheless, you must be doing something right,” Felicia said. “Our mistress has had her share of adventure with willing peasant women. As you see, we’re the only ones still here.”

Cocking her head to one side, Ursula asked, ”Have there been other body slaves?”

“A handful,” Midia said. “They lasted no more than a week before Milady found other places for them.”

It was a sobering thought that did nothing for Ursula’s peace of mind. Granted, she’d lasted longer than a week, but that was on the road. Her gaze sank back into her lap and she nibbled at her upper lip.

Faintly exasperated, Felicia rubbed harder to gain the younger woman’s attention. “Stop raking yourself through the coals of doubt, Ursula. Lady Azrael cares very deeply for you; you’ll not find yourself digging yams in the field anytime soon.”

“Felicia’s correct,” Midia agreed. “You’re jealous of Vincenza because you feel she’s better. But think a moment… Why does Vincenza feel the same of you?”

Ursula blinked. That was an intriguing question. Someone with Vincenza’s background would really have no need to notice a peasant slave, regardless of the circumstances. “Why does she?”

“I just told you, you silly goose!” Felicia giggled. “Our mistress cares very deeply for you!”

“You’re quartered in her chambers, Ursula,” Midia added. ”No slave, personal or not, can say the same.”

A commotion at the door heralded the return of Midia’s family. Conversation turned to other topics, Ursula doing her best to keep involved. Her thoughts, however, insisted on looking past the emotions of her situation, finally searching for causes.

Chapter Seventeen

Ursula looked back longingly at the wagon trundling behind the speckled mare she rode. They’d been traveling all morning, her thighs and rear aching with the unfamiliar use of muscle. Beside her, Vincenza sat her horse with obvious experience and Ursula almost wished for the mount to stumble, wondering if it would crack the haughty slave’s implacable facade.

Before them were Azrael and Suma, sometimes speaking to one another, other times riding silently. Twice now, Suma had left to check his forward runners. In both cases, the general called Vincenza forward to ride along while Ursula fumed behind.

Twenty men rode fore and aft, all members of Azrael’s personal guard. There would have been fifty more plus an additional ten servants, but their lord and mistress had sent Brahim packing, the steward’s complaints regarding a proper retinue for a duchess falling on deaf ears.

The land on either side of the road was much the same as when they started. Rolling hills of farmland, interrupted by the occasional stand of trees or farmstead. This land, so much further south than Ursula’s home, sprouted all manner of crops. Ursula found herself staring at strange plants, wondering what they were. She wished she could ask, but there was no way she’d turn to Vincenza and their mistress hadn’t called her ahead.

Her eyes focused on the other slave’s profile. With reluctance, Ursula had to admit that Vincenza was less problem today. The slim beauty was in no way as pleasant as the other body slaves, but she’d stepped back from her obvious distaste, treating Ursula with professional courtesy rather than a thin veneer covering her jealousy. Perhaps their mistress had punished her the previous afternoon. Ursula felt a guilty pleasure at the thought, simultaneous with a surge of sympathy.

When she wasn’t worrying about the lack of sensation in her rear, Ursula’s mind was occupied by her conversation with Midia and Felicia.

Did Azrael care more deeply for her than Vincenza? The simple act of settling Ursula within her private rooms said something according to Midia. Though why only Vincenza was disturbed by it was beyond Ursula. She could easily see why the courtesan was angered. What she didn’t understand was why Midia and Felicia were not.

Ursula’s gaze, distant with thought, focused on Azrael’s back. If what Midia and Felicia said was true, how long would it last? The brunette had to admit to herself that she was treated differently from the others. Despite a two year absence, Azrael had only bedded the slaves she’d left behind once. Since then, Ursula was in her bed or lap more often than Felicia and Vincenza combined. While her mistress’ infatuation was delightful, it had to end some time, didn’t it? And what would become of Ursula when that happened?

Shying away from that speculation, the brunette stretched in her saddle in a vain attempt to ease the ache of her tailbone. She thought she heard a chuckle beside her. When she glanced over, however, Vincenza’s face was neutral as she gazed at the road before them. Dismissing the thought with a shake of her head, Ursula resumed her concerns.

Ursula eyed the villa they halted before. While similar in color to Azrael’s, both apparently built from the same quarry, this one was smaller. Puzzling over the size, the brunette noted no additional entry for an army. She raised her eyebrows, realizing Azrael’s uncle might not have one. Instead, a separate walled area sat few hundred feet on the other side of the road and the slave wondered what was there. Well cultivated grapes and olive fields basked in the afternoon sunlight.

A handful of people waited on the atrium steps as the horses came to a halt. Suma immediately ordered his troops to dismount and tend their horses as Azrael slid from her saddle, a brilliant smile on her face.

Watching the reunion curiously, Ursula saw the resemblance between Azrael and her uncle was so close, they could be mistaken for father and daughter. Standing beside the older man was a lighter skinned version of him, clouting the dark woman on the shoulder with youthful exuberance.

“Ursula.”

Concentration broken, the brunette looked at Vincenza standing on the ground beside her.

“You must dismount. Our mistress expects us by her side.”

The courtesan’s voice was matter of fact without a hint of condescension and Ursula wondered yet again what had transpired the previous afternoon. This thought was immediately chased away by the painful reality before her - having to get down from the saddle.

Ursula swallowed and nodded. Standing in the stirrups to swing her leg over wasn’t too difficult. It was bending her leg to reach the ground that nearly did her in. She bit back a groan as her thighs bitterly complained, grabbing at the saddle to remain upright. Vincenza’s hands on her waist steadied her and she glanced sharply over her shoulder at the other woman.

“Flex your legs,” Vincenza said. “Stretch a little and take small steps.

Doing as she was told, the brunette grunted softly at the agony, most of her weight hanging from her arms. The horse shifted in discomfort and Ursula clung to the saddle, abruptly terrified the steed would bolt, leaving her to collapse in the road.

“It’s not easy, I know,” Vincenza continued, releasing her hold as Ursula reacquainted herself with walking. She grabbed hold of the reins to steady the animal. “You’d do well to ask Lady Azrael for a horse of your own and ride every day. She’s been known to suddenly take leave of the villa with only what can be carried in saddlebags.”

Both leery and grateful of the assistance, Ursula murmured a thank you. She was glad the villa was on the other side of her mount, giving her a few precious moments to regain her equilibrium without prying eyes. The soldiers around them were busy with their gear, paying the slaves little heed.

Satisfied the brunette was able to walk, Vincenza urged her forward. Ursula feigned serenity as she hobbled toward the gathering, wishing she could use her dark companion to keep her balance.

“Will you never stop growing?” Azrael demanded of the young man whose neck was in the crook of her arm.

“It’s been three years, coz!” he exclaimed, playfully struggling in her grasp. “I wasn’t much more than a boy when I saw you last!”

Azrael laughed and released him. “Yes, but you’ve insisted you were a man since before you grew hair between your legs.”

“And you insisted you’d make a better man than most at a younger age than Nils,” was the droll reply from the older man.

Azrael bowed deeply. “Was I so wrong, Uncle?”

Nieto let out a bark of laughter, pulling his mischievous niece into a hug. “You weren’t far off the mark, I wager.” Releasing her, his dark eyes scanned the approaching slaves and captain. “Suma! It’s good to see you again! Has Azrael treated you well?”

Bowing, the tall blond said, “I’ve found no complaint in Lord Azrael’s service, Your Grace, except for her need to thrash my men at weapons practice.”

“Whose men?” Azrael asked, eyebrow arched. She bumped Nils with an elbow when he chuckled.

Saving Suma from the need to answer, Duke Neito said, “You know where the dining peristyle is, Captain. Have the men bed down there. Food will be served within the hour.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” Suma bowed once more and left to see to the sleeping arrangements.

“And you, my dear.” Neito turned back to Azrael. “The royal guest rooms are prepared. Would you prefer to rest before eating?”

Azrael glanced at her body slaves, noting Ursula’s wan face. “Perhaps that would be best, Uncle.”

“So be it. We’ll have dinner in my quarters at sunset.” He waved forward a pair of servants. “Escort Lady Azrael to her rooms.”

As both bowed, Azrael smiled and gave each of her family members another hug. “I look forward to dinner. I’ve missed you both.”

“We’ve missed you, as well, coz,” Nils answered, giving her an extra squeeze.

“Go along. The sooner you’ve freshened yourself, the sooner we can break bread,” Neito said.

Still smiling, Azrael followed the servants, Vincenza and Ursula silently trailing behind.

Ursula nibbled at some bread, keeping a careful eye on her mistress’ wine. She sat on the lounger with Azrael rather than on the floor; the dark woman had insisted once she’d realized the extent of her slave’s pain. The subtle aroma of perfumed oils emanated from her, testament to a thorough, gentle massage of tortured muscles at the hands of her mistress. If every day’s ride ended thusly, Ursula would be more than happy to travel horseback for the rest of her life.

To top off the evening, Vincenza had been ordered to serve Nils. The young man had been startled but delighted, enjoying the courtesan’s attention.

The meal was simple fare, not what Ursula was expecting from the kitchens of a duke next in line for the throne. Obviously, Orsino the chef spoiled his lady no end with the menus he concocted. Surprisingly, it was a bit of a relief to dine without the exotic taste treats that came from Azrael’s kitchens.

Dinner was finished, trays of leftover foods and dirty trenchers whisked away by servants. Torches crackled along the wall illuminating those remaining. Vincenza’s head lay against Nil’s thigh and he caressed her hair with fascination. His father stared blankly at the cleared table between them, frowning in thought as his body slave - a young man with wild red hair - finished pouring wine into a mug.

Ursula took the offered ewer from the redhead and refilled Azrael’s mug as well before passing it along to Vincenza.

Leaning back with a sigh, Azrael urged Ursula to lay down on the cushioned lounger, pillowing the brunette’s head in her lap. She gently traced Ursula’s temple with her fingers. “Dinner was wonderful, Uncle. Thank you.”

Grunting, Neito looked up from his thoughts with a smile. “You’re welcome. It’s good to see you again. We’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” Azrael agreed.

“Did you travel far?” Nils asked, forcing his attention away from the beautiful woman at his feet.

“Far enough,” Azrael admitted. “Almost to the limit of our northern borders.”

Nieto nodded. “I hear there was a fair amount of fighting this year.”

“Somewhat. Enough apparently for the king to keep us in the field for a second year.”

Father and son traded looks. “There is that,” Neito conceded.

Azrael felt the tension in the room. Tilting her head, she said, “So far from court, wild rumors have sprung up like weeds. How are things here, truly?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” Neito said with a sniff. “I don’t spend much time in the capitol.”

The younger man shook his head. “Nor I,” he said. “Our… bountiful aunt wants as little to do with me as I to do with our royal cousin’s entourage.”

“My steward, Brahim, has reported many visits by the Royal Guard in my absence.” Azrael frowned. “Can the same be said here?”

“Oh, yes,” her uncle agreed readily. “They sniff around and note our loyalty to the throne before moving on.”

Azrael’s eyes narrowed. ”I’ll get to the meat of it then.” She leaned forward, displacing Ursula in the process. “Does Shonal believe I’m a direct threat to his crown?”

Nils choked and sputtered on a swallow of wine, coughing once it cleared his throat. Vincenza used a cloth to mop up the spill and help clean him up.

Smiling with bitter amusement, Neito raised his mug to his niece in salute. “Your father would be happy to know your latent skill in diplomacy has yet to surface.” He chuckled as her brow furrowed, her eyes apologetic.

“Be that as it may, Uncle, I need to know the way of things before walking into a viper’s nest.” Ursula’s hand gently rubbed Azrael’s back, soothing her. “Is it true?”

“It’s true.”

Azrael sighed heavily, lips pursed in frustration. “Where would he get such a preposterous idea?” she demanded. “Does he think I’ll sweep through and assassinate my entire family?”

“Maybe not your entire family,” Nils said, eyes still red from his near drowning though they sparkled with amusement. ”Him at the least, no doubt.”

“When his father died,” Neito said, forestalling his niece's response, “the queen began easing many of her kinsmen into court. She insisted Shonal receive tutoring in Crutcheon politics.”