On Azrael's Wings (21 page)

Azrael tramped into the foyer, her weary smile brightening as she saw Ursula’s arrival. “A bath would be very welcome, Edric, thank you.” She turned to her men. “You’re dismissed. Join your fellows in the stable for tonight and prepare for guard rotations on the morrow.” As the three dispersed, she regarded Suma. “Shall I have a bath brought to your rooms?” she asked.

“That would be most generous, Lord,” the blond man said, closing the door behind them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Until morning, then.” Azrael watched him stride away, a fond grin on her face. “Ursula,” she said, pulling the willowy brunette into a hug. “Attend me.”

“Yes, Milady.”

Azrael sat in contemplation, the muslin sheet pooled about her waist, body cooling from its pleasurable exertions. Ursula was cuddled beside her, drowsing in the safety of her mistress’ arms. The slave stretched and sighed, her breath whispering across Azrael’s chest. Smiling, the dark woman hugged Ursula close, brushing hair away from her lover’s sweaty brow and kissing her. Despite their recent activity, she was amused to note a thrill of arousal as soft lips responded to hers.

With a chuckle, Azrael broke off the kiss and held Ursula close once more, relaxing as she felt arms tighten around her middle. “Gods, I love …” Startled at herself, Azrael prevaricated, “I love the way you make me feel, Ursula.”

Ursula felt her mistress stiffen a moment before easing again. Uncertain of the cause, she ignored it, smiling instead. She brought her hand up to caress Azrael’s throat. “Thank you, Milady.”

Capturing the hand before it could stray, Azrael squeezed it. “Ah, what did I say earlier?”

The slave ducked her head with a shy smile. “To call you by your given name when we’re alone.”

“And that name is?” the dark woman asked, her tone reminiscent of a tutor she’d once had.

Ursula blushed. “Azrael,” she murmured.

Everything about the slave was honey, including her voice. Azrael’s mouth went dry as she tilted Ursula’s face upward. “Again.”

“Azrael.”

The voice was musical, the tones striking deep into the recesses of Azrael’s heart and soul. Her head dropped closer, eyes closing, lips hovering just out of reach. “Again,” she whispered.

Ursula could feel her mistress’ heart thumping. “Azrael,” she responded in kind, drawing the name out until her mouth was taken in a fiery kiss.

Sleep was not forthcoming.

Azrael stared out the window of her bed chambers, seeing the almost imperceptible change of color in the sky as the sun made its way to the eastern horizon. Beside her, Ursula slept, a faint smile on her face. Occasionally, Azrael would reach over to touch her; caressing a bared arm or thigh, running fingers through dark hair, tracing a jaw line with her thumb. The resultant sigh and squirm almost gave her cause to wake Ursula for another bout of love making. Instead, Azrael tortured herself with pulling away, letting the slave return to her slumber while she burned with need.

It was frightening, this need. Once Azrael had accepted what was happening to her, it seemed the dam of her emotions had burst and was now overflowing. She’d never felt such intensity, not even as a youth with the fair Lenore. Azrael shook her head, recalling how she’d almost told Ursula of her love only hours before.

What would a slave know of love? It was ludicrous to think that Ursula, held against her will, could become romantically attached to her mistress. Azrael knew that her slaves loved her but this was a different emotion than theirs. Ursula no doubt felt the same way as Midia or Felicia - a deep caring love that would never be the same as the one she’d feel for her future husband.

Or the one Azrael felt for her.

Not liking this turn of thought, Azrael eased out of the warm bed, grabbing up her robe. Donning it, she stepped into the sitting room, pleased to note that embers still glowed in the fireplace. She stirred the coals to life and added wood until flames crackled before sitting down to brood.

The whole of Ursula’s life stretched out before her wandering mind. Sooner or later, the brunette would find a handsome young man to cleave to, would desire to bear him children and live with him as his wife. What would Azrael do? Deny her that right? Jealously keep Ursula to herself and damn all the consequences? The love that Ursula held for her mistress would wither and die, no doubt, dead on the vine for lack of water, lack of true love.

A vision of an elderly statesman came to mind and Azrael snorted. Widacus, profound and powerful leader on the King’s Council, had gone along this path, as well, falling madly in love with one of his body slaves. He’d doted on her in public, allowing her all manner of transgressions with nary a frown, treating her as his equal though he still held her leash. People were pleasant to his face, but wagging tongues remarked on his lack of sense and decorum. He was made a fool, a high born idiot slavering after a pretty face. His reputation became shabby and ragged by turns until he quietly retired to his estate, the butt of jokes among the aristocracy.

And here she was following in his footsteps. It was bad enough that Azrael was of royal blood. She also commanded an army! What would happen if she were to lose the trust and loyalty of her men?

With a sigh, she leaned forward, dropping her face to her hands and scrubbing in frustration. She rested there, elbows on knees, face covered as she tried to formulate some plan of action. Never one to be idle, the thought of just letting things go along on their own was incomprehensible. There should be something she could do to fix things.

“Azrael?”

The voice was hesitant and Azrael looked up to see Ursula poised in the doorway. A tired smile crossed her face. “Yes, Ursula?”

Chewing on her upper lip a moment, Ursula took a step into the room. She was wearing a silk robe of deep green. “Are you all right, Mi … Azrael? Do you wish to be left alone?”

Azrael sat back, her smile widening. “No, Ursula. Your presence will always be preferable to solitude,” she said, waving the slave forward. When Ursula was close, Azrael pulled her into her lap, leaning back in her chair. She rubbed the brunette’s back, content despite misgivings and thoughts. “And why are you up at this hour?”

Ursula played with the leading edge of her mistress’ robe as it sloped from her neck. “I’m always up at this hour,” she reminded. “I woke to call for your morning tea and prepare for the day, but you were already gone from bed.” She looked up, her fingers straying to brush against Azrael’s jaw line. “You seemed deep in thought. Am I not interrupting?”

Kissing the fingers, Azrael chuckled. “Perhaps, but it’s a welcome interruption, sweetling. My thoughts were going nowhere, circling with no end.” She hugged the slave. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

They sat in companionable silence for long moments before Ursula finally dared to venture, “Is it your cousin, Azrael? Is he what has you in a worrisome mood?” She waited, wondering if her forward behavior would result in punishment.

Azrael blinked in surprise. Was it already so obvious to the slave that she could take liberties without fear of retribution? Even Midia hadn’t attempted to be so bold until she’d been with her mistress for two years. The thought of Midia brought a grin to Azrael’s face. Of course. Midia had been tutoring Ursula for months.

“I wish it was my cousin,” she admitted with a chuckle. “At least he I can understand. As a child he was a bully and a coward. I don’t believe he’s grown into an honorable man.” Azrael stopped, a chill in her heart as she wondered why she was talking near treason to a slave. Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Have you cousins, Ursula?”

Puzzled, Ursula wondered what had saddened her mistress, disappointed that Azrael wouldn’t speak of it. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly. My mother had two brothers, but she hasn’t had word of them for years.”

Azrael had a sudden desire to learn all about the brunette in her arms. “What of siblings? I recall you mentioning a sister or brother to Midia once.”

“Aye, I’ve both. There were eight of us.”

Frowning, the dark woman considered a moment. “You were lucky. I was the only child in my home. When I was younger, I wished for a brother but it never happened.”

Ursula gave a half smile, snuggling closer, returning her fingers to the robe collar. “Not that lucky,” she said. “No privacy, four to a pallet in the corner, not enough food … and terrors! My brothers were horrendous with hair pulling and dropping bugs down our dresses.” She paused in fond memory, startled from it by the next question.

“Do you miss them?”

It was Ursula’s turn to frown as she pondered the answer. “Yes and no, I suppose,” she finally said. “I miss the pleasant times we had, but it was terribly hard. I don’t miss working in the fields with poorly crafted tools or hoping for an early spring so we wouldn’t starve.” She looked at Azrael’s profile as she stared into the dwindling flames. “Farming’s a difficult life.”

“Especially in the northern lands,” Azrael agreed. “I’d be loathe to eke a living out of that cold, rocky soil.” She rocked the woman in her arms. “Tell me, Ursula, with a life as rough as yours, did you not have dreams and wishes?”

Ursula sobered. “Aye, Azrael, as a child. But when I grew older, I gave up childish things. They meant nothing, just dawdlings. By the time my father gave me away, I knew there was no place for dreams.” She shrugged, intent on the collar beneath her fingers. “They only cause regret and sadness.”

Azrael hugged the brunette close, hearing the muted pain in her voice. “Everyone deserves to have wishes come true, Ursula,” she said, brushing the top of the slave’s head with a kiss. She held her breath, cursing herself for torturing her heart. A part of her desperately needed to know the answer, however, and she found herself asking, “What were your dreams? Did you wish for a fair and strong knight to ride into your life? Someone to defend your honor and love you forever?”

Chuckling despite her melancholy, Ursula said, “No. None of that, though my sisters all swore that their true love would come from the Fey Well deep in the forest to take them away.”

It seemed Azrael’s heart stopped, mid beat. When no further words were forthcoming, she whispered, “What then, Ursula? What were your dreams?”

“They’re silly,” she said, blushing. She was jostled and her mistress gave her a warning growl. With a laugh, she finally said, “I was always the knight, saving the lady in distress, fighting to the death for love and honor. I remember being so disappointed when my brothers told me only men could become soldiers.”

Azrael’s heart began beating once more. A slow smile grew on her face at the thought, recalling many childhood summers pretending to do the same. “Well, as you now know, women can become soldiers and knights, too. Would you still wish to be one?”

Ursula shook her head, leaning forward to kiss the dark woman’s neck. “No, Azrael. I’d rather wish to remain in your arms forever.”

Chapter Twenty

In contrast to Azrael’s last visit, Shonal’s audience hall was quite crowded this evening. It seemed that every noble with an ounce of highborn blood was on hand to witness her vow. She heard the herald announce her and stepped forward, wishing it were all over.

She’d brought ten of her men this time, all in polished mail as they escorted her to the dais, five before and five behind. Azrael was dressed in her armor, as well, never much comfortable with the gowns of the feminine aristocracy. It was far easier to move in breeches and tunic than the frippery of women. Not trusting her cousin also helped in her decision; Azrael much preferred being ready for action if it was deemed necessary.

As she made her way down the suddenly long path, movement caught her eye and she glanced aside. A smile barely touched her lips at the sight of Ursula, cupping her mouth to hide a grin. Amber eyes flashed above tan fingers, reflecting excitement for her mistress. Azrael’s eyelid drooped in the barest wink before she was past but could spare no more attention. She was pleased to note Suma standing just behind her slave, keeping her safe from wagging tongues.

While it seemed to take forever, she arrived at the dais in little time. Her men came to a halt and knelt, leaving her standing amidst them. Azrael stepped forward and past, stopping at the dais and kneeling on the bottom step. “Your Royal Majesty,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry across the crowd. “I’ve come to swear fealty to you as my King and Commander.”

Shonal rose from his throne, torch light shining off his golden cape. Beside him, an elderly woman sat in the second chair - Gerina, the Queen Mother. With an almost insolent air, he sauntered down the steps until he was just above her. “I’ll hear your vow, cousin.”

Azrael quelled a shaky sigh, preferring to face a sword duel with the finest of masters than all this attention. “I, Azrael, King’s cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, in the presence of all the gods, and in the presence of King Shonal, King’s Council and all gathered Lords and Ladies: Be it known to all, present and future, that I do recognize that Shonal, King of Barentcia, has granted me possession of the Duchy of Wrendon, which I shall hold so long as I provide Shonal with the five hundred men in my company to serve the Crown in time of war, or pay scutage for the same; and that if I break this promise, all the aforesaid men shall hold directly of my lord, Shonal, King of Barentcia; my duchy shall be forfeit and revert to the Crown in total, but that my noble title of Duchess shall persist until such time as the Crown shall have reason to take it from me.”

Azrael bowed her head. “I will do liege homage to my lord, Shonal, King of Barentcia, and I swear to keep faith with him against all creatures, living and dead, without deception and with all honor; and that from this hour I will be true to him with regard to his life and his rulership, and the members of his body, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according to the law, and according to the world’s principles. I swear that I will never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him; on condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve, and that I assume all the rights and liberties of a peer of the realm. I further pledge to support, uphold and execute the common law of the land, and to abide by all decisions of the Crown in regard to this law.”