The Sorcerer's Concubine (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 1) (9 page)

His motions quickened. She moaned. Her body hovered on the brink of explosion. She shifted the angle of her hips, trying to get to the spot that never seemed to quite be fulfilled. She drew her knees up higher, wrapping her legs around him.

Something was happening, warmth and a pleasure that was almost pain, and yet not pain at all. She cried out, and then clamped her mouth shut because she didn’t want his family to hear—even if it would shut his father up. Waves of joy shuddered down her legs; just when she feared it might end there was another.

As it was finally ebbing, he suddenly sped up and she cried out again. It was too much now; she was so tender. He gripped her tightly and she felt his hot seed inside her. She didn’t move at first; she wanted to feel it before the vanishing spell swallowed it up. He slowed, shuddering, gently kissing her cheek as his own climax came to an end.

He drew out of her carefully.

She stared at the ceiling with wonder. He was breathing hard, and almost laughed. “That was all right, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…,” she murmured dreamily.

He picked up one of her stockings and drew the silk back over her leg, buttoning them back in place. Even those little stitches that held the buttons were sensitive enough to send a little shiver up her back. He tied the ribbon tight around her thigh again, and then moved to the other leg.

By the time he had finished this, she was ready for more.

S
he fell
asleep in his arms, staying so close to him that a flesh and blood woman might have felt crushed. She liked it when Grau’s arms were around her, when his leg draped across hers. Her body had none of the restlessness of a flesh and blood person; she didn’t care if she could barely even move. She felt so safe pressed against him like their bodies might become one during the night. Maybe it was something her soul had missed in this life, having never been carried by a mother…although she certainly didn’t feel like Grau's child. 

A small whisking sound in the early morning hours made her stir. She opened her eyes and saw, in the wan light of dawn, a figure sweeping the floor.

A Fanarlem servant. Servant or slave? The family always said ‘servant’, and by this Velsa supposed they might have been paid a wage, but just like her, they would have very little freedom even if they left. 

The figure wore a long brown tunic and trousers with sturdy but well-worn shoes. It had hair made of long brown yarn, worn in a braid in what seemed almost a mockery of Daramon fashions.

Abruptly, as if it felt Velsa’s eyes upon it, the thing turned and stared at her. Its glass eyes looked as real as her own, but the rest of its features were a crude imitation. It had no eyelashes, no lips, no nostrils—just two little black stitches on her nose to suggest them. 

She couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.

The stare in its eyes turned to a glare of hatred, the features contorting into such disgust that Velsa shut her own eyes against it. She pulled the blanket over her face. She didn’t know what to do but hide.

Grau’s arms didn’t feel safe anymore.

That creature was her own kind. It looked nothing like her, but that was simply chance. She could have had its life; it could have had hers.

Maybe she should have counted her lucky stars or maybe she should have felt sympathy toward the thing, asked Grau where the servants lived and whether she might do something to brighten their days. Instead she felt only a bottomless horror. She never wanted to see the Fanarlem servant again.

A
few days later
, Grau and Velsa were playing a more serious game of chatrang, but they both looked up when a messenger stopped by with a letter for Preya.

“Senirin is having a dance,” she said. “On Saturday. She says you’re welcome to come too, Grau, before you go on patrol.”

“Hmm.”

Preya glanced at Velsa like,
See, there he goes.
“I know you don’t like dances much, but it’ll be your last chance to see your friends in town. Don’t make me go alone.”

“I can’t leave Velsa home alone with Ma and Papa.”

“Bring her, then!” Preya stretched onto her tip toes. She was not one for sitting still or even standing still. “It’s not beyond the bounds of etiquette. You don’t have a wife.”

“I know, but no one else has a concubine in Marjon. It’s such a city thing. I’m not sure how people will react.”

“Since when are you one to care how other people react?”

“Since I have Velsa’s feelings to protect.”

“We’ll both be there, and we’ll both protect her,” Preya said decisively. “You’ll have to face this someday, unless you intend to never come home. Better to do it now.”

Velsa dreaded the occasion herself, but hopefully the Thanneau siblings together would provide a buffer.

On Sunday afternoon, trying her best to ignore the anxious fluttering inside her, Velsa donned the nicer dress Grau had purchased for her. It was a knee-length frock with a sash belt and loose long sleeves, worn with wool leggings. The colors were muted and reminded her of the marshes; a dark green for the tunic, and fawn for the leggings, but the sash was a rich blue. 

“Let me do something with your hair,” Preya said, inviting Velsa to sit before her bedroom mirror. Her bedroom was messy, strewn with shirts and socks. The cage for some probably long-dead pet sat in one corner. The walls were pasted with some pictures of actresses; humid air had rippled them.

“Are those actresses you fancy?” Velsa asked, letting just a little mischief into her tone, like she used to talk with the other girls at the House. She was quite comfortable talking to Preya by now.

“They’re all the same one, actually. Contalla Prenzata. I saw her perform once, when Mama took me to Nisa. She can look a thousand different ways. It was actually seeing her that solidified my feelings in my own mind. It’s well known that she’s a lesbian, but she’s an actress, so it doesn’t matter. Actresses can do what they like.”

“You have the freedom, that you
could
do something else.”

Preya lifted Velsa’s hair, revealing the entire length of her neck, so the golden band was plain to see. “Have you ever been without this?” she asked.

“Only for a minute, when my body was changed as I got older…”

“Such a little innocent looking thing you are.” She let Velsa’s hair fall down again, and brushed with careful strokes. “But I wonder if deep down you must hate us all.”

“Of course I don’t hate you.” Velsa wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. Of course she didn’t hate Grau and Preya…but she rather liked the suggestion that she
could
, that Preya credited her with having such dark and secret thoughts.

“We keep you captive.”

“
You
don’t.”

“Grau does.”

“You’re not afraid of telepaths?”

“I am. And I know he’s scared for you. He cares about you, and he feels deeply responsible for your welfare. He’s never had a care in the world, before. You’re good for him. But…doesn’t it always hurt the soul to be under lock and key? Maybe there’s no help for it, though.” Preya opened a drawer and fished out the ornaments. “I don’t think I’ll do the buns again. Your hair is lovely framing your face. But maybe two little braids, crossed in the back, with some cloth flowers.”

Preya wove two segments of Velsa’s hair into plaits, her hands gentle as always. When this was done, Preya unpinned her own braids. Her hair fell past her waist, black and thick. If Velsa could grow her own hair, she would have enviable locks, too. Maybe Grau would be wealthy someday, and could buy her such hair.

“If you belonged to me, I would have to remove your band, just once, when we made love,” Preya said. “To know what it felt like, to share my thoughts with someone else.”

Velsa flushed. “You wouldn’t be scared of sharing your thoughts?”

“Not with a concubine. I know you’d be hesitant to tell my secrets. It would make us a little closer to equal. And it would be a relief, to have one person who really knew me.”

“Would you know my thoughts, too?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure how it works. It probably depends on how much control you have.”

Not much,
Velsa thought. Maybe it was for the best that Grau didn’t remove the band. She didn’t want him to know her thoughts. Most of her life, she rarely even thought about the band.

But it was beginning to feel tight and heavy around her neck. As if she had grown out of it, somehow.

G
rau looked so handsome
, dressed for the dance, in dashing black with his boots freshly polished. And Preya, too, with her hair in one loose braid woven with ribbons, and a crimson tunic and fur-edged cloak. Velsa was able to shove aside her nerves and all her troubled thoughts of telepathy and freedom.

They took the canoe into town, Grau weaving magic with his hands to speed the waters along while Preya paddled, so the ride was swift and smooth.

The night was on the early edge of sunset. Lanterns already blazed on the streets. The dance was held in the town meeting hall, a large wooden structure painted white with symbols of welcome painted on the doors and shutters: horseshoes and grapes. Music was already playing from inside; the formal dances popular in Atlantis. Velsa had been taught a few of the common ones at the House.

Inside, the room was warm from dozens of bodies and hundreds of candles, magnified by mirrors along the back wall. The band was in one corner, a bar at the other. People were dancing in sets of four, couples twirling around and then rejoining the square to hold hands, kick and clap in time with the music. Different drum beats signaled different moves, to aid anyone who forgot the steps.

Immediately, several people rushed forward to greet Grau and Preya. A pretty girl with curly hair kissed Preya’s cheek in greeting, while Grau introduced Velsa to some other young men.

Their reaction was predictable by now. “Damn, Thanneau, she isn’t bad looking.” “I didn’t know Fanarlem came that pretty.” “What is it like?” They spoke as if she wasn’t there.

“Please,” Grau said. “She was worth every coin and then some and that’s all you need to know.”

“Ooh,” one of them said.

“Grau!” Preya smacked his arm, turning away from her own cluster of friends. “What kind of response is that?”

“What? She means a lot to me.”

“Well, your boorish friends are taking it the wrong way.”

“Boorish?” One of them clutched his heart in mock offense. “We said she’s pretty. What do you want?”

Now Preya’s friends were starting to gather around Velsa too. “She looks so real…” “She has fingernails!”

“That’s enough,” Preya said. She sounded uncertain now, whether this had been a good idea. “Velsa is pretty much a normal person. She could basically be Grau’s wife.”

“Grau’s
wife
?” one short, snappy-eyed girl asked, sounding appalled.

“I mean, of course she isn’t, but I’m just saying, it’s not like she’s slept with all kinds of men. She’s eighteen and she can read and write and sew, and play chatrang, and anyway, she’s just like us.” Preya flung off her cloak as she spoke and cast about for the row of hooks where other coats and capes already hung.

“But…she’s not,” said the snappy-eyed girl. “She’s a Fanarlem. She’s supposed to be a servant.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Grau said. “She’s not my wife, of course not, just the companion of my travels.” He took Velsa’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

He didn’t join one of the squares—in fact, he didn’t dance at all, but whisked her off to the other side of the room and poured himself a drink.

“Stars in the sky,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Velsa. I knew this was a bad idea. They’re not close friends.”

“It’s how everyone sees me,” she said.

“I know,” he said, almost snappish.

“I mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m used to it, I guess.”

“You’re not,” he said. “I know you’re not. I just feel helpless. I can’t make you real…”

Velsa flashed back to Amleisa, all those months ago, saying that concubines had to embrace their fate, and not fight. She might have meant this, as much as anything. Maybe it would be easier if Velsa could just accept that no one would see her as a real person as soon as she stepped into public.

Grau put down his wine glass, now empty, and took her hand. He led her to join the dance. She tried to distance her mind from all the people around them, to see only him—even though worry lines creased his brow.

They clapped their hands together, and crossed paths, meeting back to back, before clapping again. The dance was slow enough that it was easy to follow, even if you didn’t know the steps. They fell in with another couple, joining hands. The other man hesitated before he took Velsa’s hand. The other girl looked at her curiously. 

Velsa had told Grau she was good at controlling her emotions. Was it a skill so easily forgotten in a couple weeks of kindness? She smoothed her expression and reminded herself how she was fortunate to be here at all. It was likely that no other Fanarlem girl had ever walked in the front door of this hall except to clean the floors.

They shared two dances, and then some of Grau’s friends returned, with brief apologies that perhaps they’d been a little crude. Now the men talked of business and Grau related the story of the Marnow farm.

While Grau’s attention was caught elsewhere, one of the girls sidled up to Velsa and hissed, “You’re no
wife
.”

Velsa smothered an impulse to yank the girl’s braids. She couldn’t entirely suppress the venom in her eyes. She was so tired of being spoken to like this, but she had to endure it, over and over and over, as long as she lived.

Preya hurried over, pulling Velsa away.

“Maybe you should spend some time apart from Grau,” she said. “Flirt with some other men if you can possibly stand it.”

“What’s going on?” Velsa shrank back.

“My big mouth,” Preya said. “You know that girl Ellie? She met us at the door? In the blue dress?”

Velsa realized Preya meant the snappy-eyed girl. “Yes.”

“She’s been whispering around the room, that Grau treats you like a wife. And the thing is, she had a crush on Grau a few years back. He was barely even aware. I thought she was over it, but now I’m not so sure. I think she’s jealous.”

“I don’t want to flirt with other men!”

“Fates, I don’t want you to either. Maybe we should just leave. No, that’s more suspicious. We’ll just have to stick it out and try our best to diffuse the rumor.”

Now Preya drifted to the bar, but she chose the punch with lemon slices floating in it rather than the wine. She took a swig and offered the cup to Velsa. “Have a taste.”

Velsa sipped the sweet liquid, which certainly was delicious, tasting mainly of fruit and only vaguely of spirits. If only she could enjoy the relaxing effect.

They were joined by the girl who had first greeted Preya. “My goodness,” she said. “She can drink.”

“Grau got her a spell,” Preya said. She seemed edgy. “Velsa, this is my friend Senirin.”

Senirin nodded to Velsa politely before turning to Preya. “I hope you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not. I was trying to stop Ellie from spreading nonsense about my brother.”

“Oh, that.” Senirin waved a hand. “It was nothing. She just can’t quite get over him.”

“I understand…” Preya spoke into her cup.

“I suppose you heard that I’m going to Atlantis early,” Senirin said. “My grandmother invited me and my parents figure it’s better to introduce me into society sooner rather than later.”

“I heard,” Preya said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Senirin smiled, in a half-hearted way.

“It’s a ways off.”

“A dance for old time’s sake?”

Preya put down her cup as if defeated. She tilted her head toward Velsa. “Seems like Grau’s winding down his conversation. Do you mind?”

“No, no,” Velsa said.

Preya and Senirin joined hands and walked to the dance floor, without hardly looking at one another. But Velsa saw familiarity as much as shyness—that they knew one another’s movements, and didn’t need to check what the other was doing.

“Preya’s first love,” Grau said, stepping away from the one friend he was still conversing with. “But I’m glad Senirin is leaving. She’s just a tease who breaks my sister’s heart over and over.”

“Preya said there’s a girl here who likes you.”

He squinted. “Ellie? I don’t think she’s serious.”

“Did you ever court her?”

“Oh, no. I’ve danced with her here and there. I’ve never
courted
anyone. I don’t share many interests with these women.”

“If sharing interests was your priority, you certainly didn’t know you’d get that with me.”

“That’s true, but I also knew you wouldn’t get in the way. Any girl I might marry from Marjon would urge me to settle for my lot as the third son and a fish salesman. Sorcery isn’t what people out here
do
.”

Velsa watched Preya, who was beaming as she danced—but Senirin kept a distance. They didn’t hold each other as the men and women did.

And around the room, glances turned frequently toward Grau. Velsa felt as if they were all talking about her.

Grau noticed them too. He still had that troubled crease in his brow.

“I should have followed my instincts and kept you home,” he said. “It must seem like I’m flaunting the family wealth.”

Preya rejoined them, but now her usual stride had deflated to a drag.

“Are you all right?” Grau asked.

She looked at him, her eyes shining wetly. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s for the best,” he said. “She was using you. You bought her all those presents and what did she ever do for you?”