The Daylight War (81 page)

‘Then act like it,’ another voice said, and Leesha saw Elona come to stand beside Darsy. The last person in the world she wanted to see. ‘What would Bruna say if she saw you like this?’

We
guard
the
secrets
of
fire
for
a
reason
,
Bruna said.
Men
cannot
be
trusted
to
respect
such
power.

Suddenly Leesha felt horribly ashamed. Bruna would have spat at her feet right now, or struck her with her stick for the first time.

And Leesha knew she deserved it. The idea of letting down her mentor so was too much, and she shook, beginning to weep.

Darsy caught her and held her close, hiding the moment of weakness from the crowd. ‘S’all right, Leesha,’ she whispered. ‘We all have our moments. You go on with your mum. I’ll handle the flamework.’

Leesha sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes and standing up straight as they broke apart. She walked slowly over to her mother, trying hard not to stumble on the uneven cobbles. When Elona offered her arm, Leesha took it with dignity. Only her mother knew how heavily she leaned on it.

‘Just a bit farther and you can rest,’ Elona said. They moved over to one of the many benches that surrounded the cobbles, and the goodwives there quickly rose, dipping quick curtsies as they yielded the seat.

‘All right,’ Elona said. ‘How much have you had?’

Leesha shrugged. She fumbled in her apron, pulling out the bottle Wonda had given her and handing it to her mother. Elona held it to the light, then pulled the cork and sniffed at it. She snorted and took a pull. ‘I’d be starting to feel a tingle myself if I drank that much, so I’d wager you must be ready to slosh up everything you’ve eaten since the morning purge.’

Leesha shook her head. ‘Just need a minute to catch my breath.’

‘Well you’re not going to get it,’ Elona said, straightening and giving the laces of her dress a subtle tug to lower her neckline the way she did any time a man entered the room. ‘Eyes in front. Don’t slosh.’

Leesha looked up, seeing Count Thamos approaching, looking splendid in his fine clothes and jewels. A few Wooden Soldiers shadowed his steps, but the count seemed not to notice them, his handsome smile relaxed and easy. He made a leg in that smug way Royals had, bowing when their station did not demand it.

‘A pleasure to see you again, mistress,’ he said, and turned to Elona. ‘Surely I would have heard if you had a sister, so this beautiful woman must be your mother, infamous Mrs Paper.’

Leesha rolled her eyes. She had at least expected the prince to be more original. If she had a klat for every time a man used that line to ingratiate himself with Elona, she’d be richer than Duke Rhinebeck.

Elona’s response was likewise identical each time, tittering like she had never heard such cleverness while looking down and blushing fetchingly. Leesha doubted anything could truly make Elona blush, but her mother could do it on command.

Elona offered her hand for the count to kiss. ‘I’m afraid the stories are all true, Your Highness.’

That’s honest word
,
Leesha thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Thamos’ smile was positively predatory, like the wolfish grin of Messenger Marick. Leesha could not stand the thought of Thamos looking at her mother like that. Not when she was right here. Not tonight. She put a smile on her face and gave her own dress laces a tug.

‘Enjoying the festivities, Highness?’ she asked, pulling his eyes back to her and holding his gaze as best she could. His eyes kept dipping lower and then flicking back, but like Elona, she pretended not to notice.

‘I’ve never been to a wedding in the hamlets,’ Thamos said, ‘and I see now what a loss that is. This makes court balls seem dreary by comparison.’

‘Oh, you flatter,’ Leesha said. ‘How can Hollow women in their homespun dresses compare to painted courtesans in silk and gold?’

Thamos’ eyes flicked downward again, and Leesha felt her smile widen. ‘Courtesans care more for themselves than anyone else.’ He smiled and held out a hand as the Jongleurs struck up another dance. ‘They may tumble, but they never reel.’

The next few hours were a blur as Leesha danced and laughed with the handsome count. He shared her with the other dancers grudgingly, always keeping close, and his kisses in the carriage as he drove her home were warm and full of passion. His member was stiff and hard in his breeches, and she pressed close, grinding into it with her hips and thighs. She felt herself growing wetter by the moment, and was considering the mechanics of taking him right there in the carriage when they pulled up to her cottage and the coachman hopped down to set the steps and open the door.

Thamos stepped down first, giving Leesha his hand to lean on as she wobbled unsteadily to the ground.

‘Head back to the revel,’ Thamos said to the coachman. ‘I’ll walk back.’

‘Highness,’ the coachman said. ‘It is night and these woods are full of Krasians …’

‘Come back at dawn, then,’ Leesha said. ‘Just go!’

The coachman shrugged and cracked the reins, heading off down the road.

‘Subtle,’ Thamos said, grinning as Leesha took him by the arm and practically dragged him inside.

She made no pretence, pulling him right into the bedroom. She lit a dim chemical light, then turned and pushed him hard, so he fell onto his back on the quilts. She smiled and hiked her skirts, crawling atop him, kissing his face and lips and neck. ‘And now, Your Highness, I am going to take advantage of you.’

Thamos squirmed, undoing the laces of her dress as he nuzzled his face into her cleavage. ‘Usually it’s the other way around.’

Leesha smiled. ‘Ay, but we do things different in the Hollow. I am going to ride you from now till your coachman returns.’ She reached down, unbuckling his belt, then fumbled with the snaps and laces of his breeches. She’d imagined herself having his member in hand in seconds, but she finally had to break eye contact and look at the last knot before she could untie it. She yanked the trousers open at last, but the member she found had lost much of its rigidity.

She took it in hand, stroking gently at first as she kissed him, but he remained soft. She moved higher, pressing his face into her breasts as she pulled harder, and that seemed to help, stiffening him enough for the deed. She kicked off her petticoats and pressed him to her opening, but again he wilted.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, taking him back in hand.

‘Ahhh… . Nothing …’ Thamos moaned. ‘It’s just late … and the drink … and I didn’t expect you to be so …’

‘Forward?’ Leesha asked, moving down to spit on him, lubing her stroke. The count groaned as she took his moistened member in her mouth, but still he remained soft.

Night, is it me?
she wondered.
Is
Ahmann
the
only
man
in
the
world
who
truly
wants
me?

She shook the thought away, moving off the bed.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need …’

‘Sshhh,’ Leesha said, slipping her arms from the sleeves of her dress and pushing it down. ‘I’ll give you what you need.’

He watched her undress in the dim light, and Leesha, glancing down, saw him stiffen again as she bent to step free of her skirts. He had a spear any man would be proud of, and she bit her lip, excited to have it in her. She reached out and gave it a squeeze.

The count gave an animal growl and was on his feet in an instant, bending her over the bed. She went willingly, and cried out in pleasure as he thrust into her from behind. She pushed back at him, grinding against his powerful thrusts as she felt her own pleasure build.

And then, with a grunt, it was over, and he collapsed atop her. Leesha squirmed, trying to get a last bit of friction to push her over the edge, but he had softened again, and slipped free. She wanted to cry, but didn’t have the energy. She wished she’d just told the coachman to wait while they had a cup of tea, rather than trapping the count here for the night. She hoped he would be brave enough to leave.

But Thamos pulled off the rest of his clothes and slipped into bed beside her. ‘That was incredible,’ he murmured as he pressed himself to her back. He pulled the quilts over them and wrapped his thick arms around her, nuzzling her neck contentedly. ‘I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you in Jizell’s hospit, but I never dreamed it would be so good.’

And for a moment, Leesha felt her despair fade, feeling safe and warm in the count’s arms. Perhaps he hadn’t been man enough for her, but she had been more than woman enough for him. There was a strange feeling of pride in that, and she smiled as she fell asleep.

It was still dark when Leesha awoke from a dream of Ahmann, and the nights they had spent in each other’s arms. The magic made him a creature of unbridled passion, and he took her frequently in the dead of night, both of them half sleeping with their eyes closed. He would wake her with kisses and caresses while she slowly stroked him. When she was aroused enough to receive him, he would thrust into her and grind his hips until they both cried out. A moment later they would be asleep again, a quick nap before he took her again to celebrate the dawn.

Creator, she missed him. After twenty-eight years of self-denial, she’d had a week of gluttony, and now her body craved his touch. Any touch, really. She knew increased desire was a common sign of pregnancy, but she had not expected it to be more debilitating than the ever-present headaches and nausea.

Behind her, Thamos snored contentedly, his muscular chest hard and hairy against her back. She squirmed against him, grinding her bottom against his crotch. There was a twitching there, and she rolled him onto his back, taking him in her mouth as she had before. This time, he stiffened almost instantly.

Thamos groaned, still half asleep, but then his hand slipped down, caressing her hair, and she knew he was awake. She was astride him in an instant, still slick with his seed and her own arousal. The count moaned and reached up gentle hands, caressing her hips and breasts as she rode him. She kept her eyes shut, picturing Ahmann.

Every once in a while she felt the count twitch and lifted herself off, bending down to kiss him until his breathing calmed. Then she would resume.

Before long, she felt her own climax building and increased her pace, pinning the count as she had her way. In a moment she was screaming her pleasure, and Thamos held her hips as if for dear life. Pent as she had been, it lasted a long time. When it started to fade, she smiled and clenched tighter, taking a quick steady rhythm, draining the count again.

She kissed him, but they were both panting, and the kiss broke apart with a laugh.

‘Incredible,’ Thamos said again.

‘Ay,’ Leesha said, and meant it, though her stomach did not seem to agree, roiling like a soup forgotten on the fire.

She breathed deeply, trying to ride it out, but after a few moments she had to slap a hand over her mouth and run from the room, sloshing up into the privy. It had become something of a daily ritual, and Leesha had almost begun to look forward to it, if only to get it over with so she could start her morning.

Retching always brought a stabbing pain from her headache, and Leesha instinctively reached up to massage her temple. Then she started.

For the first time in months, her headache was gone. Not just receded, but completely gone. She felt her face tighten as her eyes watered, and she let herself weep a moment for the joy of it.

Thamos was back in his breeches and shirt, waiting by the privy room door when she emerged, naked and mortified but feeling strong once more. He smiled, wrapping her in a quilt and giving her a cup of water. ‘Night of drinking and dancing affects us all in some way. You don’t mention mine and I won’t mention yours.’

Leesha nodded, taking the cup and sipping.

‘Before he was duke,’ Thamos said, ‘my brother used to tell me the best cure for a night of drinking is bacon and eggs. I’ve tested the theory and never found better.’