Vespasien

Vespasien tried to ignore the way the Aulds were twittering amongst themselves as he sat at a corner table, attempting to piece together what had just transpired between him and Rhydderch.

He hadn’t touched the girl.

Rhydderch had known that.

True, Ves had looked at her, but usually that didn’t make women empty their lungs in an adrenaline-provoking shriek of absolute terror. As far as he knew, women thought he was handsome.

Not that one, apparently.

His skin still crawled at the way she had looked at him. As if he were a monster. There was no way to mistake a look like that. No way to fake one, either.

Either the woman was feebleminded, or there was something about her that Rhydderch had tried to hide by loudly revealing to everyone in the Spyre that Vespasien had mauled his dogs. Rhydderch had even tried to make it look as if Ves had assaulted her, when they both knew full well he hadn’t touched the girl.

The Aulds’ twittering continued, and Vespasien pretended to ignore it. The girl had seen something about him, and it bothered him. He began to wonder if she was some sort of hedge-witch, one of the ones that could tell a man’s fortune by looking into his eyes.

That vein of thought led to another.

What fortune could she see have possibly seen in his eyes that would lead to such panic?

All Vespasien could come up with was a gruesome death.

And, considering his dealings with Auld Rhydderch of late, that was beginning to look a more and more likely aspect of his future. Laelia, as he had suspected she would, had rebuffed his every attempt to speak with her, much less get her into his bed. Rhydderch had been furious, and Vespasien had once more begun considering if the Auld needed to disappear on one of his hunts. He’d even outlined a rough plan, while laying awake at night over it.

“So,” a scratchy female voice said, above him. “It was you, eh?”

Vespasien looked up, trying to keep the surprise out of his face. Auldin Laelia stood eying him critically, waiting for his response. She wore a splendid gown of flowing blue dragonsilk, though it had none of Cyriaca’s ruffles and embroidery. Frankly, Vespasien thought it made her look more commanding, despite her temples not holding Cyriaca’s crown.

Vespasien cleared his throat and gave Laelia Vethyle his most charming smile. “Rhydderch seems to think so.”

“Then you’re a dead man.” Laelia laughed. “I can’t believe you stayed within the Spyre after the fact. You must not cherish your life, lord merchant.”

Vespasien stiffened, though he continued to smile. “What makes you think I could possibly commit such a vile act?”

Her crystalline eyes glittered. “Rhydderch is rarely wrong. Especially when it comes to his beasts.” There was something about her gaze that made him feel ill-at-ease…like she were an eagle gazing down upon a mouse, trying to decide if plucking it from the ground was worth the effort.

Vespasien groped for a bottle of wine and poured himself a good-sized serving in someone’s used glass. The Auldin’s eyes, he noticed, were watching his gloved hands.

“That’s an odd style of dress, lord merchant.”

Vespasien drank deeply. “It’s nearly winter. I chill easily.”

“The temperature within these walls remain forever constant.”

“I’m from Etro. Your enchantments leave the place colder than I’d like.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Take them off.”

Vespasien laughed. He poured himself more wine—had he drained it that quickly? He didn’t like the way his hands were suddenly trembling.

She watched him, poised like a beautiful blue raptor above him. “You refuse?”

He took several deep swallows, concentrating on how it burned down his throat. “You’re an Auldin. Either you will take what you want, through force, or you will leave a poor man in peace to contemplate the gruesome death Auld Rhydderch has planned for him.”

Instead of doing either, she sat down beside him. “Why’d you do it?”

Vespasien laughed, relieved she was no longer looming over him. “Hypothetically? Because I was in the midst of trying to determine if Auld Rhydderch truly makes love to his beasts when the damn things attacked me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You went into Rhydderch’s kennels unescorted?”

“We were talking hypothetically, my dear.” He gave her his most winning grin. “I’d never actually do anything that stupid.”

She smiled back. “Come to my chambers tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

He watched her stand, hoping he didn’t look as stunned as he felt. As she turned to rejoin the party, he found his voice. “Auldin?”

She turned, her snow-blue eyes calculating above the swish of her deep blue, silken robes. “Yes?”

“Your council chambers?” he asked.

Her severe lips parted in another smile. “My private chambers. I plan to get you drunk, lord merchant. Then I plan to have my way with you.”

Vespasien didn’t sleep well that night. In the morning, he fussed over his attire for an hour, sweating over choosing just the right combination of light, daytime colors that were definitively manly and yet at the same time wouldn’t clash with what he imagined a lady’s chambers to contain.

When he finally stood outside her door, he was dressed in his finest embroidered tunic, a robin’s-egg blue with white and gold stitching of an ice drake in flight. The only garments that didn’t match exquisitely were the black suede riding gloves he wore to cover his scarred hand.

Vespasien straightened his garments anxiously as Auldin Laelia’s lanky blonde page knocked on the door for him. Auldin Laelia answered immediately, and the shimmering green dragonsilk that covered her from head to toe was enough to make him dizzy. He swallowed as he entered.

“Good morning,” she said, ushering him in with a smile. She leaned outside to the page studying his lessons at the desk beside her door and said, “We’re ready for breakfast now, Marin. You know my usual. The lord merchant will have…?” She glanced back at Vespasien, who stood inside her private chambers in awe.

Vespasien shook himself. To the boy, he said, “Fetch me poached eggs with toast and juice, plus a pastry.”

The boy went stiff, but bowed and hurried away.

Laelia closed the door, looking amused. “It seems young Marin doesn’t like taking orders from a barren man.”

Vespasien flushed, realizing what he had done. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was an auldling.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “The boy isn’t an Auld yet. He likes to think he is, but until he’s ranked, he’ll caper to the whims of the washerwomen, for all I care.” She motioned at the sunny window-seat and the bottle of rich brown wine upon it. Two glasses had been poured for them.

“Drinking so early?” Vespasien asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. He sat down across from her in the sun, still trying to piece together her game. “I usually don’t take my first glass until noon, at least.”

“Today you’re going to need it, for what I have planned,” Laelia said.

Vespasien’s eyes tore from the wine and fell back upon her face. It held more lines than Cyriaca’s, though it looked as if it had once been just as beautiful. Eying her across the table, he said, “Just what do you have planned, Auldin?”

“You’re to begin your duties warming my bed.” She smiled at his startled look. “Drink your wine, lord merchant. We have an entire day ahead of us—I’ve cancelled all of my appointments so I could properly see what all the fuss was about.”

“My…duties?” he did not reach for the wine.

“Yes,” Laelia said. “Despite the fact every man in this place avoids me and my…tastes…you have been very forward in your desires. I’d like to see if you are merely a stuffed peacock, or if you can really handle making love to an Auldin.”

Vespasien glanced down at his glass. Servant after servant had warned him of the Auldin’s tastes…of the blood she left on the sheets after a courtier’s visit. Of the scars. The disappearances.

Steeling himself, he downed his wine in one gulp, then shuddered as it went down. Aulds. He had had a bad feeling about this, back when they had offered him the assignment in Etro. Yet his pride had not let him turn it down. To topple a system as mighty as the Spyre…it had been too choice a project to resist.

Now, as he sat across from Laelia Vethyle in her own private chambers, listening to her tell him the exotic ways she wanted him to pleasure her that night, he began to re-think the choiceness of the assignment.

Laelia smoothly poured him another glass. “You wanted to try out my bed, lord merchant. Drink up. By the look on your face, you’ll need it.” She cocked her head at him. “Unless, of course, you have thought better of it?”

Vespasien was interested—new takes on old pastimes always delighted him—but he was not sure he could bring himself to do some of the more deviant acts she depicted. Especially the ones requiring the use of veoh. He told her so, drinking deeply as he did.

Laelia patted his hand. “You’ll do fine, my dear. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

“I think I need a few days to think about it.”

She made a sweeping gesture toward the door. “Then, by all means, see yourself out.”

It was a dismissal if he’d ever heard one.

Glancing at the solid wooden planks blocking his path, Vespasien stayed where he was and took another deep drink. “No, you misunderstand,” Vespasien said. “I’m from Etro. The idea of veoh…unnerves me somewhat?”

Laelia’s smile had the glint of danger to it. “What better to make it exciting, eh?”

From the Auldin’s descriptions, it sounded as if her tastes teetered on the darker side. That wasn’t what made him nervous—Vespasien had endured far worse with a smile in the harems of the city-state of Kinaal, right before he tipped the matriarch into beheading her foremost councilor—the one that wanted Vespasien killed—and raising taxes. The city-state had crumbled within a year, and Vespasien had left the harem with a gambit of new tricks. He grinned inwardly, knowing that the Auldin was going to be out of her league, despite her vague warnings.

Still…some of them sounded as if they would be more pleasant with a little drink to numb his senses. To this effect, he had downed the entire bottle before he stood up and announced his willingness to attempt the first act. He stumbled, catching himself on the table.

Laelia watched him with calculating lust, and under the gaze Vespasien felt his blood rushing. “If you truly believe so, come.” She took him to the bed, where she commanded him to undress.

With tingling fingers, Vespasien did so.

Once he was utterly naked, Laelia pushed him onto the bed and, with the grace of a cat, moved atop him. “Are you ready?” she whispered into his ear.

Vespasien braced himself, nodding.

It began as normal sex. She even let him strip off her gown and toss it aside, and it was only moments before she was screaming out in pleasure. Vespasien grinned to himself. She was all fluff, just like her sister.

Then she sank claws into him. Literally. Vespasien grunted and jerked away, feeling them lodge in his back. Except he couldn’t move. The claws were formed of something wispy, like mist, and they were digging into his core, making him dizzy. Something was tearing within him, tearing out of him. He cried out, both in pain and pleasure. He found himself reaching the brink…

The claws vanished, and the Auldin’s voice was filled with concern. “Did it hurt?”

“No,” he lied, the crest falling flat instantly. “I was startled, is all.”

She eyed him for some time before she shook her head and started to get off of him.

“What?” Vespasien asked, reaching up for her.

“We need honesty between us in order to do the things I plan.”

“It didn’t hurt,” Vespasien insisted, irritated she had halted them. Things had just begun to get interesting…

She peered at him until he crumbled.

“It hurt,” he agreed. “But I want to continue.” Oh, gods, did he want to continue… Bedding the other Auldins at the Spyre were all so tame in comparison. He hadn’t been so excited since Rochelle had first trapped him in the stocks…

Laelia watched him for some time, looking for something. Then her face grew hard. “I could accidentally kill you if you lie to me about how much you can handle. As much as I would enjoy it, the Unmade would not.” She reached for her gown.

Vespasien grabbed her wrist, tugged it back. “I’ll tell you the truth. It hurt, but I can handle it.”

She seemed to ponder that a moment. Finally, “Swear to me you’ll tell me the truth in everything you are about to experience, even if you don’t want to.”

“I swear.”

She moved back over him, and he felt the wispy talons glide across his back once more. He groaned. “Use my name when you speak,” she purred, an inch from his ear. “I like that.”

He felt a tingle of excitement that had as much to do with the way the white-hot draining sensation was working its way back into his muscles as the way Laelia reminded him of Rochelle.

“I swear I’ll tell you the truth in everything I experience, Auldin Laelia,” he said.

“Even if you don’t want to,” she prodded, nipping his ear. “That’s the most important part.”

“Even if I don’t want to.”

The claws sank deeper, and Vespasien gasped as she began to drag him toward the brink once more. “I want you to answer my every question immediately, without further prodding from me…I can’t gauge how much you can withstand unless you do so. Promise me.”

When Vespasien hesitated, wondering just how dangerous sex with the Auldin was going to be, she pulled back again, her beautiful eyes serious. “Swear it, dear Vespasien. Your life could be forfeit otherwise.”

“I’ll answer your every question as soon as you ask,” Vespasien said, excitement quickening his blood at her words. Gods above, he was actually becoming more aroused than he had ever been with Rochelle.

Her eyes sharpened. “Good.”

At that, she yanked her ethereal claws free and Vespasien felt a twisting sensation in his skull.

He vomited all over her bed.