breathed in the fine smoke and coughed again as he leaned back against the cushions. The leaf produced a pleasant sense of lightness from the worry and despair that had weighed on him since last night.
After taking a hit from the pipe and passing it to Zea, Cree leaned back beside him. “That’s better.” He smiled and patted Cillian’s knee. “You look more relaxed. You’ve had a hard time, I guess.”
Cillian closed his eyes. “You have no idea.” His mind drifted as he listened to the quiet conversation. Zea and Jin were murmuring at the foot of the couch, and Cillian opened one eye to find that Sylus and Dehr had retreated to a corner.
“Again,” said Cree with a grin, “not our usual meeting.” He stroked Cillian’s knee, and Cillian rested his hand over Cree’s. After a moment he realized Cree was tracing the lines of his tattoo. “This is lovely.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Cree stopped him with his fingertips and replaced them with his lips when Cillian didn’t retreat.
“Oh, that is lovely,” whispered Cree when he released him. “ You’re quite lovely.”
Jin and Zea were locked in an embrace, and Sylus was perched in Dehr’s lap, speaking quietly at his ear.
Cree stood and took Cillian’s hand. “Come with me.”
In no mood to refuse, Cillian followed him to the bedroom, where Cree pulled him close and nipped at his mouth, his hands on Cillian’s narrow hips. Cillian pulled the tunic over his head and helped Cree with his buttons as he pushed Cillian onto the bed and climbed over him, but when he laid open the garment, Cillian stopped short. Cree had a small but definite pair of breasts.
With the shirt half-off, Cree hesitated. “You’re disappointed.” The sentiment was all too familiar.
Cillian moved closer and nudged the shirt from Cree’s shoulders. “No.” He brushed his fingers over the unfamiliar territory. “Just surprised.” He was even more surprised at his arousal. He’d never had a woman before. It had never occurred to him that he could.
It was endearing how mortified Cree was to find him in her bed in the morning. “Meeralyá!” she groaned with her hands over her eyes. “ Ai, Cillian, tell me you’re of age. Tell me I haven’t taken advantage of an innocent. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Cillian laughed. “I’ve not been called innocent in several years, Maiden Cree.”
She shuddered. “Don’t call me that.” She spoke in the same deep contralto Cillian had first taken for the timbre of a man.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. You prefer to be referred to in the masculine.”
“Oh, it’s not that. Truly, I don’t care one way or the other. I just hate that term. As if once touched, a woman were spoiled like yesterday’s milk.”
“I’ve always thought of it as a compliment.” He sat up and drew his knees to his chest. “A term of respect.”
“Trust me. You wouldn’t like it if it were applied to you. Be thankful you don’t belong to the caste of the veil.”
“What’s wrong with the veil?” He tried to keep his voice casual.
“Are you serious?” She propped up on one elbow. “Being forced to hide yourself like something shameful because you’re a woman? What’s not wrong with that?”
“That’s not what it’s about. It sets the feminine apart as sacred, something to be revered.”
“Until it’s spoiled like bad milk.”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
Cree rolled onto her back and put her arms behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. “Do you know that in the falend there are communities without rulers? Without any restrictions. A woman can be a farmer or a smith. No veils. No skirts.”
Cillian grimaced at the thought. Being kidnapped by barbarian nomads was one thing, but farming voluntarily was quite another.
Cree rolled over and kissed him before hopping out of bed. “You have a divine face, Cillian. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“A time or two.”
Standing in
After taking a hit from the pipe and passing it to Zea, Cree leaned back beside him. “That’s better.” He smiled and patted Cillian’s knee. “You look more relaxed. You’ve had a hard time, I guess.”
Cillian closed his eyes. “You have no idea.” His mind drifted as he listened to the quiet conversation. Zea and Jin were murmuring at the foot of the couch, and Cillian opened one eye to find that Sylus and Dehr had retreated to a corner.
“Again,” said Cree with a grin, “not our usual meeting.” He stroked Cillian’s knee, and Cillian rested his hand over Cree’s. After a moment he realized Cree was tracing the lines of his tattoo. “This is lovely.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Cree stopped him with his fingertips and replaced them with his lips when Cillian didn’t retreat.
“Oh, that is lovely,” whispered Cree when he released him. “ You’re quite lovely.”
Jin and Zea were locked in an embrace, and Sylus was perched in Dehr’s lap, speaking quietly at his ear.
Cree stood and took Cillian’s hand. “Come with me.”
In no mood to refuse, Cillian followed him to the bedroom, where Cree pulled him close and nipped at his mouth, his hands on Cillian’s narrow hips. Cillian pulled the tunic over his head and helped Cree with his buttons as he pushed Cillian onto the bed and climbed over him, but when he laid open the garment, Cillian stopped short. Cree had a small but definite pair of breasts.
With the shirt half-off, Cree hesitated. “You’re disappointed.” The sentiment was all too familiar.
Cillian moved closer and nudged the shirt from Cree’s shoulders. “No.” He brushed his fingers over the unfamiliar territory. “Just surprised.” He was even more surprised at his arousal. He’d never had a woman before. It had never occurred to him that he could.
It was endearing how mortified Cree was to find him in her bed in the morning. “Meeralyá!” she groaned with her hands over her eyes. “ Ai, Cillian, tell me you’re of age. Tell me I haven’t taken advantage of an innocent. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Cillian laughed. “I’ve not been called innocent in several years, Maiden Cree.”
She shuddered. “Don’t call me that.” She spoke in the same deep contralto Cillian had first taken for the timbre of a man.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. You prefer to be referred to in the masculine.”
“Oh, it’s not that. Truly, I don’t care one way or the other. I just hate that term. As if once touched, a woman were spoiled like yesterday’s milk.”
“I’ve always thought of it as a compliment.” He sat up and drew his knees to his chest. “A term of respect.”
“Trust me. You wouldn’t like it if it were applied to you. Be thankful you don’t belong to the caste of the veil.”
“What’s wrong with the veil?” He tried to keep his voice casual.
“Are you serious?” She propped up on one elbow. “Being forced to hide yourself like something shameful because you’re a woman? What’s not wrong with that?”
“That’s not what it’s about. It sets the feminine apart as sacred, something to be revered.”
“Until it’s spoiled like bad milk.”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
Cree rolled onto her back and put her arms behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. “Do you know that in the falend there are communities without rulers? Without any restrictions. A woman can be a farmer or a smith. No veils. No skirts.”
Cillian grimaced at the thought. Being kidnapped by barbarian nomads was one thing, but farming voluntarily was quite another.
Cree rolled over and kissed him before hopping out of bed. “You have a divine face, Cillian. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“A time or two.”
Standing in
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