Violet and Verde Read Free Page B

him, letting the burgeoning love she felt spill over into her expression and voice.
    “M’lady, I was a Royal Dancer.” He waited, clearly expecting her to understand this.
    “You told me that,” she said. “That isn’t an issue between us.”
    “But it is, m’lady. Dancers are, uhm, pleasure slaves, as well.”
    He’s cute when he blushes , thought Ave. “I know that. Everyone knows that.”
    Rak’s red eyebrows arched at her, but she didn’t get what he was driving at. She shrugged.
    He sighed. “Ave, I am…altered. I was given the potions, all of them. I cannot function with a woman without feeling pain. And a woman, no matter how skilled or how much I care for her, a woman cannot relieve my fires.”
    “Oh,” she said, utterly surprised. “Oh! But then…why are we even seeing each other? You need a man, not me.”
    “Yes, but I want you. I think I love you, m’lady Ave.”
    “But if we can’t be together…the purpose of marriage is children, Rak.” She drew away, trying to mask her confusion and hurt.
    Rak caught her hands before she could escape. “It is not an insurmountable obstacle, m’lady. We can still be together. But you would have to…tie me down…and take charge.”
    “That sounds…intriguing,” said Ave with a shaky laugh. “But if I can’t relieve your slave fires, that means there will be someone else…”
    “There is, his name is S’Tyll, of the Kephi sect. He is a good man, Ave. I think you will like him.”
    “I don’t know, Rak. That’s a lot to take in and accept.” Ave succeeded in pulling away and stood up. “Can you take me back to the temple now?” She hoped the tears she was refusing to shed didn’t show in her voice.
    “Of course,” said Rak.
     
    * * * *
     
    Ave sat on a stool in the scriptorium, barefooted, with one foot curled around the wooden rungs of the stool and the other just dangling. There was a glass of red wine near to hand, for the rules the Movai imposed on novices didn’t apply to full priestesses like her. She was carefully copying an ancient spell written on a moldering parchment scroll and paying no attention to her surroundings.
    A light touch on the nape of her neck caused her to jump, furled violet wings sweeping open, sending loose papers flying as she emitted an undignified squawk of surprise.
    “Sorry about that,” said a mellow baritone voice full of wry amusement.
    She spun to face her attacker and saw nothing. Stiffening in rage, she cast out with her mage senses. Not directly before me, but perhaps there, off to the left…yes, there’s someone there, I’m certain of it. A moment of concentration, a whispered word and a simple gesture caused a fat spark of purple electricity to flash across the space between them and give whoever it was quite a jolt.
    “Ow!” said the baritone, his invisibility fading to reveal a Kephi, dressed in the black and amber of his sect, down to the concealing, full-face mask and gloves meant to hide his identity. Not a bit of skin or hair was visible, entirely by design, for the Kephi often went into Polemo, the very lair of the Unmaker, their God’s true enemy. “I should have known better than to play games with a mage,” he continued, his voice strangely cheerful for a man who’d just been shocked.
    “You must be S’Tyll,” said Ave crossly. “I hope you realize that your voice is so distinctive that it would be a dead giveaway. Why conceal your face but not your voice?”
    “I’m a Riverlands specialist,” said Tyll. After a moment, he pulled the mask off. “The thing’s such a bother, anyway.”
    Ave studied him. He was tall, handsome, with sandy light brown hair and appealing dark blue eyes. But his best feature had to be his voice. It was marvelous to hear, a liquid flow of honeyed tones, inflected just so. He was studying her in turn, so after a moment, she said, “So, you’re Rak’s lover, I hear.”
    “That’s right, I am.” There was no heat in Tyll’s voice.