A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [143]
Shalace shrugged. "There are worse ways to serve."
"See? The flowers themselves hide before your beauty," Craer said lightly.
"Those close up every night," the tall, slender sorceress told him calmly. "Is your courting usually this labored, Overduke Delnbone?"
"Lady, you wound me," the procurer protested, looking up into her eyes. "My intentions are honorable-entirely honorable."
Tshamarra gave him a rather wry smile. "I'm sure your lovemaking always is." She strolled on, and he had to hasten to return to her side.
Calmly, the Lady Talasorn put a hand across his back and clasped him against her, so they were walking hip to hip-or rather, hip to ribs.
"Your eyes are like those lamps they're lighting," Craer began again, smoothly.
"With little flames in them, and moths fluttering around them? I hope not" she replied.
"Lady, you're not making this easy," he protested.
Her teeth flashed in a soundless laugh. "You amuse me, Craer. I've never met such a master of madcap nonsense before, and-"
"Lady Talasorn, will you marry me?" Those words came out in a rush, almost snapped forth-and she felt him tense, and falter in his stride.
Tshamarra stopped, and his hand stole around her waist.
She reached down, took hold of that hand, and firmly slid it down to cup her behind.
"No, Lord Craer," she replied, "not for many years-or ever. I haven't the slightest desire to formally pair with any man-or woman or shapeshifting serpent either, before you ask."
"Oh," Craer replied, glibly.
"Nor will I join the ranks of the Four, as I heard you suggesting to Embra in a whisper that should have been just a bit softer."
"I…" He sighed. "I wanted you to overhear that."
"You surprise me not, Craer. Nothing you do is likely to surprise me in the future, either. I begin to know you too well."
"Too well?"
"As I said, it's something I'm beginning to do-and 'tis time to take another step on that journey." Tshamarra turned off the path, back onto the round lawn where Sarasper lay buried.
"I've never known a man's embraces before," the tall sorceress announced calmly, "and I would like to change that-this night, and with you, Lord Craer."
"Uh?" Craer commented, brightly.
"Remove your clothes," she said crisply, waving one hand at the ground before them and raising the other to the clasps of her gown. "There's no need to go inside when there's a perfectly good soft moss-bed here."
Epilogue
The servants seemed to know just when they reached that time of readiness for other things beyond awakening, stretching, and greeting one's bed partner. Wonderful smells heralded the discreet placing of the covered trays-and warm spiced cider, a treat that made Tshamarra open her eyes wide and declare that from this day forth, last surviving lady members of the family Talasorn would greet opening days with no other throatslake!
"Gods, but 'twas good!" she murmured to Craer, when servants guided them together in a high-vaulted hall. "Nothing like the great Craer, of course…"
The procurer choked, thumped at the base of his throat, and hissed, "D'you mind, Lady? A man has a reputation-!"
Tshamarra rolled her eyes. "Aye, and I'm still hearing bits of yours. From the servants, the guards, some of the gardeners-you know the grounds here quite well, I believe-several handfuls of courtiers, and no doubt many more good folk of Aglirta, if I perchanced to meet with them."
"Oh, gods" Craer muttered.
"Oh, yes, Lord Delnbone, I'm going to lead you a merry dance," she whispered, taking his elbow and steering him through the door that two sword-saluting guards had just thrown open. "Depend on it."
"Ahem," Craer replied brightly, as his eyes met those of Embra, which twinkled knowingly; Hawkril, who looked briefly at the ceiling; Blackgult, who grinned openly; and King Raulin Castlecloaks, who merely looked pleased to see him and entirely unaware of the look Lady Talasorn had thrown the shortest, most handsome Overduke of Aglirta as they'd parted to seek the last two seats