Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [28]
"Mavros," I muttered under my breath.
He nudged me. "Hush. You wanted this.”
True and not true. I had argued that we bypass Balm House, next in the alphabet, for I had already been there and experienced Naamah's healing grace. But I didn't understand what gambit Mavros was playing, and whatever it was, it had me on edge.
Patrons shouted out suggestions, profane and amusing and vile. Janelle nó Bryony listened, nodding, until she heard one that took her fancy echoed a number of times. "The hourglass?" she murmured. "That would suit. Indeed, so well that I'll take the challenge myself. And I shall choose the contestant." She pointed at me. "Are you minded to accept, your highness? If you lose, I win a forfeit of my choosing.”
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling foolish. "I don't understand.”
" 'Tis a simple matter, sweet prince." Janelle stepped close to me, caressing my cheek. Her grey eyes shone. "I seek to please you in the time allotted," she breathed in my ear, making the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end. "And you seek to outwait me. Will you play?”
"Here?" I glanced at the avid crowd. "I think not.”
"No, no, I'll not put you on display." She pointed toward the second story, where a specially constructed chamber overhung the balcony, lined with silk curtains. "There.”
Behind her, Mavros was shaking his head in warning, looking dubious. Elua knows what he had expected, but it seemed he didn't like the odds of this wager the Dowayne had conceived. But I thought about Claudia Fulvia and what she had made me endure, and I smiled at Janelle. "All right," I said lightly. "Why not?”
"Oh, very good!" Her nails trailed down my throat and over my chest. "Come.”
It was something, it seemed, for the Dowayne of Bryony House to take on a challenge personally. She led me up the sweeping staircase while the throng cheered and laid wagers. From what I could hear, none or few of them favored me. We entered the dais chamber, strewn with cushions and hung with fretted lamps. A pair of adepts closed the drapes behind us, and Janelle opened those facing the salon. Below us, the crowd milled.
"Bring the hourglass!" she called.
A bare-chested male adept with the Bryony mark brought forth a tall, slender hourglass capped with silver at both ends and wreathed in trailing vine. The crowd parted to make a space for him.
Janelle nó Bryony raised her hand. "Let it begin!" The adept overturned his hourglass. Sand began to trickle through its narrow neck. Janelle closed the drapes and turned to me, letting her gown slip from her shoulders. Her skin was white in the lamplight, and there was rouge on the nipples of her high, firm breasts. I swallowed at the sight. "You were unwise, sweet prince," she said, her voice soft and mocking. "Have you not heard the first rule of Bryony House's patrons? Never wager against its Dowayne. I will enjoy choosing a forfeit.”
I wanted her, badly. But I didn't much like her. I bared my teeth at her in a cold smile. "A Dowayne should gauge her patrons better, my lady.”
"Defiance!" One eyebrow arched. "This will be fun.”
All of Naamah's Servants are adept in her arts. As the crowd below chanted and clapped to mark the passage of time, Janelle sank gracefully to her knees before me. Her hot breath penetrated through my breeches. My phallus leapt in response, stiffening.
I stared at the draped ceiling.
The Dowayne of Bryony House performed the languisement on me. She did it with excruciating skill. I could feel the muscles of her cheeks and throat milking my phallus. I thought of Claudia and nearly lost all control. No. So I did the only thing left to me and thought of Daršanga.
It went on for a long time. The unseen crowd's roar grew louder, clapping turning to stamping. I felt her hands, growing urgent, cupping my testes, squeezing and rolling them; her urgent finger probing my anus. My body went rigid with shock and pleasure, and I overrode it.
"Duzhmata," I whispered. "Duzhûshta, duzhvarshta.”
Ill thoughts, ill words, ill deeds.
The gong sounded