Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [197]
We were alive.
We were free.
And at the end of the night, I got to retire with my beloved.
“Imriel.” In our darkened bedchamber, Sidonie breathed my name. I found her mouth and kissed her. She tasted like wine and honey on my tongue.
“What’s your desire, Sun Princess?” I whispered.
“You.” She sank to her knees, her hands gliding over my chest. I felt her fingers undoing my breeches. I felt my taut phallus spring free. I groaned as she licked the underside, swirling her tongue around the crown like a child with a sweet. Groaned louder when she took me into her mouth, sinking my hands into her hair and freeing its coils, feeling her nails digging into my buttocks.
“Stop!” I gasped.
Sidonie’s eyes gleamed in the faint light. “Is that a signale?”
“No.” The word emerged as a growl deep in my throat. “Come here, Princess.”
Beneath her gown, Sidonie was still bandaged, clean strips of white linen laced across her shoulders, crisscrossing her breasts. For the first time since I’d wounded her, I ignored her injury. I laid her on her back and spread her thighs, fitting myself between them, propped on one arm. I teased her, taking my phallus in my hand and rubbing its swollen crown against her slick cleft until she gasped and begged, her back arching, hips thrusting helplessly.
Then I took her.
Deep.
Hard.
“Elua!” Sidonie’s last ragged gasp burst in my ear, her inner muscles milking my shaft. I burst in her, spending myself, seeing a sparkling darkness behind my closed eyelids. Good, so good. Where did Sidonie begin and Imriel end? I couldn’t even tell anymore. This could be the last time. I didn’t know.
I never wanted to know.
Our bodies quieted in the aftermath of pleasure.
“Your back?” I murmured.
“I think it’s all right.” Her voice was low and different. It always was after love-making. “If it’s not, it was worth it.”
I rolled off her, sliding my arm beneath her. “Sleep, love.”
Sidonie lay in the crook of my arm. “Look at the window. It’s almost dawn.” We watched the light seep through the shuttered window. “It looks as though the weather might have cleared.”
“Mayhap,” I agreed.
We looked at one another. “Right.” Sidonie nodded. “Sleep.”
In the morning—or later in the morning—when we arose, we found it was true. The weather had broken and the day was clear and bright, giving every promise of a clear, cloudless night.
“I don’t think they’ll do it tonight,” I said to Sidonie. “Not after the fête.”
I was wrong.
In the early afternoon, Captain Aureliano, the soldier I’d met atop the walls of the city, sought us out, finding us in the palace library. He’d struck me as a competent, easygoing fellow when I’d met him. Today he was as serious as death.
“Well met, your highness,” he said when I introduced him to Sidonie. “General Liberio sent me to confer with you.”
Sidonie paled. “Is it tonight?”
“It is.” Aureliano took a deep breath. “The general had us let the word slip to Astegal’s men that there was a fête last night. We do a fair bit of taunting back and forth, you know. Not much else to do. But he reckoned that in the event the weather cleared today, they’d never expect us to pull a stunt tonight.”
“Clever,” I said.
“Liberio’s a clever fellow,” Aureliano said. “I’ll be in command of your company. He’s sent me to go over every instruction with you to be sure there are no mistakes made tonight.”
“Tell us what we need to know,” Sidonie said in a resolute tone.
Aureliano went over the plan step by step. Saddlebags would be delivered to our quarters. We were to pack our things and be ready by nightfall—nothing more than we could carry on horseback. That part at least was simple—neither of us possessed more than we could carry.
“What about supplies?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Your guide will be carrying enough to get you through the first night or so. Once you’re north of Amílcar, you’ll find villages willing to trade. Carthage’s sway lies to