Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [92]
The Dragon Fala was not a follower of Aelon. She wanted treasure and in return, she agreed to help Raegar sail the seas in search of jewels. A war galley was being secretly rebuilt and refitted to accommodate the dragon.
Now all Raegar had to do was to convince Treia that she must learn the secret to controlling the Vektan dragon. He would be savior of his people. He would ride through the streets in a chariot. The crowds would praise his name and throw flowers in his path. The Empress would crown him with laurel leaves. She might well make him Priest-General.
He found Treia seated by herself on a bench in the shade of an oleander. She sat with her accustomed stiff-backed rigidity, her hands in her lap. He could not tell from looking at her whether she had been successful convincing Aylaen or failed utterly. One could never tell what Treia was thinking or feeling.
When he had first met her, he had thought her frigid, a woman born to die a virgin. Even when it became obvious that she was in love with him, she had grown stiff and cold in his arms whenever he had tried to make love to her. He had taken others to his bed during those months, so he did not feel the lack of female companionship. Yet he was surprised to find that he wanted Treia. He wanted to break through her shell of ice and make her his own.
He still remembered how she had come across him in the Hall of Vindrash on the Dragon Isles. She had feared he was dead and she was overjoyed to find him still alive. In the transports of her joy, she had given herself to him with abandon, not once, but several times. And their lovemaking had been like that ever since, passionate and fiery. He felt his blood burn at the memory. He saw her sitting on the bench, cold to all the world, and he thought of her sweating in his arms, moaning and digging her nails into his flesh.
He wondered if Aylaen would be like her sister in that regard. With her red curls and fiery temper, he imagined that she would be like a catamount in his bed.
He looked around.
“Where is Aylaen?” he asked.
“Zahakis came to fetch her. She is in training for that silly game. Don’t worry,” Treia added, seeing him frown, “I told Zahakis she must return to the Temple tonight. She has agreed to go to the Spirit Priestesses.”
“Excellent,” said Raegar, his good humor restored. “In truth, I’m glad she’s gone.” He grasped hold of her arm and pulled her close. “Come with me.”
“Where? We will miss morning prayers.”
“No, we won’t. We have time. This won’t take long.”
He led her to a small shrine located on the grounds. The shrine was small and shabby, one of the first built to Aelon when he was newly come to this world. The Priest-General had rededicated it to one of the lesser gods of Aelon’s pantheon.
The priests and priestesses went to this shrine, though not to worship. Surrounded by a thick stand of pine trees, the shrine offered one of the few places on the Temple grounds where lovers could find some privacy. Most couples came here by night. Raegar could not wait for night, however.
The shrine was small, more like a mausoleum. He pushed open the heavy door and drew Treia inside and slammed the door shut, leaving them in darkness. She knew immediately what he wanted and she gave a fierce cry and clasped him in her arms. He lifted the skirts of her robes and shoved her up against a wall. He fumbled and grunted and she moaned with pleasure and in moments, their lovemaking was over.
A bell began to ring, summoning the faithful.
Treia shook down her skirts and combed her fingers through her tousled hair. Raegar smoothed his robes