Eimarille settled her hands on Terilyn’s shoulders, sighing softly as those familiar, talented fingers stroked up her inner thighs, hidden by the soft fabric between them. But there was no hiding from the hungry intent in her lover’s eyes, and she never wanted to.
“He’ll take you like this tonight,” Terilyn murmured as she stroked her fingers over the soft folds there between Eimarille’s legs before sliding them in deep. “But he won’t please you.”
Eimarille let her head fall back, arching into the steady movement of those knowing fingers. “Of course he won’t. He’s not you.”
Terilyn kissed a delicate line down Eimarille’s throat as she undid the belt of her dressing gown. The fabric shifted, falling open, and Eimarille tugged it off one shoulder. She curled her fingers over the loose neckline of her sleeping gown, pulling it down, able to because she hadn’t bothered with the ribbon that held it in place in the back.
Her nipples hardened once her breasts were bared, the chill coming off the window stronger than the heated air of her bedroom. Terilyn bent her head and drew one into her mouth, tongue flicking at the tight nub. Eimarille moaned softly, eyes falling shut as she tangled her fingers through Terilyn’s thick hair.
Pleasure crept up on her in a soft build, Terilyn drawing it out of her from years of knowing how. Eimarille came with a soundless cry she buried in Terilyn’s hair, cradling her lover close, shivering through the aftermath.
And it was true, she knew, hours later when Eimarille stood at the altar in the star temple, dressed in a white wedding gown and delicate veil that sparkled like the stars from thousands of diamonds, new crown heavy on her head as she stared at the man she was to marry. Wesley would not love her how Terilyn did, but Eimarille still meant the vows she gave to him before the high priestess of the Star Order in Daijal, the sweet voices of the children’s choir singing a prayer different from the one she’d known in Ashion.
She would do right by crown and duty, as she always had, but only Eimarille knew the subtle distinctions in the promises she gave.
And that was her choice, one not even the star gods could take from her.
Two
EIMARILLE
“I could kill her, if you like,” Terilyn offered.
Eimarille never took her eyes off the broadsheet spread out beside the breakfast plate she’d hardly touched. The opinion piece on the newly passed banking laws—gifts of the Daijal parliament to Eimarille as a wedding present—by one Meleri Auclair, Duchess of Auclair, printed out on the front page was benign enough, if one didn’t read between the lines.
The surviving noble bloodlines in Ashion who retained allegiance to a dead queen numbered less than they had these days. Some of that was due to deaths; mostly, it was due to Eimarille’s politicking, but even her skill with words couldn’t bring the Auclair bloodline to heel. Eimarille was honestly surprised the duchess hadn’t touched upon Bernard’s decree that Amari, Ashion’s capital, was now hers to oversee. Perhaps the citizens of Ashion could see the lie in those words as well as she did.
“And make of her a martyr? That isn’t useful to me,” Eimarille said.
“It would please you.”
“Yes, but some pleasures are worth waiting for, dearest.”
The affectionate endearment slipped easily from her lips when it was just the two of them in a room. The servants knew her habits and had set out the food before leaving. Terilyn always took it upon herself to serve them both during those times.
Wesley’s plate was left empty, her husband still abed, though not for much longer. The last couple of weeks since the wedding had found her getting to know his habits on an intimate level. The way they each lived wasn’t quite complementary, but they were adjusting. Eimarille had always been an early riser, and she missed lying beside Terilyn. Their mornings together with no one else around were precious, but the separation was ever jarring to her.
Eimarille lifted her teacup to her mouth, then grimaced, the smell making her stomach twist unpleasantly. She set it back down and picked up her toast instead, butter smeared thick on it. Eimarille took a small bite, chewing slowly as she continued to read the broadsheet.
“What would be of use to you, then?” Terilyn asked.
Eimarille glanced at where Terilyn sat to her right at the table in the private dining room that had come with the suite of rooms Eimarille and Wesley had moved into after the wedding. The space, like most areas of the palace, was ostentatiously decorated, and Terilyn had been working relentlessly with the chamberlain to make it less gauche and more to Eimarille’s taste.
That meant replacing all the furniture, putting up new wallpaper, and updating the sconces and chandeliers for the gas lamps. Terilyn had overseen the transition of one drawing room into Eimarille’s personal office since Wesley had claimed the actual allotted office, a space he hardly ever used. No matter. Eimarille was adept at making a home in a place that didn’t initially belong to her.
“Decimation of the Clockwork Brigade, but we’re still working on that.”
Terilyn wrinkled her nose in distaste at the mention of the rebellion. The Clockwork Brigade had grown out of the resistance to the banks, their debt slaves, and the stranglehold support the Collector’s Guild had on the financial industry.
Smugglers had been taking debt slaves out of Daijal to find safe harbor in other countries since before the civil war. Their efforts had culminated in what was now the Clockwork Brigade, a wide-ranging network of spies, activists, and outright anarchists that the Iverson bloodline had failed to root out and expunge.
They still didn’t know who ran the Clockwork Brigade, but Eimarille had her suspicions. She hadn’t been privy to the identity of her birth mother’s spymaster before leaving Ashion, but she had her own spies these days. Blades were useful that way. They might be forged in Daijal, but they secreted themselves in every country.
Eimarille took another bite of her toast, grimacing at the taste of it. She swallowed and then abruptly stood as the toast tried to come up her throat. Eimarille covered her mouth with one hand before darting over to the side table, where the servants had left the breakfast spread. She grabbed the half-filled pitcher of water and promptly emptied her stomach of what little she’d had so far into it.
Terilyn was by her side in an instant, smoothing back her hair as Eimarille braced herself against the side table. “That’s the third morning this week.”
Eimarille drew in a sour breath and pressed a hand over her stomach, the corset she wore beneath her blouse something she wished she could do without. It was easy to lace up at the moment, but she knew that would eventually change. At some point, she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth.
