Chapter 44

44

Lustina

Kneeling by the river, Lustina poured wood ash into the wash basin and scrubbed at the fabric that carried the stains of dirt and squished berries. As expected, she’d been reprimanded for arriving late with the fruit, and her punishment was extra chores--including the cleaning of her dress. Her only other dress, which she’d been forced to wear, was old and threadbare and offered little protection against the brisk air, so that shivers wracked her body.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, she twisted to find the baron dressed in a leather brigandine vest with bracers at the wrist, a uniform he was made to wear when sparring with the Pentacrux soldiers, in training for the day his father would call on him to defend Praecepsia. The muscles in his arms, which seemed to have grown in recent weeks, sent a warm flush to her cheeks. Pushing a stray hair from her braid behind her ear, she smiled as she returned to her toil.

“It is rude to watch a woman work without her knowledge, My Lord.”

“It is equally rude to look so utterly appetizing while performing such work. I request that you pause to accompany me on a short journey to the foot of the mountain.”

Cheeks burning, she offered a coy smile over her shoulder, but didn’t set aside the wash, as requested. “I beg your forgiveness, but I shall have to decline, as I have already accumulated far too many punishments.”

“Punishments for what, may I ask?” The demanding tone of his voice, always laced with a small bit of ire, exposed the protective nature he seemed intent on disguising.

“Venturing into the woods alone. And wandering said woods until darkfall.”

“And what was it that kept you so late?”

“Sleep. I must have … fallen at some point. Hit my head on the gnarled root of a tree.” She raised a wet hand to her crown to massage it. “Seems the ache has mostly subsided, but my humiliation persists.”

“No physical punishment, then?”

“No, they were surprisingly merciful in that regard.”

Yet, in spite of her words, he continued to assess her, his eyes scanning over her as if he needed to see for himself. “I can assure you, you will suffer no repercussions for accompanying me.” A bold proclamation that brought a smile to her face.

“And it is your stealth and conniving nature which assures such a thing.”

“It is the bishop who assures.”

Lustina whorled on her heel. She frowned on finding no humor on the baron’s face. “The bishop?”

“I met with him earlier.”

“Regarding Drystan?”

“No. It seems the good bishop asks a favor of me. A very … committed favor.” The way he emphasized the word told Lustina it was a favor the baron was not happy to oblige. “You were my condition.”

Turning back toward her sopping dress, Lustina shook her head. “You told him of us?”

“I did not have to. It seems he already knew a fair amount about the two of us.”

“Drystan.”

“I suspect.”

“No, something does not sit well in all of this.”

“You are wise to think so.”

“You do not trust the bishop, then.”

“No. He has asked me to join their war, to expand their purview. I would personally rather die than partake in such a thing. But he has offered to release you to me.”

Perhaps she had not quite heard him right, and confused, she glanced back at him. “Release me. For what?”

“In his eyes, diversion. Complacency. An exchange of property.”

“Property.” Anger flared inside of her, the inherited temper of her mother rising to the surface. “Is that what I am? No more than chattel to buy and sell off at will?”

“To the bishop? Yes. As for me? I would ask you to be my wife.”

The words struck her silly, and Lustina let out an ungracious snort. “A nobleman cannot marry a commoner, My Lord.”

“I think I have expressed my stance on the rules of courtship.”

She desperately tried to push the thoughts of being his wife away, because it was not possible. No matter what he said. No matter how much she longed to lie beside him every night and dream the impossible. “What will your father think? The people? What about your title?”

“I never wanted a title. I never asked for it. And I care more for the fleas on the back of your feral cat than what my father thinks.”

Still turned away from him, she slapped the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing at his remark.?Swallowing back the humor, she casually resumed squeezing the water from her dress, the cold air burning her knuckles with the toil. “How do you expect us to marry? You need a pentrosh to officiate such a thing. None will grant his blessing.”

“It so happens, the bishop has offered his services. In exchange for my fealty.”

The dress nearly slipped from her hands as she froze in place. Breath caught in her chest, she stared off for a moment. “Official marriage. Recognized by the church?” Lustina shook her head. “I am not baptized. They do not recognize me as--”

“He has agreed to a baptismal prior to the ceremony, also. And to forgive your past transgressions.”

The offer was tempting. Even if she didn’t entirely believe it, or trust it, she longed for the day when everyone she passed would not look upon her as vermin. She longed to rectify her mother’s name. And she could not deny the smallest blossom of hope in her chest at the possibility. “I would start anew.”

“A clean slate. A lady with a title, should you agree to marry me.”

She smiled, ribs throbbing with the blossoming ache of hope. “I would be a fool to deny you.”

“I would have to agree. Mostly because I would have the unsound mind to smite any potential suitor who might attempt to rob me of your affection, in a manner most violent.”

Lustina bit her lip and smiled wider. “Ah, yes, there are many. Then, I suppose I should choose wisely. It is imperative that your mind remain sound. And that no potential suitor is harmed.”

“Agreed.”

“Might I ask, though. What reason would you seek his blessing? I was never under the impression it meant so much to you.”

“You are correct in that observation. His blessing means nothing to me. It is only that I know what it means to you, and how much you long to right the supposed sins of your mother.” As he strolled up to her, she lowered her gaze for the smile that taunted her lips. “Now, if you will kindly set your washing aside, I insist that you accompany me this afternoon.”

“Well, as I understand, according to your customs, it would be rude to deny my future husband such company.”

“It would.” He pushed the wash basin aside, sloshing the dirty ash water over the edge, and reached for Lustina’s hands, cupping her ice-cold fingers which he warmed with his breath. Heat bloomed in places other than her hands, and with a quick kiss to her knuckles, he led her out of the woods.

At the edge of the forest stood a beautiful, black horse, one whose coat gleamed with the shine of pride and care. As she hooked her foot into the saddle, the baron helped her up onto the patient steed and climbed on behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist. At the press of his lips against her nape, Lustina closed her eyes, willing away the goosebumps across her skin. The warmth of his body enveloped her, and she leaned into him, as the horse galloped along the dirt path, away from the monastery. Away from the invisible shackles that weighed heavy on her. Away from all she longed to forget, if only for the afternoon.

They rode across open fields and vast meadows with the freedom of a bird, along untrodden paths, and foreign stretches of woodland, until they reached the foot of Helios Mountain. Stories had been told that the mountain, seen only in the distance from the monastery, was so treacherous that not even the gods themselves would dare the climb. Yet, with its black rock and the heavy mist that lingered at its summit, it was the most beautiful of all the mountains in Praecepsia.

As he lifted her down from the horse, she took in the wonder of her surroundings--the clusters of trees situated along cascading rocks, where water flowed into a crystal blue pool. Fog sat thick on the air, the steam of the water rising up from its calm and placid surface. Ethereal and enchanting.

“What is this place?”

“It is a hot spring. A rare and undiscovered gem.” Taking her by the hand, he led the way, and at the edge of the pool, he came to a stop.

“Have you brought another here before?”

“Not here. Never here. The water is as discretionary as it is cleansing.”

“Discretionary?” She swung her gaze back toward the clear, blue waters that seemed nothing more than inviting. “How so?”

“It is rarely calm. But today, it seems to have made an exception.” Peeling his gaze from the water, he turned to face Lustina and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers while he loosened the ties of her dress. “You are cold.”

“Yes,” she answered sheepishly. “My dress does not hold well against the chill.”

“I will see to it that you have new dresses made. Exceptionally warm dresses.” He ran a finger down her cheek and pushed a thin tendril of hair behind her ear. “You will never want for anything again. As my wife, all your needs will be met without question.”

In a failed attempt to blink away the tears gathered in her eyes, Lustina turned away. “Forgive my emotions. I do not have proper words at the moment.”

Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he guided her eyes back to his. “You do not need words, Lustina. The way your eyes brim with gratitude at the smallest gesture is what I find most irresistible about you. That, and the way your skin prickles at the slightest touch.”

He removed the threads of her dress, and the loose fabric fell to the ground, revealing not even a shift beneath. As if it pleased him to see her bare skin, his eyes riveted on her breasts, he licked his lips before pressing them to the base of her neck. The cold of her skin sizzled against his hot grip, as he held both her arms and pulled her into his body.

Chills skittered over too-sensitive flesh, while his mouth devoured her in reverent kisses that he trailed over her collarbone.?Only when he pulled himself away, and began removing his vest, did she remember the frigid air.

Once he’d doffed his pants and boots, Lustina marveled at the sight of his chiseled body. How every inch of him had been carved in the most unattainable perfection. Lean and muscular, from his shoulders down to his sturdy feet. As if the gods themselves had sketched him in an image of their likeness.

He guided her into the water, and the moment she dipped her foot into the steamy, warm liquid, her body melted into utter bliss. Luxurious heat engulfed her with every step deeper into its mysterious pool.?Soon, Lustina was neck deep, a layer of steam dampening her face.

Jericho lifted her up and wrapped her legs around him, pressing her most sensitive flesh against his stomach. He looked down between them, where the clear water below showed him flexing his stomach, stirring beneath her in a way that dragged his skin against her with only the slick of the water as a barrier. Hands palming her bottom, he squeezed, pulling her into him, and his lips found her raw and aching nipple. She arched with the flicking of his tongue and let out a moan that echoed around them. The heat, coupled with his absolute obscene mastery of her body, left her wondering if she’d found Heaven, or Hell. With every long and merciless suckling of his lips, an invisible thread pulled from somewhere deep inside her belly and thighs, and she wrapped her legs tighter.

She circled her hips against him for relief, and given the sound he made in his throat, and the digging of his fingers into her bottom, it seemed to please him. The water stirred around them, goading a frenzy of movement, their bodies slippery and warm with the steam. So lost in the sensation, she failed to notice the flames on the water’s surface, until a flicker in her periphery caught her attention. Quickly pulling away, she let out a sharp exhale, but Jericho pulled her tighter. Encircled in flames, the two had little more than arm’s length to move without getting too close.

“The concentration of sulphur in the water. It creates a circle of fire,” Jericho said, before licking the dew from her neck. “Incredible, yes?”

“Yes, but …” She didn’t want to say how much she feared the flame, particularly after the death of her mother.

“You are afraid.”

“And you are not?” Arms wrapped tighter around him, she trembled in his grasp. “Fire is a beast. An uncontrollable element of destruction, My Lord.”

“It is. But it can also warm and cleanse.” He reached beneath the flame and allowed the fiery water to catch in his palm. When he lowered it into the flameless halo where they stood, it fizzled into steam.

Lustina glanced at him and back to the flames.

“Try it,” he urged. “Hold it in your hand, as if you command it.”

Uncertainty swirled in her eyes, and with reluctance, she reached out, lifting a palmful of the flaming water, which flickered in her hand, until she, too, lowered it into the halo and it disappeared. How easily he’d coaxed her into reaching out and touching her greatest fear, holding it in her palm to watch it banish at her own will. “You never cease to fascinate me.”

“Nor you,” he said, and pressing against her shoulder, he urged her to lie back within the circle that, unless she imagined it, seemed to move further away to accommodate her. Legs still wrapped around him, she floated on the surface, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Close your eyes and mute the world.”

Smiling, she knew exactly what he meant, and she tipped her head back just enough that her ears went below the surface. With her breasts out of the water, she felt a soft tickling across her skin, so exquisitely intense that she parted her lips and arched into it.

Opening her eyes showed the baron holding a long, magnificent, black feather, like that plucked from a raven, but larger. He dragged it over the part of her body not submerged in water, and she could scarcely exhale a held breath, for fear of sinking below the surface. Where he had found the object, she did not know, as he hadn’t moved from her since they stepped into the pool.

“Remain still,” he commanded. “But should it become too much, scream mercy.”

“Mercy? As in, what you say during punishment?” Brows winged up with worry, she lifted her head from the water. “Will it hurt?”

His lips curved to a smirk, as he urged her to lie back again. “Mine is a different kind of torment.”

Over her nipples and down her stomach, he glided the feather, before he one-handedly lifted her bottom up, to flit the feather over her most sensitive flesh.

Disobeying, she jerked and let out a moan, as the soft plume tickled the tiny bud exposed by the spreading of her thighs still wrapped around the baron’s waist. Moving her arms was all she could do to keep herself afloat, with her panting breaths.

Merciless in his ministrations, he concentrated the very tip of the feather on that tiny nub of pleasure, and Lustina longed to pull her thighs closed against the tickle there. “My Lord, please.”

“I am certain I asked that you call me Jericho.”

The tickling intensified, and Lustina struggled to stay afloat, until she felt strong hands lift her onto a hard surface, where the water rushed over her shoulders. She turned to find herself lying against a smooth rock, over which warm water trickled. The flames still circled them, but had somehow moved with them, creating a flickering arc around the rock.

Jericho set her heels on the edge of the stony step, legs wide, and before she could stop him, he resumed his feather play. He parted the lips of her flesh, and the tickling sensation heightened to the extent that she curled her fingers around the slippery rock.

When she brought her knees together, he pried them apart and inserted his fingers up into her, as if in punishment.

But it was far from punishing.

The warm, slick water made for an easy glide, in and out, and Lustina lost herself to the two sensations that collided into one exquisite pinnacle. Her muscles grew tight. Back arched. The feather seemed to vibrate, sending tiny pulses over her flesh, the sensation so deliciously wicked and sublime, she trembled with anticipation. She had never felt anything so good in her life. When she opened her eyes, the feather glowed with tiny flickers of jagged light, but she was already lost to the intoxication of it all.

Her thighs quaked.

Muscles tensed.

In and out, he pumped his fingers, until a rush of heat shot up into her, racing through her veins, and an explosion of light crashed over her like a storm. She let out a scream, her body arched and convulsing, while the water rushed to cool the heat blazing inside of her.

She bucked her hips forward, spreading herself open, and felt a warm wet tongue glide over her exposed slit. Lifting her head showed the baron feasting on her, licking his fingers and lips, as if he were starved for her taste. Feral and wild, the sight of him still hungry, both thrilled and terrified her.

Eyes darkening to something wicked, he watched from between her thighs, his tongue gliding between his teeth. Tiny flashes, like thunderbolts, danced over his eyes and tongue, and when he dipped his head again, Lustina’s own eyes widened with fear. The moment his tongue made contact, her body convulsed, her eyes rolled back.

“Mercy!” she cried out. “Oh, God, mercy!”

* * *

At a gentle stroke across her temple, Lustina awoke to find the baron staring down at her, the winter blue of his eyes brimming with concern.

She lay naked, at the bank of the hot springs, yet in spite of the chill on the air, she did not feel cold. “Did I sleep?”

“Fainted. I should not have exposed you to so much at once. It can be dangerous.”

“So much of what?”

Instead of answering her question, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “I should get you back.”

“No.” She pulled at his arms in urgency. “Why go back? There is nothing for us there, with both of our mothers now passed. Let us run away together.”

“I cannot leave yet.”

“Why? What keeps you so imprisoned there?”

“Vengeance. I intend to kill Bishop Venable. To avenge my mother’s murder.”

“Murder?”

“The poison he disguised as a sacred elixir.”

The weight of his words pressed down on her, creating a guilt for having accompanied the bishop on his visits and painting a picture of dread inside her mind. “Why did no one stop it?”

“I wanted to. I wanted to watch every one of them die a slow death for her suffering, including my father, but she forbade me to seek revenge. Even as she lay on her own deathbed, she worried for my heart.”

“She loved you.”

“And she is gone now. Therefore, I will get my revenge.”

“What you said about his blessing, though …”

“We do not need his paltry blessings, but I will play along. As will you. And I will strike when he least expects it.”

Except, the bishop had an army at his command, one far more passionate than that of the king’s. Cupping the baron’s face in her palms, she stared back at him with urgency. “You cannot kill him. He is far too powerful. The village, they follow his every word as if he were the Holy Father himself. Please, My Lord. I beg of you. Forget him. Let us leave this place.”

He dragged one of her hands from his face and kissed her palm. “I would. If only for you. But there would be no escape, for if they knew what truly lay beneath this facade of flesh and bones, their kind would hunt me until the end of time.”

“What do you mean?”

Stubborn as always, he shook his head, and with a gentle prod, Lustina guided his eyes back to hers. “Please. I want to know why they fear you. Show me what you do not want the others to see. And I promise that I will not be afraid.”

A battle waged behind his eyes. “I want to. I would give anything for you to see me as I am.”

“Then, show me.”

Thoughts seemed to clash inside his head, the muscles in his shoulders tensing where she rested her palm. “Only know that I will never hurt you. So long as I breathe.”

“Of course I know that.”

He ran his thumb over her lips, looking thoughtful for a moment, before he sat back on his heels. Lowering his gaze from hers, he closed his eyes. At first, there was only stillness. Then a sharp sound sliced through the silence, and Lustina watched, eyes wide in disbelief, as black wings unfurled behind him. Raven black wings with hints of blue and purple that matched the hair on his head.?Enormous in size, they stretched well above him and spanned the full length of his body in either direction.

A tight fist of shock squeezed her lungs, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to contain the sound that begged for escape.

Brows lowered, he watched her, studied her reaction. Undoubtedly desperate for a single utterance of acceptance, but as if her mouth had sealed, she could not speak.

She had lied to the baron when she said she would not be afraid. But she did not fear him--only for him.

Tears filled her eyes as she took in the impossibility that seemed as real as the mountains and trees standing behind her. Perhaps every bit of it an illusion, nothing more than a dream, from which she never wanted to wake. “What are you?” she breathed.

“I do not know for certain. My mother, on her deathbed, called me a Sentinel. She told me that I was half evil, half good. Half demon, half angel.”

“Your father …”

“A certain kind of demon. She called him a Dalgoth. Apparently very dangerous and rare. He stole my mother away. Locked the angel in a cage and raped her until I was born.” His lips twitched with what must have been bottled rage. “He wanted to destroy me, but she refused. She threatened to take her own life.” The torment in his eyes struck an unbearable chord of pain inside of her. “His weakness is the light. Her purity. According to her, no human soul can provide the vitality of an angel. For years, he fed off it, weakening her. Until he and the bishop finally killed her.”

“I have always suspected both men to be evil. Now I am certain of it.” She couldn’t take her eyes of his wings, completely captivated by their magnificence. “Were you born with them?”

“If I was, I was not aware of them. Not until I was much older. It was five years ago--I had climbed this very mountain and lost my footing at its peak.” After a quick upward glance, he met her gaze again. “I was certain I would die. Tumbling toward the ground with nothing to catch me. A terrible fear gripped me, but before I hit, an intense pain tore across my back, as my wings emerged for the first time. My fall was nothing short of graceless, but I walked away with no more than a scratch. It was on that day that I swore I would never speak a word to anyone about them.”

“Are there others … like you?”

“Yes. My mother said they would come for me one day. That so long as I remained virtuous and true, they would take me with them to fight the holy war.”

“That is why she did not want you to take vengeance against the bishop and your father.”

“Yes. But it does not matter, Lustina. I do not want their holy war. I do not want to be ushered away and turned into a warrior for their cause.” Sparks danced over the surface of his wings as he spoke, as if agitated by the thought.

“May I … touch them?”

“Of course.”

Pushing to unsteady feet, she stood before him, and even though he remained knelt, the height of his wings still surpassed her. Hand trembling, she ran her fingertip across the surface, and recoiled at the tangibility of what she was certain was only a dream. Swallowing a harsh gulp, she reached to touch them again, and he gripped her arm, startling her.

“Do not touch me out of pity.”

“I can assure you, what I am feeling is not pity for you, My Lord, but for those who would choose to destroy something so beautiful.”

What she surmised as confusion flickered across his face, and he released her. Just as before, she reached out and ran her hand down the surface, that time to the very tips, which she allowed to tickle her fingers. With a smile, she recalled the sensation of earlier when he’d teased her with the feather.

One of his own, plucked from his own wings.

She let her hand skim over the surface of his wings as she circled him, and smiled as his wings shuddered, as if the sensation tickled. When she rounded to the front, he rose to his feet, and she ran her fingertips over the ridges of his chest, where she pressed a soft and reverent kiss.

“Thank you,” she said. “I feel as if I have truly seen you now.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“No. You are right, though. The bishop will surely hunt you for these wings. He must be destroyed.” Lustina reached up, holding his handsome face in the palm of her hands. “Allow me to do this for you. I know of a concoction which will poison him, just as he did your mother.”

“You honor me with this proposition, but my answer is no. It is my vengeance. Should he become wise to your intent, he would surely strike against you first. And if that were to happen, every man, woman, peasant, and nobleman alike would burn for such an atrocity.”

“Then, promise me that, once you have exacted your revenge, you will take me away from this place. All of this senseless judgment and death.”

“You have my word.” Lips slanted for a kiss, he pulled her into his body, and a thousand thoughts overtook her mind. How badly she wanted to steal away with him, to kiss him every day and night without the worry of who might condemn them. She longed for the freedom of lying beside him beneath the stars, with his steady heartbeat pounding in her ear.?To make love to him and grow old with him, and always feel the safety she felt right then.

Lustina wished that the wings on his back could fly them away, as carefree as the birds.

She lay her head against his chest, tracing his skin with the tip of her finger. “Earlier, when you said too much would be dangerous. What did you mean? Too much of what?”

“Every feather carries a very powerful sensation, much like lightning. At times, I can control it well, and others, I cannot.”

“Lightning is said to be a strike from the heavens. The anger of ancient gods.”

He stroked a gentle hand down her hair. “Imagine thousands of thunderbolts trapped inside a single feather.”

“That sounds quite deadly.”

“Indeed. And so you understand why I fear myself more than the Pentacrux fears me.”

She pushed up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I do. But you are compelled toward goodness.”

“It is only you which compels me, Lustina. I do not care for this world enough to concern myself with its other creatures. I would wish them all away and keep you for myself.”

How wrong it was for her to find his proclamation so pleasing, given that she had been raised to love and care for all creatures. To find goodness in others--even those who did not deserve such compassion. That was her mother’s way, after all. But she found herself drawn to the baron’s unapologetic and selfish nature.

In some strange way, it endeared him to her.

“If you do this, if you murder the bishop, how will you go about it? As I said, he is not only adored by many, but protected, also.”

“In passing, he mentioned a trek to Rome two nights from now. That is why he asked me to pause the nuptials until his return. It is when he is on the road that I will strike, and make it appear as if he had been raided on his travels.”

A restless uncertainty gnawed at her. “He will be accompanied by members of Pentacrux. He would never make such a trek without some protection.”

“I am anticipating that, also.”

Perhaps. But Lustina knew the Pentacrux to be fierce and merciless soldiers--the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy what they deemed an aberration, or insult, to their good faith. “And what should I do in all of this?”

“You will behave as if all is well, attending your chores, as usual. And when night falls, you will go into the forest, guided by the ravens.”

“Ravens?”

“They will lead you to a safe place and watch over you until my return.” He stroked a hand down her temple and kissed her forehead. “I will find you there, and we will leave this place together before the village receives word of their bishop.”

“Promise me you will return. That you will find me in the woods.”

“I will find you, Lustina. No matter what happens.”

Warmth and darkness settled over her, as his wings cocooned her inside. She rested her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She felt safe.

She felt loved.

She felt everything.