On Azrael's Wings (16 page)

“Bring Ursula a bowl and help yourselves,” Azrael said to her other slaves.

Vincenza, already filling another bowl, finished her duty and handed it to Felicia rather than the upstart newcomer. The blonde’s lips thinned but she accepted the bowl, transferring it to Ursula with a soft smile.

Azrael ignored the display as well as the flash of anger. The urge to defend Ursula was unsettling. She needed to straighten her thoughts, to talk to someone. But who?

Ursula silently ate at Azrael’s feet. The others sat at the table with their breakfast, but she didn’t mind. Occasionally, Azrael would reach down with a piece of rich dark bread for her to nibble; the extra attention almost made up for the lonely night.

The stew was marvelous. It was no wonder the chef proclaimed his superiority. Orsino’s pride was well deserved. His was the only superiority Ursula was willing to accept, however.

She eyed Vincenza, keeping her expression neutral as the black haired slave flirted with their mistress over breakfast. Highly trained courtesan or not, Vincenza obviously wasn’t any better than her. If such were the case, Ursula knew she’d have seen an auction block during their travels home, not given a room within Azrael’s personal quarters.

Somewhat mollified by her thoughts, Ursula plucked a grape from Azrael’s fingers, sucking the digits before releasing them. Her reward was a smile and a caress as Azrael ran fingers through mahogany hair before returning to her own meal.

Glancing at Felicia, Ursula continued to eat. In the short time they’d had to get acquainted, she discovered a liking for the blonde. Felicia reminded her a bit of Midia, though the strawberry blonde seemed more inclined toward playfulness than duty. Ursula was certain they’d get along fine.

Scraping the bottom of her bowl, the brunette finished the stew and rose, setting the empty dish on the tray. “Would you like anything more, Milady?”

“No, Ursula. Too much of Orsino’s cooking after such a long absence will no doubt have me waddling in no time.” Azrael handed over her bowl and pushed back from the table, waving her slave closer.

Ursula settled on Azrael’s lap, smiling as strong arms surrounded her. Snuggling close, she shivered as warm hands stroked her hair and skin, slipping beneath her robe. She bit back a squeal when Azrael stood, taking the slave’s weight in her arms with ease.

“Vincenza, Felicia, take yourselves away for a bit,” Azrael ordered. “Rest or do chores until midday. We’ve a celebration tonight.”

“Yes, Milady,” the two murmured, one with a bit more alacrity than the other.

Smiling at Ursula, the general headed for her sleeping chambers. “I missed you last night,” she whispered, nuzzling a long neck. “And I need to work off Orsino’s cooking.”

“I’m more than happy to assist, Milady,” Ursula said, giggling.

Chapter Fifteen

At midday, Azrael reluctantly eased out of bed. A relaxed smile perched on Ursula’s lips as she stood behind her mistress and helped the dark woman into a robe. On a lark, she reached around and tied the sash, sensuously rubbing against the strong back.

“You are a vixen,” Azrael growled. Her tone belied her expression, eyes flashing as she turned to capture her errant slave.

“Only to please Milady.”

Azrael laughed. “You most certainly do that.”

Sighing, Ursula snuggled close, relaxed and safe. Her mistress had sent Vincenza away. That alone was worth last night’s solitude.

“Do you wish to visit the baths, Milady, before the celebration?”

“Are you insinuating I smell?”

Ursula froze for a moment before recognizing the teasing tone. “Of course not, Milady. I find your scent most attractive.”

“Mmmm, and I yours.” Azrael inhaled deeply. “Unfortunately, there’s not much time. If I know Orsino, he’s stomping about with his latest creations, demanding to know where I am.” Pulling away from their embrace, she paused only long enough to kiss her slave’s nose. “I hear Vincenza and Felicia in the outer rooms. Come along.”

Her enthusiasm dampened at the mention of the elegant body slave and Ursula followed her mistress.

Indeed, both women were awaiting Azrael in the sitting room. Their whispers ceased as the curtain was pulled aside and they remained on their knees, awaiting Azrael’s pleasure. Vincenza had changed into a gown of deep red, golden lions embroidered along sleeve and hem, the color contrasting sharply with the midnight black of her hair. Felicia’s gown was equally as rich, green silk with lighter colored hints of design on the fabric. While the dark slave’s hair hung straight down her back, Felicia had her strawberry curls pulled up onto her head.

“Has Orsino been asking after me?” Azrael asked, pouring a mug of water from a ewer on the table.

Felicia giggled. “Of course, Milady. How could you doubt it? He’s spent two years planning your homecoming menu.”

Thirst quenched, Azrael poured another mug and handed it to Ursula. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I’d best order a field cart for my belly tonight or I’ll be stuck in the dining hall.”

Ursula finished her drink, wiping her mouth and returning the mug to the table.

“You two will help me dress for the celebration,” their mistress stated. Azrael turned to the brunette beside her, pulling her into a lustful embrace. “And you, minx, will clean up and dress in your finest gown.”

Smiling, Ursula said, “Yes, Milady.” Before she knew it, her lips were assailed by a kiss, a prolonged exploration that left her panting.

“Go on now.”

Flushed, the brunette’s grin widened at Vincenza’s obvious distaste. Ursula turned and jumped as her mistress goosed her rear. “Yes, Milady!”

Azrael watched the young slave leave, a smile on her face. Her heart seemed to swell when she was in Ursula’s presence. It was a disconcerting yet very pleasant feeling.

Shaking herself, Azrael turned to her remaining body slaves, the bemused grin still on her lips. “Attend me.”

The celebration was still going strong as the sun began to cast shadows across the dining peristyle. Torches were set in brackets surrounding the oval room, flashing off the polished marble floor as they illuminated the way for the dancers. Near the opening to the dining hall, a handful of servants played musical instruments for the rambunctious lot stomping about with such abandon.

Further on, flanking the dining hall, tables were laden with vast amounts of Orsino’s handiwork. Despite it being ordained a rest day, the serving platters were constantly refreshed. To ease the load on the kitchen crew, all hands aided in the work, even the soldiers.

The hall itself was overflowing with diners. As was the fashion, low tables were surrounded by loungers for people to recline upon as they ate. A constant flow of slaves and soldiers drifted through - eating, dancing, drinking and dancing some more.

With a flourish, the music came to an end and Azrael applauded with everyone else. Currently she was with Vincenza, Felicia and Ursula dancing nearby. As the next song began, Azrael spied Jastus, Midia’s husband, attempting to cut through to reach his wife. Seeing an opening, Azrael called to him.

Jastus’ family came from the same stock as his wife, evident in the sky blue eyes and blond hair. His hair was lighter than hers, a result of many years working in sunlight. By the same token, his complexion was darker, a ruddy color that was a bit more red than brown.

“Yes, Milady?” he said with a bow, his voice deep and rich.

“Dance with Vincenza?” Azrael asked. “I’m off to find some wine and speak with Midia. I don’t want to leave my poor pet without a partner.”

Vincenza opened her mouth and closed it. Her eyes flickered to Ursula, apparently deciding Midia’s company for her mistress was preferable to the new upstart.

“I’d love to, Milady,” Jastus said.

“Thank you, Jastus. I won’t be long. I know how much you’ve missed your wife and I’m loath to monopolize her.” Grinning, she left them to each other and continued on Jastus’ original path.

“Milady,” Midia said in greeting. She was seated at a table that was surprisingly empty. All the occupants were either off to refill trenchers or out on the peristyle floor working off their dinner.

“Midia.” Azrael settled down on the chaise beside her body slave. “How was your homecoming?”

Lips twisted into a grin, Midia said. “Very satisfying, Milady. Thank you.”

Azrael chuckled, catching up the blonde’s hand. “I’m glad to hear so. I know you’ve missed each other.”

“And you, Milady?” Midia’s eyebrow twitched as her mistress looked away.

“I’m still not sure.”

Eying Azrael intently, Midia leaned close, further entwining their fingers together. “Is there something wrong, Milady?”

The smile on the dark woman’s face was crooked as she returned her gaze to Midia. ”Again, I’m not sure.”

Blinking at Azrael for a few moments, Midia’s attention wandered to the dance floor. The animosity between Ursula and Vincenza was evident whenever they were near one another. Fortunately, Felicia was doing fair job of keeping them separated and Midia believed their mistress was doing the same. “If it’s Vincenza’s behavior, Milady,” she began, only to be cut off.

“No, no. That’s not it, though it was something I suspected might occur.” Azrael looked over the dance floor, her dark eyes unerringly finding the willowy brunette dancing with Felicia. “My welcome was just as satisfying as yours, I suspect,” she said.

Understanding dawned in Midia’s eyes and she relaxed. “You suspect?”

With a frown, Azrael looked at their entangled hands. Midia’s hands were pale against hers, callused at the tips from sewing needles and the like. Useful, loving, those hands had brought Azrael to orgasm more times than she could count. They’d also cleaned and bandaged wounds, fed her, brushed her hair, held her close when sex wasn’t what she needed. Those hands and the woman who bore them were trusted.

“Yes, I suspect,” Azrael agreed. “Physically, it was everything a homecoming should be.” She looked into Midia’s eyes. “Yet I found it… lacking.”

“Lacking,” Midia echoed. “I’m very sorry to hear this, Milady. Was it something Felicia or Vincenza did? Perhaps if you spoke to them…”

“You know as well as I what I found lacking.”

The blonde studied the ink black eyes across from hers. “I may have suspicion, Milady, but until you can speak it, there’s little I can say or do.”

Inhaling deeply, Azrael dove into the heady waters of her heart. “After much thought upon my actions and feelings, I have to admit that I seem to have fallen in love, Midia.” Her lips stretched into a grin. “And I don’t know what to do about it to save my life.”

Midia smiled in return, raising their hands to kiss dark skin. “The best advice I can give you is to love her, Milady.”

Chuckling, Azrael said, “I need no advice such as that. She’s as much a part of me as the air I breathe. That alone is terrifying given the short duration of her presence in my life.”

Her gaze traveled to the dancers as a fast song began. Ursula was laughing as Felicia tried to teach her the steps, both women holding each other up as they stumbled through. Kinnet, Felicia’s beau, cut in, doing his level best to instruct their errant student, only causing more laughter and confusion in the process.

Azrael sighed, returning her attention to the woman beside her. “And what of you, Felicia and - bleeding Sif! - Vincenza? At least you and Felicia have others to cleave to. Vincenza has only been with me three years, two of which I’ve been away.” She shook her head. “It’s almost unfair to supplant her with Ursula.”

“Not to mention the jealousy evident,” Midia agreed.

“Yes, that alone is problem enough.” Azrael chewed on her thoughts. “I know eventually that would be worked out, all things being equal. They’re not equal, however. Vincenza has valid concern here.”

“No, Milady, she does not.” Midia’s tone was matter of fact. “Vincenza is a consort, trained from an early age to pleasure her owner. She’s quite proud of that, you know.”

Azrael shook her head slowly, eyebrow raised. “No. I didn’t.”

Smiling, Midia reached for her cup. She offered it to her mistress before taking a drink. “Oh, Vincenza is very proud of her station. Gods! It was all she spoke of for weeks upon her arrival!”

Eyes unfocused in thought, Azrael vaguely recollected overhearing remarks of a similar nature. “So Vincenza is more concerned with her station than —”

“No, Milady,” Midia interrupted. “Believe me, she cares for you just as much as we all do. I merely bring her words and beliefs to your attention.”

Azrael pondered, lips pursed. If Vincenza truly felt her skills and training were a gift, she would not appreciate them being allowed to languish as they had in Azrael’s absence. The only way Vincenza’s station would improve would be to return her to her uncle or perhaps his son. Azrael would be damned if she’d consider her ham-handed cousin, Shonal.

“Vincenza is well aware of the foibles of the heart. No doubt, she’s had training to deal with the likely event that love would interfere with her owner.” Midia sighed. “And you have been gone two years, Milady. While she may be attached to you, the connection is not as deep as the one Felicia or myself hold.”

“So you believe I should play on her sense of pride in her accomplishments?” Azrael asked with a mild grin.

“I think that would ease things between Ursula and Vincenza, yes.”

Nodding slowly, Azrael said, “It has potential.” Her grin widened. “Thank you for your insight, Midia.”

“You’re welcome, Milady.”

“Though it still doesn’t address Ursula herself.”

The blonde’s smile was gentle. “Something more, Milady?”

Azrael scoffed. “I love her, Midia, but she’s a slave! She’s not here by choice. How can she possibly return the feeling when I am her captor?”

“You could ask, Milady.” Midia almost laughed at the scathing glare she received. “Simple, I know, but quite effective.”

”You’re enjoying my misery,” Azrael said, looking so much like the petulant child that Midia chuckled.

”Not your misery, Milady. Never that. I’m quite happy for you. However, attempting to second guess a woman is never good odds.”