The Diplomat (37 page)

Elise felt beneath Rema’s knee and gave it a final squeeze before lifting her hands away. “I don’t feel scar tissue in there. I have an ointment that soothes joint pain, and if you apply it whenever your knees start misbehaving, it should help.”

“You only checked one knee. That seems very lazy of you.”

“What a difficult patient you are.” Elise gave the left kneecap a similar exploration. “This one is terrible. I’ll have to remove it.”

Rema gasped in melodramatic horror. Elise giggled as she slid Rema’s legs back to the bed. “Don’t run away now.” She wandered the room until she found a wooden chest, which she rummaged through while muttering under her breath. “Let’s see, where is it? Yes! Here.” She returned to the bed clutching a golden cylinder. Unscrewed, it revealed a thick, glistening paste with a deep aroma reminiscent of wine.

“This will relax you,” said Elise. “I’m going to rub it all over your legs, and you have to promise not to kick me.”

“No promises. I have a powerful kicking instinct.”

Elise dipped her fingers into the paste and began to rub it into Rema’s skin, her hands moving in deliberate, sensuous circles. The hair rose on Rema’s arms as a tingling sensation accompanied the caress. “You’ll not have to worry about sore legs all week after this,” said Elise, gazing into Rema’s eyes as her hands did their work. “It’ll be like you had the body of a young woman again.”

“Stop teasing me. As you said, I’m only four years older than you.”

“You poor crone. Don’t worry, your infant lover will rub ointment into your doddering legs.”

Elise finished with Rema’s lower leg and slid her hand higher. Rema held her breath as gentle fingertips massaged both her outer and inner thigh, moving slowly toward her groin.

“It rubs right into the skin,” said Elise. “It won’t leave anything behind. Clever, isn’t it?”

Rema murmured in agreement. Elise’s hands crept higher still, and her fingers brushed against Rema’s lower lips, provoking a dizzying rush of pleasure. Elise’s face was mostly concealed beneath her tousled hair, but her excitement was obvious in the rapid rising and falling of her chest.

“You’re very thorough,” said Rema. “It was only my knees that were sore.”

“This ointment can go anywhere.” Elise lifted her hands away. “How do your legs feel?”

“Soothed,” said Rema, her voice as shivery as she felt.

“There’s one more thing I need to do before you’re better.” Elise parted Rema’s legs and knelt between them, her bare shoulders shifting beneath the tumbling waves of her hair. She smiled as she lowered her dark, unruly head. Her lips made contact, her tongue moved and Rema shivered as a convulsion of pleasure shot through her. She stared down at Elise and found her gazing back, her eyes blank with lust.

Elise gripped Rema’s waist as she kissed deeper, and Rema gasped beneath another ecstatic surge. She was becoming lightheaded, she was losing breath, yet the sensations only continued to mount—“Stop,” she said, her hips twisting. “Not yet.”

Elise raised her head. “Am I more than you can handle?” She sat upright and eased her dress off her shoulders. The garment dropped, releasing her heavy breasts and the roundness of her stomach. Rather less gracefully, she tried to wriggle out of the dress without moving from her seductive position. She ended up caught in the fabric, and with a look of displeasure she stood and yanked the dress free.

“It was a good try,” said Rema. Elise was now naked, and spectacularly so, save for a brief silk undergarment tied at her hip. “So that’s what enchantresses wear under their clothing.”

“That sneaky Jalaya. She saw all this before you did.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rema removed her shirt and cast it aside. “Come to me, and we’ll negotiate a reward for such a remarkable display of healing.”

Elise returned to the bed and embraced her. They held each other close, Rema’s small breasts pressed against Elise’s large ones, and shared the warmth of their bodies. Elise traced the sharp lines of Rema’s shoulder blades and spine. “You skinny thing.”

Rema took Elise’s hand, extended her index finger and guided its tip into her mouth. She sucked while licking beneath each delicate joint—she could taste the ointment, a flavor sweeter than any fig, richer than any date—and in return, Elise cupped Rema’s breast and caressed its nipple with her thumb. Rema squirmed and laughed. To lay with a woman was divine; to lay with one’s true love was a joy beyond even the comprehension of divinities.

“I have an idea, but I’m going to need my other hand back,” said Elise. In her amusement, Rema almost bit her.

“You’d make a bad diplomat. You’re giving more than you’re getting.”

“Stop being clever. There are so many more useful things you can do with your mouth right now.”

As they made love, their playfulness gave way to their impatience for each other. Their teasing ceased, and they fell into the intensity of focused, rapturous sex. Pinned under Elise’s body, held between those soft thighs, Rema gasped one last time as the urgent pressure fled and left her senseless. She stretched back, breathing heavily and barely able to see through a drifting veil of stars. Elise collapsed beside her.

“I expected somebody to knock at the door the entire time,” she said. Her face was covered in damp hairs, and she tugged a long strand from her mouth. “Oh, I’m sleepy. But I don’t want you to go.”

“Sleep, my love.” Rema drew Elise into a tight embrace. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Really? You’ll sleep the night with me?”

“Every hour of it.” Rema plucked another stuck hair from Elise’s forehead. “We’ll wake together as lovers should.”

“I was so lonely before you came,” said Elise, her voice a dreamy murmur. “You’ve saved me, Rema, and now you’ll save everyone else. You’ll end every war, you’ll put an end to ignorance. People will cease being afraid of women like us. They’ll see we’re in love and understand…”

In the afterglow of ecstasy, Rema could believe anything. She kissed Elise’s forehead before closing her eyes. The dizziness returned, and this time, she offered no resistance.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rema woke to the warmth of sunlight. Without opening her eyes, she reached for Elise and felt nothing but sheets. “Elsie?” She sat up. Elise was hunched over her desk, intent on her sorcery. “What are you doing?”

“I worked on my spell while you were sleeping.” Dark impressions circled Elise’s eyes, and she wobbled as she returned to the bedside. “I’m so tired.”

The glow suffusing the room was dawnlight, but only barely; Rema would have to hurry to catch Ferruro at his breakfast. “How late is it?” she said, staring about vainly for a clock.

“The sun just came up. It’s early.” Elise toppled onto the bed and rested her cheek on Rema’s breast. “Sleepy.”

Rema kissed the top of Elise’s head. “Did you finish your potion?”

“It’s not a potion. Nothing is left over. Everything I do, the mixing, the combining, the pouring and stirring, is to harmonize myself to a certain intent. The spell is in me.” Elise yawned. “It works through an emotional conduit. When I put my spell on the prisoner, for example, I used certain vibrations that joined all three of us.”

“Beloved, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He caused you pain. That’s an intense emotion. Anyone who harms someone binds themselves to them. Similarly, anyone who loves someone is bound to them too. Through you, the assassin and I were strongly linked. I only had to adjust the cosmos and express my will.”

“I’m still lost. How does this relate to what you were doing all night?”

“I’ve prepared some grotesque magic for Ormun.” Elise’s eyelashes brushed against Rema’s skin as her eyes closed. “It’s so strange, Rema. I can feel his love for you. It’s not like mine, it’s dark and desperate, but it’s every bit as intense. We’re all tangled together.”

“Are you suggesting you could kill Ormun as easily as you made that man stop talking?”

“The power feels awful inside me. I don’t want to use it. Not even on him. But for you, for us, I’d do anything.”

“Don’t use it. You don’t have to. I have a plan that won’t kill anybody, not even Ormun.” Rema gently tipped Elise onto the bed. “You get some sleep while I’m gone.”

“Mmm. Love you.” Elise burrowed into the pillows while Rema stood and conferred with her mirror. She washed herself at a nearby basin, put on her uniform and combed her bangs into obedience. Her coat was covered in Elise’s hair, and she spent a few minutes carefully removing the fine black strands. Before leaving, she kissed Elise on the cheek. The sleepy enchantress mumbled something incoherent in response.

Reaching Ferruro’s chambers required her to navigate a gauntlet of exquisite corridors. She passed several guards on her way and nodded to each one; the gold guardsmen nodded back, while the silver resolutely ignored her. She arrived at the impressive bronze-hinged door to Ferruro’s chamber and, after taking a breath, knocked twice.

The door opened to reveal Ferruro wearing an immense silk dressing gown. His broad face was at first stern, but noticing Rema, he brightened. “Why, an unexpected guest. Surely you of all people don’t need to borrow money.”

“Of course not, which is why you’re so fond of me. I’d like to invite you to breakfast.”

Ferruro smirked. “Oh? Have you changed your inclinations and now intend to court me?”

“You’re much more than I could handle. Just a chance for friendly conversation, Ferruro. Or would you prefer to eat with Haran and let him gripe into your ear?”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way. Who wouldn’t prefer to start the day listening to a pretty voice?”

Rema smiled. “You’re referring to mine, I hope, and not Haran’s. That man talks like a vulture being strangled.”

Ferruro boomed in appreciative laughter. “Wait there, Remela, and I’ll dress myself more appropriately.”

“In other words, you’ll put a hat on.”

“Yes, indeed!” Ferruro retreated into his room, closing the door behind him. As she waited, Rema eyed the intricate mosaic chasing the length of the wall. A stylized spear ran toward the far end of the corridor, where it nearly touched the painted image of a running man. The less militaristic decor on the other side of the palace was far more appealing.

Ferruro emerged in a golden gown and a hat with a tassel that flopped against the side of his head. “I wasn’t planning on wearing a hat, but I’d hate to disappoint you.” He locked the door behind him. “I suppose you already have arrangements, so do lead the way.”

“Tread lightly. You don’t want to wake the palace.”

They walked together through high, arched corridors until, after much turning and climbing, they came to a circular outdoor court. Orange trees lined the walls, their leaves concealing vibrant fruits and noisy parrots. Beneath the trees were arranged several benches with intricate inlaid jade patterning. Sothis was sitting on one of the benches, a breakfast tray beside him.

“What’s this cadaver doing here?” said Ferruro. “Heavens, I’ve fallen into a ruthless trap.”

“It’s too late now,” said Rema. “Surely you’ve already smelt the enticing aroma of oat and tomato soup rising from that tureen.”

“Oh, my favorite. You trickster. Well, if I’m to be manipulated, I may as well get a meal out of it.” Ferruro’s long shadow cut across the tiled courtyard as he moved toward the bench. “Sothis. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Good day, Ferruro,” said Sothis. “Why don’t you take a seat and join me at breakfast?”

“Oh, how curious. Remela was just inviting me to do the same. Say, the strangest idea strikes me—why don’t we all have breakfast together?” Ferruro took a spoon and sampled the soup, pursing his lips with appreciation. “Very good.”

Rema joined the men by the bench, though she remained standing with her back to the sun. “Be sure to leave room for all the children you have to gobble up later.”

In response, Ferruro handed her a pear. “They say the pear is the most feminine of fruits. I’m sure you’ve bitten into a few.”

Rema bit into its yielding flesh. It was a little overripe, but the juice was fresh on her tongue. “Sothis, will you have something to eat?”

“I’ll be having lime juice and nothing else,” said Sothis. “Believe me, I’m not happy about it.” Ferruro chuckled through a mouthful of soup.

“Tell me, Ferruro,” said Rema. “What exactly is going on with Haran and Betany?”

Ferruro returned his spoon to the bowl and dabbed at his lips. He lifted his mellow eyes as he replied. “They’ve always been close, haven’t they? Oh, but they are rather cozier than usual. Can you believe that Haran’s shriveled old heart might be capable of love?”

“I’d be surprised to find he has a heart at all.” It was time to switch the subject to keep him uncertain. “And how are the imperial finances these days?”

“Mmmm. Well.” Ferruro sipped at a fluted water glass. “Things have been better.”

“I’ve been moving pieces on the board lately,” said Sothis, his voice stronger in the sharp morning air. “Boats, siege towers, artillery, supplies. I don’t know anything about money, but it strikes me as looking very costly. Swords and gunpowder aren’t cheap these days, are they?”

“Quite the contrary.” Ferruro’s tone soured as he reflected on what everyone knew to be his least favorite subject: expenditure. “Is it quite settled that the legions are marching north again?”

“Ormun’s definite. My own recommendations were pointless, of course. He likes to run the wars himself, and I often feel as if my job is only to sign off on his imperatives.”

“Well, your duty would be easier if Haran weren’t always whispering in his ear,” said Rema, watching Ferruro’s face. He knew exactly what she was doing, and everything depended upon whether his irritation at being manipulated outweighed his understanding that she was right. “He doesn’t have a very long-term mind, our Haran.”

Ferruro hummed and took another sip of his soup. “Oh, aren’t you sly. But you’ve never made clear how you’re going to pay for such minor things as, oh, abolishing slavery. Once we have to pay people to build things, well, you can imagine. And ending the wars—yes, they’re expensive, but they also turn a profit when properly handled.”