David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

I could never do that , he thought. And as he drifted off to an easy sleep, he held onto an image of the two of them lying naked by the southern bend of the Rigon, their bodies entwined. Celestia’s star shone overhead, and the future before them was one of never-ending joy.

In the dream a hand, cold as ice, caressed his stomach, bringing an uncomfortable sensation creeping up his spine. Crian’s sleeping mouth rose into a grin, and he brushed the hand away playfully.

“Stop that,” he mumbled.

The hand returned, and his mind began a steady journey back to wakefulness. He felt the fingers tiptoe over the hair on his chest and slide seductively down his sides, tracing his hips and the inside of his thigh until they wrapped around his manhood. He let out a drowsy chuckle.

“I said stop, Ness,” he mumbled. “It’s cold.”

“Who’s Ness?” said a familiar yet out of place voice.

Crian’s eyes snapped open, his vision greeted by the pale blue light of near darkness. He felt pressure bearing down against his side and held his breath, listening. The light wheeze of inhalation reached his ears as fingers squeezed his upper arm. He uttered a cry of surprise and hastily rolled off his pile of blankets, the frigid midnight air biting at his naked body. The presence on the bed stayed silent. Stumbling, he thumped into the wardrobe and reached out blindly, searching for his tindersticks. He found them on the second try and struck one, touching the flaming tip first to one candle, then another. Soft light filled the tent, creating a dome of brilliance around him. He picked up one of the candles and, very slowly, turned around.

The person on the bed was ghostly white, leaning up on one elbow and staring at him. The eyes reflected the candlelight, refracting back at him like a pair of distant stars. He inched forward, knowing exactly who it was, but refusing to accept it. Only when his ring of light fully revealed the invader did the knowledge register.

“What…why are you here?” he stammered, aghast.

Avila’s expression was a mask of intrigue and disappointment. She pushed herself upward on his makeshift bed, her pale flesh and white hair making her look all the more like a phantom. The only color in her was those icy blue eyes and her tongue, which looked red as blood when it snaked out to lick her lips. Like him, she was fully naked, her breasts and sex bared, and yet unlike him, she appeared completely at ease with the night’s chill. It was as if the bitter air couldn’t penetrate her porcelain skin.

“I was hoping for a release after a difficult day,” she replied, her voice emotionless.

He stared at her, confused and horrified at the same time, his mouth unable to form words. Finally he managed to choke out, “A release? ”

His sister nodded, pulling back her shoulders so that her chest jutted toward him, as if the sight might hypnotize him. “Yes, a release. The decree of our family states that we are the betters of humanity. We are the pure, the holy, the direct offspring of Karak. To sully our bodies by giving them to the impure is forbidden, and yet our bodies still require intimacy. Who better to share that intimacy with than another who is as perfect as we are?”

Crian shook his head defiantly. “No. I am not hearing this. You wish…to mate with me?”

“No,” replied Avila, her chin dropping and her gaze becoming even colder. “I want to fuck you, my dear brother, that and only that.”

“But you’re…you’re.…”

She shrugged. The gesture was so detached from any sort of feeling, so different from his lingering dream of Nessa, that to Crian’s mind she seemed more alien than human.

“And?” she said. “I have shared a bed with Father, Joseph, and Uther. For Karak’s sake, Thessaly and I have explored each other as well during our more anxious years.”

Crian’s horror grew. He felt his jaw hang lower and lower by the second. “That…that’s abominable!”

“Father has sheltered you for too long, it seems. He has kept this secret from you out of mother’s desire to protect your pure thoughts. I beg to disagree, my sweet brother, but it is not abominable. There is nothing more natural. Like should comfort like in any way they desire. We are different parts of the same whole, Crian. The same blood flows through our veins. I don’t see why you would be opposed to us pleasing each other.”

He turned away from her and leaned against the wardrobe, holding his throbbing forehead in his hand. “I’m not hearing this. Please dress and leave my tent at once, and when morning comes, I don’t want to hear a word of what happened here.”

He stood there in the quiet for a few moments, waiting for Avila to do as he asked, but he heard nothing but her repetitive breathing. His anger grew, and he was about to spin around and scream, when Avila broke the silence first.

“You never answered my question,” she said. Whatever sexuality she had tried to exude was gone. “Who is Ness?”

His heart clenched and he found it difficult to draw in air.

“It’s no one, just a peasant girl,” he replied, but the tremble in his voice exposed his lie. With his family, Crian was always exposed by his emotions.

Avila laughed, and it was such a dispassionate sound that it chilled him to the bone.

“Just a peasant girl? I think not. The men of our house have taken a peasant or two over the years for sport, but they’ve never whispered their names in passion. Tell me the truth, Crian. Does this Ness have anything to do with the hawk you released?”

Crian spun around and stared at his sister, who gazed back with an expression of cold calculation that showed in the smooth rigidity around her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, did you not wish me to know of that? There are always eyes upon you, Crian, as there are upon the rest of us. At first I thought you were communicating with Father behind my back, but the hawk was not one of ours. Now, though…” Her fingers traced absently through the space between her breasts. “Now you make me wonder.”

Crian kept his mouth shut.

Avila laughed. “Your silence is answer enough, brother. There could only be so many women with such a name who are worthy enough to steal your favor. Is it Nessa DuTaureau, youngest daughter of Isabel DuTaureau? A member of Ashhur’s First Families? If so, at least your tastes haven’t fallen all the way down to the mud. I wonder where the child is now.…”

“You leave her be,” growled Crian. He inched to his right, where Integrity hung from the corner of his wardrobe. If Avila noticed, it didn’t bother her. If anything, she looked more pleased.

“At last you admit it. I know the girl crossed Ashhur’s Bridge and into the delta. She arrived with her brother, and last I heard, they were staying at the Gemcroft estates.” Her tone became taunting. “Is that why you were sending the bird, sweet brother? Does my sibling turn down my advances because of forbidden love?”

She paused, her eyes boring into him. Thinking. Plotting.

“I almost didn’t believe it,” she said. “But it’s her, isn’t it? The reason you dye the silver from your hair?”

Her words were like a spear to the gut. His lack of clothing was nothing compared to the nakedness he felt now.

“You don’t control me,” he said, doing his best to remain calm. “I can do as I wish, fall in love with whomever I would like. I have broken no law, no commandment.”

Avila leapt off the bed, her lithe, naked form as agile as that of a lioness.

“You are Left Hand of the Highest!” she screamed, before regaining her composure. Her voice lowered. “You have a responsibility to your station and your family, not to mention your god . To continue on with her, you must disown us, your own kin. If you do that, you will not be welcomed in Neldar any longer. You will be an outcast, a man without a country. Ashhur’s people will not take you, I guarantee you that.”