David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

The priestess spun around, allowing those on the other side of the room to see her as well. Patrick felt the energy in the room multiply, doubling and then doubling again, and when he finally tore his eyes off the dancing beauty before him, he saw that he and Rachida were among the few who were still watching the display. The rest were locked in private passions all their own, lips pressed together, tongues probing, hands exploring. He glanced at Rachida and saw that she was staring at Aprodia as intently as Patrick had.

The soundless dance kicked up in tempo, the priestess thrashing about as if she were caught in a cyclone that would surely rip her from the ground and send her shooting into the heavens. She leapt from the stage, amazingly not landing on any of the spectators, and continued to gyrate as she made her way around the room. Her hands caressed her body, moving over her nipples, her stomach, her hips, her sex. She stopped a few feet from where Patrick and Rachida sat, thrashing her head around so violently that her hair became a blur, and then reached down and slipped a finger inside herself. Patrick’s jaw dropped open. The priestess began to shudder, working her hand up and down, round and round, yelps and hisses escaping her tightly clenched teeth.

Patrick discomfort grew, yet Rachida’s eyes were still locked on the scene playing out a few mere feet from them. He noticed her hand was inching closer and closer to down there . He hesitated before leaning toward her and whispering, “Um, Rachida, we should go.”

Rachida was snapped from her trance.

“Now?” she said, sounding disappointed. “The service isn’t over.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t…this isn’t for me, I think.”

Rachida’s face froze, then spread into a smile. Patrick was beyond relieved.

“Very well,” she said. “I understand.”

By then Aprodia had moved on to the other side of the room, continuing with her unabashed, animalistic cries and shrieks. Patrick helped Rachida to her feet, and together they maneuvered through the maze of grinding and copulating couples.

It wasn’t until they’d exited the cramped passageway that Patrick realized that the inside of the temple reeked of sweat and unwashed bodies. He looked at Rachida, who bore an odd expression on her face. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before he could, she grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him along the circular path. She seemed hurried now, frantic. She banged on a succession of wooden doors as they passed them by, hearing the surprised yelps of those within.

“What are you doing? ” Patrick asked, winded from both the odd sexual show he’d just witnessed and the effort it took his short legs to keep up with her much longer ones.

Instead of answering, Rachida continued with her frenzied running and pounding on doors. Then she suddenly stopped short, and it took Patrick a second to grasp the reason-the last door had given no answer. She grabbed the handle, yanked the door open, and then pulled Patrick inside.

The room was small and stank like the inside of the temple had, offset somewhat by a stick of incense burning on the table in the corner. The only other furniture was a slender cot. Rachida stood before him, trembling, her fingers nervously tapping just below her breasts. The tentative yet restless look in her eyes worried him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I like you,” she replied, the words spurting out. “I need to be with you. Now. Right here.”

Patrick was speechless.

“Please, Patrick. This is important.”

“Well…I…um…what about your husband?” he finally managed.

Rachida waved her hand dismissively, though her gaze still danced with edginess.

“Peytr is my husband in name only. It is a matter of convenience and no more. His interests lie elsewhere…as do mine.”

Tentatively, Patrick reached out and touched her. She closed her eyes, still shaking, and let him. Part of him wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be doing this, but his bewildered mind berated that part of himself into submission. His thick fingers lifted the straps of her satin dress and slid them off her shoulders. The dress dropped, stealing down her body, exposing her bareness underneath. Patrick gasped when he looked at her. She was perfect in every way.

He gently touched her nipples. She cringed at first, but then seemed to relax. Slowly he steered her to the bed and sat her down. She began to quake so violently, he feared her nervousness and tried hard not to think about why. As she lay down, he gently began to kiss her all over. She kept her arms by her sides, not touching him. He found it odd but was willing to accept it.

His hand slipped down from her breasts to her belly, to the tuft of hair below that, then between her legs. Her thighs tensed, trapping him there. Her eyes shot open and she stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She was crying, and the small tears running down the sides of her face were like knives cutting into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away. “I should have known better.”

“No,” she said, grabbing him. “It’s not you. It’s not…what you think.”

“Then what?” he said, whirling on her.

Rachida slid away from him, her head drooping, her eyes downcast.

“I have never been with a man,” she said. “I have never even liked a man. Moira is the love of my life and has been ever since we were children.”

“So…you don’t like me?”

“No, I like you, Patrick, just not…in that way.”

Patrick couldn’t contain his exasperation.

“Then why are we here?”

She sucked on her upper lip, looking absolutely radiant despite her obvious sadness. “I wish to be with child. I wish to be with your child.”

Patrick groaned. Not this again. Not now. Why didn’t she ask him for a ride to the moon or for him to shit gold into a chamber pot? There were plenty of other impossible things she could try to barter out of him for sex.

“I see,” he said, sighing. “I thank you for telling me so, but I’m sorry to say, you’re going to be greatly disappointed.”

“Why?”

“I can have no children.”

That caused a sad grin to stretch across Rachida’s exquisite countenance.

“I know of your…problem,” she said. “Your sister told me. I have taken precautions in that regard.”

“You what? How?”

“A little bit of research. A little bit of magic. Antar helped greatly in that regard. And Peytr’s library is extensive.”

“And that’s all it takes? I won’t have to lick a toad or eat a bunch of mushrooms? Because I’ve tried both, at my sisters’ behest, and I assure you, neither had the promised effect.”

“No toads, no mushrooms.”

“Oh.” Patrick leaned back on the bed. He looked to Rachida again and narrowed his eyes. “But why me? ”

“You are from one of Ashhur’s First Families,” she said, running a hand through that exotic curly hair of hers. “It had to be you. Haven was built for the solidarity of all peoples. All who want to live within our borders can do so. I have always wanted a child, and I want that child to reflect the values that we’ve instilled in this land. What better symbol than a child born of the offspring of the First Families of both gods?”

Patrick really didn’t think such a child would be all that special or amazing, but then again, it wouldn’t take much convincing for him to give her what she wanted. The word please was really all that was necessary, and even that was debatable.

“You are certain your spells and whatnot will work?” he asked.