The Complete Horse Mistress Collection, page 27
“Thank you,” I said, impressed with the young priest’s efficiency.
“We are all here to serve, Horse Mistress. First Warrior,” he said with a shallow bow to each of us. “Now, please do get him to rest.”
“We will, Novice Eiridan,” Andoc vowed, “even if I have to knock him out to do it.”
Eiridan tipped his head in acknowledgement and herded the boys out of the room before closing the door to give us privacy. Senovo, in the mean time, had turned his back on us and was now leaning with a hand against the rim of the large copper tub to steady himself. He lifted his other hand to cover his eyes, finger and thumb squeezing at his temples as if to combat a headache.
“I’m fine,” he said without turning around.
“Uh-huh,” Andoc said, crossing his arms in unconscious imitation of Eiridan’s pose earlier. “We can see that.”
“We need to talk about the handfasting,” Senovo said, still looking like he was one breath away from tumbling over into the empty tub against which he was currently leaning.
“Shut up, Senovo,” I said. “Yes, we do need to talk about the handfasting. We need to talk about it in the morning, after we’ve all gotten a decent night’s sleep.”
Senovo slumped a bit further in reaction to my words. I sighed and crossed the room to grab a wooden chair that was sitting against the wall. After dragging it over and placing it behind Senovo, I peeled his hand from its death grip on the edge of the metal bath and basically shoved him into the seat. He looked up at me, surprise flashing across his ashen features.
“Sit,” I said firmly, pointing my finger in his face to keep him there. When I moved toward the line of buckets standing at the edge of the hearth, Andoc seemed to rouse himself.
“Let me—” he started, but I cut him off with a dismissive gesture.
“Hauling buckets of water around is something of an area of expertise for me, you might say,” I said, picking up the first two and carrying them over to dump in the bath.
Andoc huffed a breath of surprised laughter. “Right. I suppose it would be, at that.”
He left me to it and moved to stand behind the chair, placing his hands on Senovo’s shoulders and kneading the tense muscles. Senovo made a noise like a rusty gate hinge and curled forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in one hand.
I hauled the last pair of buckets from the hearth to the tub and dumped them in. After a quick test with one finger, I added two buckets of cold water from the collection lined up against the far wall and stirred it a bit. Judging that it was warm enough, but not too warm, I turned to Senovo.
“Robes off,” I said firmly. Andoc removed his hands from Senovo’s shoulders and straightened. Senovo stayed frozen in place for the space of a few heartbeats, but then he sat up and began to untie the fastenings of the unfamiliar white robes, his movements as slow and labored as those of an old man. When his clothing lay draped over the chair, he got up and climbed into the large metal bath with something less than his usual grace, a low hiss escaping from between his teeth as he slid down to sit on the bottom. He leaned his head back against the rim, the warm water lapping at his chest, and closed his eyes wearily.
Andoc grabbed a rag and a sliver of hard lye soap from a table nearby. He pulled the chair around until it was positioned near Senovo’s head and sat down in it.
“Why don’t you get in there with him?” he said, as he urged Senovo to sit forward so he could pull the priest’s heavy, shoulder-length plait of black hair free and unravel it.
I frowned. “Me? What about you?”
Andoc flashed a brief smile, though it didn’t ease the weariness around his eyes. “Not enough room left in there for a big, beefy warrior like me,” he teased. “And frankly, I’ve never seen the appeal of simmering in a giant kettle of hot water like a hunk of mutton. But if you’re inclined to parboil yourself, I think a skinny eunuch and a slip of a Horse Mistress could probably squeeze into the stew pot together.”
I snorted, but really, the idea was more than a little appealing. I’d had a total of three hot baths in a tub as grand as this one during my lifetime—all of them on various travels to neighboring towns with my father before he died. Staying at an inn or boarding house had seemed a great adventure when I was a little child, and he was prone to indulge me with small extras like sweetmeats or use of the inn’s bathhouse, if they had one. It had been many years since I last had the opportunity.
“Senovo?” I asked.
“Yes, please do,” he replied, not opening his eyes.
I shrugged at Andoc and stripped out of my worn and travel-stained clothing. I would have to see about purchasing some new shirts and breeches soon, now that my meager apprentice’s salary would be supplemented by both my new position and my upcoming handfasting to Draebard’s First Warrior. The thought was sobering, but I put it aside for now.
I had forgotten the singular sensation of sinking into warm water up to my collarbones. Gooseflesh prickled over my skin and disappeared almost instantly as I eased into the space in front of Senovo, unsure how I was supposed to fit, exactly. The eunuch roused himself enough to spread his legs apart and open his arms to me. I curled up so I could rest my cheek on his chest, with my legs bent at the knee and draped over one of his thighs. The warm water lapped at my chin and I sighed deeply, feeling a fraction of the day’s tension drain from my body.
This close, I could still smell the smoke of Rhystel’s funeral pyre clinging to Senovo. I gestured to Andoc for the soap, and poked Senovo in the ribs until he opened bloodshot eyes.
“Hair,” I told him, holding up the soap and lifting myself away from him enough that he could slide further down into the tub. He groaned and dunked himself completely, emerging a moment later in a plume of bubbles and scrubbing his hands over his face as the water ran down. I shoved and scooted us around awkwardly until we had switched places, his back to me and my legs framing his. Scrubbing up a lather between my hands, I worked it into the heavy waves of black hair in front of me.
“I thought you had no patience for long hair,” came an amused voice from behind me.
“I don’t,” I growled, tugging at a tangle.
“Here, lean your head back,” Andoc said, guiding me with a hand on my forehead.
“What—?” I asked, just as a pitcher of warm water emptied slowly over my scalp. A pleasant, tingling shiver skittered down my spine. The tingle spread through my body as strong fingers massaged soap into my short, closely cropped hair, and… well… I might have moaned, just a little.
“Focus,” Andoc said, drawing my attention back to my own fingers, which were still buried in Senovo’s hair. I started scrubbing again, working the soap right down to his scalp to get every last hint of smoke out of it—aware that Senovo was on the verge of falling asleep under my touch.
Andoc finished with my own hair—such as it was—and moved on to my neck, back, and shoulders, scrubbing away with the soapy rag. Meanwhile, I gave Senovo’s hopelessly tangled locks a final tug and urged him down to rinse. He leaned back and slid toward the far end of the tub until the water closed over his ears, leaving only his face above the surface, his head floating a few inches above my lap.
I let my hands run over his forehead and the front half of his skull, kept shaved as was the custom for all priests. He shivered a little as the pads of my fingers slid over the hint of soft stubble there, and into the long hair in back. I rinsed out the soap as best I could, grumbling at the ever-growing nest of tangles. When I was done, I tapped him lightly and helped him sit upright again.
“How in the gods’ names do you deal with this mess every day?” I asked once he’d shaken the water from his ears, lack of sleep robbing me of whatever minimal amount of tact I might ordinarily possess.
“It comes with the job,” he mumbled, still sounding more than half asleep.
Andoc’s hands left me for a few seconds, and I heard the legs of the chair scrape as it was pushed back. His footsteps crossed the room and returned, out of my line of sight.
“Here,” he said, handing me a small vial with a wooden stopper.
“What is it?” I asked, looking at the small, cunningly carved stone bottle in confusion.
“Hair oil,” said Andoc, as if it should be obvious.
Of course, it probably was obvious to anyone who had to maintain long hair. I nodded and unstoppered it so I could pour a little into my palm. The smell was familiar—part of the myriad of smells that, together, smelled like Senovo.
The soap had made Senovo’s hair squeaky and prone to knot. The oil smoothed it, untangling the wet strands so I could comb them out with my fingers. Meanwhile, Andoc picked up the rag again and finished scrubbing every part of me he could reach. Desire sparked weakly in my belly as the rough cloth slid over my breasts, but exhaustion won out in short order. Tonight was for sleep. Tomorrow was for talking. Already, I was longing to return somehow to that one lovely, perfect night and morning the three of us had shared in Meren.
Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen for a First Warrior and a High Priest, if you wanted a life of leisure, said the little nagging voice that lived in the back of my head. Maybe you shouldn’t have become Horse Mistress.
It was true enough, I supposed, as Andoc handed me the soapy rag so I could scrub my legs and feet. Still, none of us could have predicted the extraordinary series of events that had befallen us. Maybe it was just the gods’ will.
When I was clean all over, I moved to Senovo, giving him a quick but thorough wash. Sleep was what he needed, but I wanted every trace of the funeral fire gone from his skin first. Andoc helped me rinse my hair with the pitcher, before giving it to me so I could rinse Senovo off. When we were finished, my hands and feet were starting to turn soft and wrinkly, and the water was growing lukewarm.
I handed Senovo up to Andoc, who helped him out of the tub onto shaky legs and dried him off with a square of burlap toweling.
“Are we going to need to bail this thing out with the buckets?” I asked as I climbed out after him, eyeing the cloudy water and feeling less than enthusiastic about the prospect.
Senovo shook his head and gestured to a stone-lined trench running from under the metal tub and disappearing under the wall that faced the river. “The trench runs right out to the edge of the river,” he said. “There’s a wooden plug at one end of the bath to let the water drain out.”
I hadn’t felt anything in the bottom of the tub at my end, so I reached into the murky bathwater at the other end and felt around until my fingers caught the edge of the soft, waterlogged cylinder of wood. I pried it out, letting the water drain away and taking a moment to admire the ingenuity of the system.
When I turned back, Senovo had slumped forward in Andoc’s arms, and I stifled an audible sigh of satisfaction. Not even bothering to dry off first, I walked over to them and plastered myself over Senovo’s back. One of Andoc’s hands immediately stretched forward to rest on my bare hip, and I buried my nose in Senovo’s clean, freshly oiled hair, breathing in.
“I don’t know how to do this with him gone,” Senovo said into the skin of Andoc’s neck, sounding calm but utterly exhausted.
Chapter 9: Hidden Strength
I WORMED MY HANDS in between the two of them to circle Senovo’s waist and rest on his stomach. “All you have to do tonight is sleep, Senovo. That’s all.”
After a moment of hesitation, he nodded.
“Where do you want to go?” Andoc asked. “I don’t think your bed is big enough for all of us.”
“Definitely not,” Senovo murmured. “Not Rhystel’s room, though.”
I shuddered a bit at the thought. Of course, Senovo would now have use of the High Priest’s rooms, but I could think of few worse places for him to be right now. After a moment of introspection, though, a thought occurred to me.
“What about one of the rooms used to counsel couples on lovemaking?” I asked. “I presume the beds are bigger.”
“That’ll work,” Andoc agreed. “Given the, um, handfasting… you could even say it’s pretty legitimate.” He nudged Senovo upright. “Come on, then. Let’s go. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Senovo and I donned the bare minimum amount of clothing necessary to get from one end of the nearly deserted temple to the other. The hint of smoke tickled my nose again and I frowned, having completely forgotten that the stench would also permeate Senovo’s robes. I should have thrown our clothes into the bathwater and scrubbed them before I drained the tub, but it was too late now. My spirits sank at the realization that I had not succeeded in my self-appointed quest to cleanse Senovo of all reminders of the evening’s ceremony.
He and Andoc led the way through darkened hallways to a wing of the temple with which I was unfamiliar—never having been in a relationship before, and therefore having no cause to seek intimate counseling from the priests. Indeed, I’d had every reason not to, since it would have risked revealing my birth sex. We turned into a side corridor and Senovo opened the first doorway on the left.
The room was faintly illuminated by torchlight from the village green, filtering in through a small, high window. It was a reminder that, outside, the villagers were still drinking, eating, and socializing after the funeral—celebrating the life of the departed. However, the reflected light also allowed us to navigate the cozy room without the need for lighting candles or starting a fire in the hearth, and, even damp as Senovo and I were, it was a sufficiently pleasant evening that we would not need the hearth for warmth.
A low bed big enough for two people to fuck in, while a third watched and assisted, dominated the shadowy room. It would offer plenty of space for three exhausted people to huddle together in a tangled pile and sleep. As soon as the thought entered my mind, my body ached for rest. Andoc was way ahead of me; he was already stripping Senovo of his robe and pulling the blankets back.
The bed had a faintly musty smell, as if it had sat for some time, gathering dust with the mattress unaired—one of many small tasks that had fallen by the wayside after the slaughter of most of the priesthood. With more acolytes from Meren coming to Draebard soon, perhaps the temple would once again become a bright and welcoming place.
Movement next to the bed snapped me from my idle thoughts. While I was engaged in woolgathering, Andoc had undressed, leaving me the last one still clothed.
With a start, I roused myself long enough to pull off my linen shirt and smallclothes while Andoc climbed into bed and dragged Senovo down after him. With a deep sigh of relief at finally getting the eunuch where he truly needed to be, I followed suit and scooted close, bracketing Senovo’s body between mine and Andoc’s.
The priest lay on his back, his face close to mine. The faint glow from outside reflected in his damp eyes as he stared at the nearly invisible rafters above us. His breath hitched unevenly in and out. I reached out a hand under the blankets, covering Andoc’s where it lay low on Senovo’s stomach.
“The gods will surely not begrudge you a night’s rest,” I told Senovo. “And I know that Rhystel wouldn’t.”
Senovo’s eyes closed and his chest convulsed a few times in the unmistakable rhythm of silent weeping before he sucked in a long inhalation and gradually relaxed in our arms. Sooner than I would have expected, he was asleep, with Andoc’s even breaths descending into light snoring soon afterward. I lay awake for a little while longer, wishing that life could just be as simple as this—as the three of us, together. Eventually, though, fatigue from the long day and the longer night that had preceded it pulled me down to join the others in darkness and dreams.
* * *
When I woke, it was still dark. The stiffness of my muscles and the welcome feeling of being reasonably well rested made me think it must be almost morning. I wrinkled my nose, fighting the urge to sneeze, and swiped at a strand of Senovo’s long, unbound hair which was tickling my right nostril.
The movement roused him, and he stretched against me—the slide of skin on skin doing all sorts of interesting things to my groggy, early morning thoughts. Before I could act on my baser impulses, however, reality intruded in a thoroughly jarring manner.
The handfasting.
We were supposed to discuss the handfasting this morning, before I was due back at the horse pens to oversee the apprentices and meet with Keenan about mounted archery.
“We need to talk now, Carivel,” Senovo said, a slight rasp of sleep still roughening his voice. His words echoed my own thoughts eerily.
“Yes,” I said.
“Is there anything you’d like to speak about before we wake Andoc?” asked Senovo.
“No,” I said, already starting to feel strangely numb.
I felt Senovo nod as he replied, more than I saw him… it was very dark in the room now. “Very well, then.”
A moment later, there was the sound of someone being slapped lightly on the cheek, followed by Andoc’s sleepy groan. The slapping grew brisker and Andoc flailed a bit, coming awake all at once.
“Wha—?” he said. The mattress shifted as he sat up abruptly and looked around in confusion. “Where are we?”
“It’s almost morning,” I told him. “We’re in one of the rooms at the temple, remember?”
He paused for a moment. “Oh. Right. Almost morning, you say? So, time to talk, then.”
“Yes,” Senovo agreed.
Andoc settled himself back on the bed. Outside the window, the faintest hint of gray was creeping into the sky as he spoke. “You’re absolutely certain you want to do this, Carivel? You’ve thought about what it’ll mean?”
For now, I could still convince myself that it was too dark to meet his eyes as I replied, “I’ve thought about what it will mean if we don’t. Volya will try to make me leave, even if he has to wait until after the Mereni go home to do it. So… I’m willing if you two are.”
“You’re thinking about the broader implications,” said Senovo, sounding bone-weary despite having slept through the night. “I don’t think you’re considering the more immediate practicalities of the ceremony itself.”
