'All right,' Elona said. 'How much have you had?'

Leesha shrugged. She fumbled in her apron, pulling out the bottle Wonda had given her and handing it to her mother. Elona held it to the light, then pulled the cork and sniffed at it. She snorted and took a pull. 'I'd be starting to feel a tingle myself if I drank that much, so I'd wager you must be ready to slosh up everything you've eaten since the morning purge.'

Leesha shook her head. 'Just need a minute to catch my breath.'

'Well you're not going to get it,' Elona said, straightening and giving the laces of her dress a subtle tug to lower her neckline the way she did any time a man entered the room. 'Eyes in front. Don't slosh.'

Leesha looked up, seeing Count Thamos approaching, looking splendid in his fine clothes and jewels. A few Wooden Soldiers shadowed his steps, but the count seemed not to notice them, his handsome smile relaxed and easy. He made a leg in that smug way Royals had, bowing when their station did not demand it.

'A pleasure to see you again, mistress,' he said, and turned to Elona. 'Surely I would have heard if you had a sister, so this beautiful woman must be your mother, infamous Mrs Paper.'

Leesha rolled her eyes. She had at least expected the prince to be more original. If she had a klat for every time a man used that line to ingratiate himself with Elona, she'd be richer than Duke Rhinebeck.

Elona's response was likewise identical each time, tittering like she had never heard such cleverness while looking down and blushing fetchingly. Leesha doubted anything could truly make Elona blush, but her mother could do it on command.

Elona offered her hand for the count to kiss. 'I'm afraid the stories are all true, Your Highness.'

That's honest word, Leesha thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Thamos' smile was positively predatory, like the wolfish grin of Messenger Marick. Leesha could not stand the thought of Thamos looking at her mother like that. Not when she was right here. Not tonight. She put a smile on her face and gave her own dress laces a tug.

'Enjoying the festivities, Highness?' she asked, pulling his eyes back to her and holding his gaze as best she could. His eyes kept dipping lower and then flicking back, but like Elona, she pretended not to notice.

'I've never been to a wedding in the hamlets,' Thamos said, 'and I see now what a loss that is. This makes court balls seem dreary by comparison.'

'Oh, you flatter,' Leesha said. 'How can Hollow women in their homespun dresses compare to painted courtesans in silk and gold?'

Thamos' eyes flicked downward again, and Leesha felt her smile widen. 'Courtesans care more for themselves than anyone else.' He smiled and held out a hand as the Jongleurs struck up another dance. 'They may tumble, but they never reel.'

The next few hours were a blur as Leesha danced and laughed with the handsome count. He shared her with the other dancers grudgingly, always keeping close, and his kisses in the carriage as he drove her home were warm and full of passion. His member was stiff and hard in his breeches, and she pressed close, grinding into it with her hips and thighs. She felt herself growing wetter by the moment, and was considering the mechanics of taking him right there in the carriage when they pulled up to her cottage and the coachman hopped down to set the steps and open the door.

Thamos stepped down first, giving Leesha his hand to lean on as she wobbled unsteadily to the ground.

'Head back to the revel,' Thamos said to the coachman. 'I'll walk back.'

'Highness,' the coachman said. 'It is night and these woods are full of Krasians ...'

'Come back at dawn, then,' Leesha said. 'Just go!'

The coachman shrugged and cracked the reins, heading off down the road.

'Subtle,' Thamos said, grinning as Leesha took him by the arm and practically dragged him inside.

She made no pretence, pulling him right into the bedroom. She lit a dim chemical light, then turned and pushed him hard, so he fell onto his back on the quilts. She smiled and hiked her skirts, crawling atop him, kissing his face and lips and neck. 'And now, Your Highness, I am going to take advantage of you.'

Thamos squirmed, undoing the laces of her dress as he nuzzled his face into her cleavage. 'Usually it's the other way around.'

Leesha smiled. 'Ay, but we do things different in the Hollow. I am going to ride you from now till your coachman returns.' She reached down, unbuckling his belt, then fumbled with the snaps and laces of his breeches. She'd imagined herself having his member in hand in seconds, but she finally had to break eye contact and look at the last knot before she could untie it. She yanked the trousers open at last, but the member she found had lost much of its rigidity.

She took it in hand, stroking gently at first as she kissed him, but he remained soft. She moved higher, pressing his face into her breasts as she pulled harder, and that seemed to help, stiffening him enough for the deed. She kicked off her petticoats and pressed him to her opening, but again he wilted.

'What's the matter?' she asked, taking him back in hand.

'Ahhh... . Nothing ...' Thamos moaned. 'It's just late ... and the drink ... and I didn't expect you to be so ...'

'Forward?' Leesha asked, moving down to spit on him, lubing her stroke. The count groaned as she took his moistened member in her mouth, but still he remained soft.

Night, is it me? she wondered. Is Ahmann the only man in the world who truly wants me?

She shook the thought away, moving off the bed.

'Where are you going?' he asked. 'I'll be fine. I just need ...'

'Sshhh,' Leesha said, slipping her arms from the sleeves of her dress and pushing it down. 'I'll give you what you need.'

He watched her undress in the dim light, and Leesha, glancing down, saw him stiffen again as she bent to step free of her skirts. He had a spear any man would be proud of, and she bit her lip, excited to have it in her. She reached out and gave it a squeeze.

The count gave an animal growl and was on his feet in an instant, bending her over the bed. She went willingly, and cried out in pleasure as he thrust into her from behind. She pushed back at him, grinding against his powerful thrusts as she felt her own pleasure build.

And then, with a grunt, it was over, and he collapsed atop her. Leesha squirmed, trying to get a last bit of friction to push her over the edge, but he had softened again, and slipped free. She wanted to cry, but didn't have the energy. She wished she'd just told the coachman to wait while they had a cup of tea, rather than trapping the count here for the night. She hoped he would be brave enough to leave.

But Thamos pulled off the rest of his clothes and slipped into bed beside her. 'That was incredible,' he murmured as he pressed himself to her back. He pulled the quilts over them and wrapped his thick arms around her, nuzzling her neck contentedly. 'I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you in Jizell's hospit, but I never dreamed it would be so good.'

And for a moment, Leesha felt her despair fade, feeling safe and warm in the count's arms. Perhaps he hadn't been man enough for her, but she had been more than woman enough for him. There was a strange feeling of pride in that, and she smiled as she fell asleep.

It was still dark when Leesha awoke from a dream of Ahmann, and the nights they had spent in each other's arms. The magic made him a creature of unbridled passion, and he took her frequently in the dead of night, both of them half sleeping with their eyes closed. He would wake her with kisses and caresses while she slowly stroked him. When she was aroused enough to receive him, he would thrust into her and grind his hips until they both cried out. A moment later they would be asleep again, a quick nap before he took her again to celebrate the dawn.

Creator, she missed him. After twenty-eight years of self-denial, she'd had a week of gluttony, and now her body craved his touch. Any touch, really. She knew increased desire was a common sign of pregnancy, but she had not expected it to be more debilitating than the ever-present headaches and nausea.

Behind her, Thamos snored contentedly, his muscular chest hard and hairy against her back. She squirmed against him, grinding her bottom against his crotch. There was a twitching there, and she rolled him onto his back, taking him in her mouth as she had before. This time, he stiffened almost instantly.

Thamos groaned, still half asleep, but then his hand slipped down, caressing her hair, and she knew he was awake. She was astride him in an instant, still slick with his seed and her own arousal. The count moaned and reached up gentle hands, caressing her hips and breasts as she rode him. She kept her eyes shut, picturing Ahmann.

Every once in a while she felt the count twitch and lifted herself off, bending down to kiss him until his breathing calmed. Then she would resume.

Before long, she felt her own climax building and increased her pace, pinning the count as she had her way. In a moment she was screaming her pleasure, and Thamos held her hips as if for dear life. Pent as she had been, it lasted a long time. When it started to fade, she smiled and clenched tighter, taking a quick steady rhythm, draining the count again.

She kissed him, but they were both panting, and the kiss broke apart with a laugh.

'Incredible,' Thamos said again.

'Ay,' Leesha said, and meant it, though her stomach did not seem to agree, roiling like a soup forgotten on the fire.

She breathed deeply, trying to ride it out, but after a few moments she had to slap a hand over her mouth and run from the room, sloshing up into the privy. It had become something of a daily ritual, and Leesha had almost begun to look forward to it, if only to get it over with so she could start her morning.

Retching always brought a stabbing pain from her headache, and Leesha instinctively reached up to massage her temple. Then she started.

For the first time in months, her headache was gone. Not just receded, but completely gone. She felt her face tighten as her eyes watered, and she let herself weep a moment for the joy of it.

Thamos was back in his breeches and shirt, waiting by the privy room door when she emerged, naked and mortified but feeling strong once more. He smiled, wrapping her in a quilt and giving her a cup of water. 'Night of drinking and dancing affects us all in some way. You don't mention mine and I won't mention yours.'

Leesha nodded, taking the cup and sipping.

'Before he was duke,' Thamos said, 'my brother used to tell me the best cure for a night of drinking is bacon and eggs. I've tested the theory and never found better.'

'I'll fix you some,' Leesha said, grateful for something to do.

'I'd have done it myself ...' the count began.

Leesha smiled at him. 'But you've never cooked an egg in your life, have you, Your Highness?'

Thamos shrugged apologetically and flashed a smile Leesha couldn't imagine any woman was immune to.

She dipped a mock curtsy. 'Then it will be my pleasure to make Your Highness's breakfast.'

21.

Auras

333 AR Summer

11 Dawns Before New Moon

The party went on for hours after Arlen and Renna emerged, somewhat dishevelled, from the wedding pavilion. He had thought their consummation would be gentle, but his bride had pounced like an animal the moment the flap fell, her aura lit up with lust.

My bride. Renna Tanner. The thought made his head spin as much as their lovemaking. The girl he ran away from home to avoid marrying was the one he was meant for.

Meant for? He snorted. Spent your whole life believing there's no Creator, no Deliverer, but you and a girl get along, and that's proof of divine plan?

But much as he wanted to dismiss the thought as ludicrous, he could not.

They stumbled on watery legs back out into the cheering crowd, and Arlen was amazed once more at its aura.

Arlen had thought magic evil once, but it was beyond such definitions, no more evil than wind or rain or lectrics. It pulsed within all living things, defining them inside and out with a wealth of information. Human auras were dimmer and far more complex than those of demons, but there was a great deal of ambient magic here at the centre of Hollow County's greatwards. Without even realizing it, the Hollowers were imprinting that magic with their joy, and it danced happily around them, powerful and infectious.

Arlen had been seeing auras since he had first painted wards of sight around his eyes, but had never understood what the subtle variations of colour, brightness, and texture had meant until his encounter with the coreling prince. For an instant their minds had touched, and he had seen the world as the demons did.

Now even a peripheral glance could tell him much about a person's emotional state, and a full stare fed him a constant stream of information. He knew when people spoke truth to him and when lie, when they were ready to fight and when they would flee. He could see every single emotion a person was feeling at any given time, though he had to guess at the reasons.

He could not see into minds as the coreling princes had ... yet. But if he concentrated, Arlen could draw a touch of magic through people, imprinting it with their essence, and then absorb it himself, Knowing them more intimately than lover and Herb Gatherer both every scar, every ache, every feeling. A firespit burn here, a cat scratch there, telling the body's tale.

Sometimes images would flash in his mind people, places, and things that held strong emotional connections to whomever he was Knowing, but it was up to him to interpret them.

Even plants could yield secrets. Simply inhaling a current passing through a tree, Arlen could peel back the years more clearly than a woodcutter reading rings. When there had been flood, and when drought. When there had been fire, and when deep freeze. The types of demon claws that had gouged its bark. Everything since the nut had cracked, grasped in an instant.

Shamavah was waiting for them as they returned to the party, along with Rojer, Kendall, and his new wives.

Rojer's aura was particularly interesting. When the Jongleur was playing, be it his fiddle or the part in a drama, a mask fell over his aura that was impossible for Arlen to read.

At other times, though, his young friend was an open book. Images floated around him, some dim, others distinct, all connected to Rojer with complex webs of emotion.

Arlen could make out himself and Renna, as well as Amanvah, Sikvah, and Leesha. Arlen could see Rojer had doubts about Renna and the marriage, but he'd made his own questionable choices in that regard, and felt no right to preach. The deed was done, and as Arlen's friend, Rojer was going to support him.

He put a hand on the Jongleur's shoulder. 'Stand by you, too, Rojer. Honest word. Nothing about Renna lessens what I owe you.'

Rojer blinked. 'How did you know what I was ...'

There was a flare in Amanvah's aura as she focused on him. She was quick, that one, catching her husband's meaning before he even finished speaking.

For an instant, he saw images floating around her, most prominently her parents. Amanvah walked deep in their shadow. Hovering between their images was a book.

'You are thinking it is said in the Evejah that only the Deliverer can read the hearts of men,' Arlen guessed.

Shock rippled along Amanvah's aura, but then the young dama'ting went ... serene, the surface of her emotions buried under the gentle rhythm of her breath. She stared at him with no less intensity, but his ability to read her vanished.

'It is said,' Amanvah agreed. 'But you are not him.'

He glanced at Sikvah, surprised to note that her mind had the same sharp discipline as Amanvah's. She was more than she seemed. Perhaps it was something to do with her white veil.

But while Rojer's wives hid their auras, they could not mask the magic of the items they carried. Bound and warded bones in Amanvah's and Sikvah's chokers made it seem like their throats were ablaze. Arlen scanned the wards, similar to the ones on Rojer's fiddle. He had seen the amplifying effect onstage. Useful magic.

Other jewellery shone with similar fire. The hora pouch at Amanvah's waist veritably throbbed with it, and even Shamavah wore a few bits of demon bone among her rings and bracelets, though he could only guess at the effects.

'You don't trust me,' Arlen said.

'Is there any reason why we should?' Amanvah asked.

Arlen concentrated, drawing a touch of magic through the young women, Knowing them.

'No, but I trust you, Amanvah vah Ahmann.' He nodded to Sikvah. 'You and your sister-wife both. I can see that you are no ally of Nie, and your intentions toward my friend are true.'