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Excerpt She dismissed her Bailiff Yeldoc and told him that she wanted to walk through JudgementGrove, learning the trees, the small glades set amongst them, and reacquaint herself with the location of the brook that burbled in the background. But when the Grove was empty and Ailim sensed no other minds, she dropped her head to her arms folded on the desk. She couldn't remember a longer day than yesterday in her life, a culminating blur of the last two eightdays. The sole vivid moments were her conversations with Ruis Elder. Even the arguments with her Family smeared into one large altercation. She had the depressing feeling that her domestic life would continue to be a long battle with a few tiny moments of respite. Which is why she hadn't gone home. D'SilverFir Residence didn't feel like home anymore. Before she could shake the self-pitying thought, her vision grayed and she dozed. The atmosphere changed around her. She was conscious, but too tired to do anything but distantly observe the sharpened fragrance of dying grass, hear the creek increase its burble and every chirp of the crickets, even feel the small delineation of the different colors of the stone beneath her fingertips. All her senses sharpened. The air on her left side stirred. Scents teased her nose, ones she'd smelled just the day before, but she refused to catalogue them and accepted the easing of tight emotions. She knew who stood next to her, Ruis Elder, the Null. She could not acknowledge him. He was banished from Druida on pain of death. As a Judge it was her duty to report that he was flouting the will of the Councils and the Law of Celta. She could not betray him. She kept her mouth from forming his name, just heard it echo in her mind. Tentative fingers brushed against her hair once, twice, as if they had never stroked someone in comfort — or had luxury or permission to touch. Ailim's throat tightened. She could not resist him. At her stillness, the soft touches stopped. Ailim's thoughts scrambled at how to let him know she treasured this moment. She relaxed and snuggled her face deeper into the crook of her arm. "Mmmmmmmm," she said, hoping he would not leave. A moment later his palm curved around her head. "Mmmmmmm," she approved. His trailing fingers grew bolder, stroking her head again and again, then stopping at the rapid pulse in her neck. Only the tension between them, his movements, led her to guess at his feelings. She felt no emotions or thoughts from him. For the first time in her life she had to wonder what another felt. She concentrated on what his movements might mean — the hesitation of his hands as they smoothed out the waves of her hair that had been strictly bound in braids and tied with spellthreads. Ailim guessed that he was inexperienced in tenderness between men and women, and her heart ached. What had his life been like? She sought to think, but his hands upon her drowned any thought. She could only feel. Warm palms touched her shoulders, fingers found the knots in her muscles. Awkwardly, with several shifts of position, he began to massage her. Nerves within her prickled as the gentle touch continued, then increased in pressure as if his fingers were learning a new art. Wetness dampened her eyes and Ailim realized that her tears weren't solely from released pain. She blessed them anyway, since they kept her eyes from seeing what they shouldn't. Thumbs brushed at her neck and she tipped her head to give him access to her tight muscles. She enjoyed being at peace and without any thoughts or emotions intruding on her own. If she listened, she might even be able to hear herself think over the pulse of her heart. Except the delightful massage took all thought away. Her physical senses bloomed and her sheer awareness of everything fascinated her. She thought she could hear the trees drawing in an interminable breath, withdrawing deep into their bark to slow and prepare for winter. A small breeze rattled leaves, and she imagined them swirling and dancing in joy of being free from twigs and branches. The leaves and the grass and the brook scented the air with layers of fragrance she'd never experienced. She recalled the fingers moving down her back were long. They hesitated to pursue a tangled spot of muscle or sinew, then continued. When she was utterly relaxed, hands stroked, comforted and discovered the shape of her back. Heat rose within her, languidly unfurling from low in her torso to spread throughout her body. Tingles pulsated out from her temple along her nerves. Her blood pulsed low and steady, carrying the throb of desire. A unique desire flowing so sweet and heavy that she felt caught in a spell, too drugged to move, aching for the next caress of his fingers. She wanted more, to hear and feel and smell and touch and see. The way she had experienced all her senses yesterday when her Flair had been suppressed by Ruis Elder's Nullness. But to break the spell would be to set a lightning bolt of duty and danger against the cobweb of ease and comfort surrounding her. Better to doze and be dazed. The light of the sun, Bel, was blocked an instant, and something softer than fingers grazed her temple. Mint, another scent she remembered from before and ignored. This time when she sighed out her breath, it was of yearning, of a great need that had opened inside her. He was giving, of his time and himself. Tears backed up behind her eyes that a simple touch of comfort could so move her. But she hadn't felt a gentle touch for more months than she could count. His hand tangled in her loose hair again. One sifting of fingers and a harsh sound as he started to move away. She couldn’t let him go without acknowledgment. With sheer instinct, she flung out her hand, caught his hand and clung. She did nothing else, just held on to him, savoring his strength. For a moment they stayed that way, then she felt the brush of his lips on her fingers before her hand was replaced next to her face. Then his footsteps strode away. Ailim shut her eyes tight, and wetness overflowed. She could not look, could not openly declare the lovely feelings that passed between them. It had to be Ruis. But if she didn't see him, couldn't swear that it was a banished Ruis breaking the laws, she couldn't be forced by her vows as Judge to report him. When he left her, he took all the new brilliance of her senses with him. She sat up and removed the tracks of tears with a spellword, then began to braid her hair again. Tight. |
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