36
Velody followed Ashiol back up the various flights to his office. He turned around impatiently as they reached the door. ‘Don’t you understand a farewell when you hear one?’
The finely garbed secretary gave her a half-hidden a smirk. Velody ignored him. ‘We still have things to discuss.’
‘Oh, really?’ Despite his obvious reluctance, Ashiol held the door open for her and followed her in. ‘What do you have to say to me that you couldn’t utter in front of Kelpie?’ He widened his eyes and grabbed her hand mockingly, holding it to his heart. ‘Velody, is this a seduction?’
‘Let’s not be too ridiculous.’ She snatched her hand away, but not before his animor sent a surge of heat through her own. He tasted different with Bazeppe inside him as well as Aufleur, and she was starting to sense the power of this new city in other ways. She wasn’t used to a playful Ashiol, let alone one who switched from humorous to serious in the blink of an eye. Had he reclaimed his youth, or found some different powders to swallow?
‘I really don’t see what else there is to say.’
‘You’ve changed,’ Velody accused. ‘You seem so different.’
‘This is what I’m like when I’m not angry and scared all the time. I realise that it’s novel.’
‘But why aren’t you angry and scared? Is this city really so much better than Aufleur? A few days of clockwork saints fighting your battles for you and suddenly you’re all serene?’
‘I like to be looked after. Simple as that.’
‘Is it that Garnet isn’t here? Is that what makes you so happy?’
But no, Garnet had been gone before and Ashiol had never looked like this.
‘Lysandor is here,’ he said, and his face softened. ‘He’s fighting the sky, they all are, but they have the clockwork saints to help them, and they don’t tear each other to pieces. He has a wife and a child, the closest thing to a normal life that anyone of the Creature Court has ever managed to pull together. Bazeppe has given me hope, Velody. I didn’t realise how seductive it could be: the possibility of being normal. Mundane. Of balancing the daylight and the nox without sacrificing my own humanity.’
Velody folded her arms. ‘You had plenty of opportunity for a normal life in the five years you were exiled from Aufleur. You didn’t exactly settle down and start having babies, did you?’
Though, to be fair, she knew nothing of what he had done in that time. He could have impregnated dozens of milkmaids and shepherdesses.
His face clouded over, for one moment looking like the old Ashiol. ‘That was different.’
‘Was it? I thought you were unhappy because you spent that five years hiding from what you were supposed to be doing, and yet here you are, hiding again and apparently delighted about it.’
‘You only want me back because I’m a better proposition for the sacred marriage than dear Garnet,’ he said sourly. ‘That’s hardly flattering, Velody.’
‘I never said you were a better proposition. I never said I wanted anything from you!’
‘But you do. You want everything, and I can’t give it. Why don’t you stay?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Here? In Bazeppe? What would I do — sew cravats for the Duc-Elected?’
‘He has daughters as well as sons. I expect they need dresses from time to time.’
‘That’s not even funny.’ But she saw no humour in his face.
‘Let Garnet get on with whatever he plans to do to keep Aufleur from falling into the sky. He wants the Creature Court so damn much. Give it to him.’
Did he have any idea what he was actually saying?
‘Ashiol — Garnet is sacrificing children.’
He shrugged callously. ‘Perhaps the people of Tierce should have sacrificed a child or two, if that’s what it takes.’
Overwhelmed with fury, Velody shoved at his chest, too upset even to coordinate a slap across his face. He stumbled back a step and took hold of her wrists. Heat shot from his skin to hers.
‘I can’t stop him,’ he said between his teeth.
Tears stung her eyes, which she hated herself for, just a little. ‘You don’t want to try.’
The proximity of him after so long made her heart beat faster. Their animor recognised each other. Being this close was almost like being within the walls of Aufleur again, only more intense because Bazeppe was beating at their skin, too.
‘We can’t fight him without you,’ she said breathlessly.
He turned her face up to his. ‘Liar. You know full well that when it comes to Garnet, I’m a liability, not a weapon.’
It would really be good if they could stop touching right now. The city’s metallic energy was already coursing through Velody, and Ashiol was just … bright, from the inside out. She had missed him so much, and hadn’t realised it until now.
‘Are you still angry at me? Is that what this is about?’
He gave her a very Ducomte expression. ‘Angry?’
‘You were so furious,’ she said helplessly. ‘About Garnet and me. About everything.’
‘I don’t remember,’ he said, and the mask of his face was horribly perfect. ‘Why don’t we let it go? I’m sure none of that matters now.’
‘You have to stop pretending,’ Velody insisted.
He was so changed. Calm. Did she have any right to take him away from this life, this place, that made him a real person instead of a raving maniac?
Even if she preferred the maniac.
‘Pretending to be sane?’ said Ashiol. Finally, the mask cracked, if only a little. He still held her arm, keeping her close to him. ‘Pretending I belong here? Or just pretending I have something to offer beyond tilting at shadows?’
‘We need you. I need you. Garnet …’ Velody didn’t know how to say it any other way. Surely there had been enough words that he could start believing her.
She could tell he was getting impatient now, though he kept it under control. His animor flared with it. ‘You brought him back. You knew what he was. Or you should have done, if you’d believed me. Trusted me. But Velody always knows best. Velody, the kind, compassionate little mother.’ His hand was tight, now, over her arm. ‘You gave him the Creature Court. It’s not my job to take his toys away from him, it’s yours.’
‘I can’t do it alone.’
She should pull away, walk away. But she had to try. She couldn’t go back to the sentinels, to Kelpie, without being able to say that she’d tried with every mote of her being to get him back.
She couldn’t leave him to fall with Bazeppe.
‘Yes, you can. Don’t you get it, Velody? I’m a liability. I always have been. I’m not a leader. I didn’t beat him last time. I gave in. Submitted to his will. How is that going to be helpful?’
The fury rolled off him, finally. If he was in cat shape, all his fur would be standing up. Velody liked him angry. He made so much more sense that way. Did that make her a bad person?
‘You are stronger than you think you are,’ she said.
Ashiol laughed in her face. ‘I’m really not.’
‘Everything you’ve learnt here, about the clockwork saints, about Lysandor and this Court — we can take the secrets of Bazeppe back with us. Use them to end the skywar and free Aufleur. If we could only work together, perhaps we could end it once and for all.’
An odd look crossed Ashiol’s face. ‘But what would we do with the slaves?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘One of the early Ducs in Aufleur was shown a steam engine, hundreds of years ago. He ordered it destroyed, and said “What would we do with the slaves?” I believe they did something similar when clockwork crossed their paths.’
‘But there’s never been slavery in Aufleur.’
‘Just us. What do you think will happen if the skywar ends? Do you think Livilla will give up biting chunks out of underage boys and take up needlecraft? That the others will get jobs in wine bars or factories, settle down to being ordinary little daylight folk? You’ll have a bunch of bored, disenfranchised monsters on your hands and it will be a f*cking massacre.’
Velody stared at him. Part of her wanted to argue that they couldn’t give up hope of ending the skywar because it gave gainful employment to the Creature Court, but there wasn’t time for that, because saints, oh saints, oh saints, he still thought Livilla was alive, and she had to be the one to tell him otherwise. How had she forgotten?
Ashiol responded to her stricken look. ‘What?’
There was no kind way to put it.
‘Livilla’s dead,’ Velody blurted out. ‘I’m sorry.’
This time, he released her. ‘You should go.’
But no, not with that. She had to give him more than that.
‘I need to tell you how —’
‘No, thank you kindly,’ he said, with a smile that was more of a snarl. ‘That’s not my world any more. I don’t need to know.’
Livilla was a hero. Would he laugh if Velody said that out loud? Livilla had died to save her courtesa from Garnet’s cruel sacrifice. ‘Ashiol —’
‘Get out!’ he snapped. ‘You’ve done your bit, properly simulated care and attention for my feelings, but I’m done with the Creature Court of Aufleur and with you. I’ll end my days happily sitting in the shadow of the clockwork saints and there’s not one f*cking thing you can do about it.’
‘Fine,’ said Velody. She was tired of this, of stepping around the emotions and egos of everyone else. She wasn’t the Power and Majesty any more and the job had still got harder.
Ashiol went back to sit behind his desk, playing the stone-faced bureaucrat. He didn’t say goodbye, didn’t say anything. It was as if she’d already left.
Velody made it as far as the door, then turned back. She couldn’t help herself. She walked to Ashiol quickly and tugged at the sleeves of the sapphire morning coat, feeling the stiff fabric under her fingers. ‘This doesn’t suit you. You can’t wear bright colours; you look like something that escaped from a gipsy carnivale.’
He couldn’t say this was none of her business. Not if they were talking about clothes. Not that Ashiol was saying anything. He looked at her vaguely, as if wondering why she was still here.
Velody pulled off his coat and threw it on the desk. ‘You’re not a middle-aged Baronne: you shouldn’t dress like one.’ She reached down and started unbuttoning his brocade waistcoat. ‘Not this, either. Not if you don’t want children to point and laugh at you in the street.’ The plum colour was rich and bold and had obviously been chosen by someone who wasn’t Ashiol. Given a choice he would match black with black and more black, and that was as it should be.
Ashiol’s eyes flashed, but he let her divest him of the waistcoat. ‘Are you planning to strip me until I feel better about losing Livilla?’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm that was at least better than the sheer nothing she saw in his face.
‘Whatever it takes,’ she said, and her voice trembled just a little. She saw Livilla again, falling. Damn him for not being willing to share his grief. He had to have sadness inside him or he was a monster, and Velody didn’t believe that, not for a second.
‘I didn’t love her, you know,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to comfort me.’
She stared at him, sitting there at his desk, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. ‘Liar.’
Ashiol made a grab for her, then, pulling her into his lap. She let him, not moving as he slowly ran his hands over her waist, breasts, neck. Finally, touching her. His fingers tightened in her hair and she let out a sigh. Finally, something real.
‘Lying about what?’ he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.
‘I’ve forgotten,’ said Velody, and kissed him.
He tasted of warm imperium and lemon-mint and her animor responded fiercely to him. They wound their arms around each other, kissing hard and rough, mouths wet and wanting. This and only this. If he wasn’t coming home, there was no reason to pretend to be indifferent to him.
They said no more words.
Ashiol lifted her up onto the desk and removed her boots with swift movements, her stockings, the dress that still smelled of travel dust and train smoke. When there was nothing left but slip, breastband and knickers, he lowered her onto her back and ran his mouth over her, finding places to kiss and suck at her warm bare skin.
She reached up, unfastening buttons, dragging his shirt from him and letting it fall to the floor. It was an ugly shirt and it needed to die. Who had ever thought that kind of collar a good idea?
They were going through the motions, almost politely, as if they had done this many times before. An old married couple, Velody thought, on the edge of hysteria, and then Ashiol bit her on the neck and the mild pain of it woke her up. She clawed at his face, pulling him to her so they could kiss messily, their tongues hot against each other.
She unfastened the plum brocade trousers that matched the rest of his suit. Plum brocade. How could anyone look at Ashiol and think plum brocade? She slid her hand inside, feeling the heat and hardness of him, the silkiness of his cock.
‘Here,’ she said breathlessly. ‘With me. Not … wallowing in nostalgia or old wounds or anything.’
No grief allowed, not now, even if that made her the most selfish wench in the city. This was about something else. She would not think the word ‘marriage’, she would not, but they had to see what it would be like, the two of them, if there was an accord that could be reached. If they were stronger together than apart. They had to be, surely.
She was thinking too much.
Ashiol’s answer was a growl, low in his throat, more like a lion than the street-cat he was. He ripped her knickers down to her knees and pressed his fingers inside her making her gasp. She cried out as he stirred a deep wet warmth inside her cunt, and this time she closed her teeth over his shoulder.
He teased her, bringing her to the edge and back again, and it didn’t take much of that before she was muffling her sounds against his neck. This would be a fine scene for those pretty secretaries to walk in on …
It was hard to care about that when Ashiol’s hands were all over her, and the heat of him, of his blood, his animor, was swirling in her head. She had never felt as powerful as she did right now, her legs splayed apart on his desk and the weight of a mostly naked King against her body.
While she was recovering from the delicious work of his fingers, he stretched himself out on the desk like the lazy cat he was. His erect cock jutted from the opening in his breeches, but the look in his eyes displayed no particular urgency. A bluff, she guessed. It had to be. She leaned over him, fingers curling into the brocade of his trousers, and then paused deliberately. There it was, the gleam of impatience in his eyes. Ha!
She eased his ridiculous trousers down only a little way, leaving him nicely entangled. Just in case he wanted to run away or anything. (It seemed unlikely.) She crawled onto him, keeping her eyes fixed on his, looking for those little signs that, yes, he wanted her specifically, Velody, not just a warm body to frig.
His hand trailed slowly up over her hip and then he grinned suddenly and — oh dear. The cat that got the cream. She was never going to be able to hear that phrase again without blushing.
She parted her thighs and slid onto him, slow and steady and filling herself with warmth. Ashiol’s fingers found her spine and she shivered, rocking against him. Slow, painfully slow.
Her animor pulsed, and his. Everywhere they touched there was not just warmth but an unbearable heat, scorching power, and something else. Something she couldn’t define yet.
Velody arched over him, gasping every time his hands found a new part of skin to touch, feeling him so deep inside her. Their animor surged against each other, overwhelming waves that shut out everything except the places where her body touched his.
Bazeppe unfolded into Velody’s mind, not only the strange cityscape but all of it, everything that Ashiol had seen and heard while he was here: faces, names, the eerie calm that made him so different from his usual self.
He throbbed hard inside her and, oh, there was his anger, buried more deeply than usual, but she welcomed it because it was Ashiol, he didn’t make sense without it. His hands were rough on her now, the outlines of his palms hot and wanting as she bucked harder, riding him into insensibility.
His anger bubbled up, dark and familiar, and Velody cried out at the deeper vibrations of him hard inside her, and then she was on her back, shuddering and fever-hot as he took control, heavy on top of her, eyes black as his chimaera. Her body gave up, finally, and she came with a howl, her animor barely holding her in human shape.
Ashiol stopped what he was doing, oddly still. He looked at her as if he had no idea who she was or why he was inside her. Velody slid her hand between them, feeling where they joined, smoothing her fingertips around the base of his cock. ‘Let go,’ she told him in the firm Power and Majesty voice she had been cultivating for so long. He shuddered and emptied himself inside her, warm and wet.
He dragged in a long breath of air and stared down at her. ‘There’s something wrong with this city.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘We’ll deal with that later.’