Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

7. How Do You Do That

seven

How Do You Do That

Baroness Nadezda Korchinska’s manor didn’t have any fence, one could ride up to the front door, and the large country house was pearl white with a soft pink roof the color of rose petals. An old courtier with a tall wig and rouge, she’d never been married and the title had come from her father whose portraits in military decorations hung in every room. Her family made their fortune in timber and owned enough land in the north to be colored on the map of Fedosia, and more importantly, she was an admirer of the archmage.

The archmage wanted to introduce the count to Nadezda because she favored military families and brought silver bullion as a wedding gift, and Sofia’s afternoon was spent watching the archmage, Nadezda, the count, and some other courtiers play cards while debating the army tactics employed during the Elfurian War a hundred years ago.

When the discussion turned to dark magic, as it eventually did when Elfur was mentioned, the archmage frightened women with tales of necromancy and homunculus, a soulless human created with forbidden alchemy.

“Alchemy is the magic of equivalent exchange,” he said while Sofia opened her eyes extra wide because she was falling asleep. The elation she felt in the morning had deflated and now she was exhausted, having missed sleep the prior night. “A man, even through magic, cannot create a soul because there is no equivalent exchange for…” the archmage droned on, while the women and the count marveled on.

Poetically referred to as ‘soul’ he meant the light every living thing held. She wouldn’t believe a blade of grass had a ‘soul’, yet it had light. Listening for the umpteenth time to the doctrine contained in the first ten pages of the Light Codex, tears of boredom ran down Sofia’s face when she yawned too large.

After a glass of wine, she’d fallen asleep on the white settee and woke up, and lay there staring at the ceiling to the sound of a string quartet playing somewhere in the house. The amber hue of the light spilling through the lace veil said the sun was setting. There sounded to be a dinner party, laughter and chatter, and she smelled roasted duck. She could eat, so she got up, and after admiring the painting of hunting dogs hanging on the teal wall, she headed to the dining hall.

The fireplace was lit in the room decorated with numerous patterns of porcelain plates on the wall, the count had women seated on either side of him, politics over wine, and the archmage was sprawled on a bergère armchair across a short table from the baroness, both deep into their conversation.

Every seat around the long table was occupied and the food looked cold, so Sofia went to the archmage, and bent to ask him, “Uncle, is it all right if I go home?”

The archmage frowned at her. “Ask your husband.”

Sofia went to the count, disrupted his lively debate with his new friends, to ask, “Gavril Illeivich, may I go home?”

He flicked his wrist, dismissing her.

She went outside but the archmage’s driver wouldn’t take her because he hadn’t been told he could leave, so Sofia sat on the steps and watched the red horizon as the sun set behind Krakova, the city slowly turning into a dark silhouette of itself.

Night had fallen and Sofia went over the names of the saints, counting the stars. Music still played in Nadezda’s house, and guests came and went while she remained on the steps. She should have brought her macaw. He’d never been to the capital.

She’d been looking at the seven saints, who together made the shape of a ladle, when she heard hooves on the dark lawn and a horse nickered right by her. Assuming it was a guest, she scooted to the side of the steps, keeping her eyes on the stars as she wondered which one was her aunt’s.

“I waited for you.”

Her heart fluttered as she dropped her gaze. Not so different than the night itself, the sentinel dressed in black rode a dark horse. The steed was patient and didn’t fidget, but the tack jingled as Aleksei moved on his saddle to lean toward her.

“The count is inside.” Sofia threw a look over her shoulder, then stole a look at the drivers gathered on the carriageway. No one minded them. Perhaps they thought Aleksei was a guest as well. It was dark.

“Which count? Everyone and their brother is a count or a baron.”

“The one I’m married to,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. I went to twelve other dinner parties. It’s exhausting being in Krakova.” He held out his hand. “Do you want to come with me? I’m off tonight.”

“You’re very brazen,” she said, nervous. Then she remembered the sugar suggestion and got up so she could whisper. “Was Lev at Red Manor today?”

“No idea,” he said. “Baroness Katarina hosted some event and she had guests. He might have come.”

“Are your horses all right?”

“I think so.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Maybe don’t let him close to Snowflake.”

“Snowstorm, you mean?” he said. “Why?”

Sofia couldn’t outright accuse her brother, but it was still awful trying to poison someone’s horse. “Just don’t let him close to your racehorse.” She shrugged.

“Are you serious? We don’t get along, but I wouldn’t think of Lev as a coward. I’ve seen him race and he’s a very decent rider.” He didn’t appear too worried.

Sofia felt guilty having implied anything devious regarding her brother, but it was disgraceful to use magic to cheat in a horserace.

“Come on, Sofia.” He held out his hand again. “Take a ride with me.”

She would like to. She would love nothing more. “I can’t just leave,” she whispered.

“I can arrest you. Would that help?”

She laughed.

“You’re very beautiful when you laugh.” A moment of silence passed because she didn’t know how to respond to that. Then he said, “Come on, please, I don’t bite. If nothing else, I’ll take you home. You’re just sitting out here and it’s cold.”

‘All right,’ she would have said, and perhaps his hand would have been warm to take, but the steed that had been behaving perfectly pranced backward, squealing.

“Easy, easy, boy.” Aleksei struggled for control as the horse rose on its hindlegs a few times, halfway rearing, and stomping down. Shaking its head, it snorted. The archmage had come out and it didn’t like him. Her uncle was purposefully frightening the creature as he stood there sniggering.

The archmage had nine alchemy rings imprinted on his back, scarred over from when he branded his skin with molten gold, and they had what Sofia could only describe as tentacles made of light coming out of them. Not permanent limbs, he used alchemy to summon them, which he was doing now.

The feelers had nasty fangs and moved like snakes. Had they not been made of light, the archmage would look like a monster rather than glow like the sun. The trouble was the archmage could bend invisible waves of light. Sofia could always see them, not the invisible light but whenever magic was being used, and she didn’t understand why Lev was getting caught in the tentacles when the archmage trained him, till she learned no one else could see the snakes on her uncle’s back.

The horse could sense it, though, and the archmage was scaring it, turning into a monster.

“Uncle,” Sofia whispered, her fingers digging into her thigh, when a feeler flew at the horse like an evil hand and grabbed at its front hoof, making the mount rear, kick air, and scream, nearly throwing Aleksei off.

Upset, she clutched her skirt in her balled fists and stared down as the archmage stood on the steps cackling with his friends, saying, “The perils of hiring one’s nephew rather than the best man for the position. Poor boy, can’t even control his beast.”

She’d had enough. “I want to go home!” She marched toward the carriage without waiting for a reply.

It turned out they’d been leaving anyway, and the archmage and the count got into the coach with her. As they pulled away, Sofia saw through the shutters Aleksei on the lawn speaking to Nadezda. The sentinel was mounted still, and the countess was giggling. They knew each other and looked friendly. Sofia pressed her forehead against the door and sighed as they disappeared from view. It was her misfortune she was married and poor. Someone should have a good night, just not her.

The archmage and the count went somewhere together, another admirer’s house perhaps, Lev hadn’t returned with the girls, and the maids and the servants were in their quarters. Sofia spent an hour in the washroom soaking in the tub, then went upstairs to her room to turn in for the night.

She couldn’t sleep, though, and thumbed through the codex in candlelight, trying her hand at basic alchemy. Hearing the door open, she assumed it was Lev, and asked, “How was your day?”

“Miserable. I just waited around for you.”

She jolted and dropped the codex. “What are you doing!” she whispered, her heart pounding.

Aleksei picked up the codex, closed it, and set it down on the short table next to her. “No one is home. What if I had been a burglar? I should stay till your husband returns at least.”

“You’re obnoxious, Aleksei!” Flustered, her face burned while she tried to control the volume of her voice.

“I’ve been told that before.” He knelt in front of her. Coming into the candlelight, his face had a soft glow, but the room behind him was dark. He pulled her chin and turned her face toward him. “You can tell me to leave. I’ll obey. But I’d rather kiss you if that’s all right.”

Sofia mumbled things unintelligible even to herself and closed her eyes expecting a kiss, but he picked her up from the chair. Her breathing quickened when he set her down on the bed. What would happen should someone come in? It wouldn’t end well, surely.

The candle left behind on the table she’d been reading at, they were in the dark together as she sat on the edge of her bed and he towered over her, standing between her thighs as he unbuckled the leather straps of his vambrace one at the time.

“Is your horse all right?” The anticipation heated her, but she was also so very nervous.

“I haven’t been home yet.”

“I meant the one you were on earlier.”

“Tempest?” he asked. “He’s fine. He just got spooked by the archmage.”

He didn’t know how true that was.

“He doesn’t like you much,” Sofia said.

“The archmage? I don’t care,” was his answer. He stacked his vambraces and set them aside on the bed, but didn’t take off his weapons belt and moved his sword aside as he knelt.

She didn’t understand why he’d bothered with the arm gear and not the belt till he glided his hands up her legs, lifting the skirt of her dress.

“You’re not wearing anything,” he said.

“I was taking a ba—” She breathed as he kissed up the inside of her thigh. “Do you know how to make coins?” For the saints’ sake, shut up. She shook, she was so antsy.

“Counterfeit? The queen takes your head for that.”

His mouth was right between her legs, and he looked up at her as he kissed her. She’d been saying something and that disappeared as she grabbed the edge of the bed. A kiss to a tender spot made her jolt, and her legs tried closing, twisting away from him, but his hands were on her hips, as solid as though she was stuck.

“Ne…” she breathed. What had she been saying? No idea. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes as a gripping thing tightened around her, becoming unbearable.

In desperation, she flung herself back onto the bed, clawed at whatever she could get, which was her pillow, pressed it over her face, and cried out into it, over and over, unable to contain it any longer.

Teetering, and teetering on the verge of an uncontrollable plunge, she was being loud, too loud. “Please,” she begged. “Please…”

“Sofia, say my name.”

“Aleksei! Aleksei!” she breathed.

His name rolled on her tongue, repeating like the beads of a rosary, a never ending prayer. The swing swayed up and down, up and down, but not climbing high enough to throw her off it. A torment it became then began sizzling out without frothing over.

The pillow was ripped from her, and Aleksei was over her. “What do you like?” he asked her in the dark, his hand caressing the side of her face.

“I don’t know,” she whined.

“Do you not know how to climax?”

“I don’t know.” Her mouth was numb, and she shook her head. Now his hand was between her legs, and he pressed it hard making her moan and frown. Her hair was streaked with sweat and sticking to her face and neck, and she wanted to be done, but he pulled down the front of her dress and grabbed her breast. She imagined he was bruising her, squeezing so hard, but she didn’t care. Hot fluid escaped her where his other hand was between her legs, and she ground into him, whimpering.

“Ah, you like it rough. I can do that,” he said.

His weight lifted off her, a relief. Then her dress was flung up over her face and she was yanked down to the edge of the bed.

“Aleksei.” She wiped the hair that had gotten in her mouth and moved down the skirt of her dress which was in her face. With all the noise they were making, she was afraid someone might come in and wanted to ask him if she could see him again, perhaps in a more private place. “Alek—”

He took a fistful of her hair, flipped her over on her stomach, and pressed her face onto the bed. By instinct, she fought, reaching and seizing his wrist. She wanted to breathe at least. Perhaps realizing she needed air, he jerked her head back, and it was at the same time he slammed into her. She gasped.

He rode her, rode her as though they were at the Royal Cup already, but hopefully, he wasn’t so brute with his horses. Sofia sobbed. She wasn’t crying but it sounded like it, the ridiculous noises escaping her.

“There you are,” she heard him say as she reached the top of the tower she’d been climbing all this time—and he pushed her.

It was a long, long way down and she cried the entire way from the pulsing eruption of scorching heat. If no one had come in by now, the home had truly been empty, and what if he had been a true burglar, like he said?

Every bit of energy drained, Sofia sagged, completely and utterly ruined. The tension eased as he let go of her, and she stared at the candle across the room, burning low now and sizzling. Her ears rang, and for a moment, she found herself confused as to where she was. Then it slowly returned to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No…” A trailing whine came from her.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She rolled over on her back and strained to sit up—moving had turned into an ordeal. Her long curls were a mess, in her mouth, on her eye, and stuck to her face, neck, and back. “Please come here,” she whispered.

He was up, strapping on his weapons belt. She pulled his arm, and when he came to her, she wrapped herself around him and lay back down on the bed with him on top. Her elbow hooked around his neck, she slid her other hand under his shirt and felt his hard, lean body.

“I want to see you,” she whispered.

“Probably not the best of ideas to be buck naked in case I need to bail out the window.” He kissed her neck. “Are you all right?”

“Mmm.” She sighed. “Can I see you again?”

“I hope so.” He scooted down and laid his head on her chest.

Closing her eyes, Sofia ran her fingers through his hair. “Can I ask you something?” She heard the candle fizzle out as she drifted somewhere between asleep and not, as gently as though on a dry leaf floating on an autumn breeze.

“Yes.”

“Why me?” she whispered. “Surely there are hundreds of women at court who are far less trouble. Is it because I’m new?”

“You’re not new to me, but if I tell you, it might be embarrassing.”

“For me?” she asked.

“For me,” he said.

“I want to know.” She liked his weight on her as her breathing slowed and became deep heaves like a tide pulling sleep closer.

“You’re my anchor.”

“Are you a boat?” She smiled, her hand mindlessly playing with his locks.

“Do you know what redlining is for us?”

“Is it when your magic makes you mad?” she asked.

“Yes, the nature of our alchemy pushes our sanity with prolonged use, and from early on, we’re taught to create an anchor point, a safe space in our head for our mind to return to. Nothing works for me except for you sitting in that church with a halo. That memory calms me and you’re seared into my mind, Sofia.

“At the masquerade, I recognized you from the back. It’s your hair, the way you sit, the curves of your neck, the way your shoulders fall… everything about you is absolutely stunning, and it’s incredibly wild speaking to you, being with you.”

“Beauty fades,” she whispered, kissing his hand when he touched her lips.

“Yours hasn’t, not at all.”

How do you do that, she thought or said, sleep finally claiming her.