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“Unadorned,” he said. “Whatever I am, tonight I am nothing more than a man. Not even Stefan, because I would take nothing as a shield, not even a false name. I am only Raul. Will you have me?”
Ilse wet her lips. “I will. Tonight and forever.”
She took his hand and led him to the bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS A day, a moment, she could not have foreseen, and yet she knew every detail in advance.
The bed was a monstrous thing, easily large enough for ten lovers, as if a monarch required a greater stage than ordinary folk. There was no canopy, just a vast open expanse of white linen, overspread by layers of indigo and emerald silk. Servants had lit five branches of candles. A chandelier hung from the high, arched ceiling. Unseen, a brazier burned incense, sending up clouds of a fragrant cedar scent. It was too, too much, Ilse thought. It was fitting, however. A chamber this overwrought was like an echo of her emotions.
She pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”
He obeyed, his mouth twitching in amusement. Long-limbed and graceful, he climbed the steps and eased himself onto his back. His bare skin gleamed in the candlelight, and he stared back at her with impossibly bright eyes.
“Not yet,” she said. “Do not move.”
“Is that your command?”
“It is.”
She ran a finger along his cheek, touched the corner of his mouth, then brushed her hand over his throat and down his chest. The pulse at his throat beat faster, but otherwise he remained motionless. Only when she pressed lightly upon his stomach did his chest rise and fall in a breath caught suddenly.
His body, so familiar, so different. As if the gods had brushed him with shadows, within and without. She missed the long fall of hair, how it would tumble over his eyes when she loosed its ribbon. Now, his hair was cropped close, and where his chest once had been as smooth as a boy’s, she could run her fingers through fine dark hair running over his chest and down to his groin.
Raul closed his eyes and whispered something unintelligible.
Ilse paused, her hand resting over his belly. Watched as his penis thickened and stood upright. She curled her fingers around it, then slowly let her hand drift downward to the still unfamiliar sacs of flesh underneath. Then she bent down and kissed Raul’s chest, breathing in the musk of his perfume, and the stronger musk of his desire.
Tonight, she thought. Tonight we make love, and if the gods will it, a child.
She straightened and withdrew her hand. Raul’s eyes fluttered open.
“Almost,” she said, setting her crown next to his on the table.
Just as he had, she undressed, item by item. The gold-embroidered slippers. The grand robes and jewels, in which she had married, accepted a crown, and vowed her life and service to her subjects. The long tunic underneath, and all the other layers, each one removed and folded and set aside, until she stood clad in her shift alone. As she reached up to her hair, Raul sat up. “Grant me this favor, please.”
One by one, he took the diamonds from her hair. When the last lay on the table beside her crown, he plucked out the pins holding her hair and let it fall in a glorious cascade over her shoulders.
“The candles?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I want them lit.”
She drew off her shift and climbed the steps to the bed. When Raul made as though to draw her into an embrace, she pressed both hands against his shoulders and pinned him against the bed. “I have always wished to do this,” she whispered.
His eyes widened. His mouth opened in a half-laughing smile. “So have I.”
He was more than willing, more than ready, as was she. She lowered herself slowly, biting her lip to keep herself from rushing. Then came the moment when she could not hold back. A sharp sudden push down. She flung back her head and a cry burst from her throat, answered by his. Already their bodies found the rhythm, its pace rising ever faster. Ilse was babbling, laughing, and weeping. Raul, speaking in old Erythandran, then suddenly in Károvín, Veraenen, and others she could not identify, as though his memories swung from this life to the past and all the way to the present again. There was no time when they had not been lovers. Each life, they would discover each other anew. It was like a dance with patterns unfolding, each one leading to the next, each step and step a reflection of the past and yet a new thing altogether.
A final surge of hips against
hips, a long moment when they went still in passion complete. Another moment before the breath trickled from Ilse’s lips, and her muscles unlocked. Her blood thrummed in her temples, her body trembled, and her skin was slick with sweat.
Raul curled a hand around her neck. His gaze locked with hers as he drew her into a kiss so deep, she thought she might drown. I love you, she thought.
“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I shall love you forever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
