The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 9: The Cursewright's Vow, Part 2

 "I earn enough to keep myself and Casimir fed. Just not enough to buy out a Lioness contract."

"I know that. That's not what I meant."

"What then?"

Lena circled around until she was facing him, one hand still on his shoulder, the other lightly touching his fingertips. Ammas suddenly felt deeply at sea. "You've had a very hard day. I don't think you should be alone tonight."

"Oh. Well. I'm not -- well, I'm never alone anymore, now Casimir is here, and I still have my client, of course, I suppose I could bunk in the chancel -- "

"Ammas, that's not what I meant."

Ammas swallowed hard and looked Lena in the eye. They were much bluer than his own, well matching her honey blonde hair. Her smile was as pretty as he had ever seen. Helplessly he felt his tongue wetting his lips, from anxiety rather than lasciviousness. "Lena -- no -- I -- you don't owe me anything. At all. Especially not . . . not that."

"I owe you everything," she murmured. Now the hand on his shoulder was roaming his hair, her nails, chipped though some were, feeling absolutely lovely against his scalp. Ammas could feel the skin shrinking pleasurably against his skull. It had been a very long time. "But it's not about owing you. It's because I want you." She tilted her head up -- not much, she was a tall woman -- and touched her lips to his, kissing gently, the tip of her tongue grazing his mouth. The cloak she wore was heavy, but he could feel her body sinuous beneath it, warm and pliant and so very welcoming.

Ammas's hands hung useless at his sides. He seemed almost paralyzed.

Lena broke the kiss, frowning a little. "You don't want me?"

"I -- no -- it's not -- "

Lena took a step back, smiling ruefully, almost cynically. "This is because I'm a whore, isn't it?"

Ammas shook his head. Speech seemed beyond him. Suddenly Lena looked thoroughly embarrassed, one hand going to her mouth.

"Oh, gods -- you -- you favor men. I'm sorry, Ammas, I never knew."

"I don't favor men," he whispered. "I favor women."

Embarrassment gave way to confusion. "You've taken a vow?"

He shook his head, trying to find spit in his mouth enough to talk. "Cursewrights aren't priests. Many of us even married." He laughed shrilly, and something in his staring eyes made him look younger and somehow wounded. "I just -- I -- "

"Oh gods," she whispered, in a wholly different tone than she had only a few seconds before. Her arms went around Ammas and she held him tightly to her, pressing her cheek to his, filling him with her perfume and the far more intriguing natural scent of her that lurked beneath. "I heard how badly the Emperor's men hurt your kind. They -- they cut you, didn't they? Before you escaped?"

Ammas shook his head. He was shaking now. Not violently, but enough for Lena to notice. The softness of her cheek felt utterly divine against him, as did her body. At last his hands touched her hips, gingerly, as if he feared being burnt. "I wasn't -- cut." He hesitated. "Not physically."

Lena drew back just far enough to look into his eyes, though she seemed resistant to the idea of letting go of him. "I don't understand."

"It's . . . difficult," he stammered. "I . . . saw something during the breaking. Something I wish I'd never seen."

"What was it?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't ask me. I can't talk about it. My family -- " He broke off, breathing heavily for a second, closing his eyes, shuddering, slowly composing himself.