Page 124 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Then it appears,” Ariadne said with pursed lips, “there is a divide amongst the Society of Laeton.”

“Indeed.”

Camilla stood then and made her way back to the dressing room she had come from. Emillie could not help watching the way her hips swayed before shaking her head and looking away again. She could not allow herself to fantasize about a friend.

“Now tell me, doll,” Camilla called from the room, “how was the wedding day?”

“As I said,” Ariadne replied, “delightful.”

The lack of details would not suffice. Camilla’s curiosity would be sated whether either of them liked it or not. A long silence stretched out after her sister’s reply, then their friend returned to the room in her shift. A maid followed her and yanked on the ties of a corset.

“Did you—“

“Yes, Camilla!” Ariadne laughed and waved her off. “Yes. We did.”

“A maiden no longer!”

Emillie shook her head at the crassness of it all. While speaking of such things was not forbidden amongst Caersan women, it was also not encouraged. The men of the Society preferred such conversations to be kept at a minimum. Just another way to maintain their control through ambiguity. After so long of it, such conversations felt wrong.

“And how was it?” Camilla disappeared again to collect the next layer of her dress, the Rusan maid following close behind.

Ariadne glanced at Emillie and asked, “Is this alright?”

“I know what sex is.” She looked pointedly at Camilla’s dressing room. Their friend had never been shy about explaining the details of her adventures. “It has hardly been a secret amongst us for quite some time.”

Her sister’s laugh, like bells on the wind, made any tension left in Emillie’s body evaporate. It was not often she heard the sound—to hear it now only solidified how perfect a match she finally made. Only someone who truly loved her, inside and out, could bring her sister back to life.

“It was fantastic,” Ariadne admitted as Camilla poked her head back out, searching for an answer. “Better than I ever dreamed, actually.”

Camilla’s lips twisted into a smirk. “He went down on you, yes?”

“Excuse me?” Ariadne gaped at her, clearly surprised by the question. “This is something you never told me about!”

Their friend vanished yet again, and Emillie looked to her sister. Something did not add up in their conversation. “What is she talking about?”

Ariadne stared at her for a long moment. “Now that I am thinking of it…you would definitely need to know and—“ she raised her voice ”—no thanks to Camilla, we did not know of it.”

“Why would I need to know?” Emillie looked from the now-silent dressing room to her sister.

“I imagine it will help you,” Ariadne explained, “whenever you find yourself intimate with another woman.”

Heat washed across Emillie’s face again, and she sat back, creating distance between them. She searched her memories for anything which could help her understand that of which they spoke. Nothing came to mind.

“It is like a kiss between your legs.” Ariadne bit her lip, color blooming on her cheeks as well. “And it is wonderful.”

Emillie stilled. An image of Kyra scrolled through her mind. That pretty smile and the feel of her lips. The taste of her. The way her fingers slid to her most intimate place. If she had been able to, she would have loved to see more of the Rusan woman. With another way to satisfy the urge she felt building at her sex, she could now imagine how she would spread Kyra’s legs and pleasure her with her mouth—a much better visual than using only her hand.

“And Azriel did that to you?” Emillie could not withhold the awe from her tone.

“He better have!” Camilla called from the dressing room before reappearing in a pale yellow gown with a pattern of white flowers. The curls of her hair bounced on top of her head as she flounced back through the room and landed on a chaise. “And I do hope it was good.”

Ariadne’s mouth twisted as she tried to hide a smile. “Indeed, it was.”

“Fantastic.” Camilla sat back, careful of her pinned hair. “A selfish man is the worst. If they are determined to keep us under their thumb, the least they could do is treat us like their queen.”

With a raised brow, Emillie said, “The monarchy died when our ancestors were cursed.”

“Your history knowledge is impeccable,” Camilla said dryly, then winked. “But I am being metaphorical.”

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