Page 166 of Mother of Death and Dawn

I must have looked lost, because Caduan reached for a cream-covered pastry and held it out to me. “Here. Try this.”

The piece of cake between his fingers was yellow, with white frosting and bright raspberries over its top.

I took a long drink of wine. Then I leaned forward and ate the pastry from Caduan’s fingers.

Caduan’s eyebrows arched, an almost-laugh of surprise escaping him. Not that I was paying attention. An explosion of sweetness rolled over my tongue, the texture of the cream cool and smooth compared to the soft warmth of the cake, all cut by a sharp punctuation of berry.

A wordless sound escaped my throat.

Pleasure.Thiswas pleasure.

I looked at Caduan, eyes round, and he chuckled.

“Good?”

“It’s… It’s…”

“Your body is capable of powerful things, but it is capable of pleasure, too.”

I felt foolish for not realizing this sooner. First, I thought my body was a prison. Then I realized that it could be a tool. And now I realized that it could allow me to experience things—useless, wonderful things—that I had long ago forgotten.

I took another drink of wine, savoring the way the bitterness mingled with the sweetness still left on my tongue—savoring, too, in the soft blur it draped over my senses, making everything stronger and softer at once.

Then I pointed to a plate near Caduan. “That one. I want to try that one.”

“As you wish.” It was a strange looking food, some sort of flaky pastry designed in a shallow cup, filled with glistening gold. He handed it to me. “Be careful, it’s—”

Sweet, sticky custard filled my mouth,

“—Messy,” Caduan finished.

I didn’t care how messy it was. It was too wonderful. It was only after I swallowed that I thought to be conscious of how ridiculous I must have looked.

Caduan was giving me a strange look that I could not decipher. Heat rose to my cheeks.

“You have…” He reached out and pressed his thumb to the curve of my lip, gently tracing its shape. A bit of cream still sat on his fingers, left over from when I had unceremoniously snatched the pastry from his hands.

Without thinking, I brushed my lips over his thumb, my tongue darting out just enough to lick the cream from his skin. The sweetness mingled with the clean, salty taste of his flesh.

Time seemed to hover for a long, suspended moment. The amused smile faded from Caduan’s face. Something I could not identify drew tight in the space between us, a strange fissure of tension that skittered across my skin.

Then he pulled his hand away and chuckled. “Better than letting it go to waste,” he muttered.

I took another drink of wine.

Suddenly, I felt very aware of my own body. Every sense seemed fuller than it had been, every feeling stronger and more intense—no longer overwhelming, but joyful. How had I found this music too loud and ugly? Now the beat of it thrummed through my skin like my heartbeat. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to see how far this would go.

I jumped to my feet, without fully meaning to.

A bemused smile curled Caduan’s mouth. “Do you want to dance?”

“It seems… silly. There is no purpose in it.” I looked out into the mass of dancing bodies. It was…an oddly appealing movement, and now that I could feel the music washing over me, I could understand the desire to move with it.

“There isn’t,” Caduan agreed. “But for them, that’s the pleasure in it.”

“I will try it,” I said, and again I thought of the way sugar tasted as I watched the smile roll across his lips.

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