Page 52 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I gripped her skirt in my fingers, playing with the fabric, lifting and pulling it back, exposing her ankle and then covering it again. I was being playful. Flirtatious. Keeping it light and fun. She was vain, but a full-on seduction would have scared her. “I’m honored to be your first.” I giggled. “I mean, your first noble friend.” I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck, brushing my hair past my shoulders. On instinct, I reached to adjust my diadem, only to remember at the last second it had been melted into nothing.
My hand fisted with my fury and embarrassment at forgetting.
But I recovered quickly.
“Have you ever…?” I stared down at my lap, pretending I was shy. Pretending I didn’t do this every day. “Have you ever been with a noble before?” I asked.
Namtaya was glowing with her arousal. She’d wanted me the moment she’d laid eyes on me. She’d wanted me days ago. She’d seen me at the Valyati ball. She’d fantasized about me then. Had been jealous when I gave my attention to others. She could barely believe her luck to be here with me now. But she was a little shy, and, there was an insecurity there—a hurt. She was tender in her heart. She’d fallen in love with someone else and felt rejected.
Ah. I saw it now. She’d fallen for someone who was off-limits to her.
Namtaya was in love with a chayatim. She was beautiful in Namtaya’s mind, which was suddenly full of thoughts of her.
Gods. She’s so graceful. I love her body. She’s lean, but those curves—just the right amount. How? How is she so curvy when she’s a servant to the Emperor?
I danced my fingers against her legs, trying to bring her into a more sensual mood—to not just think of this person but see her.
And then she did. In her mind was an image of the exact body her thoughts had described. And there was more details taking form. Her hair was wild and loose, a dark brown that curled and waved from her scalp like a lion’s mane.
By the Gods.
I clutched at my heart. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to faint. Shit! Shit! I was actually going to faint. No. That was Lyr’s gryphon-shit, not mine. I had to stay alert. Focused. Awake.
But Namtaya’s mind had already moved on. She was picturing me in very vivid detail—helped by the fact that I was right before her, touching her, breathing against her. The room was warm from the torches and crackling fireplace. She was wondering what color my nipples were. Wondering how I tasted. She imagined spreading my legs and laying me back on the chaise—this royal chaise that cost more than she made in a year. She was lost in the idea of showing me how good it could be with someone who wasn’t noble. She would prove that even if her skin wasn’t as soft as mine, her callouses would bring me pleasure.
“I want you,” I said, voice hoarse.
Her eyes darkened, hooded with desire.
“But,” I said, still needing more, needing confirmation of what I’d barely dared to believe I’d seen. “I have to be honest with you. Because I like you. I’m a little sad right now. Not just because of my father. Of course, I’m sad about him.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and, horrifyingly, a tear fell. Shit. “But I also had my heart broken recently. There was this girl, a noblewoman, her hair wild like a lion’s mane.” I sighed. “I thought we had a connection, but….” I shrugged in defeat.
Smiling sympathetically, she took my hand in hers, the image of the girl she loved, of the chayatim, returning to her thoughts.
I barely dared to breathe, afraid I’d break the spell, afraid her thoughts wouldn’t be clear. I needed to be absolutely certain.
She had spoken to the chayatim a few times and recounted those conversations in her mind now. She was absolutely taken with the girl’s beauty but also her kindness. She saw something in the girl, a kind of spark, an inner fight. It was something she saw in—
Namtaya froze, looking at me now, blue eyes wide. She was thinking we shared something in common—the girl and me. Something in the defiance and shape of our eyes, the curve of our lips, the color of our skin, darker and tanner, marking us from the south. From Bamaria.
My heart was going to pound out of my chest.
My soul wasn’t in my body. Gods. I was farther than fucking Lethea. My head was going to split.
I started to breathe heavily, barely able to remember my role now, who I was pretending to be, what I was here to do. The images in her mind was drumming into me, branding me with their truth.
Then, suddenly, Namtaya was kissing me, her lips savage against mine—wholly unexpected after how shyly and innocently she’d spoken the last hour.
She closed her eyes, licking the seam of my lips, as she crawled onto my lap. Her hands were hot on my waist, rising up my torso, caressing the sides of my breasts as her tongue brushed against mine.
We kissed until we were breathless, and she gripped my chin, licking my ear.
“Can I fuck you, Lady Morgana?” she asked coyly.
My eyes widened. When had the roles reversed? I’d misread her, so intent on playing my role, on finding what I wanted. It didn’t matter. We were all getting what we wanted now—in more ways than one. I bit her bottom lip. “Yes, Namtaya. Please.”
She cupped my breasts through my dress, finding my pebbled nipples beneath the fabric, and squeezed, eliciting a moan.
I wasn’t in control. I was always in control. I tried desperately to catch my breath, but I was spiraling with what I’d seen.
