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wrenched off.
Renata took me by the hips, pressing the end of the olisbos against me. She played the tip over me
until she parted me and was able to slip past my opening and to my clit. I cried out then, surprise and
pleasure sprinkled with just the right amount of humiliation I at once hated and had longed to endure at her
hands again.
Her hips rocked slightly, causing just enough friction between my legs that my breath grew eager and
shallow.
She shifted and pressed against my opening, working slowly inside me. Her body bowed over mine
and I felt her breath at the back of my neck. Her lips trailed a path down my spine, hands resting at my
hips. She made no move to penetrate me further, only sheathed inside me and sheltered my body with the
weight of hers. A second later, I felt her cool fingers tracing the scars engraved between my shoulder
blades.
When I felt her rise, I remained passive, waiting. Her breath eased out in a sigh. Oh, Piph, she
said. I writhed as she pulled out. Something heavy hit the floor and I knew it was the olisbos. Her arms
circled my waist.
Come here, she said, and I followed her hands as she pulled me to sit with her on the bed. Her
eyes glistened with unshed tears. Come here. Her long arms enfolded me. I m sorry, she whispered
against my hair.
I froze, uncertain how to react. What are you apologizing for?
For making you feel like you meant less to me than you ever really did. She touched the scars at my
back with the tips of her fingers. I moved and she let me go. The dress was still bunched at my waist and I
stood, tugging it down past my knees and kicking it carelessly to the floor. I crawled back onto the bed.
I know, I said, sensing the truth behind her words. But why did you stop? Just to apologize?
Her bowed mouth curled slightly. Because, she said, hands steadying me as I climbed onto her lap,
I desired a better view.
I looked at her and searched for the meaning beyond her words. I touched her cheek. That s not all,
I said. You stopped because some part of you cannot bear to look at it.
Her smile wilted. She buried a hand in my hair and brought our faces close enough that her breath
caressed my lips. She placed the flat of her palm over the scarred flesh and her skin was warm.
No, she said, it is not all. I do not enjoy gazing upon Lucrezia s handiwork, especially not on
your body. She was silent for several moments. I can heal you.
How? I asked.
I made you. Two hundred years ago, when you died you woke to the call of my power. My power is
the life in your veins. You doubt me, why?
I do not doubt your power, Renata. I have never doubted your power.
But still, you do not trust me? she asked. A hundred and fifty years ago you would not have
questioned me.
Trust once broken is not so easily mended.
She nodded, loosening her grip. Her fingers played over the skin of my back. Fair enough. Then
what would you have of me? What will help you to trust me again?
The question caught me off guard. Time was the obvious answer, but what I said aloud was, You
can tell me how you would heal me.
The look she gave me was almost sad enough to be worthy of Vasco. In a way in which you will not
enjoy.
And what way is that?
Cuinn chose that moment to startle me so thoroughly that I actually jumped where I sat in her lap.
Renata gave me a strange look.
What your Queen is not telling ye is that she needs your blood to heal it.
But it can be done? I asked him.
Aye, if you re willing to pay for it in blood.
And what does the little fox say? She didn t sound exactly happy that Cuinn was eavesdropping
again. I couldn t really blame her. He d been so quiet for so long that I d thought he d well and truly gone
to sleep, or at the least, out of my head.
You need my blood to heal it.
That is only partial truth, she said. What is true is that I will have to remake the wound in the
same way it was created.
I surprised us both by saying, So be it.
Chapter Fourteen
Renata cut the binds at my wrists first, and while she did, her thoughts seemed far away. I realized
that as much as I didn t want the wounds reopened, Renata didn t particularly care to be the one re-
inflicting them. The knowledge surprised me a little.
When my wrists were free of the silken cord I spoke. You do not seem very eager to do what you
are about to do.
I am not.
I touched her cheek, caught her attention enough that she stopped to look at me. Then why did you
offer?
It is what needs to be done, she said and her tone was so very matter-of-fact that it made me try to
sense the emotions behind her words.
She caught my wrist in her hand. Epiphany, she said, stop trying to read me.
If you would but tell me then I would not have to try and read you.
Her chest fell in a quick sigh. You were more right than you know when you said I could not bear to
look at it, she said. I cannot, not only because it is a mark on your shining body, but because it is a mark
that is not mine. Do you understand, Epiphany? Do you see how selfish your Queen truly is? she asked,
unflinching.
I do not think that you are as selfish as you wish others to believe, my Queen.
I thought you naive once, Epiphany, but you were never naive, not really. You were different, yes.
Beneath the surface, your desires ran darker than others, is all. Do you think you were naive when first
you came to me?
No.
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