Velvet

Chapter 2-3

The following day I received a request to attend court.

“Be sure and tell me everything you observe,” Sylvain insisted. “I’m eager to see how Duir manages his court. It will be telling of your fate as tailor.”

I stepped up into the carriage Duir sent for me. “Is it not already obvious? He sends a carriage to pick up his tailor!”

Sylvain laughed at this comment.

I arrived to find the castle in chaos. People were running about and there seemed to be no end to the noise. Shouts and commands were issued from shrill and excited mouths. Pretty women and virile men seemed to have replaced the old and wise of King Killian’s organized court.

“By god,” I muttered as I scanned the scene, looking for a familiar face. Not seeing any, I plunged into the mass of people and forged my way through the crowd to a doorway that marked the entrance to the throne room.

Two hulking guards stood vigilant and calm in the surrounding melee. When they lowered their swords, uncertainty on how to proceed assailed me.

“Let him enter,” a voice bellowed.

I watched as Auberon came to greet me. We shook hands and embraced.

“It’s madness,” I said over his shoulder.

“Truly.” He laughed. “But it is good to see you. Duir will be much comforted. The coronation is upon him, and although he is loath to show it, he is shaken. Come!”

I followed him into the throne room, glad to find relative silence in the inner chamber.

“How long will it be like this?” I asked as we passed a small group of conferring men who had stopped talking long enough to cast suspicious eyes upon me.

“Ahh, they are a scared pack of pigeons. All will settle once Duir wears the crown.”

I glanced at Auberon and for not the first time admired his fine looks.

Auberon’s frame told a story of time spent in battle and sportsmanship. His broad shoulders supported a powerful chest and flat but taut torso. He kept his dark hair long and tied with a piece of black leather strapping.

He caught me looking at him and smiled crookedly. “You’ve heard the news?”

“What news?” I stammered. “Can there possibly be more to bear at such a time?”

I followed him past the empty throne and into the dark hallway leading to Duir’s rooms. Several women passed us and bowed, then began giggling.

Auberon’s eyes followed longingly after them.

“How I will miss the taste of variety in the marital bed,” he said with a sigh.

“Marital bed? You can’t mean—”

Auberon stopped and a mischievous grin lit up his dark features.

“I’m to be married!”

“Before Duir?” The announcement stunned me. “He will be little pleased at your timing. He swore he would be first to wed.”

“Ah, but what can a man do when his heart has been pierced by love’s arrow?” Auberon placed a massive hand to his chest. “I will be married soon after the coronation.”

“I congratulate you, Auberon. Who is the lady?”

We reached Duir’s rooms, but before we were close enough for the guards standing at the doorways to hear, Auberon gestured for me to come away to a nearby open window.

He leaned out the window and took an invigorating breath of sweet air. “I am marrying the beautiful Tienne.”

“Tienne? Duir’s cousin from the southlands? How does Duir fair about such news?”

Auberon, surprised by my reaction, came away from the window and drew close to me. I could feel the heft of his manhood touching my leg through his tight leather breeches.

“He is happy as I, and why not! We will be true kinsman now!”

His closeness made me flinch. In truth, I became uncomfortable when any man came close to me. I felt certain any man would be able to smell it on my skin, and see in my eyes, the forbidden want blazing within my heart. It had been this way ever since I first uncovered certain truths about myself, truths I felt imprisoned by and bound to.

I am a slave to the chains caging my heart and know the claustrophobic cell of desire better than I know anything.

The first time I saw a man naked, I knew bondage.

A man came to our door begging for shelter. My father relented and allowed the man refuge in our home for the night. The next morning I came upon him while he bathed. He did not see me and I could not turn away. Each passing second planted a seed and each seed a torrid thought sown into my young mind, which found its way to my heart where it germinated and grew. I wanted him. I wanted to touch him, as he touched himself in the early morning ritual of bathing.

How dangerously mysterious my heart felt. How rapturous I felt when I sat at my father’s table and ate my stew. No one would ever know, and no one ever could. As mysterious and strangely magical the moments when I saw him felt, I also knew the fear of my secret and what it would mean if I ever admitted my needs. It must remain hidden, especially from other men.

Now, as I stood before Auberon, I felt cold terror seize my heart. Had I seen a flicker of knowing pass across his face? When his body touched mine, did I somehow give myself away? Did he know? Could he sense what burned within me?

What if they all knew; were only waiting for me to act and confirm their suspicions?

Then the flicker vanished, and in its place, his ignorant smile spread unknowingly. If he sensed what lived in my heart, he chose not to believe it, and instead unleashed another surprise.

“I wish you to make my wedding vest, tailor Virago, and vests for the men who will serve as witnesses to the vows I long to share with Tienne. Say you will do it!”

I felt dazed not only by Auberon’s request, but also by the break in tension when he moved away from me. The world, along with the secret surrounding my heart, remained intact. Unable to think, I made my way to the doors of Duir’s rooms.

“Virago!” Auberon shouted after me. “Say you will!”

I stood for a moment as the guards opened the doors, and without looking at Auberon, gathered my wits. “If His Grace wills it so, I will be happy to do it. I do not wish to disappoint My King or Lady Tienne.”

“And what of me?” he asked good-naturedly. “I ask this as your friend, not as a man soon to be kin to your king.”

I shook my head at Auberon’s boyish impetuousness. “Allow me some time to digest what is happening today and leave tomorrow for the morrow.”

* * * *

I left Duir’s presence late and horribly drunk. The coronation plans were made, and his finery discussed at length over much ale. Ale made especially for Duir’s coronation.

“This must be your most splendid work, Virago!” Duir shouted while half spilling the dark brew over a half-naked woman who lounged by the fire awaiting his late night desires. He sucked the dark fluid from her breast, and laughed at her ticklish squeals. A manservant took this opportunity to refill his master’s mug, then retreated swiftly to the darkened corners of the room.

That night, all fear and memory of Duir’s erratic and vicious behaviors were forgotten. No one mentioned Therese or her absence. Several times during the night, I found my eyes wandering the room, searching for her, but she did not appear.

“I will decree,” he shouted drunkenly, raising the newly full and frothy mug and swinging it precariously towards where I sat among his men.

“Whatever materials used in my coronation vest are sacred to king and court. Hear me tailor, Virago, friend and servant of my throne!”

I laughed at Duir’s drunken decree, but promised one such garment fit for a king and to be worn only by a king.