“nyc,” whispered ’deisha, “are you asleep? May I come in?”
Nyctasia began to breathe again. “By all means,” she said shakily, “as long as you haven’t brought your dogs.”
’Deisha chuckled and crossed the room quickly on bare feet, to perch on Nyctasia’s bed. “I couldn’t sleep for thinking about you. I never had you to myself all day. You must keep that robe-it suits you far better than me. Aunt Mesthelde says it’s a waste to put fine clothes on me, and she’s quite right.”
’Deisha wore only a threadbare night-dress of what had once been delicate layers of lace. Her long hair was loose and wild, and she looked altogether enchanting.
Brushing the shimmering silk at Nyctasia’s wrist, she went on dreamily, “But you’re like the Lady of the Moon in it… Your skin’s so fair and smooth I can hardly tell where the silk leaves off.” She stroked Nyctasia’s arm lightly.
What a brazen flirt, thought Nyctasia, amused. Jenisorn had certainly been right. “I was thinking of you too,” she lied gallantly. “I’ve dreamed of having a twin all my life. There are always twins in the Edonaris line. My younger sister and brother are a pair.” There was no need to mention Thierran and Mescrisdan.
“Like Raphe and me. I used to wish Raphe was a girl-four brothers, after all!
But now I have you for a sister I’m quite satisfied,” ’Deisha said with a most winsome and alluring smile.
Nyctasia refrained from asking, “And is it the custom in these parts to seduce one’s sisters?” and remarked instead, “It’s as well Raphe was a boy, perhaps.
There might have been dreadful confusion over succession to the Jhaicery.”
“I never thought of that. Nyc, the others say that you’re a Rhaicime-is it true?”
“Alas, yes. If I weren’t of Rhaicime rank, I wouldn’t have so many enemies in Rhostshyl.”
“Well, I’m glad of it, if it’s brought you here. Now I’ve found you I shan’t let you go back to Rhostshyl unless you take me with you. You know, you’ll simply have to marry Raphe. Father would give anything to have another title in the family.”
“Doesn’t Raphe have a say in the matter? He might prefer to marry Corson.”
“He’s much taken with Corson, who wouldn’t be? But it’s you he’ll pay court to, you’ll see. He doesn’t really mind that I’m to be Jhaice, and not he, but all the same I know he’d be pleased for a child of his to inherit the rank of Rhaicime. And you could do worse than Raphe,” she added loyally.
“Do you promise he’ll not murder me in childbed to let his firstborn succeed at once to the title?”
’Deisha grinned evilly at her. “What’s your full formal title?” she demanded.
“Oh, no, not formally…? That would be-let me think-Hlaven Nyctasia’v Teselesq Rhaicime AesTirre wys Gwethrad-Moir brenn Rhostshyl ar’n Edonaris, I believe.”
She paused for breath. “I rarely need to use it all. For the usual business of the Rhaicimate the standard form of address is sufficient.”
“You’ll have to teach me these things, Nyc, I thought I was to be Lady Frondescine Clairin Jhaice brenn Vale ar’n Edonaris. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but Formal Address is different. For one thing, the Old Eswraine word is used-‘Hlaven,’ not ‘Lady.’ And since the title doesn’t descend from your mother-her name is Leclairin?”
’Deisha nodded, fascinated.
“Then you’ll be Hlaven Frondescine Leclairina’v Mesthelde Jhaice brenn Vale ar’n Edonaris, do you see? Of course I’d have to study your family records to be certain. There may be further distinctions.”
“Vahn, I hope not. It’s difficult enough as it is.”
“Your aunt could style herself Lady Mesthelde now, if she liked, since she’s the heir apparent.”
“I know, but you mustn’t call her that, it only annoys her. She says it’s all foolishness and won’t get the eggs to market.”
Nyctasia smiled. “I’ve not heard that old saying for years. She’s a wise woman.”
“Oh, the household would run to ruin without her. My mother and Uncle Aldrichas only want to travel and trade at the market fairs, and Father’s had to take on most of the duties of the vintnery since Great Aunt Heladis died. Raphe and Nesanye help, of course, and I-”
“Look after the livestock,” Nyctasia supplied, wondering where she herself could fit into this design. She knew a good deal about farming, and the other responsibilities of an estate, but she had never thought to devote her life to such duties. Was there work for her here? And would she really be satisfied to abandon her scholarly pursuits and live as lady of a manor? She quite loved her new kin already, but could she ever be one of them?
“Well, no matter what Aunt Mesthelde says. I mean to learn a lady’s ways from you, Nyc. I’ll not have you shamed by my ignorance. We must seem like a clan of savages to you.”
Nyctasia put aside her doubts as best she could, the better to enjoy ’Deisha’s sly game. “I think you’re a rogue and a flatterer, my girl,” she retorted.
“That’s what I think, if you much want to know.”
“Oh, but I-” wailed ’Deisha.
“Nor shall I try to make a lady of you,” Nyctasia continued firmly. “I’d be better pleased if you could make a vintner of me. As for you. I think you’re quite perfect just as you are.”
Even ’Deisha was speechless at this-but not for long. She plucked at the tatters of lace at her throat, blushing. “Nyc… is Corson… are you and she…? I mean, we could give you a large room together, if you’d rather.”
“I thank you, but I’m very comfortable here indeed. And I’m sure that Corson has no complaints about her quarters. The hospitality of the house could not be faulted.”
This was not what ’Deisha meant, and well Nyctasia knew it. ’Deisha looked down, at a loss, daunted by Nyctasia’s mockery. “My grandmother made this quilt,” she said at random.
“Lady Nocharis?” asked Nyctasia, interested.
’Deisha nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “For my mother. Look.” She turned back a corner of the bedclothes to reveal the embroidered eye on the underside of the quilt, an old custom meant to protect the sleeper from evil spirits.
“Nyc!” she gasped, “what do you want with this? Are you mad?” She had uncovered the dagger, which Nyctasia had hastily pushed out of sight at her entrance.
It was Nyctasia’s turn to feel awkward and embarrassed. “It’s foolish of me, I know, but I’ve not slept in an unlocked room for so long that I was fearful.
When you came in, for a moment I took you for one of my enemies.”
’Deisha leaped up from the bed, laughing. “Rogue I may be,” she cried, “but no assassin! See for yourself, I haven’t a weapon hidden anywhere about me-not so much as a pin.” She pulled off the night-dress and tossed it away, holding out her bare arms to Nyctasia coaxingly. “There, you see, I’m not dangerous.”
Nyctasia gave in. ’Deisha’s brash charm was indeed irresistible. “I admit that you’re unarmed,” she said, “but I can’t allow that you’re not dangerous.” She seized ’Deisha’s strong, brown hands and pulled her back onto the bed.
’Deisha tumbled across Nyctasia’s lap and lay looking up into her face, suddenly serious. They gazed long and silently, lost in wonder at each other’s being.
Their features were so similar that it was like looking into some mystical mirror that showed, not what one was, but what one might have been.
What grace of bearing she has, thought ’Deisha wistfully. So elegant and refined, exquisite… am I too old to learn some polish, so I won’t bore her?
How frank and free she is, Nyctasia mused, as I’ve never dared to be. Not afraid to be trusting and unwary… Is it too late, I wonder?
’Deisha drew Nyctasia’s face down to her own and lightly kissed her mouth and eyes. “I’m so very certain that you belong to me,” she whispered, “I can’t feel that I’m wronging Corson. Would she mind?”
Nyctasia laughed softly, leaning over ’Deisha and tracing her lips with one finger. “I’m very fond of Corson, but she’s a wanderer. She’ll be on her way soon, and I daresay I’ll never see her again. And unless I much mistake, she has your handsome twin in her bed right now. I passed her door not long ago, and heard them laughing. That’s another reason to lock one’s room at night, you see-not only for protection but for privacy.”
“You’ll not want for protection here, Nyc. My dogs guard the grounds all night, and I’ll watch over you while you sleep.” As she spoke, ’Deisha loosened the sash of Nyctasia’s robe and slid it from her shoulders, letting her hands glide down Nyctasia’s arms and over her white thighs. Pulling Nyctasia down beside her, she pressed against her and drew the bedclothes over them both, “And you know nothing can harm you under Mother ’Charis’s quilt.”
’Deisha did want to protect her delicate, gently bred cousin. Nyctasia had spoken little of her past, but ’Deisha knew that she’d been wounded by sorrows, and she longed to heal those wounds, to shield Nyctasia from all further suffering. She held her as tenderly as if she were some fragile spray of blossoms, liable to bruise. Her own work-hardened hands seemed to her unfit to touch Nyctasia’s milky skin. Lying naked side by side, they were more than ever like mirror images of one another-identical, yet opposite. ’Deisha kissed Nyctasia’s soft palms, and her smooth throat. “My polished, pale reflection,” she murmured.
Nyctasia smiled to herself, in the darkness.
“See in this enchanted mirror
Images reversed, but clearer.
Seek your nature and your kind,
But beware of what you find,” she recited, nuzzling ’Deisha’s ear. She too felt protective toward her bewitching twin, who seemed sheltered and ingenuous to her. ’Deisha was trusting because she had never known betrayal, bold because she had never known despair.
Nor would she ever know them, if Nyctasia could do anything to prevent it.
Their kisses were soft and lingering at first, their caresses slow and dreamlike. They drifted in a haze of sweet, trembling contentment, then grew more ardent and playful, each knowing from her own pleasure what would please the other. ’Deisha pillowed Nyctasia’s head between her breasts and wrapped her arms and legs around her tightly. “Now do you feel safe, sweet cousin?” she teased.
Nyctasia was seized with a sudden fit of giggles. “How could I not feel safe,” she gasped, “in the very bosom of my family?”
’Deisha yelped in outrage and began to pummel Nyctasia with a pillow. Nyctasia tickled her under the ribs, where she herself was most ticklish, and they rolled about the bed wrestling and swearing till they both lay spent and shaken with laughter. But then Nyctasia crushed ’Deisha to her in a fierce, hungry embrace, half-sobbing, “Yes, protect me, ’Deisha-protect me from myself! Don’t let me go back, don’t let me go on as I am!”
’Deisha cradled Nyctasia in her arms, astonished at her distress. She did not understand a word of her desperate plea, but she promised, nevertheless, not to let her go.