Taken to Lemora by Elizabeth Stephens

14

Essmira

It takes me three ohring solars to fully recover from my first brush with lobba-spiced ale. I spend the first lunar in Celia’s inn, the second I spend at Merquin and Librida’s. Raingar refuses to leave my side and irritates the comets out of my gracious hosts. To spare them, I agree to go with Raingar back to his keep on the third lunar.

Raingar steers me directly to his chambers, rudely waving off the creatures in the great hall who greet me as I pass. Had I not been so ill, I’d have shoved Raingar off and spent more time with them. As it is, I’m fairly grateful for Raingar’s rudeness.

Mostly, grateful.

Gorman meets us at Raingar’s chamber doors, looking fine in the robes I tailored for him. “It’s good to see you back, Essmira. I’m glad the rope I procured for you worked. I heard you had an excellent time at Winter’s End.”

I snort and giggle at the obvious teasing in Gorman’s tone, but Raingar just waves a large mitt at his friend and shouts, “Get out of my way, you bloody traitor!”

“Yeffa. Thank you Gorman. I’m so sorry I lost your cloak, but I couldn’t find it the coming solar and I don’t remember where I put it. I think I might have had a little too much fun with the lobba.” My arms cross instinctively over my sore and queasy stomach.

Gorman’s lips hitch up on one side. He blinks his large, black eyes and they glitter. “Yeffa. I heard. I also heard you gave Raingar a much deserved shower.”

I gasp, horrified, but the sound of Gorman’s laughter makes me smile. Raingar watches our exchange with round eyes and a slack jaw. “You…” He starts, then shakes his head. “I’ll get you another blasted cloak, Gorman. Now scram!”

Gorman straightens his robes and clutches his notebook close to his chest. He winks at me and I grin, giddy. I wink back. “When you are available, Raingar, there’s much to deal with. We have a fresh harvest of bulberry that needs distributing, a mating ceremony that requires your attendance, Walrey honey allocation between Leelee and Moreth — both are convinced that they need more of it than the other.

“We’ve also got an incoming delegation of Asgid arriving to procure kintarr. The local Asgid population would like to throw a festival — something called an Ashashana — to celebrate with their community and need your keep to do it, it’s the only place big enough. Lastly, one of our trading ships was intercepted by a band of ohring Eshmiri and we lost seventy pouches of kintarr to them.”

“Ohring Eshmiri!” Raingar shouts. He throws open the doors to his chamber and I’m struck by an abundance of light. It had been gloomy and dark when I invaded his chambers before, so I didn’t get a good look at them. But seeing them now, my soul flits up out of my chest. They’re incredible and speak so much to the male who put them together like this. Beautiful.

I glance past Gorman, distracted from the topic at hand by the huge, stunning painted glass that covers almost the entire span of wall. Brilliant kaleidoscoping colors paint beautiful portraits in pale pinks, greens and oranges all across the deep green carpet-covered floor. A small collection of sturdy hide and wego fiber seats face one another beneath the window. Bookshelves cover a visible wall.

“What are you looking at?” Raingar grunts.

I smile. “Your chambers. I didn’t get a good look before. They’re beautiful. They’re almost like what I imagine my own quarters would look like if I could have done them up myself.”

“Our chambers.”

“What?”

“They’re yours. I told you, you hold the keys. They’re yours. Well, and mine too, if I’m allowed.” He glances left and right, weight shuffling mechanically between his feet.

“You…were serious?”

“Am I ever not serious!” He shouts.

I grin, feeling airy and complete. Not fully, but nearly. “I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

Gorman chuckles and turns back to Raingar to discuss business. “So, where do you want to meet?”

I don’t know why, but as my gaze flickers over Raingar, still huffing about the Eshmiri, I blush all the way from the top of my head to my stomach. He looks at me. I quickly look away, but my thighs still pulse a little as I wonder… We said we would try for each other. I want to try again for pleasure. I want to know if I have the tools in my arsenal to truly experience it without any pain. I want to control the experience. I want to make it nice for him by making it nice for me. I should be able to. When it comes to pleasure, Igmora taught me everything.

But will he give me another chance?

Nob, not me — will he give himself?

I am miriga. I do what I like. And I. want. him.

“Raingar?”

“I, uhm, I…we…pagh! We’ll be ready to begin on the local items the coming solar. I’ll deal with the ohring Eshmiri later this one.”

“We, Raingar?” Gorman says.

“Yeffa. We. My miriga and I.”

I blush even harder. My heart picks up its pace. My fingers squeeze in the soft fabric of my shift. “You…you want to include me in the affairs of a clan chief?”

“Only if you aren’t too busy with Lyla and Timor.” Raingar looks at me over his shoulder as he stomps into his sitting room. He scratches the top of his head and has the audacity to look humble. The nerve of the brute.

My thumb scrapes over my scar and I exhale slowly. “I…wasn’t trained to be able to manage any of the things Gorman spoke of. I don’t think I’m qualified…”

“Of course you are. You’re our miriga. You’re smart and you’re kind and you know the village. You’re better placed to do half those tasks more than I. You’ve worked with Timor, Lyla, Leelee and Moreth,” he says, referencing the tailors, the female responsible for herb cultivation and distribution, and the lead healer of his village, “so you’ll help them with the bulberry and the Walrey honey disbursements. It would be a great honor for the couple if you’d oversee the mating ceremony — you don’t have to, of course, but asteroids only know that my clan likes you better than they like me, anyway.

“I’ll deal with the kintarr.” He grimaces a little as he says that and his gaze meets mine hesitantly. “Not that you couldn’t do it. I just have contacts that will help me deal with the ohring Eshmiri. And once I figure out what in the blooding stars that Asgid festival is, you can help me with that, too. What was it again, Gorman? An Ash…ash…ash what?”

“An Ashashana,” I answer. “It’s a festival of lights in worship of Ra, the flame spirit the Asgid believe power light to all of our stars.”

Both Gorman, from the doorway, and Raingar, from his seat in a deep, cushioned chair in his sitting room, stare at me. A beat passes before Raingar says, “I guess, you’ll also be organizing the festival then.”

“A little much to be handing Essmira all at once, don’t you think?”

“She can handle it.” His fingers pick at a nonexistent spot on the leather arm of his seat. “I trust her.”

Golden light in my chest swells and glitters over everything.

“I’m happy with this arrangement if she is,” Gorman says. “It will be a relief to have some more support in supporting Raingar. He takes on too much alone.”

“I thought as much. Merquin has over a dozen assistants but he leaves all of their work to you. You do an incredible job, Gorman, but I’d be honored to take some work off of your plate.”

Gorman’s fins bristle and I get the impression he’s unused to compliments. “Thank you, miriga. Your words are kind.” He swallows hard.

“They’re true. You should hear them more often.” I peg Raingar with a look.

He throws his hands up in the air. “The two of you are going to be the end of me. You, in particular.” He points at my nose. I stick my tongue out at him. He clenches his hand into a fist and his eyes heat rapidly.

I bite my bottom lip and try to focus on the fact that we aren’t alone and have company. “I can…”

Gorman cuts me off. “You make a fine miriga, miriga.” He looks down at me with an expression that’s tender and soft.

“A wild one.” Raingar’s mouth forms a half smile, not quite realized. “But only if it is a title you want to have.”

My heart clenches. I step towards him and then skip, nearly jogging by the time I cross the floor and melt onto his lap. He grips the arms of his chair and I don’t care that he’s stiff or that he isn’t touching me. I remember more and more from my lobba-filled lunar and recall him dancing just like that. Like he was frightened to hurt me. I know he still is. But right now, I don’t care about any of it.

I crush my mouth to his and drink in his surprised gasp that tastes like sunshine and moss, that tastes purely like Lemora. Raingar grunts against my mouth, lips moving fiercely even though his touch is feather-light as it slides around my lower back.

I untangle myself slowly from the embers of desire that threaten to engulf me and him and the room with it, and he releases a desperate groan but he doesn’t try to hold me still. The female should always… This female never will again.

“It is an honor, Raingar.” His eyes, just as bright and as colorful as the window behind him, flood with desire, and spark with little joys. I kiss his nose. What compels me to, I don’t know. “When do I start?”

Raingar goes to answer but Gorman clears his throat. “Given that the Asgid delegation is set to arrive in the next moon rotation, I’d say you’re already late, miriga.”