A new blog prompt from Amanda McCormick. This is NSFW, so be warned.
This is a story that takes place the evening before the events in the first chapter of my upcoming book. I have no way of knowing when the book will be released, but hopefully I’ll release it within a year or two. But enjoy this story, as it can stand alone.
“I don’t like it when you look at me,” Ardia said, combing her long black hair. “It makes me feel like I did something wrong.”
Ardia’s handmaiden, Sophie, pouted and leaned back on the bed, watching Ardia in the mirror. “Is that because you feel guilty about something?”
Ardia rolled her eyes and tossed the fine hairbrush onto the vanity, the inlaid pearls on the back clattering against the wood. “I have nothing to feel guilty about,” she said, staring into the mirror at her handmaiden’s reflection. She watched as Sophie stood and prowled to her side like a ginger tomcat.
Her handmaiden bent down wrapping her arms around Ardia’s shoulders, whispering into her ear, “You’re abandoning me.” A playful accusation that Ardia knew belied Sophie’s true feelings. A glance at Sophie’s aura told her she was correct. Blue sorrow bloomed within the cloud above her head.
“You’ll be there with me,” the heiress tried to reply, but her servant stepped away. Ardia rose to follow her, grabbing her wrist. Sophie struggled against her, but could not get away. Ardia knew she wasn’t really trying because her servant had at least four inches of height on her as well as the muscle tone from a lifetime of service. If she’d wanted to get away, she would have.
Ardia murmured, “Please don’t hate me,” before pressing her lips against her servant’s. Sophie whimpered into the kiss, taking a step to the side, making them both fall onto the bed. She fumbled with the strings on Ardia’s nightgown, desperate to pull it apart and reveal the heiress’s curves.
Sophie was but a servant, but she knew Ardia better than anyone, and she doubted the heiress’s future husband would be as intimate with her. Men do not understand the concept of intimacy, only rutting like beasts.
In a way, Ardia would always belong to Sophie. She was her first kiss, her first exploration into the magic that was a woman’s sexuality. No matter how high Ardia’s star rose in the sky, she’d always remember Sophie.
No highborn husband with no doubt bland tastes like hunting would replace her.
Tahm sil Aldrich. Lottie remembered when he and his brother Perael came to sil Varstra while Ardia was still away at University. She’d listened in on their discussion as best she could, but all she gathered was that Olivia sil Aldrich was eager to marry Ardia off. First she’d requested Perael take Ardia’s hand, but he’d refused. Olivia had taken it as an outrage—it would be decades before Tahm inherited sil Aldrich, so why should a direct heiress of the most advantageous estate marry him?—but Perael had murmured something so quietly, Sophie hadn’t heard. But Olivia had given in.
Sophie knew this marriage was coming long before Ardia did.
So why did it hurt so much?
She wondered that as she tugged at the threads of Ardia’s nightgown, as she placed her lips on Ardia’s skin, as she used her nails to tug at Ardia’s hair. She needed Ardia to know, telling her with her urgency, that she only did not want to be forgotten.
Ardia was not in love with her, Sophie knew that. Ardia was too pragmatic to open herself up to love with someone so far below her station. Still, Sophie cherished every little secret they shared, and the time they spent together intertwined in the candlelight.
She moved down between Ardia’s legs, tasting her. Before rewarding the heiress’s bad behavior in refusing to acknowledge Sophie’s pain, she bit down on the inside of her lover’s thigh. Ardia gasped, clenching the blanket her hands. The bite turned an angry shade of red. Satisfied, Sophie gave in and gave Ardia a climax she’d remember all the way until she reached Cantrop.
She climbed up on the bed, pulling Ardia’s languid body with her until they were both nestled on the pillows. Ardia’s forehead was beaded with the sweat of intimacy. Sleepily, the future Duchess muttered, “I’m only doing as I’m told,” begging again for absolution.
Sophie did not grant it. Instead, she whispered, “I know. One day you won’t be beholden to anyone.”
“As long as you’re with me,” Ardia whispered back.
©2018 Heather Stephens