Page 76 of Jailer to the Death God
“This is a marriage of convenience, or had you forgotten?” she hisses. “And even if it wasn’t, the rules are different in this temple.”
“And you wish me to fuck that priestess?”
“If it will stop you from looking so gloomy and agonized, yes! You can’t possibly have any objection. She’s beautiful.”
“Why don’tyoufuck her then? Are women not allowed a Rite of Purging? Or are you averse to taking women to bed?”
“I’ll take anyone to bed,” she says stoutly. “But I prefer men, and I don’t need any such rite. You need this because of your chains. I will eat something if you will promise to fuck someone later.”
“Fine,” I snarl. “After the reception, I’ll go plunge my cock into that priestess. Would you like to watch me come inside her?”
“No.” Her cheeks are red, her eyes viciously bright.
“A pity you’ll miss the show,wife.” I cherish the shock in her eyes when I speak that word. “Come, we have guests waiting.”
I seize her bare arm, suffering a pang at its thinness. Her skin feels cold, so I remove the gold drapery from my shoulders and wrap it around her roughly and clumsily. She doesn’t thank me.
The Winter Nave is a huge hall with roaring fires and merry music. Once again I notice a strange disparity between this gathering and the one in the royal city. There, the guests all had the white hair of survivors. Here, most still retain their natural hair color. The gaiety isn’t forced, and no one is covering their lower faces. It’s as if they know that here, in the temple of Beirgid, the plague cannot touch them.
Why should these people be safe while others are not?
The High Priestess greets the Queen and me as we enter. She hands both of us goblets of wine and points out the gilded, fur-laden chairs she has prepared for us when we tire of dancing. “You honor us deeply with your presence here! Beirgid is sure to bless our holy temple as the Queen’s royal blossom accepts her consort’s mighty tower and his virile seed!”
I choke on my wine, and Vale sputters, too. The High Priestess does not seem to notice.
“Whenever you are ready to consummate your glorious union, you may take those stairs to the second floor. Two of your guards are already posted outside the room we’ve prepared for you. May your feminine petals be soaked with the dew of desire, Your Majesty, and may your consort’s pleasure spew hotly into that royal flower! You shall be like two rivers, meeting in the wood!”
With a farewell flourish, she moves away to greet a cluster of guests.
“Good gods,” Vale gasps, covering her mouth. “Why does she talk like that?”
“Perhaps some people enjoy it.” I take a sip of wine and mutter, “I can’t imagine who.”
“Nor can I.”
We stand awkwardly, side by side, until Vale’s food arrives. While she eats, I dance, finding relief from my tortured thoughts in the movement of my body.
Perhaps Vale is right. Perhaps I should fuck the priestess tonight and salve the ache of my chains. There’s another ache in my soul, too—a deeper one. A craving I fear I will never be able to sate.
My gaze keeps finding her, over and over, whether she’s sitting in her chair or dancing with the other guests. When the whirl of the golden crowd hides her from me, I hunt her down again, glad of my height since it lets me see over the heads of everyone else.
If I cannot indulge in touching her, let me at least look at her.
Between dances, I toss drink after drink down my throat, until my limbs are buzzing and my head feels hot. The sensation is new to me, and it helps with the weight of the chains.
The hazy glow in my mind makes the mortal forms around me seem more beautiful, the music more irresistible. Many of the guests have removed their clothing, and there is so much human nakedness all around me. My cock stirs, bobbing under the loose pants.
I catch sight of Vale again. The gold material I gave her is tied around her throat, its folds covering her chest as she dances. A good thing, because I don’t believe that dress was made to stay in place very long, and I dislike the thought of anyone else seeing her breasts. The long train of her gown has been detached or pinned up somehow—a strange device of human ingenuity, permitting her freedom of movement.
The little Queen’s presence calls me, compels me to thread through the crowd until I reach her. She’s dancing with a naked priest, a fine specimen of male beauty. His erect cock is swinging much too close to her body for my liking.
I have never much cared for my sister-goddess Beirgid. And I care even less for her temple and its debauched denizens.
Roughly I shove the priest aside and take his place, catching Vale’s hands.
“Arawn!” she gasps, casting a worried glance at the priest, who is picking himself up off the floor. “Be more careful.”
“I don’t like this temple or its people,” I growl.
