‘And a part of me was just a sixteen-year-old boy then. Begging only to serve and wanting only to please. But the rest of me, the most of me, was filled with a hunger darker than any I’d ever known. I ran my hands up over her legs, slowly rucking her robes up around her hips, her breath coming quicker as I slipped to my knees. The scent of her crashed upon me, the need of her filled me utterly. And she shivered as she felt the first feather-soft touch of my tongue, her pulse thundering beneath her skin, fingers slipping into my hair as she dragged me in tighter. “Please,” she sighed. “Please.”
‘I kissed her, adored her – soft, languid, her every sigh and moan an invitation to coax yet another from those lips, louder and longer. She was mine then, not God’s, wholly and solely mine. Honeyed petals beneath my tongue, nothing and no one between us. Looking down into my eyes and shivering harder between every breath, her hips swaying, toes curling as she parted her legs wider, one hand in my hair, the other now finding her breast, stroking and plucking through her holy vestments. I was lost in the taste of her, the thrill of it all, so silken smooth and velvet soft I could barely breathe. I’d never known any sin so sweet as this. Never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted her.
‘“Touch me,” she begged, and I obeyed.
‘“Inside me,” she pleaded, and I almost lost my mind.
‘She mewled my name, head thrown back, shaking so hard I could barely hold on. Drowning, begging, God, she was so warm there. Her every soft secret at my fingertips, moaning in time with every burning kiss. She sank back onto the table, books scattering, spine arching as she began to shake, legs rising skywards, eyes rolling back in her head, lips parted as she called my name again, so long and loud I knew for certain we’d be undone …
‘And then the bells began ringing.
‘Our eyes met over the plane of her heaving belly. Confusion breaking through the swell of hunger, the rush of need. My pulse was hammering, my lips and chin drenched, sweet nectar and hot blood and salty sweat as the tolling rang out over the monastery, echoed through the empty Library.
‘“What’s that?” she whispered.
‘The hour was late, but dawn was nowhere close; this was no mass being called. And helping Astrid up from where she lay, ignoring the thirst that surged ever brighter as I looked to her still-bleeding mouth, I spoke with creeping dread.
‘“Something’s wrong …”’
XI
WHICH YOU WILL BE
‘“OATHBREAKERS! FUCKING BLASPHEMERS!”
‘“Shut your mouth!”
‘“Bastard, bog-grubbing sinners!’ ’Ware ye! ’Ware now, Brothers!”
‘Those were the cries that greeted Astrid and me as we stumbled from the Library and into the night. The air was freezing after the fire of her lips, and I could still feel her body pressed against me, taste the sin of her in my mouth as we spied a mob of silversaints and initiates in the snow outside the Armoury.
‘“Best get back to the Priory, Majesty,” I told her.
‘She nodded, squeezing my hand. “Be careful, Gabe.”
‘I circled about the monastery bridges, approached as if from the Barracks. Nearing the Armoury, I saw Seraph Talon on the steps, fury in his eyes. And beside him …
‘“Oh, no …” I whispered.
‘“’Ware!” Talon roared. ’Ware now! Foul sin and oaths broken, by God!”
‘Aaron and Baptiste stood together, clothes dishevelled, Aaron’s lips red and raw. I joined the back of the crowd, more ’saints and initiates now spilling from the Barracks. Talon was shouting pure venom, spittle on his moustache. Baptiste looked distraught, Aaron furious as Abbot Khalid and Forgemaster Argyle finally forced their way through the throng.
‘“Seraph, what be the meaning o’ this?” Argyle demanded.
‘Talon pointed his switch at Aaron and Baptiste. “Bastard boylovers, I saw them!”
‘“Saw what?” Khalid spat. “Speak plainly, man!”
‘“I had work in the Foundry! A batch of sanctus to accompany Greyhand to Charinfel. But I heard tumult in the forge and sought the source. And there I saw them, bare in each other’s arms.” The seraph stabbed one callused finger as my heart sank. “De Coste and Sa-Ismael! Rutting like mongrels in heat!”
‘A dark mutter rumbled among the assembly. Argyle blinked in astonishment, rubbing his chin with his iron hand. “What madness is this?”
‘“No madness.” Talon spat on the stone. “Transgression and treachery, that’s fucking what! Hellbound bastards, the pair of them!”
‘“Baptiste?” Khalid asked. “Aaron? Of what does Seraph Talon speak?”
‘My belly was curling into a small cold knot as I saw the lovers exchange a desperate glance. Aaron was afeared, heartsick, watching all he’d trained for going up in smoke. Baptiste’s jaw was clenched, flame-scarred hands balled in fists. Frère Alonso demanded explanation. I heard Big Phil spit on the ground. De Séverin and Aaron’s other cronies whispering “Oathbreakers” and “Boylovers” and “Fucking dandies”。
‘And though I knew it foolish, still I couldn’t remain mute. Aaron was my brother. Baptiste my friend. I knew not what I’d say, yet still, I pushed through the throng. But the young smithy caught my eye, and the look on his face begged me to be still.
‘“This was my doing!” he declared.
‘Baptiste stood taller, met the Forgemaster’s eyes.
‘“Aaron was in his cups after the feast, Master. I took advantage, I admit it.”
‘Argyle’s lip quivered with rage. “You broke your holy oath to San Mich—”
‘“I broke no oath. I swore to love no woman, and to that I hold.”
‘“To lay in sin out of wedlock is sin enough! But to lay with another man is a sin doubled!” Talon shouted. “And on holy fucking ground? With the Empress abed in the valley below, no less? You shame us all, you cock-gobbling little whoreson!”
‘The mob growled in agreement, the tide around us turning dark.
‘“This is mortal sin, Baptiste,” Khalid growled. “You damn your soul with it.”
‘“I know the Testaments name it so, Abbot. But God shall decide my fate upon my day of judging, no other.” The young smithy glanced to his lover, and my heart ached at the pain in his eyes. “But Aaron is blameless. He was soaked with drink. Befuddled with the pain of his ink. He knew not what he did. I beg you spare him for it.”
‘I looked to Aaron. The lordling’s eyes downturned to the snow at his feet. All he’d worked for hung in the balance. His very life might be at risk here. And I knew he stood back on that bridge in Coste then. Laure Voss smiling as she circled the edge of our light.
‘It’s not my fault, Papa. I didn’t want it. Sacha made me, Papa. Sacha forced me.
‘Aaron shook his head. Bracing himself as if to throw a punch.
‘“No,” he whispered.
‘“Aaron …” Baptiste pleaded.
‘“No,” he said again, firmer, looking Khalid and Argyle in the eye. “Baptiste speaks lies to spare me punishment. But only because he loves me. As I love him.” His voice rose over the growing clamour. “And that is no fucking sin!”