Month: January 2006

Serena

After putting Evelyn to bed, Jaedin had dinner and then retired to his study with a glass of wine – which is where Marcus found him, asleep, the next morning. With some trepidation, Marcus woke his master up – but he had little to fear, for Jaedin came awake with an almost manic energy. He jotted down a quick note, handed it to Marcus with instructions to deliver it, and then left to wash up and prepare for the day.

****

“What color were her eyes?”

Marcus stumbled as his foot caught on the edge of grey stone that made up the path he walked. He wobbled for a moment, regained his balance, and stared up at Jaedin with a startled expression, “Eyes?” Walking down a steep incline is difficult to start with – and doing it with grace takes a certain finesse, a quality Marcus had yet to attain.

Marcus had returned from his errand with a reply letter in less than an hour, just as Jaedin was finishing up with Evelyn. Jaedin had exchanged his black jacket for a warmer grey coat and called for his carriage to be readied. He then had Marcus join him as he left the house to walk the stone pathway that led down to the carriage house. The stone path cut slow switchbacks down the hill the lighthouse was built upon. After leaving the last curve of the first switchback, Jaedin turned his head towards Marcus and smiled, “Yes, Marcus. I assume she had a pair of eyes? To see this alleged crime? Of course, it is always possible that she knew you were coming and blinded herself out of fear that you’re well-known good looks would have her falling madly in love…”

“…green! Green, Master Jaedin.” Marcus’ face flushed red and dropped his gaze.

Jaedin hid his next smile by turning his attention to the navigating the switchback they had come to, “Green. You know, Marcus, now is the time to learn how to study women. In a few years you will be a stuttering tongue-tied mess in front of them. Tell me, did you learn anything useful from her while she wrote her reply?”

“She did not…appear to be in good spirits.”

Jaedin retrieved the reply letter from his coat pocket, where he had placed it upon receiving it from Marcus, and shook it open. With practiced ease, Jaedin moved down the path, one eye on the ground and one on the letter in his hand. He read it through and then replaced it in his coat. “Interesting. Looks as if the Constable did a reasonable job of interviewing the eyewitness. Serena was kind enough to go over the events again for me and they match up with the Constable’s version.”

Marcus had fallen behind, his small legs not quite able to keep pace with Jaedin’s. Distracted, he paused and did a small pirouette at the edge of one of the stepping stones, showing a moment of grace as he balanced himself on one foot, “Did…did we learn nothing then, Master Jaedin?” He found the next step and hurried to keep up.

“Oh, we have learned a thing or two. The first is that Serena, while not exactly friends with Miranda, does has some affection for the girl. Her handwriting is nervous and she is careful to give all of the details she can remember without embellishing them. Which means she is likely telling the truth about what she saw. In addition, she adds a few trivial facts in the hopes some sense can be made of what happened: the caramelized pears Master Kytrell was so fond were freshly made that day and in their usual spot on a shelf near the fireplace…they were low on wood for the stove…some of the fireworks purchased earlier in the week had gone off during the fire…” Jaedin’s voice trailed off as they came to the end of the path. He turned to address Marcus only to find the boy barreling down the last steps of the path; in an effort to keep up, the boy had picked up with some momentum and was having trouble slowing down. Catching the boy before he could speed past, he shook his head, “Never rush, boy. It makes you appear impatient. And impatience implies you lack control. Come along then, we have appointments to keep.”

The carriage stood ready for them a few yards from the end of the path. After climbing inside, Jaedin lightly rapped the roof of the carraige with his walking stick and the driver snapped the hourses into action. The trip to Master Kytrell’s manor house took just over an hour.

Evelyn

Jaedin stepped into the lighthouse room and walked to Evelyn. She raised her head, green eyes meeting his. There was no fear in her. Stripped, bared, she could hold nothing back. Her vulnerability left no place for fear.

The right balance of pull along the ropes holding her aloft kept muscle strain to a minimum – but she had been there for hours. Jaedin could see her fatigue in the slight trembling along her arms. Jaedin brushed strands of brown hair away from her face, fingertips tickling her cheek. His voice, when he spoke, was soft, “Why are you here, Evelyn?”

Evelyn raised her head just a bit further. Her eyes had the clarity of molten glass. “To serve…myself.” The words slipped free without hesitation, a reflex as deep as breathing.

He nodded once, “And how best to serve yourself?” His fingers drew down against her chest, parting so that thumb and pinky each found the starting curve of a breast.

Her breathing caught, and her eyes closed as she focused on his hand, the way it continued its path lower, to her stomache, palm resting at the top of her abdomen. “By serving you, by serving you…” the words were breathed more than spoken and she shuddered as he turned his hand and slid it between her thighs, fingers curling up to feel the searing heat of her.

Jaedin spoke just a single word, but it was enough, “Yes.” She responded to it by rolling her hips forward, swaying in the ropes to press his hand deeper against her. Jaedin wrapped his free arm around her, hand coming to rest on the small of her back. He drew her into an embrace close enough for him to rest his cheek against the smooth heat of her breasts.

He listened to her heartbeat as two of his fingers slid inside of her and moved along the top, finding the slightly rough spot just a few inches inside. It did not take long, body shuddering and moving under his rhythmic touch, before she came hard into his hand, her thighs tensing and relaxing but unable to close on him. She was open, restrained, and completely at his mercy.

Jaedin remained there for a moment, fingers inside of her, listening to the music of her heartbeat, waiting for it to slow before slipping his fingers free. Taking his time, he knelt on one knee and released each of her ankles from the leather embrace of his manacles. Standing, he pressed himself fully against her and then pushed her back until he felt the weight of her body resting against him. Carefully he released each of her wrists and felt her sag into his arms.

Silently, he lifted her, cradling her naked form in his arms, and carried her down the stairs and to her room. Settling her into bed, he drew soft white sheets over her and smoothed the hair away from her face. She had not stirred since he taken her down, and he smiled to see her now turn her face towards his hand, lips brushing the palm. “Rest Evelyn. For tommorow will see your final test.”

He left her there, in the dark, with a single candle as company.

Evelyn

The top of the lighthouse was a hexagonal room of glass designed to protect both the source of the lighthouse’s powerful revolving light and the light keeper who maintained it. The glass making up five of the six walls of the room was bordered in bronze. The sixth wall was not a wall at all, but a glass door. Two inches thick, the glass was strong enough to handle the chaotic ocean weather of the cliff but remained clear enough that it did not significantly hinder the strength of the light. While the revolving lamp in the center of the room took up most the space, there remained a three-foot wide path around the perimeter.

Within this space, facing out towards the glass, a woman was held suspended by rope.

Although this room had been built for a single purpose, Jaedin had made some adjustments. Spaced every foot and a half, hooks circled the ceiling above the path bordering the lighthouse lamp; a matching set of hooks followed in precision along the ground. Four of these hooks were currently in use and had, attached to them, long strands of rope that ended in leather manacles. Positioned correctly, these manacles could be used to hold a human figure spread-eagled above the ground. A figure such as Evelyn’s, the woman currently held locked into a spread-eagled position a good foot off the ground.

Jaedin paused on the last step of the spiraling staircase. A woman’s beauty can be captured in her silhouette; the hazy borders of the female form simplified in a manner that bypasses surface desires and strikes a much deeper chord. Shading gives definition to curves of breast and hip, depth to the concave shadows at the apex of her thighs.

He watched the suspended figure take each slow breath. The rising and falling of her chest in a rhythm that was both calming and stirring. She had the well-exercised but not quite lean body of someone who was used to working outside but knew the luxuries of a good home. Her dark brown hair draped over her bare upper back; her head was lowered and her bangs hid her in a waterfall of brown that obscured the details of her face. He didn’t need to see the details to remember well the dark green of her eyes.

He thought back on the circumstances that had brought her here. The daughter of a small town’s mill owner, she was cursed with enough beauty to attract the attention of a wealthy merchant. The arranged marriage brought her father enough mercantile contacts to increase his wealth twofold, but had brought her only the grief of a loveless relationship. This proved to have some unforeseen consequences; on her wedding night, every male within three miles – including her husband, the town mayor and several prominent clergyman – experienced a quite sudden, and rather dismaying, loss of ardor. Such a blow to male pride is hard to swallow no matter how forgiving the partner. This continued for several months (coinciding with each attempted consummation of the marriage). The extent, nature and source of the problem would have gone undiscovered (being of a subject not much admitted to, much less discussed) had her husband not complained loudly to her father in one of the town’s local pub. Looks were shared, connections were made, and an ultimatum was provided: she would need to learn to control her gift or have her wedding nullified before being exiled from the town.

Her father had sent her to Jaedin with a plea and several bags filled with gold. Neither meant much to Jaedin, but the sadness in the girl’s eyes had convinced him to take her in.

Myriel

“Impossible.”

“I assure you, Master Jaedin, it is not impossible.” She paused, considering her next words carefully, “Now, I know you were the one who broke her, but the evidence is…”

Jaedin raised his right hand, “Let us stop there, Constable.” There was no friendliness in his demeanor now, no amusement in his eyes, or smile behind his words. “First, I do not break people, and I will ask you to refrain from using that term while in my house. Second, I did indeed train Miranda. And I can assure you, on my honor, that such training as I instilled in her remains to strong effect.”

“The facts say otherwise.” She tried to keep her tone flat, but she clearly enjoyed the fact she had thrown Jaedin slightly off step. She reached into the pocket of her black leather overcoat and drew out a folded parchment. Nimble fingers unfolded it quickly, “An eyewitness places Miranda near the kitchen at the time of the incident.”

A single arched eyebrow, “She’s the cook. That’s what cooks do. They work in kitchens.”

“It was four o’clock in the morning.” She made a show of reading the parchment, but Jaedin knew she had these details memorized. This was her fourth year as Constable and there were reasons she had retained the position.

“And?“ Jaedin adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, ensuring they were perfectly straight, “Seeing as both Master Kytrell and your eyewitness were up and about at the same time, that does not appear to be so very unusual.”

The parchment crinkled under Myriel’s fingers with the slow tightening of her grip. “Be that as it may, she had no reason to be in the kitchen at that hour. Master Kytrell was known to have insomnia. Carmeled pears, a favorite of his, were kept ready in the kitchen in case he was couldn’t sleep and wanted a snack.”

“And the eyewitness? Did this person give a reason for being up so early? Does this eyewitness have a name?”

Myriel folded the parchment back up again, “She did and she does. Her name is Serena, and she was gathering firewood for the kitchen’s stoves. Breakfast started early in the Kytrell household and the stoves needed to be hot by six.” The parchment was replaced within her jacket. “Miranda, as the cook, did not start baking until six. She had no reason to be in the kitchen at four.”

Jaedin finished buttoning up his jacket, “Did Miranda give a reason for her presence?”

“No. She refuses to speak to anyone.”

“Anyone?”

“…except…perhaps, you.”

There was silence for several minutes before Jaedin nodded slowly, “I see.” He turned away from Myriel and spoke to Marcus, who had remained close at hand. “Tell Kiera I will be down around eight for a late dinner. I am going to spend some time with Evelyn.” Jaedin took several steps towards the archway leading to the lighthouse side of the manor and then stopped, as if remembering something. He spoke without turning around, “That will be all, Constable. Thank you for delivering the news personally. I will make time early tommorow to speak to Miranda and will let you know if anything pertinent is uncovered. I will leave it to you to arrange the appropriate access for the interview.”

Without waiting for a response, Jaedin finished his trip across the foyer and disappeared through the archway. Myriel stood staring after Jaedin. Her quiet frustration at his abrupt departure left her angry and slightly confused.

Marcus’ gentle touch at her elbow startled her, “Constable? Would you like some hot tea before you leave?”

Her eyes flickered to the boy and she gave a sharp shake of the head. She left the foyer without another word.