Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

Tonight Salome was his.

He stopped two paces away from her, his hands still loosely clasped behind his back, and

nodded politely.

Then he looked up at the sky filled with myriad glowing lanterns and said very softly,

“Do you know what this night reminds me of, Salome?”

One of her sycophants took a step forward. “Hold your tongue! No one approaches the

great Duchess of—”

“And no one speaks to a prince of the Icarii in such a manner!” StarDrifter snapped back,

wrapping himself in all the full arrogance and majesty of his birth. He moved slightly toward the

man, as graceful and dangerous as a striking panther, then slid his eyes to Salome.

“Why surround yourself with such fools, Salome? Surely they are a detriment to your

life.”

“You are taking a huge risk,” she said, her eyes brilliant as they watched him. “No one

speaks to me like that.”

“Do you know what this night reminds me of, Salome?”

She continued to stare at him, unreadable, and remained silent.

“In my land of Tencendor,” StarDrifter continued, his attention now exclusively on

Salome, “there was one special night every year. Beltide night. It was the celebration of spring,

of the regeneration of the earth, of the great mother, of life and regeneration.”

StarDrifter turned very slowly on his heel—making everyone in Salome”s group, save

Salome herself, shuffle slightly in alarm—and then moved in a small circle, his gloved hands

floating out a little from his sides, one shoulder dipping.

It was the movement of a dancer.

He came to a halt, catching Salome”s flat unreadable eyes again.

“The Icarii and the Avar peoples gathered in the groves of the mysterious Avarinheim,”

StarDrifter said, his voice so low all had to strain forward to hear it. “We danced, and drank, and

we spent the night making love under the stars. It was a night of great power.”

“And this pathetic little gathering reminds you of that?” Salome said, her voice heavy

with disbelief.

“Not this gathering,” said StarDrifter. “You remind me of Beltide”s mystery and power.”

Then he turned on his heel and left, feeling Salome”s eyes boring into his back the entire

way.

Hours passed. StarDrifter kept moving through the crowds, taking a glass of wine now

and again, and sometimes drifting into a small clearing and dancing under the stars. When he did

this his movements were very slow and deliberate, heavy with sorrow and memory, incalculably

sweet.

Even among the Icarii, all of whom had exquisite grace and elegance, StarDrifter was

renowned for the sheer beauty and power of his dancing. He might no longer command the

power of the Star Dance, but StarDrifter nevertheless exuded such mystery, such sexuality, and

imbued every single one of his movements, no matter how slight, with such extraordinary

loveliness and bittersweetness that he reduced to tears most who paused to watch him.

People would gather at the edges of the clearing, silent, awestruck.

Most were Coroleans.

A few were Icarii, come to watch with tears in their eyes as the legendary StarDrifter

danced.

Once the emperor and his wife stood there, openmouthed.

On two occasions that StarDrifter was aware of, Salome watched as he danced.

He was careful not to look at her.

The entire evening, and his display, was meant for one purpose—to seduce Salome. But

as the hours went by, StarDrifter discovered that he was enjoying the night for a very different

reason.

Tonight he had returned to being a prince. Tonight he had once more embraced his full

Icarii glory, even though he lacked his wings. When all the thousands went home to their beds,

there was only one thing they would ever remember of this night.

StarDrifter, incalculably beautiful and full of grace, dancing under the drifting paper

lanterns.

Toward dawn, when people were starting to return to their chambers and apartments,

StarDrifter emerged from the shadows of a huge topiary tree.

Salome was standing across the clearing, talking in low tones with her son, Ezra, and one

of the other nobles of the First.

She turned, intuiting his presence.

StarDrifter raised his hand in one of the most ancient and magical of Icarii gestures, and

one designed to call to any of Icarii blood. He held his arm out at full length, his hand toward

Salome, imperious, demanding. Slowly his fingers curled, one, twice, a third time, beckoning,

commanding, in the traditional Icarii gesture of seduction.

Salome rocked on her feet, and StarDrifter knew he had won her.

Icarii blood would always out.

“I have rules in here,” Salome said. “You will obey them.”

StarDrifter did not answer. He wandered about her bedchamber, hands once again loosely

clasped behind his back, inspecting the many objects of antiquity and beauty.

He stopped before the Weeper, staring at it. For all its value and power, it was only a

small thing, standing about half a pace in height. It had been carefully fashioned by an ancient

craftsman of great worth, for every detail of the deity”s face was carefully and lovingly picked

out, and even the weave of the cloth was apparent in its robe.

There was a faint trail of moisture down one cheek.

“You do not touch that,” Salome said.

StarDrifter turned about. “One of your „rules”?”

“You shall not speak to me. I have no interest in your thoughts. I shall use your body and

then require you to leave.”

StarDrifter gave her a cynical smile, then resumed his slow inspection of the room.

“I said—” Salome began.

“I heard what you said,” StarDrifter said, now leaning over a collection of gems set into

velvet and displayed on a low table. “I discover you have a hitherto unsuspected sense of

humor.”

Salome flushed. “I can destroy you,” she said.

StarDrifter stood up and smiled at her, now with apparent genuine humor. “You cannot

say that to a man who has lost everything he has ever held dear, and who longs only for death,

and think to scare him with it. In fact, my dear”—he took a step closer to her—“you only entice

him with such promises.”

He drew off his gloves and tossed them back onto the gem-laden table. Then he walked

forward and cupped her cheek in his hand.

She jerked away. “You do only what I—”

“Your skin is very soft,” StarDrifter said.” Strange, for somehow I thought it would have

a reptilian cast to it.”

Her eyes glittered. “Leave.”

“No.”

She turned toward the door.

“You”ve never had an Icarii lover, have you?” said StarDrifter.

She turned back to him. “I”ve had thousands.”

“Liar.”

She stared at him, her breathing rapid. StarDrifter could see she wanted to order him to

leave, or to order in the guards to force him to leave, but he could also see that she wanted him.

“Don”t be frightened,” he said, moving forward and again cupping her face in his hand.

She tensed, but before she could move away StarDrifter leaned down and kissed her.

What stunned him was not her response, but his own. The instant he felt her mouth open

beneath his, he grabbed her to him, pressing her the length of his body, burying his hands in her

hair, dragging his mouth to her jaw, and sinking in his teeth.

Then it was all movement. The tearing away of clothes, the grabbing of flesh, the hoarse

breathing, the grunts, the sheer, unashamed arousal.

It wasn”t pretty, or elegant, or clothed in any manner of regard or warmth. It was sheer,

primitive sex, accomplished even before they managed the bed. When it was done, when

StarDrifter managed to bring his breathing back from the fevered pitch of orgasm to something

vaguely approaching normal, he rose from Salome”s body, picked her up, carried her to the bed,

flung her down, and began all over again.

He”d never felt this way when making love before. Not with his wife, Rivkah, not with

any other of the many Icarii women he”d bedded, not with any other of his human lovers, such as

Embeth, the woman he”d taken when first he”d arrived in the city of Carlon.

It was as if Salome was a drug, instantly addictive.

He hated the woman, but, oh, stars, his entire being screamed at him to take her just one

more time, one more time…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Town of Torinox, the Northern Borders of the FarReach Dependency

Did you manage all your breakfast this morning?” Zeboath asked.

“Yes,” Ishbel said, wincing a little as Zeboath”s fingers probed at the joints at the top of

her spine.

“It still hurts a little,” he said.

She nodded.

“But your body is expelling the poison faster than I had expected.” Zeboath smiled, then

stood back. “I think you will be well, my lady. You have a courageous constitution.”

She smiled a little at that. “I did not realize constitutions could be „courageous.””

“Indeed. All good physicians know how to spot at first glance a courageous constitution,