Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Jacqueline Caery's Kushiel Legacy series and in no way am profiting from it. I highly recommend the series, first book, Kushiel's Dart

Character List

Nathaniel de Wintre nó Mandrake - Courtesan of the Night Court of Blooming Flowers, raised in House Heliotrope (Thou, and no other), claimed by House Mandrake (Yield all), Dowayne of House Mandrake

Aurore de Morhban de Talmanes - Marchioness de Friese, Baroness de Brianne, second born child to the former Duc and Duchesse de Morhban, Augustus and Océane de Morhban. Former Ambassador to Aragon and the only acknowledged lover of Nathaniel nó Morhban

Helena de Trevalion - Second born to houe Trevalion, former patron of Nathaniel nó Mandrake. Sworn rival of Aurore de Morhban.

Oh the smile which graced Nathaniel's features. Much like else with the man, it was keen and sharp with a double edge of danger and pleasure to it. Once more his voice was like a living breathing thing, with its own hints of sharp and dark things he could promise, and make happen. It was the voice of the dark mirror of pleasure, of heated silk dragged over the soft and smooth skin, the taste of honey with clover and cinnamon, much like the treats they give out to novices of the Night Court to determine who would be in House Valerian, or Mandrake. While the novices who enjoy and understand the spice was the treat of the candy were marked for House Valerian, those novices who take pleasure out of the suffering of those who suffered tasting the treat were marked for House Mandrake. Many houses of the Night Court gnashed their teeth the day it was clear Nathaniel's destiny in the Night Court of Blooming Flowers was with House Mandrake and none other.

Nathaniel walked with a deceptive grace about his steps. He made it look so easy, as if perhaps he was walking above the ground instead of upon it, yet one who observed closer would see there was a danger to his step for he had the gait and pace of a predator comfortable in his surroundings and hierarchy, of one who was stalking a prey it had had hunted before and brought down with ease. Despite the heavy boots he wore in his pirate captain's attire, they did not make a sound. He walked with the same dangerous movements of a blade master, placing the ball of his foot first then rotating down to the heel, rather than strike hard with the heel then let his foot follow suit. The former always produced a sound no matter if the person was dressed in the softest of material, or in bare flesh. The sound varied of course, but a sound it did make none the less. The latter tended not to make a sound at all, and always marked a person who knew the value of footwork, and separated those who were merely skilled with a weapon and those who were deadly with one.

It was a hunt now, an act he did enjoy. It was a fetish enjoyed by more than one patron at the court. One woman took it even further one time and told Nathaniel not only could he do what he wished to her if he caught her, but he would double the assignation fee. If he failed, then the stakes were he would extend his assignation for another three days at no more cost. He did not become Dowayne by shirking from risk. He was quite accomplished on horse, and the challenge was...stimulating...but both knew in the end how the drama was to be played out. If he still possessed an ounce of love inside of him some things might have been different. His keen edge for sensual cruelty might have been dulled. It was not, and the patron got her three extra days at no coast, but those days she was bound, hand to foot, edged mercilessly, and made to watch as he gave her serving maids their sexual release while she was denied. It must had stuck a cord, as she pleaded with him for another hunt.

This hunt was far more enticing by comparison, and one he should have lost with ease. The myriad of colors about was staggering, and so difficult to pick out the subtle hues she wore as part of her attire. A tree in a vast forest which was always shifting, always moving. No, even a Bryony would not bet on such a long wager. They did not know however about the Bright Lady, the every loving Naamah. There were times she would take interest in people whom love and desire both have touched and touched strongly. Thus there were whispers, feather touches there, and while she always seemed to be a step or three ahead of him, he had not lost the trail, and the prize could still be won!

He did not expert how his own vanity and pride would get in the way.

Helena Trevalion put herself into his way. Her costume was designed to catch the eye, and leave little to the imagination. He did not need such imagination as he had seen her nude before. Nude and writhing, and more importantly to the time, begging. She was among his first early assignations near seven years. Her beauty had grown, if her humility had not by the rumors. Still, he had to give her some credit to approach him. Other might have thought House Mandrake was paid to tweak the nose of her brother, Duc Vincent Trevalion, but they both know the real reason, and why he had refused all other assignations from her.

Thus it was a surprise to hear from her lips. "Please, M'Lord." Oh how much of her pride it cost her. At their last assignation it had taken days to get her to break down to call him Master or M'Lord. It was her friends present at the assignation which put steel in her spine. If she had paid him his patron's gift as he was due for the quality and diligence of his work, he would had been willing to repeat what had been done another date. There was something empowering about three women near fawning over his every word and whim. It even pressed Helena's limits and challenged her, but he knew giving any indication he had sway over her to others in public was a line she would not cross. Till now it seemed.

She held onto his arm and looked up at him with her liquid eyes, so brown they were almost back. Her hands gripped him tightly. He could see the hurt, the pain, the anger in their depths, but the one which stood out swimming in the sea of emotions in their near black depths which stood out the most was...desperation. He gave him pause and stopped and instead of pulling his arm away, he returned her stare, lifting off the masque which hid half his face so all could see him and know the Lion of Mount Nuit, Nathaniel de Wintire nó Mandrake stood there before the Falcon of Trevalion, and waited.

Her hands started to wander over him, as if the old touch of her hands might say him to do anything but stand there and stare at her. More than one set of eyes were at the moment, and they were growing by the second. She almost lost her nerve, taking a step back from him, her fingertips leaving him last. Two more steps back, enough for him to go around her. When he made the motion to do so, she did something even more shocking than approaching him in the first place.

She sank down to her knees, her thighs on display. She was breathing so hard her breasts threatened to spill out of her corset. Her thighs spread wide, sitting her buttocks upon her heels, and her hands went to her thighs, palms facing up. It was a post all in the Night Court knew, and patrons who frequented either House Mandrake and Valerian. The pose was the abeyante, It was a symbolic gesture, one of submission before a person. Her head was tilted down as she spoke so he could him over the voices and the music about them. "Please m'Lord. I need you. I am lost, so lost. Please. I will pay any amount, do anything you desire. No signale shall pass my lips. I will be yours, completely and utterly. Please."

Her last words were uttered with so much want and desperation mixed together it did give Nathaniel pause. There she was, not exactly a nemisis of his, or even a social enemy, but she had vexed him for so many years. There she was, in front of her peers, offering her anything he wished to do to her. He could make her howl for days, fuck her own servants, crawl about behind him naked and like a pet. It seemed nothing was sacrosanct for her with him. Such a temptation to redress old insults against him, but the voice, the touch, the presence about him was telling him no, and to turn to the other temptation, the quarry of his hunt. Which did he take, the offered sacrifice, or to finish the hunt? He felt like there was a heavy weight to this decision, that more mattered with the choice he made then what he knew at present.