5Figured this chapter fits better with book 2, so here we are!
Sequel to The Wilding Queen (previously In the Mountain's Shadow but new and shiny). Everything but this prologue takes place the spring after the mountain wedding.
Prologue: What was Never Said
"Up, up, up!"
The shutters burst open. Amia sat up with a yelp, startled to see the house mother in her room. The middle-aged priestess was in charge of all the temple acolytes, but she rarely engaged one-on-one with them, much less came to wake them.
"What?" Amia asked, still groggy and confused.
"The champion is here," said House Mother Soria. "You are to serve him tonight."
Amia's heart immediately began to pound in her throat. She'd seen the champion once or twice from a distance. He visited the temple often, but he rarely entered the acolytes' quarters.
"Serve?"
Huffing, Soria turned and explained, "He may be a champion, but he is also a man, Amia."
"And you're sure I am the one he wants?"
"He doesn't ask for specifics. That's up to the Holy Mother, and today she has chosen you."
"But I'm still—"
"New, yes. Consider it an honor. The champion is generous. He will reward you for your time."
"Of course." Amia bowed her head. He was terrifying, yes. Generous she wasn't so sure about.
"Come now. Let's get you ready."
Amia spent the day preparing. Most of it was jagua and fasting. Then, in the evening, she was allowed to wash and eat a small meal of bread and water before Soria led her up to the terrace gardens. Normally, acolytes weren't allowed up here. Soria hurried her through the gardens and into the champion's quarters, a place where he came to fast, and pray, and study.
And apparently to spend time with a pretty acolyte.
The room wasn't much bigger or fancier than hers. Its only furnishings were the small altar, a bedside table, and a plain bed, big enough for two. Amia took a step back, feeling her stomach drop. He wasn't going to…she wouldn't have to…would she?
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Wait for him here," Soria answered cryptically. She saw the girl shaking and squeezed her hands. "You'll be fine. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised."
One could hope.
Amia waited nervously. There were no windows, and she didn't want to sit on the bed, so she knelt at the altar and whispered a prayer for peace.
Behind her, the door opened and closed quietly.
She rose quickly and turned, dropping to her knees when she saw him.
"My lord!"
"Don't bow," he said, his voice surprisingly quiet. He sounded tired.
Amia tentatively took the hand he offered, a hand with spread the size of a dinner plate. He was so much bigger up close, towering head and shoulders above her. Amia wasn't small, but he could easily snap her in half with those massive hands.
"What do I call you?" he asked.
"Amia, my lord."
"Solus," he said. "I'm here as a man, not a champion."
"H-how…what shall I…?" Amia let out a small sigh of frustration. "Nobody told me what to do."
To her surprise, Solus smiled. "What we do is entirely up to you." He gestured at the bed and suggested, "I could use a back rub if you're willing."
That didn't sound so bad. "All right." She sat, looking away as he sloughed out of his robe and lay face down on the bed.
"There's oil in that drawer there."
Amia found the small bottle and unstopped it. Her hands trembled as she dribbled oil on his back. He flinched.
"Sorry," she apologized immediately. "I should have warmed it first."
"You're nervous," he noted with a soft laugh. "Please, don't be."
Easier said than done, she thought, running her hands over his back, feeling his muscles flex and roll under her palms.
"You have good hands." His voice was muffled by a pillow.
Amia flushed. "You have so many scars," she said, just to say something.
"A hazard of the job." He let out a low groan, "Mm, right there. Harder if you can."
She quietly obeyed, hands still shaking.
"Do you have family?" he asked curiously.
"Two sisters," she answered, surprised he'd ask.
"You see them often?"
"No. They live on a farm outside Jolrahn."
"That's far."
The champion couldn't possibly be interested in her family. Was he making conversation to ease her nerves?
"Being a temple acolyte is a thankless job, I've heard. Why choose to serve so far away from your family?"
"I… I was betrothed to a soldier. He was killed in a skirmish in the mountains two years ago."
"Rebels?"
"Yes."
Solus turned his head. "You loved him?"
"Yes," she admitted softly. "It didn't feel right to marry someone else, and the farm was too small to support my sisters' families and me, so…"
"So you came here."
"I came here."
He was quiet for a few minutes, except for the occasional groan when she found a knot. "You are quite good at this."
She smiled. "Manus used to say the same."
"Your soldier?"
"Yes."
"Soldiers like a firm hand."
"I suppose."
Solus didn't speak, and when he did, it wasn't what she expected to hear. "Do you even want to be here with me tonight?"
"Of course!" she answered, probably too hastily. "It is an honor to serve."
Solus scoffed and rolled over. He cupped her face in his hand. It was rough with use, but gentle on her skin.
Amia flushed again, trying her best not to look down.
"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I only want company." He saw her gaze dart downward and let out a soft laugh. "Shall I put the robe back on?"
He began to rise, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. It was steadier now. "No," she whispered. "It's all right. My nerves are already passing."
Solus tucked her hair back. "You're very pretty," he murmured. "Did your soldier ever tell you that?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry you lost him."
"I am too," she admitted. "But you're not here to talk about my past. Please, tell me what you would like, and I will do my best to please you."
Please, just hurry, she thought anxiously. It's been a long day.
His hand was soft. He stroked her hair, her cheek, her neck. A finger trailed down the collar of her robe. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. "I would like to kiss you."
"All right."
"Have you kissed before?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
He pulled her nearer, but he let her close the distance. A soft peck, then more. Amia tried to contain her surprise as she let his kisses deepen. They were commanding. They were also tender, like a man leading in a slow dance.
Parting, she met his gaze, feeling her face flush hot. Wordlessly, he kissed her again, pressing her onto her back. He slipped a hand inside her robe, leaving his open palm on her sternum, letting her give her silent consent before he began to explore. His calluses scraped her so softly at first, but as she pushed into his hand, his touch grew firmer, heavier.
He slowly tugged the tie of her robe loose and pushed it open, his kisses more eager, more…desperate. Again, Amia recalled how infrequently he called on the acolytes. I only want company, he had said. It felt good to be wanted again. Needed. And by a champion, no less.
As much as he seemed to need her, Solus took his time and pleased her first. Soon he had her writhing breathlessly under his touch. They were just lips and tongues and teeth and hands until Amia cried out.
"Oh! Oh, my lord!"
He slowly let her come down once he'd finished her, rubbing her with slow circles. His brow rose with a question. "All right?"
"Yes." She nodded, flustered. "You have good hands too."
Solus smiled and turned her chin up to give her another kiss. Taking her by the hand, he guided it downward and closed it around himself. "The secret is to watch and listen." He slowly showed her how to stroke. His eyes closed. He nodded and encouraged her with a soft groan. "Mm-hmm. Just like that."
Amia shivered, surprised by the pleasant feeling of having a champion sprawled under her, melting into her touch. Too soon, he stopped her, eyes opening.
"I need you now."
She let him press her onto her back with a thrill of anticipation.
He took her in his arms and promised, "I'll be gentle. You let me know if it hurts."
"Okay."
Solus lived up to his promise. Amia marveled at how different he was than expected. Soria had been right. She lost herself in the push and pull of their bodies, the tender kisses he left on her skin. And when they had both finished, he pulled a soft cloth from the drawer and helped her clean up.
He didn't leave right away. He held her close and asked, "How are you now?"
"I'm all right," she reassured him. "That was…lovely."
"Mm," he voiced his agreement. "You're not shaking anymore."
"You're different than I thought you'd be."
He let out a soft laugh. "In what way?"
"I expected you to be…rougher."
"Because of what I am."
"No!" She hesitated, then admitted, "Perhaps a little."
Solus kissed the crown of her head. "I try to leave that on the battlefield. I would not like myself if I were cruel to a woman, especially not a servant of the goddess." Sighing, he rose and added, "I expect they will not let you sleep in. I should go."
"Wait!" Amia knew the foolishness of her question even as she asked, "You…will you return?"
His face lit up with surprise, but his smile was sad. "I shouldn't. You must focus on your duties, and I should focus on mine."
"Oh."
Closing his robe, he approached and gave her a kiss. "I will tell the house mother you have earned a respite from your service. Go to your family. Don't worry about the cost; I can cover that."
Did he have to be so…charming? "Thank you, my lord."
Solus touched her face once more. "Thank you, Amia. I won't forget this."
She wanted to tell him she wouldn't either, but he had already slipped through the door.
…
A cold winter morning. Soria threw Amia's shutters open once more. "The champion is here. He has requested you specifically."
Amia could hear the disapproval in her voice, but her heart danced with anticipation regardless.
Painting Amia with jagua, Soria leaned in and told her, "Don't grow attached, my child. He will not return such feelings, even if he wants to. A champion and an acolyte cannot be together."
Soria was probably right, but Amia's heart told her it was already too late.
Solus came to her that evening with a wry smile. "I shouldn't be here." But he kissed her and pressed a small stem of white mallow blossoms into her hand.
"I'm glad you came."
And so he did. Every few months, he asked for Amia, and even though there were always grumblings of disapproval, nobody confronted their champion. His visits were rare. They could grant him this one, small indulgence. Amia knew his heart was in his duty and learned to be content with the time she did have with her big, gentle soldier.
…
"That's five!" Olaia crowed, slapping down her cards. "Take them off, boys."
Io and Mairus both groaned as they dutifully wriggled out of their trousers.
"Down to your underpants," she laughed. "One more round and you're scurrying to your tents with your bits in a bucket."
Io's trousers struck her in the face. "You're cheating."
Olaia threw his trousers aside and dealt a new hand. "If by cheating you mean I'm better than you, Smelly Britches, then yes, I'm definitely cheating."
"Go easy on us," Mairus moaned.
"This is my last chance to trounce you at Spicy Fives before you go south for the year, and I am going to do exactly that."
She did win, and Io slunk off, complaining the whole way as the rest of the camp cheered and whistled at him.
Mairus hung back. Olaia couldn't help but notice the pleasant curve of his chest and the trail of dark hair that led downward. Once, he'd let her run her fingers down his front while his tongue tangled with hers in the dark behind a firechoke pine. He'd slipped his hand down her trousers too.
An unpleasant sting rose in her throat when she remembered how he'd ignored her the next morning. He'd gone north to Kikwit, and she'd gone deeper into the mountains. They'd never spoken of that night again.
But here, now, he was naked in her tent, and she hadn't won all the rounds, so she was in her undergarments, and he was smiling at her. Gods she wanted to kiss that mischievous smile.
"You're going to drop by Anjul, right?" she asked.
"Of course. And I'm going to stuff myself with Malea's brown bread and date preserves."
"If you're trying to make me jealous, it's working."
"I heard you're off to scout the old keep tomorrow."
"Left some supplies there the last time we were down this way. I thought I'd take the new kid, Rana. Let him get used to scouting."
Mairus' eyebrows rose. "You think it's safe? We saw soldiers camped down in the valley."
"Io said it was a small camp, twenty at the most." She scoffed. "It's like they're not even trying anymore. Anyway, we'll stick to the game trails. They never use those."
"Well," Mairus sighed. They stared at each other and looked away, the silence growing longer and more awkward.
Finally, Olaia reached out and brushed his fingers with hers. "I'll miss you, you big oaf."
Mairus smiled and squeezed her hand. "So will I." Grimacing, he added, "Can I put my underpants back on?"
"Rules are rules. You lost. You can't get dressed until you're back in your tent."
"Gods, I hate Spicy Fives."
…
Amia's sparsely decorated cell was emptier than usual. Solus noticed the chest at the foot of her bed, already packed and fastened shut.
"You're leaving."
She turned to him. "Mother Soria told me you spoke with her. You did this."
"I…" He shifted uncomfortably in his dark, formal kaftan. It felt so tight around his throat, he wondered if Anatus had measured him incorrectly on purpose, a passive-aggressive reminder of his disapproval. He wasn't looking forward to enduring unnecessary festivities in a kaftan that was trying to strangle him. He hated everything about this day and it had only just begun.
"I am sorry," he finally said. "Did she give you the gold?"
"I don't want gold!" Amia had never raised her voice like that to him. It felt like a slap in the face.
A slap he more than deserved. He wished she would strike him, give him the kind of pain he was used to.
"Take it. Buy your family a comfortable life."
Her bottom lip trembled as she approached. "Will you at least give me a kiss before you send me away?"
He stopped her with a hand. "I can't. I'm promised to another." Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he brushed a tear away. "I should not have favored you. You have been kind and gentle, and I have repaid you with promises I cannot keep."
"You didn't promise me anything," Amia whispered. "We both knew…" Her voice failed her. She inhaled shakily and let it out, squaring her shoulders. "I already have a soldier waiting for me. And I will serve the goddess until she decides it's time for me to see him again."
Solus held her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers, wanting to tell her words he dared not say. They would only hurt her more. Another woman was preparing herself to marry him at midday. Olaia might hate him, but if he refused her, she would die. He owed her a life.
A heavy price to pay.
"I did not intend to be so cruel," he whispered. "I shouldn't—"
"Don't." Amia stopped him with a finger on his lips. "I don't regret you. And I hope…" She looked down. "I hope you don't regret this."
He lifted her chin. "I will never forget you."
Amia held back her tears with a smile. "And I will try to forget you."
…
The wilding girl approached the altar with daggers in her eyes, small and wild and hungry for blood. If she knew—if she knew what he had done for her…
She'd still try to kill you and piss on your tomb.
The tināan gently nudged him and nodded at his betrothed. Ashamed by his irreverent thoughts, he stoically tugged the blue cord from Olaia's waist and replaced it with a red one. Glaring at him, she fastened his cord around him so tightly it nearly cut him in half. He was hers now.
Dear goddess, he hoped she was worth it.