The Immortal Queen Tsubame: Awakening (7 page)

Devdan wasn’t having it.

“You wanted my opinion about Marcel so badly? Well now I’m giving it to you. I don’t trust him, and I think you should break whatever it is between you before it gets too far,” he said simply.

Blunt, abrasive, straightforward, they were all words MaLeila had used to describe Devdan. He hated tiptoeing around topics and was always willing to draw attention to the elephant in the room if needed. But in all her time knowing him, MaLeila couldn’t remember a time where he was this forward. Usually he tried to be somewhat gentle with her, only saying what he truly thought if she pestered and pried it out of him because when it came to her at least, he tried (and usually failed) to be nice.

Once MaLeila got over her shock though, it gave way to anger.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You wanted to know.”

“I wanted to know six weeks ago! I wanted to know before I even got involved!”

“You didn’t say all that. You didn’t give a time frame. You just said if I told you not to, you wouldn’t. So now I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I think it’s ridiculous that you wanted me judge the guy’s character to tell you I didn’t think you should trust him when I hadn’t even talked to him,” Devdan pointed out.

“It’s never stopped you before or do I need to remind you that you greeted me when we first met by trying to put a hole in my head?” MaLeila snapped, trying to keep her voice down. Bastet would probably hear Devdan and MaLeila arguing and go back to what she was doing, but her brother didn’t need any reason to get into a confrontation with Devdan and possibly end up hurt.

“That was different.”

“Please. Tell me how. I’m waiting.”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is something’s off about him.”

“And you learned this from exchanging two sentences at the table.”

“No. I spent an hour in the kitchen with him. Of course we talked,” Devdan deadpanned.

MaLeila must have missed that when she was looking at the pictures of Marcel and his sister.

“Then please. Do tell me what’s off.”

“He knows you too well.”

MaLeila rolled her eyes. “That’s the point of dating, Dev. To get to know someone.”

“No,” Devdan said. “He knows things about you that you can only know through living with you every day. Either that or they’re incredibly shrewd. Sorry if an incredibly shrewd council representative who just happened to like you makes me suspicious.”

“Or maybe he’s just a good guy? Maybe he’s just attentive and caring.”

“How would you know that? You’ve only known him for two months.”

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s open? Maybe because he’s not afraid to let people in. Maybe because he’ll talk to me. Maybe because unlike you, he doesn’t give mixed cues and then act like a jealous bastard when I decide not to deal with it anymore,” MaLeila snapped.

It was the first time MaLeila had openly spoke about her suspicion that Devdan might like her more than he allowed himself to let on. MaLeila always hinted at it, alluded it to it in the hope that Devdan might just tell her himself and in fear that if she said it, he might up and leave again. But MaLeila didn’t care if he left or not at the moment.

With those words though, the chemistry that was always between them filled up the room and became too much, aura’s flaring, pushing and pulling them together until their lips were on each other’s. There was nothing gentle about their kiss or their hands as they roamed each other’s body in passionate frustration. They exchanged open mouthed kisses as though it were possible to devour each other, tongues fighting for dominance until like in most things, Devdan stopped fighting her and instead guided her tongue into his mouth, helping her to explore it. It was nothing like the fake kisses they’d shared to distract an enemy or blend in or divert attention away from them in magic conflicts amongst non-magical people. It was enlivening and electric and made MaLeila feel whole, like this feeling was what her soul had been looking for her entire life yet she hadn’t know she was missing anything.

For the second time that night, MaLeila felt like her clothes were too constricting, especially the more Devdan balled her shirt up in his hand and tugged on it like he might tear it off her. Some primal part of her wanted him to tear it off, to strip her of all her clothes, and fuck her until she forgot why they had been fighting in the first place, why they had ever wasted time bickering.

Finally, they had to come apart to breathe and as they looked at each other, MaLeila remembered all the reasons that she was angry with Devdan, everything that had led to this moment. As much as she wanted to forget about it and let Devdan have his way with her and vise verse, she couldn’t.

“You don’t get to do this with me. You don’t get to fuck me as a way to keep me from getting in your head because you don’t want me to. If you want that, go to wherever bar it is you go to for a drink and a cheap thrill. I won’t be one of them,” MaLeila snapped.

Devdan looked mildly surprised by her words, which MaLeila was only too happy to elaborate on.

“Yes I know that when you leave here you go find some shallow girl who only cares that you’re hot and fuck her for a night because that’s much safer, that’s much less scary than facing me when I get too close, when you’re afraid you might just let me in and be open with me.”

Devdan stared at her for a moment and then asked, “How did you know where I go?”

MaLeila decided to ignore that he conveniently didn’t address that she knew why he left and answered his question anyway, “Because I saw you. Last year. Nina snuck us into this bar and I saw you. You must have been totally drunk out your mind if you didn’t sense me.”

Devdan let out a sigh and his breathing returned to normal, his aura calming down and retreating, his usual serene and nonchalant expression replacing his angry glare.

“You think you want to know certain things, MaLeila. But you don’t.”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to face them.”

Again, Devdan didn’t reply to MaLeila’s comment, which said a lot more than if he’d replied at all.

“Just trust me on this.”

MaLeila wasn’t sure if they were talking about Marcel or about him, but either way she replied, “How can I?”

“You’re the one who said you trusted me.”

“I’m starting to wonder if it might be misplaced.”

8

As he thrust himself inside her with little concern about whether he was gentle, Tsubame rested her arms over his shoulder, wrapping them around his neck, fingers playing with the nape of his hair, face buried in his shoulder as she let out gasping moans. Her naked breasts bounced up and down with the force of his thrusts and his hands gripped her thighs and butt to push and pull Tsubame back and forth to meet his thrusts.

“Fathi. I…. I…” Tsubame’s words were abruptly cut off as the tight knot that had formed in her pelvic regions released, causing her to cry out as the release travelled through the rest of her body, head falling backwards as she rode the high.

He continued to thrust in her a while longer until finally he grunted in her ear, calling out the name of his god as he released inside her. She rested against him as they both stayed still to recover. Then Fathi pulled out of her and shifted them so they were lying on the bed next to each other. Eventually, he fell asleep next to her, and Tsubame idly began using magic to collect water into different shapes in the air.

It had taken her a month to get to this point, certainly not the longest time it had taken her to get a man to fall in bed with her, but certainly not the shortest. She could have done it faster, but Fathi was a warrior. He enjoyed the thrill of the fight, didn’t truly like things that came easy to him. After that first encounter with him in his room, she continued to serve him for a week until one day she went to pour his tea and feigned discovering that it was cold. When she went to leave to warm it, assuring him that she’d return quickly, he stopped her when he spoke to her for the first time and told her there was an easier way for her to do that if she wanted. It was then he revealed magic to her. There were many ways to react to that. Some might have thought it would be more realistic to cower from the idea in fear, but since Fathi admired her bravery, she didn’t shy away from the magic even though she did act surprised.

“What’s this?” she asked.

And so began his teaching her about magic. Most of it she already knew, about how to extend the magic inside her as a feeler to manipulate the magic in the air around them and therefore manipulating the forces that the magic around them resided in. Once he seemed comfortable around her, she told him that she was a healer and asked about the injury that kept him away from all other prying eyes. It turned out to be a bad sprain in his leg, one that he’d had for a while but ignored, causing it to get progressively worse until his leg swelled after a fight and he was barely able to walk on it.

She impressed him with her healing, not from the herbs she mixed to soothe it, but the way she incorporated magic into her healing. After two weeks of serving and being in his company in private, he finally stopped taking meals to his room and joined the rest of his comrades in dining hall. He was a discreet man, so unlike Ahmed, who requested whatever servant that may have caught his attention at the time to serve him, Fathi wasn’t particular about her serving him during meals. Still though, how at ease she was with serving him compared to the other servants showed. While most of his comrades dismissed it, Ahmed certainly noticed; not in any of her mannerisms, but she made sure to give the man cues through a subtle flare and pulsing of her aura when she was around Fathi. That alerted Ahmed both to her magic and to her supposed affinity for Fathi.

Even with their discretion, rumors began to go around amongst the servants and naturally that information circulated to the soldiers. Tsubame was only mildly concerned about them because the rumors could either work in her favor or set her back. The rumors could simply spur his anger, and make him decide to act and give everyone something to talk about since they wanted to talk so much and would talk anyway. Or Fathi could let the rumors get to him out of embarrassment and her work getting next to him would be undone; and though she would certainly be able to fix it, she’d rather not have to deal with any unnecessary setbacks or unneeded drama. It was always hard to exactly pinpoint with men like Fathi. Either way though, she would get what she wanted. And who knew? Sometimes setbacks worked out better for her than her original plans ever did.

Eventually it came to head one evening, when Tsubame brought him a paste that was specially made from her herb garden and enhanced using magic.  Though Fathi had come out of isolation from his room, his leg was still giving him trouble. When she set to put the paste on it, he pushed her away and grumbled that he’d do it himself. She insisted that she’d do it for him, choosing to ignore his bad mood and quickly going through all the ways that she could possibly quell him and bring herself back into his favor if her prior manipulations had been undone by the rumors among the servants and soldiers about him. When he pushed her away again, she decided that the best course of action was to ask him what exactly was wrong with him so she could decide how to manipulate him next.

For a long time he said nothing, and Tsubame started to ask her question again when he suddenly grabbed her, and the next thing she knew, he was kissing her, tugging off her clothes, and fucking her with no real concern about being gentle with her. She didn’t fight him. Part of manipulating anyone was letting them think they were in control, that she was being submissive to them when in reality, she was the dominant one. He even offered an apology for being so violent with her later to which Tsubame admitted that she’d experienced worse before. She didn’t clarify whether she meant sexually or otherwise, choosing instead to leave it to interpretation. It was always better to let people interpret things the way they wanted. That way when things blew up in their face, she was never the liar.

That first encounter had been a week and a half or so ago and since then, the sex had been okay. Not the worst she’d ever had and certainly not the best, but it served its purpose. Now it was time to implement the next stage of her plan.

“You’ve certainly taken very easily to using magic,” Fathi suddenly said.

Tsubame pretended to lose her concentration in surprise at him being awake. She let go of the magical grip she had on the water and let it fall on her. Fathi laughed next to her, and because she couldn’t bring herself to fake a blush no matter how hard she tried because hardly anything truly embarrassed her anymore, Tsubame poked out her bottom lip in annoyance before collecting the water again and creating a fine mist.

“You may even be able to rival the nigger witch.”

Tsubame paused manipulating the water, eyebrows furrowing in wonder.

“Who?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t have heard of her, but she’s infamous in the magic community; a sorceress who became the heir of one of Europe’s most famous sorcerers. Rumor has it she took to magic quickly, much like you have.”

“So she’s a sorceress?” Tsubame asked. “Then why call her a witch? Didn’t you say there was a difference?”

“There is. But that’s what everyone calls her.”

Tsubame frowned. She was well aware of the differences between a witch and a sorceress. Witches and wizards were hardly more than non-magical people who could limitedly manipulate magic by casting spells and charms with a wand. Sorcerers could do everything a witch and wizard could do and then some without incantations and without a wand. Most of them had staffs or some item to channel their magic through, but a sorcerer’s magic wasn’t just spells and moving items around the room. At its weakest, a sorcerer’s magical talent was the ability to align themselves with a specific type of magic under either yin or yang, and at its strongest it was the ability to manipulate the very fabric of the universe under either sign. To knowingly demean a sorceress by calling her a witch was more than an insult. It was purposefully denying her true potential.

Tsubame was also well aware of the sorceress Fathi was talking about. Not only had her first encounter with a sorceress in this world been with the young girl, but even at her age, having barely even begun to tap into her full potential as a sorceress, Claude Thorne’s heir was famous and every measure was being made to keep her from ever living up to that potential. In a world ruled by sexist and misogynist men who thought the only thing a woman was good for was lying on her back, they would go to any measure to make sure she never became a threat to their power. The fact that she was black only gave the ruling magic powers added incentives.

Before Tsubame could ask any more about the girl, Fathi told her that he would be leaving in a few days and wasn’t sure when he would come back only that he was going to. Tsubame didn’t need his assurances, nor was she surprised he was leaving. She had known eventually Ahmed would send him away. It was part of her plan.

Once Fathi left, all she had to do was wait. Only a day after Fathi left, Saha told her Ahmed requested that she serve him at dinner. She did so clinically, ignoring the way he leered at her and unnecessarily touched her like he touched all the servants he asked to serve him. It was that very evening that she was summoned to bring him tea, and upon hearing it Tsubame was almost disappointed that the man hadn’t made it more challenging.

There was something about someone else finding use or value in something that made a person who hadn’t been interested in it in the first place want it, especially when their friend had it. Ahmed was no different. He hadn’t even glanced twice at her when she was brought to the compound, preferring girls that were barely even teenagers to accompany him and was content to let anyone else have their way with her. Once Fathi began to show interest in her all the other soldiers backed off, but it had the opposite effect on Ahmed. Rather than losing interest in her, the more time she spent with Fathi, especially after it became obvious she was spending most of her nights with him, the more Ahmed’s interest rose. Tsubame had been very aware of the way he now looked at her when she came to serve during the meals, how his hand twitched every time she walked by because he was itching to touch her. There was just something about not being able to have her that made him want her more. It wasn’t that she was necessarily forbidden. Ahmed was their leader and could do whatever he wanted, but Fathi was his second, his right hand man, and the last thing he wanted to do was piss him off by taking to bed the first woman he’d shown interest in having for an extended period of time. Now Ahmed thought he could have his way with her since Fathi was gone because even if the man did find out, at least he’d been discreet.

After she set the man’s tea out, Ahmed asked her to stay and gestured for her to sit on the bed. As Tsubame watched him drink his tea, her mind began to wander in boredom, something she rarely allowed herself to do because every second she spent with idle thoughts was a second she could be spending observing and perfecting her plans. But there wasn’t much more that needed planning. Now was a waiting game, and because she was forced to wait in the confined spaces of where she was allowed to go in the compound, she was growing restless.

Finally Ahmed gestured for her to come sit in his lap. She did so slowly, feigning hesitancy until when she was finally within his reached he snatched her to him and pulled her into his lap. He began to run his hand slowly up and down her back, then he used a finger to trail a finger down her cheek, the side of her neck and to her collar bone. Then he opened the front of her dress and pulled it down to her waist, exposing her breasts. He gently caressed them at first and then pinched her nipples. She retreated from his touch, an action that angered him because suddenly he put his hand in her hair and balled his fist tightly in it before forcing her to look at him.

“Don’t resist me,” he said.

Tsubame nodded and continued to let him have her way with her, trying to make sure to find a balance between coerced submission and not making the encounter seem too easy. It wasn’t too hard since by nature she wasn’t one to submit to anyone she didn’t want to, and even when she did submit, she either wanted to do what she was submitting to anyway or was feigning submission when she was really the one in control. Thus she resisted twice more, once when she turned her head aside when he tried to kiss her and once more when he told her to open her legs.

Before she had ever made her move on Fathi, Tsubame’s observations had not only been limited to seeing who was in charge, it had also been about observing their culture, how men and women related, how the men in charge saw the women who served and laid down with them. It was clear that women were seen as objects, something to be owned and used at a man’s whims. It was with this knowledge that Tsubame had chosen Fathi as her target, knowing that Ahmed’s attention would soon follow, knowing that Ahmed would take her as soon as his second was out of sight. And as an object, with no true will of her own and no desires except the ones given to her by men, Fathi would never blame her. Be angry? Yes. Blame her? No. The blame would lie solely with Ahmed, where the cracks in the working relationship between the chief and his commander would be exacerbated until they shattered.

Tsubame had seen the thin cracks when she first got there and learned more as she spent time with Fathi. As a man who respected courage first and strength later, Fathi, while acknowledging respecting Ahmed’s strength, saw his leader as little more now than a coward who was afraid to lose his power, but whom he owed a debt to and would give his life to. But debt weight on people in these types of situations. Where everything a person owned belonged to their benefactor; where nothing ever truly belonged to the debtor unless their benefactor allowed it; and even when the benefactor allowed it, he could always take it away; that when a person left, the benefactor could take or repossess the debtor’s acquisitions at will; like Ahmed planned to do as he pleased with Tsubame while Fathi was gone.