Seeds of a Glowing Ember – 07
#8 of Seeds of a Glowing Ember
Once more the light of the sun was upon them, and though it was covered in gray clouds, Lana knew she needed to stay in her room. The tumbling of her mind caused her to tousle back and forth in her bed. What is Mother scheming? _ The question repeated and the answers were uncertain and strange. Occasionally, a strange set of feet would pass by her room, bringing new questions as well. _Are we moving to a new place? Is Mother gathering her strength for a new plot? Who is this dark lover which she has selected for me? Is he one of Mother's old lovers or part of some seductive new game being played so that we will have the money to get away from this place?
The noise in her mind was deafening, and neither covering her ears nor closing her eyes could stop it. After much frustration, she focused on her friend, and reached out with her feelings to the place where she felt she might be. Then there was a gentle feeling of joy inside of her body, and before too much time passed, a knock attended her door.
Flying out of bed, Lana sailed through the air, slid back the bolt, and pulled hard on the iron handle. A squeal of delight filled her as she brought her friend inside. "It worked!" she told Marion. "I brought you to my door with my mind!"
"I thought I heard you call me," the blond servant called with a smile. "Well done."
"Isn't it wonderful?" Lana asked with a giddy bounce. "I'm becoming more like Mother every day!"
"I think you should work to become more like you," the young maid told her after a slight twitch.
"Oh, Marion," Lana giggled, "Mother is not bad, she's just scary!"
"Of course, Mistress,"Mariontold her in a way which brought a pout to the young noble's face.
"Fine," Lana said as she rolled her eyes, "so what are our guests up to?"
"The old man is reading while the younger man sleeps." There was a pause as Lana expected to hear more but her friend was strangely quiet about saying more.
"And?"
"It is hard to say, Mistress,"Mariontold her. "The old man is a priest ... and I do not trust him, but the younger one is a better sort."
"Is he handsome?" Lana asked, and her friend gave a slight smirk. "Ohhh ... I knew it!"
"He is pleasing," the maid told her.
"Pleasing?" Lana blinked. "That's all?" She studied her friend's face and finally grew a sly smile. "Would you like him to bring you a gift?"
"Mistress!"Mariongasped.
"Well why not?" Lana asked her. "You have needs! If he meets them you could ... what's that you've got there?"
"His ... gift," the maiden said hesitantly.
"But-"
"It's for you," she said softly.
"Oh ... Marion ... I'm sorry," Lana said with her eyes fixed upon the small box in Marion's hands. She trembled as she took possession of the parcel and found her way to her art desk where she could open it. "Charcoal?"
"And ashes," Marion told her. "He is a Friar, after-all."
"I have not drawn with charcoal since I was a child," Lana reminisced.
"I wonder how he knew," Marion said quietly as her mistress heard only what she wished to hear.
"He will come to me then," Lana finally said with a mixture of excitement and sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Marion."
"Our arrangement provides me with what I need," the servant said bravely.
Lana closed the box and crossed the room to where her friend stood. "Don't you ever get tired of eating the same thing every day?" Lana's impish smile spoke her true meaning.
"Not at all," Marion said as she accepted the offer and moved forward into her mistress' personal space, "in fact I feel a bit pequiche."
Their lips met, and it did not take long for them to begin tasting with tongues the flavors of each other's skin. In moments their garments fell to the floor and they collapsed into the luxurious bed. Hands explored in familiar patterns as experienced lovers traveled to the places each knew the other desired. Neither hesitated in venting their frustrations and drawing what they needed. And when at last they shuttered and fell, Lana fell, at last, into slumber, and Marion composed herself, and then slipped out to return to her duties.