Margeurite is quiet as she digests that information. “Skies, I wish I could talk to her.”
“Do you have a divining trinket?” I ask.
Margeurite reaches under her shirt, pulling out a small golden locket in the shape of a star. She flicks it open, revealing a lock of fiery red hair.
“Then let me put you in the silver,” I say. “Let’s see if we can get a dream walking to her.”
Margeurite closes her hand around the trinket. Her voice is filled with a quiet sort of hope as she asks, “Are you sure you have the time?”
“I’ll make the time,” I say. “I should never be too busy to check in with my friends - I’m sorry that I have been recently.” I sigh and take her hand, squeezing gently. “I should have come to talk to you weeks ago.”
Margeurite gets to her feet, pulling me up with her. Her arms surround me in a gentle embrace as she says, “Make it up to me in the silver.”
As we part, I can’t help but notice the tears clinging to her eyelashes. She truly is beautiful when she cries. Maybe I can earn a happier kind of tear from her.
“Let’s go.”
It’s a short trip to her divining room, and as we enter, I realize how much I’ve missed this space. When we were searching for Isa, we spent so much time in here. Between Margeurite, Allis, and I, we made it comfortable, dragging in a couple chaises, a few soft blankets, and glow globes. Coming back now after such a long break feels nice.
“How long do you want to go?” I ask.
Margeurite sheds her gown, the fabric sliding down her smooth skin as she glances over a bare shoulder at me. “Long enough to get a dream walking.”
I step towards her, one hand trailing over her waist. I gently tug her against me, enjoying the way her breath hitches.
“Then I’ll make it happen. I’ll check in every hour until you’re ready.” I walk her back between the pillars as I darken my tone. “And then I’m going to go a quarter hour longer just to bedamnsure.”
Margeurite shivers as she nods her eager agreement. I grin as I place a hand against the pillar, coaxing the silver to wash over her feet. It covers her in a slow wave, but I pause as I reach her neck. I kiss her gently, teasing at the crease of her lips until she parts them for me. It’s a slow, gentle thing, moving without an ounce of haste.
For a second, I imagine what the Crux would be like if she really did leave. No late-night talks discussing what we’d seen in the silver, no stargazing with her and Allisande, no moonlit card readings. None ofthis.
I stroke down her waist, feeling the trembling warmth of her skin under my palms. I don’t want to lose this. Lose her.
I’m going to make up for everysecondthat I’ve neglected her.
Without breaking the kiss, I reach for the pillar again. The silver slides between our lips, and Mags makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan as it encases her.
When I pull away, I see the shape my lips left against hers. I kiss down her neck, circling behind her before I move lower. Since we don’t have a time constraint, I build her up slowly,teasing with lips and ghosting fingers. I finger comb her hair, smoothing it into loose knots that I tie around her horns. I trace the base of each one, relishing in her quiet whimpers before I move further down.
My tongue maps out the hollow of her throat, the swell of each breast. In the time we’ve been casting together, I’ve learned plenty about what she likes, but I feel like there is always more to discover. I move with that goal in mind, earning a squeak of surprise as I gently nip the skin over Mag’s stomach.
When I finally check my pocket watch, I’m surprised to see that an hour has already passed.
I pull the silver from her mouth, and she draws in a shuddering breath. She’s quiet for a moment, like she’s pulling herself back from very far away. Then, finally, “Keep going.”
Before she can close her mouth, I fill it with the silver again and store my watch back in my pocket. Time has ceased to matter. Here, there’s no looming deadlines, no uncertainties. It’s bliss to let go of it all and narrow my focus to the one thing I have full control over.
Margeurite is weightless as I adjust her position, spreading her legs wide before I bend her at the waist. When we first started casting, I remember being shocked at the extent of ovisari flexibility. I don’t dare put her into any of the punishing poses Allisande enjoys moving her through, but her quiet moan tells me she enjoys the gentle stretch.
I guide her arms out in front of her before leaving them extended. She looks like a doll that’s been posed and forgotten. With the silver coating her porcelain skin, her lips still parted from our kiss, she looks unreal, and I can’t help but slide my fingers between her wide-spread legs.
A moan gusts out of her as I trace the shape of her. I coat my fingers with oil to ease my way, fingers squeezing gently on either side of her clit as I toy with her.
The slow build of her pleasure is easy to hear. Her whimpers get more frequent, more desperate. I play her like a harp, though I don’t think one ever sounded quite as sweet as her breathless sounds of pleasure.
The silver starts to dance, but I pull my hands away. Margeurite moans prettily before she slumps, sinking back into the silver’s embrace. It sends chills of arousal through me, but I push that need aside.
This is about Mags, and the slow, torturous worship is all that she deserves.
