answer. How could she?
“We have no choice,” Halide said to Flint after a moment. “We must arrest them.”
“The queen…” Anguish filled Flint’s voice. “This will break her heart.”
The final flush of the orgasm sent rolling quivers through Solstice’s body. She wrapped her legs more tightly around Grip, burying her nose against his neck. Of all the Temple Virgins with whom she could honor the goddess, the one man forbidden her was the king’s second-in-command—and his cock was still solid within her.
“Lady Solstice,” Sergeant Halide said. “How could you?” He spoke to her like he was speaking to a bad dog. “I thought you adored Queen Sureya.”
Solstice could do nothing but close her eyes to her friend’s disappointment. She’d taken such pride in her reputation. Letting that pride go, even to save her world, hurt her heart almost as much as enjoying the pleasures of the flesh while excluding She Who Listens.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Grip said, his voice a near whisper. He shifted his body so that the crushed velvet of the settee brushed the backs of her naked thighs. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Grip,” she whispered, swallowing her tears. “Don’t apologize. I asked for this. Just—” She choked on the words. “Just stay with me. Help me see this through.”
“I will.” He touched her face. “You know I will.”
The clattering of a third set of boots from the back of the room interrupted them. To Solstice, it sounded like the boots were ascending stairs she hadn’t known were there.
She wasn’t the only one who was puzzled. “Where do those stairs lead?” Flint asked Halide.
Halide shrugged. “Never used them.”
Solstice glanced at Grip, but he shrugged too, his eyebrows lifted.
“See to it,” Halide told Flint. Halide put his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Unsheathing his dagger, Flint walked toward the stairs on quiet feet.
“Who are you?” Flint demanded. Solstice could see the hood of the blue-robed figure as he approached the landing. Was that a trader’s robe he wore? Why would a trader be here, now? “Name yourself!”
But the stranger turned the curve to the landing in silence. He blinked against the light and then examined the room as if he sought something—or someone.
Flint stepped behind him and held his dagger to his back, but he didn’t touch him. “Stop right there,” he said.
The stranger stood, looking fierce. Anger hardened the muscles of his jaw, and his brow was tight. His skin might have been white once, but the sun had turned it to honeyed gold, and his hair glinted with the same hue as the afternoon sun. He held a dagger in each hand, and he carried his tall form with dangerous grace.
“Did a man just enter this room?” he asked.
The Temple-trained part of her recognized his rugged beauty before her heart recognized his face and voice. Then she froze. “Axel,” she said. “Axel de la Couere.”
“Solstice?” he said. He sounded like he didn’t quite believe his eyes, and something in his hard gaze softened. “Is that truly you?”
She pulled herself from Grip’s embrace, suddenly aware of her nakedness. The soldiers would be oblivious to her unclothed form, but Axel…Once he had thought she’d abandoned the true faith of the One God for the harlot goddess, and he hadn’t seemed inclined to forgive her.
She moved away from Grip, although any fool could see they’d just honored She Who Listens together, and she reached for her gown. “Yes,” she said, sliding into her silk dress. “It is I.”
She had the feeling he was about to bow, but the soldier interrupted. “Lady Solstice,” Sergeant Halide said. He moved toward her, ignoring both Grip and Axel. “You are under arrest for honoring a man forbidden to you.”
“I—” She flashed a glance at Axel. Anger had flushed his light skin, and his lips were tight. For a moment, her heart raced. He still loved her!
But then she saw the scorn she remembered and realized she’d been wrong. He felt nothing but disgust.
“And whoever, you are, sir,” Sergeant Flint said, turning toward Axel. “You’re under arrest too.”
“You can’t arrest me. I—” But Axel shut his mouth and nodded tightly.
“You’re under arrest for trespassing in the queen’s palace.”
“Very well.” Axel sheathed his daggers. “However, I’d like to speak with your queen.”
Halide gave a snide laugh, his dark skin glinting in the afternoon sun. “Oh, you’ll be doing that very soon.”
2
Solstice recognized the room to which Sergeant Flint led her, recognized the lush handwoven carpets from Tedresi, recognized the rich paintings on the walls and the assorted settees throughout the room—but nothing looked the way it should. The carpets were red and gold; the paintings were oversized and vibrant, but something wasn’t right. Fighting a growing panic, she scanned the room, looking for the cause.
“You may wait here,” Sergeant Flint said. His voice was colder than the floor under her bare feet, and with a jolt, she understood what had changed: her place in her world.
“Thank you.” Even her voice had changed. It used to carry gracious authority, and now it trembled. And she had done this to herself.
“Queen Sureya will be here shortly.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
“Flint?” she asked. What had happened? What had she done to herself? “Sergeant Flint?” she asked again, using his formal name.
“What?” He stopped and looked at her. The disbelief and dismay she’d seen in his eyes when he’d found her in Grip’s embrace was gone. Now she saw nothing, no emotion, no respect or empathy. He had shuttered himself away from her.
Aware of the cold sweat covering her body, Solstice realized she’d be lucky if the rest of Marotiri’s citizenry behaved so well. They’d all hate her. They’d all spurn her. She’d forsaken their beloved queen.
For a heartbeat, a memory sucked her back in time. She remembered telling Axel, her childhood friend and almost-sweetheart, that she’d heard the voice of She Who Listens. She had chosen this new goddess over the staid One God. Axel had gone from loving her to hating her as quickly as Flint had—and as unjustly. In fact, more unjustly. She was counting on Flint to disparage her. It was part of her plan.
“What do you want?” Sergeant Flint asked. Impatience laced his voice.
“That man who came up the back stairs?” she asked slowly. “Axel de la Couere?”
“What about him?” His tone was so cold.
“Why is he here?” She shook her head, knowing the question wasn’t quite right. “Why did he come now?”
Sergeant Flint snorted. “You’re in no position to ask questions.” He started toward the door again.
She swallowed her pride. “And Lord Grip?” she asked his retreating form. “Where is he?”
“It doesn’t matter. He won’t save you and neither will I.” He reached the door. “I leave you to the queen.” Flint closed the door then…and locked it.
The metallic sound of the key in the door unhinged the fear she’d locked in her heart, and she began to shake. Solstice was a prisoner. If Sergeant Flint felt her betrayal so strongly, what would her queen think? What would her dearest friends in court think?
She already knew what Axel thought.
The