Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(65)

He would never forget how he'd stood there pretending to be busy piling empty baskets easily within the women's reach as Mikado waved a bright farewell to the little Wind Elemental. He thought he would stay there in the east and continue working, that perhaps later in the day he would catch a glimpse of her as she moved amongst the plants, but she'd had other ideas. When she'd realized he wasn't leaving with her, she'd marched right back to him and said, "I need you to stay with me. I would very much appreciate your help today."

"Of course, Empousa," he'd said formally, but the joy that had rushed through him hadn't been formal and he hoped she could see its reflection within his eyes. As they'd hurried away from Aeras and her women, Mikado's palla had fallen from her shoulders and snagged on a nearby rosebush. Deftly he had extricated it and then placed it back around her, letting his palms rest against the roundness of her shoulders until he felt the stinging burn of pain.

But when she smiled up into his eyes, he forgot the pain and remembered only the warmth of her skin against his hands. Little wonder the handmaidens' eyes followed them wherever they went. He couldn't keep his hands from her, and she . . . she smiled at him, often taking obvious pleasure in his company.

It had taken Mikado longer to inspect the southern section of the gardens. The roses were more ill there, though he didn't need to look at the plants to know that. Watching Mikado become grim faced and pale told him more than inspecting the rosebushes ever could.

Midday came quickly. He was readying a bed of wilting, multicolored roses called Masquerade for their baskets of fish entrails fertilizer when he caught the scent of food. He didn't look up when the women from the palace arrived with the midday meal. He kept working. The most uncomfortable part of the day before had been at exactly this moment. The women had separated into their little groups to talk and laugh and eat together - things that were denied him. He could guard them, but he would not be accepted by them, not enough to share a simple meal with them. Last night Mikado had granted him a great gift when she'd shared her table with him, and he silently cursed himself for ruining the evening.

He could hear the women breaking for the meal. They grouped around the fountains in the area, letting the garden's clear water wash their hands free of dirt. Their laughter came easily, and it mixed musically with the sound of the tinkling fountains. He wondered where Mikado was - probably in the middle of the laughter. She laughed readily, and the women of the realm responded well to her. He hoped she was busy, distracted enough that she would not notice him and see how they shunned him. He did not want her pity.

He knew one of the palace servants would soon find him and offer him food and drink - not because she wanted to, but because it was her assigned duty. Without looking around, he slipped from the rose bed in which he'd been working and headed toward the rose gate. A large tree sat near it, under which he could call its shadows to him and attempt to cloak himself from prying eyes. There he would rest and perhaps drink some of the wine the servant would offer him. Of course he was hungry, but he would not eat. He could not stand their stares. It was as if they expected him to fall to his haunches and tear at the food with his teeth. Perhaps he should! That would cause quite a stir amongst them. No . . . he stifled a weary sigh. It would cause nothing more than a reinforcement of their belief that he was, indeed, a mindless, heartless beast.

"There you are!" Mikado hurried up to him, a little out of breath. "Good thing you're so tall or I would never have found you out here."

He stopped and looked down at her. She was carrying a large basket. Her hands and face were wet, as if she had just washed, and as she smiled up at him she used a fold in her dirt-speckled chiton to wipe a trickle of water from her cheek.

"I completed readying the bed of Masquerade. What is it you would have me do next?"

"I'd have you eat!" She grinned, nodding at the well-laden basket. "I made sure this one had enough for both of us."

He wondered if she could hear the blood rushing in his veins, pumping shock and disbelief through his body. He drew a deep breath. When he spoke, he struggled to keep his voice low and for her ears alone.

"You should eat with the women, Mikado."

"No. They've already formed their little cliques. If I butted into one, it would just be awkward, kinda like eating with the boss who crashed a workers-only party. And as many orders as I've given them today, I'm sure they need a break from me. Plus, I'd rather eat with you," she finished simply.

"But it has never - "

"Stop!" she interrupted, causing several of the women's heads to turn their way. In a more sedate, but no less firm voice, Mikado continued. "I'm tired of hearing what hasn't been done before. I'm Empousa now and things are going to be different, and not just with the roses."

"As you wish, Empousa," he said, using comfortable formality to cover his turbulent emotions.

"Good. Let's go eat under that tree you disappeared beneath yesterday. I want to take another look at the gate anyway."

"As you say, Empousa." He began to walk toward the ancient tree that shaded the area near the rose gate, careful to shorten his stride so she didn't have to struggle to keep up with him.

When they got to the tree, he felt a rush of relief when he saw that no group of women had chosen to eat nearby. With a long sigh, Mikado sat and leaned her back against the wide trunk of the oak and gazed at the rose gate.