Vestal Venom - Part 9

Cele awoke in his chambers to the sound of servants placing the wash tub on the cool stone. His eyes were heavy. He had gotten to the comfort of his bed late, conversing with the king long after the slave had left.

“My lord,”

A servant approached him with the calm aplomb that was instilled in all Ilysian servants.

“Your bath has been prepared.”

Cele threw the blankets from his bare body, knowing that if he remained under them any longer, he would likely submit to sleep once again. He placed his feet on the stone floor and gave himself a moment to acclimate to the pounding pulsation in his head. The general didn’t make a habit of hangovers, but nor was he a stranger of them.

“Fetch water and herbed vinegar.”

His voice was gruff with sleep, his eyes swollen with dehydration. He didn’t want to be in the presence of the Simonese princeling in that state, he thought to himself as he climbed into the wooden tub and submerged into the warm water. Headaches didn’t alter his ability to reason or delegate, but it certainly cut his patience and etiquette at its knees.

He took a deep breath as the water soaked into his muscles. He was tenser than he thought. Perhaps because of the hangover, but more plausibly because of Prince Heiko.

Cele didn’t need to explain that indulging in a sports event was not a normal occurrence during any sort of accord, forget one of peace. In fact, one could argue that it was a sign of disrespect. Sports were activities of competition and celebration. They were not appropriate for negotiations between two kingdoms who had been warring for centuries. And the general wished he could have laid blame in the prince’s immaturity. But even in his thoughts, he couldn’t put stock in it.

“My lord.”

The general started, vaulting from the battlefield back to his soapy tub. He did not need to look over to know it was his beautiful Carmen. Only she had the power to ground him so swiftly, so decisively.

She was draped in the celadon fabric traditional for the palace servants. It wasn’t a position she was born into, nor one given to her by the Delegate of Servitors, but none would question the general of the Ilysian armies bringing in such a beautiful specimen as a personal attendant.

“Mi amor.” Cele purred, adoring eyes skating over the planes of her prepossessing face. It was curtained by loose, umber curls that had escaped the simple hairpin. He relished the sight of her approaching, her dress shifting against her luscious and buxom body. She settled gracefully beside him, resting long, elegant fingers on the lip of the tub. “What news do you have for me?”

He placed his palm against her warm cheek, tenderly brushing his thumb over her jagged scar. He could feel the weight of her leaning into his touch.

“I overlooked the attendance of Prince Heiko. He was delivered a breakfast tray and a bath.”

“And he received both well?” Cele was almost too distracted to care, and she knew - she always did.

Taking his hand in hers, she adamantly set her honey eyes on him.

“He took a bath but refused breakfast.”

Only slightly discouraged by her dutiful adjustment, Cele slid further into the water and leaned his head back.

“He was drunk last night. Perhaps he has a sour stomach.”

“Three amphoras of wine were delivered,” Carmen agreed. “Two of which were emptied.”

“And was Baptist there when you delivered breakfast?” Cele asked her, reaching for a rag and running it over his shoulders.

She swatted at his fingers, confiscating it with the practiced ease one would have if they did this dance every night. And she and Cele certainly did.

“The boy did not return until this morning.”

Cele frowned.

“That late?”

Carmen’s gaze flitted up to the general’s.

“You’re worried.”

She sounded bothered, displeased, but Cele had always been oblivious to such things, since he rarely heard them from the women he favored. Especially from Carmen.

“You’ve seen the condition of the boy.”

“He’s a slave of Simo.” As a servant herself, she knew how to coat her words to make them less bitter. She didn’t take the time for this statement. “I hear they train young.”

Cele sighed, as if the idea was a punch to the gut, which disgruntled her even more. Noble men had transcendent values, because the things that belonged to them - their land, their legacy - would outlive their bodies. But the general had neither noble blood nor upbringing. In her experience, Carmen knew that meant he ought to have values of passion, and that would’ve been the case, had he not been educated in that cretinous temple university. Old priests equalizing the high and low born with knowledge would be the downfall of kingdoms. At least, that was her humble opinion. She couldn’t be too upset about it though - when Cele rose, he brought her along with him.

“Do not fret over him.” Carmen leaned closer to him to whisper those words in his ear, before nipping his lobe. “He has bathed and now sleeps on his master’s lap. I have ordered Dina to notify me when they are both prepared for the day.”

He hummed, taking her chin and guiding her lips to his.

“Allow me to accompany you today at the games.”

He hummed again, distracted by her, and it made her feel powerful. She deepened her kiss.

“Anything you wish, mi amor,” The general spoke when he pulled back from her to gaze deep into her eyes. After a moment, he grinned impishly and pulled her into the tub, a carnal coalescence of giggles and moans following close behind.