You want me to do what?”

“Shh! Terix, he’s in the next room.”

Terix lowered his voice. “With his cock in his hand, waiting? What in Hades gave you this idea?”

“It wasn’t my idea. It was his.”

Terix’s eyes bugged. “You’ve got to be joking.”

I shook my head. “He’s like that storm that hit us at sea. So much energy, tossing us about, and when we thought it was surely wearing itself out, up came another burst of energy and the storm began all over again.”

Terix’s face darkened. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”

“Not at all. My cunny should be chafed raw by now and my legs too bowed to close, but I seem to be recovering between the onslaughts.”

I was recovering strangely well, now that I thought about it. It had been three days since I lured Alaric into our own Garden of Eden, and he hadn’t shown any signs of ever wanting to leave. Metaphorically speaking, that is: we had moved indoors to his suite of rooms.

His duties were set aside, and all advisors, priests, and courtiers were denied admittance under the thin excuse that he was enjoying a “retreat for mental and spiritual refreshment.” Terix had confirmed for me, however, that everyone knew what Alaric was really doing: taking Lady Nimia to his bed.

Depending on the class of person, they may have phrased it a little less politely.

Alaric had led a semi-celibate life, but his imagination had thrived as a result. He had lived off the thin soup of sexual fantasies since a boy, and now that a rich banquet of willing female flesh had been laid before him, he was gorging as if terrified that someone would take it away from him the moment he stopped.

Maybe someone would. I suspected he feared himself more than any of his priests or advisors. If for one moment he let up, and allowed his sexual drunkenness to fade, his sense of morality might rear up and force him to step away from the table.

The result was that I had been taken more times in the past few days than in all my previous life together. His mentula showed staggering endurance, springing back to life after the briefest rest. I was bewildered that my cunny showed the same resilience: I knew from past experience that there were limits to how much it could take before the delicious slide of a rod within me turned to the grate of a pestle in a mortar.

An image arose in my mind: the chalice, filled with wine, honey, and blood, being lifted to my parched lips. The healing that the chalice had performed on me: was its power still flowing in my blood, repairing what small injuries came from these athletic joinings?

A shiver passed over my skin. This new power I had to influence Alaric sexually, had that come with the potion, as well?

Alaric’s ongoing devouring of me might be as much of my own making as his. I feared the return of his morality as much as I sensed that he did. I had had no visions since the first one, of the crown and swords: when my golden swarm came, perhaps I was using it to feed our passion, not to seek threads leading into the future. I may have used it to lock us in a mutual spell.

If so, it was time to break it.

. . . after this one last indulgence.

“What are you thinking?” Terix asked, his head tilted to the side. “You disappeared somewhere.”

I flashed an uncertain smile. “Impossible thoughts, not worth sharing.” I rolled my eyes toward the doorway behind me, letting him know they were thoughts I couldn’t risk having overheard. I didn’t need the gift of prophecy to know that if any Visigoth heard me admit that I was using sexual sorcery to enchant their king, my life wouldn’t be worth the dregs in an empty cup of soured wine.

“And here I thought you’d reconsidered.”

I bit my lip. “Would you mind doing it, horribly?”

He pressed his fingertips to the space between his brows and closed his eyes, sighing. “No, I wouldn’t mind fucking you, Nimia.”

“Even with Alaric watching?”

“Even with.” His voiced sounded strained and unhappy.

“I know your thoughts are all for Audofleda, no matter how you joke about the women here at court. . . .”

He dropped his hand and stared at me, his lips parted as if about to say something. He shook his head, as if stopping himself. “Why me? Any man would be happy to lodge himself between your thighs.”

“There’s no one else who can be trusted never to speak a word of it. No matter what Alaric might do in private, he cannot have such an act spoken about in public. His people would be upset.”

“I still can’t believe he can admit to wanting this.”

“Admit to? That’s the part that surprises you?”

Terix chuckled. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know that men like to imagine their women being taken by others.”

“B-but . . . why?” I didn’t get any joy out of imagining Clovis or Alaric with another woman.

“Jupiter’s balls, Nimia, I don’t know. It just is. Imagining it gives a man an axe in his breeches he could cut down an oak tree with. He can barely wait until the other man is done chopping, to get in there and start throwing his own wood chips.”

“I feel sorry for the tree.”

Terix slanted a leering look at me. “Are you sure?”

I laughed, but my cunny tingled. Truth was, ever since that unexpected afternoon with both Clovis and Ragnachar, I had fantasized about being with more than one man at a time, and of having one after another pump his passion and his seed into my passage until I was slick with their spent desires.

I had never guessed that there was an answering fantasy in men, wanting to see it happen.

Nor had I ever guessed I would act it out with Terix, of all people. I quirked my mouth. “Are you going be all right with this? I mean, we’re friends, not lovers. It’s going to be . . . strange.”

His jaw tensed, and he was silent for a few moments. Then he assumed a look of mischief and grinned, though the shadows in his eyes made me wonder if it was entirely sincere. “We’ve played such parts before—like when we did Priapus and Lotus—and this only takes the performance a little further. How does he want us to play it? Am I to ravish you? Are you to be a captive barbarian and me your new master?”

The reminder of our years playing parts together comforted me, and I relaxed a little. Surely we could do this without harming our friendship. It was a part to play, nothing more. “Nothing so exotic. He wants us both to look like we’re enjoying ourselves. That’s all.”

“Lots of moaning?”

“That should help.”

“I should probably cry out to his god a few times when I come.”

“He might like that. But about the coming . . .”

“Don’t tell me I can’t.”

“Oh no, you’re expected to. But he doesn’t want it to happen . . . behind the curtains, as it were.”

Understanding raised his brows. “So I’m supposed to pull out and spew on the sheets.”

“Er. On me.”

“Ass? Breasts? Face?”

“Whatever seems right to you at the moment. Just keep it out of my hair, if you could.”

“Right. So when do we do this?”

“If you’re up for it . . . now.”

Terix put his hands on his hips and frowned down at his crotch. “What say you, Augustus?”

“Augustus?”

“It’s his new name. Now shh, I’m listening.” He cocked his head. “What’s that? Only if Nimia sucks you first?”

I snorted, grabbed Terix’s wrist, and pulled him toward the doorway to the other room.