Chapter 21
A Body That Knows Only Shame
The scrape of a chair echoed through the banquet hall. Tarahan rose from his seat and walked over to Ninia. Bracing one hand on the table, he leaned over her.
“You seem completely unprepared. Maybe you need a tutor. How about a courtesan?”
He smiled into her eyes. Among noblewomen, the word courtesan was something to recoil from—a clear insult.
Even at the blatant mockery, Ninia only blinked slowly. She looked a little tense, perhaps uneasy, but not the least bit ashamed.
“If that’s what you wish.”
Her calm reply wiped the smile from Tarahan’s lips. Ninia was undeniably of noble birth, but she stood apart from the aristocratic class. To her, a courtesan and a lady of rank were merely women, all the same.
At the very least, she must know far more than I do, he thought.
Indeed, courtesans who entertained men would surely be well-versed in the field Tarahan was hinting at. Even in her nervousness, Ninia imagined how astonished he would be if he knew her thoughts.
“…Maybe you’re doing this on purpose,” he murmured.
He cupped her face in his calloused hand. His thumb slowly pressed against her lower lip, smearing the red rouge, the joint of his finger pushing past her lips. Startled, her tongue recoiled from the intruder.
But retreat only provoked him.
His thumb pinned her tongue. Saliva pooled beneath it. When his damp thumb scraped along her palate, the sensitive membrane tingled and gooseflesh rippled across her body.
Ninia could not even close her eyes; only the corners grew slightly wet.
“…Not as bad as I expected,” Tarahan muttered. Watching her tremble, unable even to swallow, was strangely satisfying.
The finger exploring her mouth slid free, and before her hot breath escaped, his lips seized hers.
A soft gasp escaped her.
Pain must have flared where he bit her lower lip, yet Ninia felt no hurt. The tongue invading her mouth was burning hot.
Her own tongue, lost and wandering, was caught and sucked. Tasting her saliva was like swallowing prey’s blood—nothing but ruthless consumption.
Slowly his lips withdrew. Her mouth throbbed, but it was her eyes that seemed most dazed. Her breathing, stolen moments before, came back ragged. To Tarahan, even her panting was part of the feast.
“Less disgusting,” he said, continuing his earlier thought. Ninia scarcely understood his words. He lowered his head to kiss her neck.
“Ah—” A short cry slipped out, and a red mark bloomed on her pale skin.
“Wait… please, wait.”
This was the banquet hall; servants still stood nearby.
Perhaps realizing something was terribly wrong, Ninia’s hand hovered in the air. Maybe she meant to push him away, but her fingers only opened and closed without even catching his collar.
Her helpless fluttering amused him.
In his memory he had never hunted something harmless. The weak and powerless were useless; why bother crushing what posed no threat? What did it matter, understanding the minds of those who did?
Yet watching Ninia shifted his feelings.
“You claim you know nothing?”
Then you shouldn’t know shame either.
His eyes seemed to say it, though whether she grasped the meaning was uncertain. This woman was quick-witted yet strangely oblivious.
Which was it now? Normally such a question would bore him, but at this moment it intrigued him.
I hadn’t meant to go this far.
The goddess was still something to curse, but those eyes of hers drew him in.
“…That’s—”
“If you dislike a tutor, there’s no helping it.”
Whatever excuse she tried to give, he had no intention of hearing it. Cruelty edged his smile.
“I’ll just have to teach you myself.”
The hand that had cupped her face stroked her soft cheek, then lifted away, along with the shadow that had engulfed her. Everything in her vision seemed to slow, like a languid melody—even his voice, sunk deep.
“Come to me. Anytime.”
His footsteps receded. Even after silence settled over the hall, Ninia could not rise for a long while.
The fierce heat of that first encounter did not cool, even by dawn.
At last the dark winter ended. The final snowfall ceased and heavy clouds parted, letting sunlight reach the earth.
The sun is shining…
Standing by her window, Ninia watched the light melt the lingering snow, revealing brown earth from which green shoots began to rise.
It was her first sunrise here. Seasons always turned, but facing spring after such a brutal winter felt new.
The sweet breeze seemed laced with the scent of fresh grass. Ninia stepped away from the window.
Time to go out.
In such weather a light shawl would do. Heavy coats always weighed on her shoulders and made her hunch, but today she could walk freely.
Carrying a borrowed book, she left her room.
Lately she visited the library every day—choosing books, studying until evening, and carrying them back to her room.
I never thought I’d be reading things like this. Strange, isn’t it?
In her arms lay an introductory medical text. Most of it she already knew, though that knowledge had always been wrapped in the goddess’s name.
Abrasion, minor wound—so even injuries have names.
In the temple, external cuts were called the demon’s claw marks, unseen pain the demon’s conception. There were words, but only vague ones.
Medicine, however, classified wounds in precise detail. Ninia found that fascinating.
Sometimes the new knowledge gave her a twinge of guilt, yet it also made her heart race.
The temple considered cutting into the goddess-given body one of the twelve great sins. Yet to truly understand the human body, dissection was necessary.
What does the inside of a body look like?
She had never seen a book with such detail.
Each time she entered the library she lingered over the anatomy texts, heart pounding, before pretending to look elsewhere. It had become a habit.
Even aside from the great sins, there were more than enough taboos—and Ninia had already crossed several.
At first she hadn’t realized how each step beyond the line sent a strange thrill along her skin, sometimes recalling the sensations from that banquet.
She whispered his name inwardly.
Tarahan.
That kiss had seemed capable of stealing everything away.
Perhaps it had been mere sport to him, but a small spark can become a wildfire. She now knew a sensation she should never have learned.
The taste of honey still lingered on her tongue.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the book. She bit her lower lip hard; the pain chased away the heat. Struggling to banish the sudden flush, she lifted her head.
They called this something like spring, she remembered Jernom saying.
Between the pillars of the path linking the main house and the library, the outdoors spread out before her.
It was not groomed like a noble’s garden nor bursting with the vivid life of a deep forest, yet it was beautiful.
“Lovely,” she murmured.
Her voice brushed the tender blades of grass that had pushed up two finger-widths, victorious over winter—perhaps lovelier than the luxurious garden of any god.
Could medicinal herbs grow here? I can’t tell yet, but maybe.
Looking beyond the frame of a world supposedly created by a god, she realized this was a new world entirely. Her steps grew lighter.
At the library she took a seat by a sunny window. Before long, books once labeled forbidden were stacked beside her.
She lost herself in study until dusk, when the butler came to find her.
“What is it?” Ninia asked, lifting her eyes from the page. Sebrus glanced at the titles on the table and stared at her as though she were mad.
Is it because he’s supposed to watch me?
A priest reading such things without a care—no wonder he looked at her strangely.
Since Tarahan had granted her free access to the library, she had been spared the butler’s scrutiny here, so his visit surprised her.
With a sigh, Sebrus finally spoke his purpose.
“His Excellency requests your presence.”
At those words, Ninia’s face stiffened. The inside of her parted lips felt suddenly dry.
