Free Clockwork Goddess (The Lesbia Chronicles) by Loki Renard Page A

Vix?"
     
    "Ordinarily Moon and I share... but when Trebuchet is in I just sleep wherever," Vix shrugged.
     
    Ayla's gaze snapped back to Kira. "She has no assigned bed?"
     
    "She's not truly part of the..."
     
    "Kira, your hospitality and stewardship both need work." Ayla gestured to Vix. "Come with me."
     
    Vix obeyed, glad to avoid Kira's wrath by sticking close to Ayla all the way back to the small but well appointed tent on the edge of the encampment. The noise of the brawl abated slightly with distance.
     
    "Have things always been this way in the armlette?" Ayla asked the question as she swept the front fold of the tent aside and gestured for Vix to enter.
     
    "Kira only values people who fight, and maybe people who heal. Anyone else is not important, unless they cook." Vix shrugged. "It has been this way for months. Trebuchet and Moon let me stay most of the time."
     
    "Most of the time?"
     
    "Sometimes I stay out, give them time alone. They don't get much of it."
     
    "Tonight you will take the bed," Ayla said. "It is time you had some comfort. Since we met I have seen you do nothing but fit yourself into crevices of convenience for everyone else."
     
    "I can't take your bed," Vix said. "Besides, I'm used to sleeping rough. Your bones are no doubt wearier than mine."
     
    "And what makes you think that?"
     
    "Well," Vix said, clearly racking her brains for a respectful way to comment on Ayla's advanced years. "You do not look it, of course, but you have...well..."
     
    "You think I am too old to forgo a bed?" Ayla laughed. "Then we will share it. There is room for us both."
     
    "I.." Vix did not seem to know what to say. "That's very kind, but..."
     
    "Take off your over clothes and get in." Ayla quirked a brow when Vix hesitated. "It is late and I do not have the patience for another argument. Please, get ready for bed."
     
    Vix watched as Ayla began to disrobe herself, removing her outer garment to stand in a pale silk slip which draped itself elegantly over the statuesque curves of her body. Never before had Vix been in such close contact with so beautiful a creature. During the journey from Ayla's home to the camp there had been a separation largely due to Liz being a pain in the rear at every turn. She had sucked every little bit of attention and air out of every moment. Vix was glad she seemed to have gone for the day, hopefully she would be gone a whole lot longer.
     
    "Is there a reason you are still not ready?" Ayla had folded a cloth and was dabbing it into the water dish on the stand beside the bed, then wiping it about her face and neck.
     
    "I..." Vix did not have words to express how small and out of place she felt, how unworthy of the attention. Ayla was kind to everyone, but she did not welcome everyone into her bed. Did it mean something? Or was she just being nice? Had Vix crossed the line from outcast to pitiful object of charity?
     
    "Getting into bed does not require this much thought," Ayla chided.
     
    Vix knew she was being silly, and overly shy. She shed her vest, but hesitated at the leggings. If she took them off, there would be nothing but the length of her undershirt to cover her... everything.
     
    "No leggings in bed," Ayla insisted. "You need not depend on modesty, I promise my aged fingers will not stray."
     
    "I didn't..." Vix lost her voice in the attempt to explain. She could never have told Ayla that feeling the touch of her fingers was beyond anything she could have hoped for. Instead she blushed and pushed her leggings down over her hips, then darted into bed before Ayla could see anything more than the flash of her bare behind.
     
    "If you do not wish to experience unpleasantness, I would refrain from speaking your mind to Kira quite so frankly," Ayla said as she finished her ablutions.
     
    "I doubt I will have cause to speak to her again." Vix pulled the covers up to her chin. "I do not usually cross paths with her, being a lowly peon of little