Her bed was empty every night.
Nobody knew except her mother, but the girl didn’t fear betrayal from her. She always stopped to kiss the woman before she left the house, reassured by the scent of lilies emanating from the portrait.
A sliver of dark moon lit the sky, and the overripe scent of dying lilies guided her to the giant gray stallion.
She smiled at the animal hidden in the avenue of peach trees.
Every night, she was tempted to ride him for a long spell before going into the Ancient Grove, but her anticipation for the pleasures the night would bring always stopped her.
The stallion left her at the edge of the woods, where he would always be in the morning, waiting to carry her home.
She always went the rest of the way on foot, winding her way through the trees until she came to the clearing. The giant boulder stood aside, the Gateway to the Caverns open to receive her, glowing from the torches lighting the way down.
The Sorcerer waited for her at the bottom of the spiral. He always had his cue in hand, standing before an easel with sketches illustrating the art of love.
Thus their time always began.
The sight of the old magician with lessons prepared had upset her the second night she came to him.
She had expected to see the Phantom of the Horse Trainer who had come as a Vagabond. It was the Phantom she wanted.
The memory of his touch tingled through her flesh all day, and she rode to the woods belly quivering.
She ran through the trees that first night, breathless when she stepped into the main chamber of the Caverns, only to meet the Sorcerer with pointer in hand, the covered easel behind him.
She stopped in her tracks, the heat in her blood suddenly chilled.
“Second rule of seduction,” he said, laughing at the look on her face.
“Keep your lover off balance. Never ever be predictable.”
He threw off the tapestry and revealed a sketch of a peculiar looking fruit, one she’d never seen before.
When she asked about it, the Sorcerer smirked and corrected her.
Then he pointed to a mirror he left for his pupil on the table and gave her first assignment. Her face burned once she understood.
“You must be joking,” she said.
“This is part of our agreement. What did you think I would be teaching you?”
The girl averted her eyes from the Sorcerer and his drawing.
“You must know your own body,” he said, “if you are to become a superior mistress.”
“Are you teaching me to be a courtesan? I never agreed to that.”
“Of course not, unless that’s what you choose.”
“What you’re suggesting is defilement,” she murmured.
The Sorcerer peered at her and the grooves along his brow dug deeper.
“I suppose that’s enough for tonight.”
He turned to the wall with shelves carved deep in the stone, bypassing the vials and cauldrons for the row of silver goblets and bottles of wine.
The Sorcerer took one of each and came back to the table.
He gripped the bottle with one hand, the cork popping in his fist, and out poured a red black stream into the goblet.
“But you need to understand such proper ways no longer serve you,” he said. “Assuming such ladylike virtues ever did.”
He held the wine out to her until she took it.
“Take some time to refresh yourself.”
The girl grew more at ease as soon as the Sorcerer disappeared into the maze of corridors.
The weight of the goblet felt good in her hand, the silver cool against her fingers. Taking a sip, she savored the lush warmth in her mouth and closed her eyes.
She thought of this assignment and flushed again.
What the Sorcerer wanted her to do was unthinkable. She took another sip and leaned back into the cushions.
Opening her eyes, she studied the sketch.
Then she glanced at the mirror and back to the sketch, wondering if the likeness of her was true.
“You always were a curious little minx.”
She heard the drawling voice and froze.
The air teased against the lobe of her ear and trilled down her spine, yawning her body open.
No more words were needed.
The girl was already reaching for the Phantom as she turned to him and he pulled her into his arms, bringing her flesh to life with his touch.
