Castles Made of Sand by Gwyneth Jones Read Free Book Online

moment when I ask for, um, a few other sheep to be taken into consideration.’
    ‘I don’t think you’d better tell me how many,’ said Fiorinda. ‘ Not that I care . My God. If either of you really thought this would work, then I am sorry for you.’
    She took Sage by the shoulders, tugged him close and kissed him on the mouth, long and strong, tongue in it, first time ever. Then the same to Ax.
    ‘That’s reverse alphabetical order. And I’m still going to bed.’
    Left alone, they sat on the sofa with their ears ringing, silent for a decent interval to allow tumescence to subside.
    ‘So much for that,’ said Sage. ‘Shall we go after her?’
    ‘I don’t think we should, not tonight. But I don’t think it went too badly—’
    ‘No. Not considering what a fucking mess we made of the intro.’
    Sage got up and started to prowl around: so wired, so electric Ax expected sparks to rise from anything he touched. Finally he went and softly closed the door to the stairs, which Fiorinda had left open.
    ‘Why d’you do that?’
    ‘Because I’m going to kiss you. I want to find out how it feels without the drug, an’ I don’t want Fiorinda by any chance walking in on us. Could be misunderstood.’
    ‘Kiss, not fuck.’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    Ax sat waiting for the threat to be made good, thinking he wished to God the three of them had fallen into this arrangement through an act of casual lust, years ago, and had the difficult emotional dynamics sorted by now. But things happen as they must. Sage came and sat down again beside him.
    ‘Ax—’
    They kissed, for a long time: finally tore themselves away from each other. Sage leaned back, staring at the ceiling, making up his mind. ‘Oooh. I think I could live with that.’
    ‘Good. I suppose we might as well go to bed.’
    ‘You going to stay down here with me?’
    ‘If you don’t mind. It seems like the right thing.’
    They made the room ready for night: the rituals of Tyller Pystri, where ancient electric lamps must be switched off one by one, black vinyl put away in cardboard sleeves, the fire made up. They stripped, got into Sage’s nice big bed, and lay listening to Fiorinda stomping about overhead. It sounded as if she was moving furniture.
    ‘Maybe one of us should stay awake.’
    ‘What for? You think she’ll come down and take an axe to us?’
    They nearly choked themselves smothering hysterical giggles, which would not sound good at all upstairs.
    ‘You can stay awake,’ said Sage. ‘Since you’re going to anyway.’
    The room was cold, despite the fire. The rain had stopped. There was a black frost out there beyond the thick walls, the deep-set mullioned windows where the night looked in, the icy dark stretching out forever.
    About an hour later the stairs creaked. Ax felt a surge of movement rousing from beside him, like something much bigger than Sage. My God , he thought, what have I unleashed? The door opened. Fiorinda came into the room, her fiery hair tumbled on the shoulders of a brown and gold shawl, a candle in a china holder in her hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at them, pale as the candleflame. The shawl fell back. She was wearing a nightdress, a long slip of cream satin with narrow shoulder straps.
    ‘Our friends are convinced you two are having a secret affair. Are you?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘We were waiting for you,’ said Ax.
    She nodded. ‘Well, okay… Okay, I knew this was coming. Of course I did. I’ve known for a long time. Fact is, from the night you did the oxytocin, I knew it had gone too far. No more pissing around, I just had to have you both.’ She saw them startle. Ha! Nice to give them a different view of the situation. But she wished she could stop shivering, all gooseflesh; she felt such a kid. ‘Only… I don’t know how it works. I w-want to, but I don’t know how? Who do I turn to? W-which of you two am I with? Which of you—?’
    Ax got out from under the covers and put himself behind