Not for the first time, I mused on the absurdity to have a fireplace in a voidship where climate is independently controlled in each section. A soft warmth bathed my face, my arms, my hands; I had curled up in a ball, naked feet tucked underneath, and ran my fingers through my hair as I threw back my head, sighing. Perhaps we, as a species, were not meant to live in the void, and we needed something to remind us of our earthly roots. Unless the past Rogue Trader who built the room had been an arsonist sublimating their instincts.

'No, Katov, it is my professional opinion you do not have a single heretical bone in your body.' Heinrix sat on the other side of the sofa. We had gone over my encounter with Uralon several times in excruciating detail and Heinrix had grilled me with a relentlessness that did honour to his training. 'Are you an infuriating human being with unconventional views? Yes. Does this mean you have a predisposition to be attracted to Chaos? Certainly not. If anything, you showed more acumen against the Ruinous Powers than I did, in the manufactorum.'

'But what Uralon said is backed up by what we know of other von Valanciuses.'

'Of course, if you want to believe what an emissary of Chaos Undivided has to say…' He shrugged. 'Magos Pasqal would tell you that two data points do not make a trend. What do you know of the other heir who was on board when you arrived? The one who died taking out the spawn?'

'Edelthrad? He was a psyker. Sanctioned, I think, but he died before we could have a conversation where he didn't demean me at every turn, so I cannot be sure. Died by mutating into a Warp monster of sorts, not by taking one out, which admittedly did interrupt Kunrad's ritual and therefore probably saved the ship.' I leaned to the table by the sofa and poured myself a glass of water. 'And then while we were busy finishing the monster off, Kunrad scampered away.'

Heinrix frowned while I drank. 'Unfortunate, but proves nothing: such is too often the fate of psykers, although the sanctioned ones are able to resist it longer thanks to our self-control. You have no reason — no information coming from a trusted source — to believe that you carry the seeds of heresy within yourself.'

'What is it that I heard you say? Innocence proves nothing?'

A thin smile played over Heinrix's lips. 'To call you innocent would be a stretch. You are, after all, being particularly grating right now, and that should be a sin in the Emperor's eyes.'

Rolling my eyes, I unfurled a leg and prodded him with my foot in retaliation. 'I'm scared out of my wits, confiding in you,' I said, 'and you call me grating. How heartless of you.'

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Heinrix removed his gloves, seized my ankle in his naked hands, and stretched my leg across his lap. He carefully ran one hand — warm palm, deft fingers — along my foot, around my ankle, barely touching my skin, while the other slowly caressed my calf over fabric. Heat, from the fireplace, lit pinpricks of pleasure all over me when Heinrix rolled up the leg of my pants up to the knee and massaged my leg in long strokes. I let myself go against the sofa, closing my eyes, manifesting appreciation by wiggling my toes. His voice was a murmur of velvet.

'Why are you scared, Katov? It is unusual for you. Don't think, just answer.'

His thumbs, from the sensitive spot behind the knee, ran down to my heel cord. His palms danced over the delicate bones of my ankle, covering summits and valleys with tenderness. If this was an interrogation technique aimed at redirecting my attention, it was working. I stretched my leg, feeling the fabric of his clothes, a sudden desire burning strong in my belly. I didn't know the answer to his question. Right now, I wanted to jump his bones, but I remembered what had happened when I had tried that to distract myself from fear and anguish. Between half closed eyelids, I looked at Heinrix's profile. He was concentrating on my sole now, putting pressure on places I never knew existed and tore a moan from my lips. That last time, I had wanted to regain control. Control of him, and of myself. And when I had failed… Now his fingertips left a wake of subtle pleasure as he drew spirals on my skin. I didn't want him to stop.

'What scares me is to lose control over myself,' I said in a whisper. 'Over my feelings. Over my decisions.'

He gently lifted my leg so my foot rested on his shoulder and kissed it. Oh, his breath! His lips! And his hands, strong and still stroking my skin! Long minutes went by, that I wished to be centuries.

'And what would happen if you were not in constant control?'

I let myself enjoy the moment, drifting in a world of pleasure. I bit my lips when he licked the length of my calf. 'I don't know,' I breathed. I felt his teeth graze my skin. My fists closed over the cushions in a fit, because he let down my leg and bent to me, to kiss me passionately. I tasted his mouth and caught his collar, but he took my wrist in his fist and, very gently, pushed it away, straightening my arm over my head, far away, holding it.

'Are you in control right now, Katov?'

'Yes.' Because if I asked him to stop, I trusted he would. 'No.' Because I was helpless beneath him and didn't want it to change. He let my wrist go. I searched for his lips, found his ear, and moaned, because his hand had slid between my legs, stroking me through my clothes, feeling the warmth and the wetness that must have been seeping through.

'And is the world ending? Is Chaos tempting you?'

He buried his head between my breasts. His hand became more insistent; I bucked my hips to meet him. 'No — it's… not. It's not. Ah!' He had found it, he had found the spot, he pressed and I was panting. I ran my fingers in his hair, I kissed the top of his head and, when he looked at me, I got lost in his gaze.

'Trust yourself.' His tone was rough, imperious, needy. 'If all should fail, you of all people will stand. The day you release yourself from your own self-imposed bonds? Oh, that day you will tear through the Expanse like a Warp storm. No one — and certainly no renegade — will withstand your wrath.'

He kissed my neck, pressed my breast, while I undid my belt, and he slid his hand against my belly, searching for my slit, searching for my clit. He found it — again — and I found his mouth. I was hungry for him, my tongue caressing his. I pulled his hair, bringing space again between our lips.

'I don't want to be wrathful,' and he drank the air of my words.

'Then be merciful. Be kind. Be just. Who gives a grox's arse, you're a Rogue Trader whose Warrant was signed in the Emperor's own blood.'

I was in no state to reply. His fingertip was building wave after wave and I gasped and wailed. His words were a purr in my ear: 'You drive me insane. Your every look. Your every touch.'

I came — my whole world Heinrix, holding his head against mine, the scent of his hair a heavenly perfume. His fingertip lazily pressed my clit after my climax still; I shuddered and he smiled, pulling his hand away. Logs crackled in the fireplace. We lay in an awkward position, fingers intertwined, breaths mingling, silent and at peace. The dinner bell rang — half an hour before I needed to be in the mess hall, dressed up to the nines. Him, too. I know I seriously considered skipping dinner — but after a victory it was my duty to be there. I considered the time. Five minutes to the mess hall, ten minutes to shower and dress in a hurry… No, it was too short, the bell was already passed by five minutes at least.

'What would you say if I suggested that, after dinner, I joined you in your quarters,' I asked, in what I hoped to be a suitably languid tone.

'A most excellent plan.' His arm tightened its grasp on my waist and I nuzzled against his neck, so that this excellent plan was nearly foiled by my crumbling resolve, but after only a short embrace we managed to get in an upright posture. Driven with a new purpose, I pulled up my pants to see him out, noticing he gingerly gathered his folded cape before himself. I went to kiss him again — I couldn't tire of it — and ran my hand against the front of his pants.

'You need to change,' I whispered against the corner of his mouth. 'Hurry.'

The mess hall, filled by the upper crust of the Emperor's Mercy naval personnel, was a proper sea of oversized epaulettes, bejewelled medals, silken scarves and all the paraphernalia superior officers are fond of across the galaxy. Someone had obviously cranked the formality up a point as per some victory protocol and the hall hovered in a strange in between between normal evening dress and formal event. My dark blue uniform, in its simplicity, would once again single me out. The golden Aquila, however, wasn't my only ornament anymore: I had found in the endless clutter of treasures filling a room a brooch of my garish coat of arms that, I had been assured, Theodora had never even touched. Probably because it didn't have enough diamonds for her taste, but the dark gold, nearly bronze in colour, and white and blue enamel perfectly suited my style.

Stepping in, I searched for my retinue — my friends. Jae's dress was a large, colourful flower, and I was glad she had made it back in time for dinner. She hovered around a very serious Argenta in a black tabard; the sister was listening to Heinrix, who appeared a bit cranky. He looked in my direction when the servo-skulls announced me and, turning back to Argenta, snapped an end to their conversation. Cassia was a bit further; a few younger officers who had, somehow, gleaned invitations to their elders' dinner room, appeared to court her in a respectful circle. Pasqal and Yrliet were absent, as usual, and Idira sulked in a corner. She wasn't drinking, at least. Only Abelard was missing.

There was something about Cassia's entourage. Perhaps I caught a glance, or perhaps I have become that accustomed to Jae's style, but I made a bee-line to greet my favourite Cold Trader and, kissing her cheek, asked her discreetly if she had anything to do with that gaggle of cadets. Her dark eyes twinkled with conspiratorial intent as she asked if our little bird didn't deserve some of the attention the heroins of her favourite novels revelled in. I allowed myself a moue of doubt.

'I wouldn't call half a dozen cadets courtly company,' I further explained.

Jae's crystalline laugh rang in my ears and she slid her arm in mine, turning me towards the group.

'Shereen, I have picked myself every single one of them, and at least two have little interest in women but are fantastic conversationalists for their age. I have also promised them that, if they dared make our Cassia uncomfortable, I would personally flay them before handing them out to you so you could finish the job.' She patted my arm in reassurance. 'It's healthy for her. At her age, she needs harmless relationships with the opposite sex, just so she doesn't get swept off her feet by the first ashmag with a bright smile and a rotten disposition. I don't want her to end up like you, clever in many things but so terribly, terribly dense in the matters of the heart.'

I began to protest, and shut up before her smirk.

A servitor brought me a glass of dry amasec: pre-dinner drinks were uncommon, but it appeared we were having a small buffet before sitting down. It was served in my cup — well, one that had first belonged to a Rogue Trader who thought their initials of VvV were the best thing to befall the Koronus Expanse since someone's voidship first got lost in it, and had ordered a full set of engraved glass- and silverware. By now, the things must have been many centuries old, but either enough had been made in the beginning, or they had avoided being broken despite being used on the regular. At first, I had felt like a child, to have my own cutlery so different from everyone else's, but it was pretty after all, so I had gotten used to it. Another servitor brought me a selection of canapés; I took one, thanked the servitor, and then spent ten minutes getting rid of half a dozen persons who wanted both to congratulate me and curry favour in the same breath. I was very much aware of Heinrix's presence nearby. It dawned on me, for the first time, that had I wanted to I probably could have found willing partners easily, thanks to my status, but no, I had gone for the surly Inquisition acolyte. Well, at least his dislike for me had been honest and sincere from the start. With those sycophants, I never would have known. No ashmag with a bright smile and a rotten disposition for me.

An orderly brought me a handwritten card from Abelard, excusing himself from dinner because of 'many duties.' He had never missed the occasion before. My revelations about Theodora must truly have hit him hard, and I made a note to inquire about him in the morning. Downing my glass, I signalled for everyone to get seated and braced myself for too many toasts and rounds of applause.

By the time dinner ended, I was in a sorry state. Heinrix had sat by my left, as usual, and two hours of the little, hidden touches, of brushing hands — I had once dared to rest my hand on his knee, while Commander Farrell, my other neighbour, looked away — had put my nerves to the test. That day must have been the strangest I had ever lived through: it had begun in the deserted manufactorum — the fight, and meeting Uralon — then a good, long four-hour nap on the shuttle, courtesy of orbits and time zones —then debriefing with Heinrix, and this invitation. This promise.

Recaf was served, in tall silver pots that were shared along the table. Heinrix served me; the dark, piping hot brew, steam rising, half-filled my cup, as customary, so that the delicate golden cherubim could still be seen.

'Please,' I said, 'pour some more.'

His expression quite neutral, he asked: 'Don't you intend to sleep tonight, Rogue Trader?'

'Not yet, no.'

He filled my cup to the brim, and did the same to his own before putting down the pot. Commander Farrell asked if he could pass it to him.

'I am afraid there is no recaf left, Commander,' said Heinrix. 'You should ask a servant.'

'Asshole,' I whispered.

The door to Heinrix's quarters had barely shut that we were already lost in a sloppy, ravenous kiss. If I had had to wait for five minutes more, I might have spontaneously combusted. Teetering, I pushed him blindly to the nearest wall, my hands on his chest, my hips against his. He had already removed both our weapons belts and was working on removing my shirt from my pants in a spectacular feat of coordination. His naked hand grazed my lower back — gently ran up my spine, settled on my shoulder blade beneath my clothes. Through his shirt, I pressed my hands on his chest, over his nipples, felt him quiver with anticipation, and pulled back a little so I could look him in the eye. We were about to spend the night together. We had all the time in the world.

I undid his fly, struggling a bit with the buttons because I didn't want to look at anything else than his face — his handsome face, now wild with desire, and that lit up only for me. Everyone else was awarded nuances shades of scorn and politeness — everyone but me. Perhaps Cassia too, who was everyone's little sister. His slightly mismatched grey eyes widened when I caressed his erection, feeling the soft skin of his sex and the hardness it hid. His lips touched mine, barely, and I clasped my hand around his cock. He threw back his head against the wall and his hands left me, helpless, as he sighed and I worked my own hand up and down, feeling the skin rolling in my grasp. I slid an index between his lips, opening his mouth; he sucked on my finger like a lost man until I removed it and knelt. Skimming my wet finger over the head of his penis, so soft, glistening with pre cum, made Heinrix squirm. Well, I wasn't about to stop; his shaft couldn't have been stiffer when I ran my lips on it — then my tongue — and I took the tip in my mouth like a sweet. His fingers hovered over my brow; he caressed my hair, barely touching, until I squeezed my hand and swirled my tongue and his nails scraped my scalp. He tasted warm. His cock filled my mouth; I stopped before I gagged and glanced up, being rewarded with a look of ecstasy. Wordless encouragement, then; all I needed, beside the pleasure of watching him writhe under my touch. Licking and sucking and squeezing in rhythm, finding out what tore little moans from his throat — trying things, and caressing his balls, running a hand on his belly, acquainting myself with his wants — it was more enjoyable than what I had expected. I loved to discover the power of stripping him of all veneer of elegance. I loved how I made him feel. And I enjoyed playing with his cock: the soft, round head, that I teased with my tongue, running its tip it in the crease below; the hard shaft, slick with saliva, that I could take in full between my palms, unless I chose to press my fingertips along it and massage it… He liked it most when I sucked him and pressed down his root, tightening my grip. He held my shoulder and buried his fingers in the muscles there; he ran his trembling hand through my hair. On a whim, I took him deeper — made a motion as if to swallow, nearly heaved before having to release him, licking his length, savouring the dull taste that pearled on the tip. I took him once again in my mouth; he buried his hands by my ears and pushed me away, clumsily.

'I'm about to…' He gasped. He ran a finger over my brow. The poor man barely knew what he was doing anymore.

'You know, that's kind of the point,' I said, holding him, but nothing more. I decided that I liked holding his cock.

'I don't… not all over your dress uniform…'

'Handkerchiefs,' I replied, fishing for mine in my pocket. 'One of the great inventions of humanity. Just warn me.'

His objection overcome, I wrapped my lips around his soft, warm, engorged head. My tongue, against the slick skin. With my hand, I tightened my grip and then sucked, taking in his shaft, toying with him. Enjoying it.

'Katov, I…'

I thought that I still had a few seconds, which was a mistake, and sucked harder for the big finish. Which was another mistake as Heinrix came into my mouth, in a sudden burst of warm and salty fluid; I retched and spat in a most unseductive manner as he finished to spend himself in the handkerchief. By the time he realised what had happened, I was holding back a giggle, and his embarrassed look — he was all shades of mortified — made me snigger, then laugh. He pulled me up and held me tight, apologising, which only renewed my hilarity.

'Please don't,' I said, nearly wiping out tears. 'That's what I get for lack of training.'

It was good to hear his chuckle and to feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. His lips, on the angle of my jaw. I closed my eyes and swayed in his embrace.

'Should you wish to hone those skills — not that they need to — you would find a willing test subject in my humble person.'

Smooth. Heinrix brought me a glass of water and a clean handkerchief for my hands, which he then kissed ceremoniously, left then right: fingers, palms, wrists, and then my lips. After the freshness of the drink, his mouth felt hot to mine. The perfect gentleman, even with a naked butt, and a gentleman who began teasing me, undoing my tunic toggle fastenings while slowly kissing my neck in a move that can only be described as provocative. I had never been undressed with such a mix of gentle care and inquisitive lust, and I was quite happy to let him do the work as it put me at the centre of unusual softness. I never even knew I had needed that; his attentions filled a want that had gone unnoticed for… how long? Each layer of clothing, it seemed, brought new life to Heinrix's attentions; with each we kissed and caressed. Desire spread in my bones, permeated my being, until I needed that touch of his in order to breathe. When at last I was naked — surprised not to be shivering, but his hands warmed me — I gave him my lips and fucked his mouth with my tongue. He groped my ass, pressed himself against me, and bit my lip when I withdrew. His turn.

'Throne, I need you in my bed,' he growled. 'Now.'

His bedroom was cosy, lit with a few candles and soft lumens. The only surprise there was my sabre, displayed in a place of honour, on a tall coffer that naturally drew the eye. The red sash was framed over it on the wall, in such a way that one couldn't see it had been torn in two.

I sprawled on the bed, getting comfortable on pillows while Heinrix shed the last of his clothes, looking at him, at the shape of his torso, at his shoulders — at the promise of his body. At his sex, already erect. At his gaze, hungry. I grinned.

Propping himself on his forearms, Heinrix pursued his exploration of my body. I have no words for the bliss of his mouth over my skin. He lit it on fire, first on my neck and shoulders, and then sat on his ankles, between my legs, freeing his hands so that he could palm my breasts. I held his wrists, caressing them, going to his elbow, his shoulder, pulling him in for another kiss, so mellow, almost lazy. When he rose again, only one hand remained on my chest, pressing a breast, a nipple between his fingers — the other had gone down between my legs. He only gave my clit a cursory attention, as if being just polite; his fingers had already made me come there today. He was aiming lower, teasing my slit, rubbing the wetness all over until, satisfied that I was ready, he put two fingers inside me. Slowly — he pressed inside so that I cried out in abandon, he moved purposefully, with an intensity that drew me mad. His other hand was now resting at the joint of my leg, keeping me spread out, his thumb up against my clit. I rocked my hips so he could get deeper, and that wonderful sensation of being filled began. Through half-closed eyes, I watched him work me, until he bent and licked my clit and I got lost in a maelstrom of sensations. I touched the nape of his neck, feeling the place where his hair grew. The world was dark. I threw a leg over his back, running my foot wildly. I came over his hand, and when his fingers moved through my spasms I came again.

He waited until I had regained my breath to caress my cheek. 'Are you all right?'

Of course I was — how could I be otherwise? But the care on his face was genuine, and I remembered that mortifying experience before. That he would even bother to inquire moved me more than I can say.

'Yes,' I said. 'And I will be.'

He cupped my cheek so tenderly I nearly burst in happiness. He lay by my side and I was in his arms, resting — but the night wasn't done and I wanted him. His erection rested against my thigh; the angle of my wrist was awkward when I stroked him, only a few times. He brought my leg over his hip and the head of his cock pressed against my entrance; his hand was on the small of my back and he breached me. He entered me with the same consideration he had shown before, restraining himself as he filled me and I settled around him. I wanted him — needed him — drew closer, until I could go no more because he was fully sheathed in me.

A single thrust and I moaned. Another and I arched my back, so that his fingers dug in my waist, keeping me where I needed to be. Another — I grabbed something, his shoulder, helpless, and begged him. He obliged. I caught his mouth, I kissed his lips and we rolled. I was on my back, it was easier — legs wrapped behind his own, open to his rhythm. He held my wrists over my head in one of his hands, stretching me here as well as there. That move had haunted me since he had done it on the sofa; he sighed against my neck and buried himself deep in my cunt. I called his name and dirty acts. He must have decided that, since I could still talk, he wasn't going hard enough. We found a rhythm. In the mess of our bodies, we found something that went over words. I held onto his back when he let my wrists go, and I inhaled the scent of his skin when he bent over and cried out against my shoulder. It pushed me over the edge. I was greedy, in my peak — turned his head so I could get lost in his haggard eyes and was hit by the sight of a wild urge matching mine. He went to kiss me — again — but didn't make it in full. Our mouths open, our breaths mingling, as his own climax took over. The warmth of his spill. The gentleness of his lips, trailing over mine. I moved a strand of hair away from his brow, in awe of ourselves, aware of every detail of his face, drinking him in. He was still in me. When he removed himself, all but falling at my side, I entwined my fingers in his. In a tangle of limbs, we rested. I absent-mindedly trailed my hands in light, regular strokes, over whatever part of his body was nearest. A shoulder. His back. A thigh. He held me close and, with his one free hand, massaged my scalp. He whispered my name in my ear — just it, just the two syllables — and only then did I notice that Katov rhymes with love.

'I cannot promise you anything,' he said. 'As much as I may wish to, I simply cannot — sacred oaths bind me to serve the Golden Throne — oh, Katov…'

I felt it — every vibration of shameful regret in him, the renewed tension in his body — and it hurt me, because it hurt him first. And it wasn't an enemy I could kill, not like the daemonette: there is no going against the Holy Inquisition.

'I know,' I replied. 'I know.' In the turmoil of my aftermath, what a bittersweet thing to say, when all I wanted was to cuddle and pretend that someone, anyone — not, not someone, not anyone, Heinrix — cared about me. I pushed myself closer to him, in order to feel him once more with all my body: his legs against mine, linked together; his chest against mine, swelling in unison; his hip under my palm, his chin against my temple, so that if this night was all that was destined to be, I could still remember him in full and delude myself with memories of lies. If he decided that bedding me had been nice, but nothing more.

'But whatever little I have, whatever shred of freedom is left, for whatever time is granted… I would like… love, to share with you. If you will allow it.'

He was earnest, as always. Perhaps he would change his mind tomorrow or the day after, though. My past experiences, scant and short as they had been, hadn't left me very hopeful; men tended to bail once they had their fun with me — or once they knew me better, a little voice whispered inside my head. But the thought that he, among all men, could, maybe, be different… I wanted him to be different, with all my soul.

'Yes.' Entranced, I watched as he kissed my fingers. the new light in his smile made me giggle like a girl. We cuddled, we chatted, we were cold and crawled inside the covers, where we promptly fell asleep — despite the novelty of another's heat and presence at that most vulnerable of times. At some point, we woke up in the dark and made love again, quickly, without a word, like in a dream that fades with the night. I had no idea of what the hour could be; only the void pressed outside the hull, behind the drawn blinds. When I drifted back to sleep, drunk with Heinrix's closeness, his scent all over me, it was with a sense of enchantment. At the end of this long, strange, terrible day, this was more than a parenthesis in our lives. It felt like a beginning.