And who did she dance with? My Dear Readers, she danced with her new Companion the most, for Sir Robot is no ordinary, clumsy butler droid. He spun our lovely Princess around the Grand Ballroom in style, scarcely allowing anyone else to claim a dance—even the dastardly Duke Grabbington, who was seen to be angling for a chance with the Princess all night. He got only one dance, however, before Sir Robot came to his new lady’s rescue and refused the Duke any more dances with her. The Duke was said to be livid with rage, but as he has been involved in the ruination of some very fine ladies, including the hapless Miss Prunella Ascott only last Season, this author cannot find it in her heart to feel the least bit sorry for him.
And what of Princess Ka’rissa’s old Companion, the once esteemed Lady Mildew? Well, Gentle Reader, I fear I must report that she has come down in the world and lost most of her status since she had been replaced by Sir Robot. This author pities her, thought to be honest, she never seemed to have much affection for our dear Princess. One may hope that she will enjoy a quiet retirement, out of the public eye now that another has taken her place.
So things appear to be looking up for our lovely Princess. She has a dashing new Companion and she is a better dancer than ever! Yet, her episode of overheating in the Reception Hall last night still gives one cause for concern. Might we hope that soon the Steward will announce some new suitors for her hand? Perhaps some that are more of her age this time? We would not wish for her to share the unhappy fate of her dear Mama and I fear that rumors will start against the Steward if he allows such a thing to happen. For, as he alone can approve Princess Ka’rissa’s suitors, it is to be hoped he approves some very soon, so that she may marry and finally ascend the throne to rule our bodies, as she already rules our hearts.
And that, Dear Reader, is all I have to report at present. As always, keep watching for the next issue of Breadcrumbs if you wish to keep abreast of the latest Court news.
I remain your humble and obedient servant,
Lady TittleTattle.
* * *
Rissa gave a sigh of relief as she finished the scandal rag and her cloud bun at the same time. Thank goodness Lady TittleTattle hadn’t found fault with her having James as her new Companion! Had she communicated even a whiff of impropriety to the Court, Rissa would have been in danger of losing her good reputation. But as it was, the mysterious Lady TittleTattle seemed to be on her side—at least for now.
“What are you reading?” James asked her. “Whatever it is, it seems to have made you happy. You’re smiling, which is usually an indication of positive emotions.”
“Oh, it is the latest copy of the Breadcrumbs,” Rissa told him, and explained about the scandal sheet and how it was published every few days to the simultaneous delight and horror of the Court.
He nodded.
“Yes, Commander Sylvan gave me a copy of one issue to read when he was explaining your situation and my mission. What does this issue say?”
“Would you like to read it?” Rissa asked, offering it to him across the table.
“Yes, thank you.” He took it and the metal scope on the right side of his head extended and covered his right eye. Rissa watched with interest as a red light projected from the scope onto the paper. In what seemed like only a second, James was handing the paper back to her and the scope was resuming its place at his right temple.
“You read it that quickly?” Rissa asked, awed.
He nodded and shrugged.
“It seems to have mostly complimentary things to say about both of us, which I take to be a good thing for your reputation?”
“Yes, very good.” Rissa nodded and took a sip of her thistledown tea. “Though no one knows who she is, Lady TittleTattle has the power to ruin reputations. In fact, Duke Grabbington was much more accepted in the highest social circles before she exposed him for ruining poor Prunella Ascott. Now he is rather looked down upon, despite his grand title. I heard that he was refused an invitation to Lady Isolde’s Mid-Summer ball only the other week.”
James nodded.
“Then I assume Duke Grabbington will not be pleased with this issue.” He frowned. “And neither will Lady Mildew, I suspect.”
Rissa sighed unhappily.
“I am afraid you are right. I wish Lady TittleTattle hadn’t tweaked her tail! She’s already mad about being replaced as my Companion—it doesn’t do any good to rub her nose in it!”
“Do you think she’ll try to take some kind of vengeance on you?” James frowned threateningly. “She had better not.”
“I doubt she’d try an assassination attempt, if that’s what you mean,” Rissa said, feeling troubled. “Unless it was a character assassination,” she added.
“She had better not try any kind of assassination.” James’s voice dropped to a low, protective growl. “I won’t let her hurt you, Princess. I swear it on my life as a Kindred warrior.”
“Well…thank you, James, but if Lady Mildew wants to start a rumor about me, there’s nothing you can really do about it. It’s not like she’s a man and you could call her out for a duel.”
“A duel?” he frowned. “Explain, please.”
“Oh, it is a contest of honor. When a man feels another man has offended him or the lady he is protecting, he calls the other man out to fight at dawn. They choose weapons and attempt to kill each other.” She shuddered. “It is quite a barbaric practice, actually, and the Steward has attempted to outlaw it, but the gentlemen just won’t stop.” She shook her head.
“Speaking of ‘gentlemen’ what does er, Lady TittleTattle mean when she talks about there being rumors against the Steward if he doesn’t approve some new suitors for you soon?” James raised an eyebrow at her. “And why has he not approved any to date, since you appear to need one to control your Heat Cycle?”
“Oh, he has.” Rissa sighed. “But both of the suitors he approved were so very inappropriate. One was old enough to be my grandfather and the other was more like a little brother than a man I would wish to marry.”
She explained in more detail about the two disastrous suitors and how she’d had to turn them both down.
“Lady Mildew was angry and disapproving, of course,” she added. “She said that either one would have made an excellent Royal Consort, but I disagreed.”
“Because of their ages?” James asked.
“Well, that and…” Rissa picked apart another cloud bun, letting the pieces fall to her plate. “That and the fact that I did not wish to let either of them touch me or…or kiss me,” she admitted, keeping her eyes on the bun. “The idea quite turned my stomach, though I know I shouldn’t be so picky. Whoever I choose as my Consort must…must slake my Heat. And even though I’m not sure what that entails, I am certain I don’t want a man I am not attracted to doing it to me—whatever it is.”
James frowned.
“You were perfectly within your rights to refuse unsuitable suitors. Why would the Steward pick males of such wrong ages in the first place?”
Rissa shrugged.
“I do not know. Possibly because he is old and tired and doesn’t remember what it’s like to be young and wish for someone you care for to hold you.”
She looked up at him shyly, thinking of how the big Kindred had held her all night. Then she reminded herself that James was a cyborg without emotions and holding her had probably meant nothing to him. Besides, he would never be approved as a suitor—he had no Royal blood at all and his skin had not the least bit of Sheen to it.
“Well, I think you ought to find out more about the slaking process so you can choose a suitor accordingly,” he said decisively.
“Oh, but that is forbidden knowledge!” Rissa protested.
James frowned again.
“No knowledge about your own body should be forbidden to you,” he growled. “It’s ridiculous! It’s—”
But just then there was a brisk rapping at the door and Liza stuck her head in again.
“Oh my Lady!” she exclaimed breathlessly.
“You’re wanted in the Throne Room at once!”
“The Throne Room? At this time of day?” Rissa frowned. “Whatever for, Liza?”
“It’s the Steward, himself!” Liza’s eyes were wide. “Whispers among the servants have it that he’s read the latest Breadcrumbs and he didn’t like what Lady TittleTattle had to say about rumors flying against him for not finding you the right kind of suitors!”
“Really?” Rissa was already on her feet. “I didn’t know my Uncle read the Crumbs.”
“Well, it seems he does, my Lady,” Liza exclaimed. “And rumor has it he’s set to announce a new suitor for you right away!”
Then she scurried away, leaving Rissa feeling breathless and slightly ill.
15
“You’re overheating, Princess.”
James looked at her flushed face in concern as he helped her fit the elaborately curled silver-white wig over her own hair, which had been bundled up into a skull cap. It was the smallest wig he could find, but it would still put much more weight than he liked on her delicate neck. And now she was pink-cheeked and panting, adding to his worry for her.
“I am quite well, James,” she said, which was an obvious lie. “It’s only that I am so nervous as to who my Uncle should have chosen for me! If I don’t like them, I am obliged to wait an entire month before I can refuse them and he can name another. And I don’t know if my Heat Cycle will allow me to wait that long!”
“Here, let me cool you down. Just sit quietly for a minute,” James instructed. Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her gently down into the dressing room chair and began to cool his hands.
“But my Uncle…the Throne Room,” she began.
“You’re all ready to go so we have a little time,” James said firmly. “Enough time for me to cool you down, Princess.”
They already had her dressed in a pure white gown with pearl beading and a long cape attached at the shoulders. She had been forced to wear the ice gel packs over her nipples as well, because though they had been cool all morning, they had begun heating up at once as soon as Ka’rissa had been summoned to the Throne Room for the announcement of a new suitor.
James was beginning to think that her Heat Cycle was tied to the messy emotions all feelers had to contend with. If only he could help her by installing an emotion damper like his own, he felt fairly certain that would take care of her problem.
But when he thought of her lively, lovely face without emotions, he found he couldn’t really wish that at all. Ka’rissa smiling was a delight to see and when she laughed, it gave him that warm feeling in his chest that he was beginning to enjoy very much. Even when she was sobbing she was lovely, he thought, as he stroked both hands—which he had chilled for the purpose—over her face and neck, which were hot and feverish to the touch.
“Oh James, thank you,” she whispered and he felt some of her heat fading. “You are so good to me.”
“I am here to protect you, Princess—both from outside threats and those which come from within,” he told her. “But I still say we must find another way to control your Heat Cycle. I’m concerned that you might heat up past the point where I can cool you down just by touching your face.”
“The only way to control it is to marry.” She looked up at him again, her lovely amber-brown eyes filled with worry. “I do hope my Uncle has chosen someone who isn’t too old or too young or too awful this time!”
James frowned as he slowly withdrew his hands.
“Is the Steward really the kin of either your mother or father?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head and then had to put up a hand to steady her wig. “He was my dear Papa’s butler and he was named in his will as Steward if Papa should die. Many of the Nobles put up a fuss about it—I mean, a commoner and a servant without a drop of Royal blood ruling the planet? They were shocked!” she went on. “But then they came to see it as wisdom. For a faithful servant would never try to steal the throne for himself—he would only hold it in trust for the correct heir.”
“What about your mother, the Queen?” James asked. “Why couldn’t she ascend to the throne after your father died?”
“Oh, because the blood of the Very First Family came from my Father’s side,” Ka’rissa explained. “She needed to marry another Royal in order to hold the throne, but before a suitable one could be found, she…she combusted,” she finished in a whisper.
“I’m very sorry about the loss of your mother,” James said. Though he had never had a mother himself, he had seen how very much the other Kindred warriors who did esteemed and loved their own mothers. They seemed to be special people who had a great and important influence on the children they raised.
“At the time there was a bit of a scandal, because the Steward didn’t find a single suitor fit for my dear Mama—not even one from the Second Court,” Ka’rissa told him. “Some people said he wanted to keep the throne for himself, but that’s ridiculous of course. A servant can’t hold the throne—not forever, anyway,” she added.
“What is the ‘Second Court?’” James asked.
“Oh, it’s on the other side of the planet. There are plenty of people with Royal blood there, though I don’t know if any of them come from the Very First Family,” the Princess explained. “I wonder if the Steward has found me a suitor from there,” she added pensively. “Someone I don’t know, but who has Royal blood.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” James said neutrally. But inside, it felt as though someone was simultaneously squeezing his heart and filling his stomach with cubes of ice. He didn’t like the idea of the Princess with another male—which was ridiculous and verging perilously close to having emotions, he was well aware.
But no matter how often he told himself that, he couldn’t seem to stop the sensations that swamped him. Still, he kept his face and tone neutral, though it was a struggle to do so.
This is my mission, he reminded himself. I’m only here to watch over Ka’rissa until she finds a mate and Joins with him. And that mate can never be me.
But he still wasn’t what the feelers called “happy” as they finally left her quarters and went down to the Throne Room to find who the Steward had selected to be her new suitor.
16
Rissa felt weak in the knees as she waited at the foot of the dais that held the tall, golden double throne where her father and mother used to sit. Her mind was filled with questions.
Who was waiting behind the double golden doors of the side entrance to the Throne Room? Who would the Steward approve to be her suitor? Would she like him? Would he be closer to her age, at least?
Rissa hoped desperately that she didn’t have to deal with another male who was either fifty years her senior or fifteen years her junior. It had been so awkward meeting both of her previous suitors and she had known at once that she couldn’t pick either of them. Yet, by the rules of the Court, she had been forced to wait an entire month, dancing with both every night and making polite small talk, until she could formally refuse them.
It had been quite excruciating in both cases and had taken up two valuable months of her time as her Heat Cycle grew ever worse. At one point, Rissa had even considered taking the older suitor—a Lord Hearwhat—as her consort, simply because she feared she might go up in flames in her bed one night if she didn’t have someone to slake her Heat.
But in the end, she couldn’t bear the thought of those thin, spittle-flecked lips pressed to hers or his liver-spotted hands crawling over her flesh. That was when she’d begun taking more than once cold bath a day and using the ice gel packs on her points.
Now she hoped desperately that the Steward had found her a man she could bear to be with, so that she could at last conquer her Heat Cycle and ascend the throne.
But no matter who he picks, it won’t be James, whispered a little voice in her head. And you know you won’t like whoever it is nearly as much as James.
Rissa tried to put such thoughts from her head. It was ridiculous to feel such an attr
action and attachment to a man she’d only met yesterday.
But that’s not true—you met him ages ago, in your dreams, the voice reminded her.
Indeed, she had dreamed about the big Kindred again last night, Rissa remembered now. She had dreamed she was watching him while he held her. It was almost as though she was hovering over her own body, watching herself sleep as James held her close.
He had touched her so tenderly in her dream—stroking a tendril of hair out of her eyes and caressing her heated face with his big, cool hand. And the look on his usually stoic features as he watched her sleep had been…well, it had been extraordinary.
He looked like he was having emotions—emotions about me, Rissa thought, as she waited nervously before the throne. Tenderness and caring had been written on the big Kindred’s dark face and he held her carefully against him, as though she was the most delicate porcelain that might break if he was rough with her…
She cut her eyes to the left, where her new Companion was standing, right beside her. He looked so tall and muscular and handsome in his black clothing and the new maroon frock coat which had been brought to him by the Royal Tailor only that morning.
But she must stop thinking this way, Rissa told herself. After all, it had been only a dream. In reality, James had no emotions—not even for her. He was only doing what he needed to in order to keep her safe and he would only be around until she found a husband and married. He—
“Announcing his Stewardship!” cried the herald and blew a blast on his silver horn.
After a moment, the Steward shuffled out. He looked slightly ridiculous in his baggy golden clothes, though his waistcoat, as always, was tight over his paunch, which he had grown since her father had died and he had begun eating the richer fare of the Royal table. His wig was slightly askew and he settled himself on the double golden throne with a loud burst of flatulence which caused the page boys around him to giggle and snort.
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