by Vivian Wood
“It’s agony not being able to lay with you every way I want.”
“I know. It is for me too. Soon though, every part of me will belong to you.”
Just as Matheas finished fastening my top, Ria enters the room. Usually, her sweet round face has a smile on it. Now, her face is tight with worry.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Princess,” she utters, fussing with the hair products on the vanity. “Nothing for you to worry about. How would you like your hair done for the Fire and Water trial?”
Touching her chin, I bring her face to meet mine. Tears are welling in her eyes.
“You can tell me.”
“No, I can’t.”
Brows pinching inward with worry, I attempt to read her body language.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“I was given a firm warning is all.”
“By who?” I nearly growl.
“I was tending to your guest. I made a mistake and angered him. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“You mean Prince Belore?”
She nods, more tears threatening to escape.
“What happened?”
“I was tending to him and his men in his room. They were discussing things, things that made me uncomfortable and nervous. When I heard your name mentioned, I dropped a glass of ale. Some of it splashed on him. His eyes grew dark. He grabbed my arm, forced me over his knee, and swatted me, calling me incompetent and weak. The men around him laughed. He released me, and I ran out of there as fast as I could. I was horrified. No one’s ever done something like that to me.”
The tears finally fall, cascading down her sweet face. Anger surges up through my chest, burning my cheeks with heat.
“Matheas, have the staff that tends to our guests changed. Only men now.”
“Done,” he replies, his tone clipped and serious.
“As for what he did to you, I’ll handle that. I’m sorry he inappropriately touched you and embarrassed you. You shouldn’t have been treated like that.”
“Please, Princess, there is no need to defend me. I would never want to cause you trouble.”
“You’re not the trouble, Ria. He is. He’s an insult to men.”
Wiping at her tears, she falls forward into my chest, wrapping her arms around me.
“I know you’re still a Princess, but you’re already my Queen.”
“That means a lot to me.” Rubbing her back with one hand, I stroke her hair with the other.
Pulling back from me, her usual smile is almost returned, half-tilted and working its way to fully brightening her face.
“How would you like your hair done for this trial?”
“In a tight ponytail, then wind fabric bands into it to keep it controlled. I need it out of my face and out of my way.”
“Got it.”
Behind us, I can see Matheas in the mirror, making phone calls and giving orders. When he’s finished, he sets out my fingerless gloves, boots, a knife, and a small bundle of rope that is easily hidden and secured on the back of my top.
Meeting my eyes through the mirror, I feel the intensity of his stare even through the glass. So many emotions are visible to me—worry, desire, anger, love. To anyone else, they see the calm, controlled Matheas, but no one knows him as well as I do.
Ria finishes and watches with interest as Matheas secures the rope to my back, and I put on the rest.
“Are you nervous?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“It’s not obvious. You hide it well.”
“It’s how Matheas and the arms men have trained me. I can’t ever show fear—even when I’m feeling it.”
“What do you think the Fire and Water trial will include?”
“A lot of risks for very little reward.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.
“I’m going to get hurt and risk my life for everyone else’s amusement and approval,” I explain, tying the last of my bootstraps.
“Oh,” she replies, frowning. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It’s okay, no one does.”
When I stand, Matheas comes to me, kissing my cheek.
“Last one. You got this. I’ll be there at the end, ready to catch you again if you need me.”
Ria stands and slips between us, hugging me.
“I know you’ll succeed.”
Leaving Matheas and me alone in the room, the door closes behind her. With it sealing shut, Matheas pulls me to him, kissing me fiercely. Putting his head to mine, he rubs my arms with comforting strokes.
“I love you.”
“Stop worrying. It’s making me worry.”
With a chuckle, he meets my gaze.
“I’ll walk you to the entrance room.”
Inside the entrance room is a man from the Royal House Tuller, recognizable by the emblem on his jacket.
“Princess, I’m here to explain the beginning of your trial. Once the door opens, there will be a platform with the only available option to ascend a set of metal stairs. At the top will be another platform. From that platform, your trial begins. This trial is a matter of complete or fail. All you have to do is reach the final platform on the opposite side.”
“If only it was as easy as you just made it sound.”
The man’s mouth twists awkwardly, giving away the truth—it’s not easy at all.
“Thank you.”
“Fare well on your trial, Princess.”
The man departs, and I instinctively turn my attention to the light above the door that will soon turn green.
“I’ll see you at the end,” I tell Matheas. “Time to go.”
Approaching my back, he hugs me from behind, kissing me softly on the cheek.
“I’ll be there.”
Removing his arms leaves me with a cold, lonely feeling, leaving room for my nerves to take residence. Staring up at the light, I wait in agony. The light flashes, and I take a breath.
Stepping onto the platform, I look up at the tall, daunting stairway. Each step takes me closer to the source of my internal suffering. Reaching the top, my gaze sweeps the horizon, and my eyes widen in distress.
In front of me is an obstacle course suspended from metal poles and pillars above. Along the metal ceiling are burning logs. Wood that once burned long enough will drop through the openings and have the chance to hit me, scald me, and chuck me into the water below the suspended course. Standing on the platform, I view every detail of the course and notice the distance to the other platform.
Starting out, I step forward onto a narrow beam, beginning my first obstacle. Keeping my balance, I cross it with minimal effort. A small piece of wood cracks above me, dropping, and bouncing off my left shoulder. Dusting off the ashes, I move onto the next obstacle. A rope with a flat, black bottom, just enough for me to put the front of my feet on, dangles in front of me, awaiting me to grab it and swing like a pendulum to the next platform. Taking a calming breath, I reach out for the rope, ensuring I don’t miss and drop into the pool of water below.
Gripped in my hand, I pull it back, bend my knees and launch. One foot stays on the flat bottom while I extend the other to the platform I’m aiming for. Throwing my body at it, I land, rolling onto my back. Pulling my feet toward my chest, I barely dodge a chunk of burning wood dropping from the ceiling.
Standing, I gather my composure and prepare for the next obstacle. Looking down, there’s a platform shelf I’m meant to stand on. With my weight, gravity will cause it to descend to the next platform. What makes it challenging is keeping my balance on this small shelf as it falls downward—at what speed I don’t know.
As soon as I step forward, I lower myself, placing my hands on both sides of the shelf as it rapidly descends to the platform below. At a ten-foot drop, I know it’s going to slam. Before it does, I leap to the next platform. Landing on all fours, I glance up, making sure no other chunks of wood are about to give me a concussion and burn my scalp while it’
s at it.
Around me, I hear the sound of fire being snuffed out as chunks of wood splash into the water. The wood is burning fast which will make the last obstacles the most dangerous and challenging. Moving onto the next, I look up at the wall, ten to fifteen feet back up, climbing with my hands and feet, using small slits in the metal wall as my only method of climbing.
Moving at a steady pace, I climb, reaching the middle of the wall sooner than I expected. Reaching for the next slit in the metal, I hiss and withdraw my hand as a chunk of wood hits my wrist, scorching my skin.
Grimacing, I clench my teeth through the pain. The rest of the climb goes slower as my wrist and hand continue to throb. When I finally reach the next platform, I sit and take a break. Raising my wrist in front of me, I press the button to call Matheas.
“You okay?”
“Taking a moment. My right wrist is scorched, it’s going to make the rest of this difficult.”
“Don’t move!”
Another chunk drops right next to the platform I’m resting on. Ashes drift in the air, slowly falling to the water behind it. This isn’t a trial—it’s a suspended and burning death trap.
“If I die today, will you kill the entire Tuller House for me?”
“You should know you don’t have to ask. The entire Royal line will be erased.”
Chuckling, I smile amidst the rising danger around me.
“Time to get back to my performance. See you at the end.”
“Stay aware of your surroundings.”
“Will do.”
Disconnecting, I rise to my feet. The next obstacle is hollow metal rings suspended in a row, but not evenly. Some are suspended higher or lower than the one it’s next to. Reaching out, I take the first one, dangling from it. Swinging my legs, I get momentum going. Getting closer to the next loop, I release and fly through the air, grabbing the next loop. Pain tugs at my shoulders, but I ignore it. Swinging again, I fly through the air to the next lower loop in front of me. Gripping it, my right hand slips, and I dangle desperately from one hand. Swinging my body up, I get a firm grip with both hands. Another swing and another loop successfully reached.
Swinging to the next, I grip it just when a small chunk of wood drops, slamming into my right shoulder, loosening my grip, and drawing a deep guttural cry of pain from me. Dangling from one hand, I feel the tension pulling my muscles to their limit, my grip losing its strength. Looking down, I debate letting go, dropping into the water and ending this, but inside me, I hear Matheas’s voice shouting at me not to give up.
Pushing through the ache in my shoulder, I barely grip the loop, but it’s enough to wiggle both hands into a tighter grasp. Swinging my lower body up, I grip the loop with my feet. With the edge of my foot grasping it, I hug the loop and wrap my leg around it, pulling my entire body up.
Sitting inside the loop, the metal causes my ass cheeks discomfort. Pulling my thoughts from it, I look at the platform in front of me and begin swinging, just as I did when I was a child when Matheas would stand behind me, pushing me for as long as I wanted on the tree swing. With enough momentum going, I take the leap off the swinging loop and land on the platform, crashing and rolling. With too much momentum, I nearly go off the edge. Bracing myself with my sore wrist and hand, I catch myself before one more roll throws me off.
Rolling in reverse toward the rings, I lay on my back and breathe. Above me, the wood burning ceiling looks sparse, but there’s still plenty of wood to knock me out and drop me below.
Rotating my head to the left, I look at the next obstacle. I’m relieved it’s a simple multi-square rope climb. Sitting up, I wince at the pain that shoots up my arm. My wrist looks as horrible as my shoulder feels.
Beginning my climb on all fours, I ascend at a slower pace, giving my body time to recuperate from the last obstacle. Wood splinters and cracks above me. Looking up, I see it falling right toward me. Gripping the rope with one hand, I cover my head with the other. The wood falls onto the rope squares behind me, burning straight through them and separating the rope from the platform behind me. The rope swings forward, and I hang on tight, preparing myself to be slammed into the pole in front of me. The crash jolts the air out of me, and I grunt in equal parts pain and frustration.
Looking up, I have to climb the rope straight up now instead of at an easy angle. At the top, I’ll have to pull myself up and onto the platform. Gritting my teeth, I raise my right arm and grip the rope square above me. Excruciating pain rips through my shoulder when I try to elevate my full weight. Tears form, lining the edge of my eyes when I try a second time.
Gripping tightly with my left arm, I climb with my feet. Once my feet are nearly to my chest, I place both hands on the same spot and pull up. Tears roll down my cheeks as pain, hot and searing like the logs above me courses through my shoulder and arm.
Two more times of pulling myself up and I reach the top, wiggling my body onto the platform. Laying there, my arms are laid out next to me, the pain so severe, I struggle to keep my eyes open. With them pinched closed, I hear Matheas inside my head. Stay aware of your surroundings.
Whipping my eyes open, relief washes through me that nothing is about to fall on me. Using my good arm, I rise to my feet. Another wave of pain hits me, and I drop to one knee, clenching my teeth through it. In front of me is one last obstacle to the final platform. Another beam walk and I’m there. Stepping forward, I place one foot out, then another. Taking each step, I try hard to keep my balance, flinching once when the pain in my shoulder comes back with a vengeance. The platform is now so close, I can taste the relief of finishing.
Around me, wood splinters and snaps, numerous chunks dropping in unison. Lowering myself, I grab the beam to keep my balance and protect myself from the wood falling like autumn leaves. The next few moments happen in a blur. Pain and pressure slam into my head, back, and right shoulder, knocking me completely off the beam. The colors and shapes around me blend into a fuzzy blur as my body submerges beneath the water.
CHAPTER TEN
FIORA
Blinking twice, I take a deep breath and focus on my surroundings. Memories flood my mind—flames, falling wood, excruciating pain as I hit the water. I remember being carried, the familiar scent of Matheas, hearing my father talking to the doctor.
“She has a torn rotator cuff and deltoid muscle, concussion, and third-degree burns on her neck, back, shoulder, and wrist. She’ll need to spend the night in a healing chamber. Tomorrow, she’ll be recovered.”
Inside the horizontal healing tube, I press the release button above me and the glass case opens. Matheas is at my side instantly. With tired eyes, he stares at me with relief.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask, my dry throat turning my voice into little more than a whisper.
“Enough.”
Handing water to me from the stand next to the healing tube, I take it with gratitude, gulping down the refreshing liquid.
“How do you feel?”
“Sore. I need a healing bath.”
“I’ll start it.”
“Thank you.”
With the water running, I take careful steps and walk to it. Matheas puts out his hand, and I accept it, letting him assist me into the tub. Removing his soldier’s garb, he climbs in behind me. Laying against him, the sore sensations ease away. Arms around me, he kisses my cheek and caresses all over my body.
“I didn’t finish,” I grumble.
“You were five steps from the final platform before the ceiling caved. No one can say you weren’t able to complete the challenge. You finished every obstacle even with injuries, and all of Anauka knows this. Your injuries were made public. Had the ceiling not burned out, you’d have completed it. There’s no arguing that.” With my silence, he cups my chin and angles my face to his. “You’re not being viewed as weak. All night, the people celebrated in your honor, saying you’re a true Queen. A leader who will protect them with strength and sacrifice. They believe in you more than they ever have.”
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Eyes roaming his face, I see the pride and affection in them. Burying my lips in his, I wrap my arms around him, rotating my body to face him.
“It gives me relief to hear this. I never want my people to see me as weak.”
Rubbing my side, I indulge in the pleasure of his caress.
“You were amazing in that trial. You proved there is no weakness in you.”
“There is one,” Brushing my lips over his, I stare into his beautiful cerulean blues, “…you.”
With my legs straddling him, I gather his length in my hand and stroke him repeatedly. Head falling back, he gives into the pleasure. My kisses continue to claim his lips as I bring him to orgasm.
“Fi,” he mutters, reaching his climax.
Seeing the satisfaction in his eyes brings me my own gratification, the kind that is emotionally fulfilling, knowing I can bring him such pleasure. Pulling me against his chest, his spent cock presses to my center.
“If only we could stay here longer.”
“I know,” I complain. “Today is the splendor ceremony. The official beginning of the suitor phase. The day the suitors get to admire my body, giving them motivation to win the prize at the end—me in a Royal suite with my legs spread and a crown atop their heads,” the last words drip from my mouth with disdain.
“I hate it,” With a curled lip, he snarls the words. “After today, if they weren’t sure about wanting you, they’ll definitely want you now. Your body is stunning. They’ll all get hard thinking about laying with you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Waving my hand over the switch, the water drains. “They can stroke their cocks until their cum is dry. To me, this is just another task I have to complete.”
Stepping out, I gather towels for us.
“I’ll be the last one to enter the room so I can escort you out.”
“Good, they’re saving the best man for last.”
With a wink his direction, his lips are pulled into a handsome smile.