Tales of Enchantment 2: The Quest

by Kai Andersen

  The guests laughed, agreeing with the king in their laughter.

  The king held up his hand, and the noise died down. “When I sent Prince Michael on the quest, I did say that to whomever completed the quest, I would give the hand of my daughter in marriage. My word is my honor. Hence, it is with pleasure that on this day, I give my daughter, Princess Giselda, to this valiant young man, Prince Michael of Ermont!”

  Amidst the applause, Rodin opened his mouth.

  “Objection, Your Majesty!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Giselda, are you feeling well? Maybe you should go and lie down.”

  She shrugged off Michael’s hand and ignored his whispered threats -- “Shut up, or you’ll get it from me later!” -- because now that she had taken the first step, she was fighting to hold on to the courage to see it through. It had taken an enormous amount of guts for her to open her mouth and to say those three words. Even now they were reverberating through her head. Objection, Your Majesty!

  She broke out in a cold sweat. Her heart was pounding loud and fast, and a fine trembling started deep within her when she saw the look of concern on her father’s face. She dared not look at the others, especially that of her always sympathetic sister-in-law. She was afraid she might not be able to go on if she did.

  “What is it, child?”

  Her father’s kind voice increased her heartache. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him, though she was sure would happen should he hear this. But she couldn’t keep silent. She had thought and thought about nothing else for the past ten days, and the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She had to make things right.

  Her voice trembled as the tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I am sorry, Your Majesty,” she began. “But I find that I cannot marry the murderer of my son’s father!”

  Shock reflected on the king’s blurry face. Shock that Michael was a murderer, or that she was pregnant? All around her, a flurry of whispers broke out.

  Michael’s hand snaked out, and his fingers bit into her wrist. “Giselda, what are you talking about?”

  She turned on him in fury. “Unhand me, you murderer!”

  “Guards!”

  Nearby guards responded with alacrity to Frederick’s command and seized Michael, pulling him away from her. “She’s lying!” He struggled against the guards. “Get away from me, you oaf!”

  Commotion broke out among the guests as they whispered among themselves.

  “Silence!” Frederick glared at the prince. “Prince Michael, the guards are just to restrain you from going near my sister and hurting her. You are by no means found guilty.” He paused. “Yet.”

  In the absolute quiet that followed, the king’s voice came out tentative and in pain. “You are ... with child?”

  Giselda dashed away the tears with her hand. “Father, I am sorry for a lot of things, but I am not sorry for this.” Her hand moved to cover her abdomen. “And I am not sorry for knowing Rodin, the best man I have ever known ... the only man I will ever love.”

  The tears fell then, and Giselda shook with the weight of her loss. Serena ran to her and put her arms around her waist, their tears mingling together. Giselda held on tightly.

  “Michael ... ordered his guards to ... to do away with Rodin --”

  “Your Majesty, she is lying!” Michael struggled wildly from where the guards were holding him in their tight grip. “I don’t understand why she is doing this, but obviously --”

  “Father, I believe you may question the guards who went with him. Given the right incentives, I am sure they will tell us the truth.”

  “I don’t know why you’re lying, you slut! That child could very well be mine. Have you thought of that --”

  Giselda whirled on him. “No! I refuse to believe that.”

  Frederick strode over and punched Michael in the stomach. “Speak with respect when you address my sister!”

  “Respect!” Michael laughed wildly. “Ask her if she thought of respect when she spread her legs for a man other than --”

  “Who the princess has a relationship with is none of your concern anymore, Michael.” Nobody was surprised when the king of Ermont spoke up, but all were shocked at what he said. “I know my son better than most,” he continued in a tired voice from where he sat. “I can believe the atrocious deeds the princess says he has done. I thought he would change for the better when he said he had fallen in love and wanted to marry Princess Giselda.” He sighed. “But it turns out that I was wrong. Do not worry, Princess. Though he is my son and the crown prince, he will get the punishment he deserves.”

  “Father, how could you side with others?! I am your son, your heir! I --”

  “Silence!” the king of Ermont thundered. “You shall be given a proper and fair trial in Ermont, but for now, you have forfeited your right to speak.”

  “And what shall you do?” Michael sneered. “Give the kingdom to that pig of a prince? Anyone can see that I am a far better ruler than he could ever be.”

  Knowing his “pig” comment could only be in reference to his brother, Giselda was amazed that she could have been so blind as to not see his true colors from the outset.

  The king of Ermont sighed and turned to his host, saying, “If I may borrow the use of your dungeon, Henry --”

  “No problem, George.” He signaled the guards, and they took the prince away, ignoring his loud protests. Looks of compassion and gratitude were exchanged between the two monarchs. “Go on, daughter. I believe you have more to say.”

  “I --” The thought overwhelmed her, and Giselda found it hard to speak for the tears lodged in her throat. “I didn’t find out until it was too late. I ran to the river, but I couldn’t find any trace of Rodin. He -- he said Rodin is resting at the bottom of the river.”

  She broke down, sobbing noisily. Strangely, the whole court was quiet, respecting her grief.

  “We will send someone in the morning, child, to see if we can find him.”

  “Thank you, Father.” Giselda wiped away her tears, hiccupping slightly. “I don’t know what you are going to do with Michael, Your Majesty --” She bowed slightly to the king of Ermont. “-- and I don’t want to know. I just ask that justice be given to Rodin ... and to our son, who will never know his father.” She controlled her tears because there were still some things she wanted to say.

  “Rodin was the one who finished the quest, Father, and by rights, as you decreed beforehand, the hand of the princess --” Her voice cracked. “-- would be given to him in marriage.”

  “Agreed.”

  For the first time in many days, Giselda smiled. “And if I know Rodin, he would not want any of the titles you wanted to confer upon him, not because he is --” She swallowed with difficulty. “-- was -- too proud for them, but because he never placed much store in them.”

  “They shall be passed on with immediate effect to his son.”

  Giselda started. “But Father --”

  “He is my grandson.” The king’s voice was firm and brooked no arguments. “Surely I am allowed to give him a welcome gift.”

  “Thank you, Father.” She wanted to hug her father, but this was not the time. Why had she ever doubted her family’s support for her? Her arms tightened around Serena. “But there is one thing ...”

  “Name it.”

  Giselda squared her shoulders. “I know that Rodin had an agreement with Frederick to start a horse ranch after his last security job. But as Rodin is not ... here, I would like to take on that task for him. I want it to be his legacy to his son.”

  Serena squeezed her arm, indicating her approval of the suggestion.

  “Agreed.” Frederick’s voice was choked. “Princess Giselda shall manage the ranch in her husband’s name, and two hundred and fifty acres shall be given as a gift from the crown prince and princess of Mithirien.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The guests had stayed for the dinner after the aborted wedding, but Giselda found that she couldn
’t face the food. After making her apologies to her family, she made it very clear that she needed to be alone for now. She saw the worried glances they sent her way, but much as she wanted to reassure them, she didn’t know how much would be truth.

  She made her way to her room, where she took off her dress and unbound her hair, all the while reminiscing about the past twenty or so days with Rodin. She laughed at the funny moments and cried when something touched her heart, but never more so than when she thought of the time when she had “tortured” him by withholding information on how she felt about him. She especially remembered his ashen face when he thought that she regarded him only as a brother. She now wished that she could turn back time, that she had told him straight out that she loved --

  “All that crying can’t be good for the baby.”

  Giselda’s head whirled toward the balcony. That voice, although not with its present weight of tenderness, had haunted all her thoughts and dreams.

  The sight of his beloved silhouette brought a fresh onslaught of tears. He was bathed in radiant light, making it hard for her to see his features clearly. But it was him. She would know him, even if she saw only his shadow or a finger on his hand.

  “Rodin!” She sobbed. She was halfway across the room when she suddenly stopped. One hand stretched out toward him. “I should not go near to you, right, because you might disappear then,” she whispered, her heart dark with despair. “But it’s all right. It is enough to be able to see you like this, even to hear your voice.” She burst into tears again. “Oh, Rodin, there are lots of things I want to tell you; I don’t think one night is enough. Promise me you will come back tomorrow, please?”

  “I’ll do better than that,” he said in an aching whisper, striding toward her with the same tormented expression she was sure was on her face. He grasped her hand, and his arms closed about her. “I’ll hold you in my arms every night.”

  She laid her head on his chest in wonder and amazement. He smelled of earth and grass and sky. “How can a ghost be so solid?”

  “Maybe because I’m not a ghost?” His voice held a trace of laughter.

  She touched his arm and pulled the hair on his chest.

  “Ow!”

  A wild joy bloomed in her. “You’re alive! You’re really alive!” Incredibly, more tears slid down her cheeks. She hugged him in a tight grip. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

  “As long as I’m in the dream with you, I don’t really care.”

  “But how -- how -- I love you. I love you.”

  “I know.”

  She looked up at him, surprised. “You know? But I never told you.”

  “I was in the throne room just now.”

  “You were? But you never made a sound ...”

  In the moonlight, his eyes were tender as he looked down at her. “I was waiting to hear why my princess could look so beautiful, yet her eyes could be so sad. Why her lips couldn’t smile. I hoped that it was because of ... me.” He smiled. “I never expected her to exact vengeance for me, though.”

  “In the end, I couldn’t marry him, not even for the baby, not when I love you so much.”

  His hand moved down to cover her abdomen. “My baby.” There was much wonder and awe in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot offer you much, Giselda --”

  “You have two hundred and fifty acres of land --”

  “Given by your brother. My life, as it is right now, is worth nothing.”

  “Don’t say that!” Her voice came out more sharply than she intended. “Your life is worth a great deal to me.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” His voice was rueful with remorse. “I just meant that I don’t have much to offer you. Wait, hear me out. I am not of royal blood, no title, no prestigious lineage. The little amount of gold that I’ve saved wouldn’t be enough to cover you in furs and jewels. I would have continued employment managing the ranch, but turnaround time won’t be for at least two years or more. Moreover, ranch work is hard, and there will probably be no servants to assist you. Think you can live with me in poverty?”

  Although his voice was light, she knew the answer was very important to him. “Rodin,” she began softly, looking into his brilliant green eyes. “It’s true that I had dreamed of being queen one day, and I’m ashamed to say, even schemed and plotted for it. But dreams do change. My dreams changed.” She smiled. “My feelings also changed. Maybe it’s because I’m more grown-up now, able to think about things, and realizing what I do want from my life. Separating the important things from the nonessential ones.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “And I’ve found out that you are the most important thing in my life. You and the baby both. You are my savior, my lifeline. If not for you, I would have ended up like Michael, and maybe you could even say that we deserved each other. But because you saw the best in me, I want to be the best person that I can be for you. I want nothing more than to be your wife, living with you and working together with you on the ranch. As to servants ...” She hesitated. “I didn’t always have them, and I believe it is time for me to learn how to do without them if need be. But I suppose we can afford one or two, can’t we?”

  “Yes, we can.” There was a big lump in his throat. It humbled him that Giselda was willing to give up so much, just because she loved him.

  Giselda swallowed hard. “Also, have I told you that when my father -- that is, my biological father -- was still alive, we owned a small pasture? Did I tell you about how I would always run barefoot in the meadow? Well, I did and I grew to love the sight of the green grass, the feel of the brown earth underneath my feet, the smell of freedom in the open fields. I missed that when we moved into the castle.”

  “I know. You told me you missed the open air.”

  “Yes.” She looked deep into his eyes. “But when I look into your eyes, I see it all -- the green grass, the brown earth, the blue sky and freedom. You gave it all back to me, Rodin.”

  Her words went straight to his heart. He gave a heartfelt groan and then kissed her, his lips flitting lightly over her lips before settling on them, moving slowly over hers, savoring and relishing the feel of those warm lips. It was a kiss that bespoke of promise and love and so much more.

  “I missed you.” His lips moved to her neck.

  His fingers were busy at the ribbon of her shift. Need spiraled within her, fierce and sharp and strong. “Me, too. And when I thought that I would never see you again --”

  “It’s all right. We’re together now, and nobody can tear us apart again. Ever.”

  “But how --” She tore at his shirt. The buttons popped.

  “Merry saved me.”

  The shift pooled at her feet. “We certainly owe her a lot.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  He claimed her lips again, and it was a long while before they talked again. It was not the tender kiss that he’d given her moments ago. This kiss was fierce and hard, possessing and claiming. He plundered her mouth, tasting her honeyed depths. His hands flew into her hair, shifting through the thick mass.

  Giselda loved this side of Rodin. It spoke of a certain desperation. It excited her, made her feel desirable and womanly. She responded eagerly to his advances, plunging her tongue into his mouth.

  “It will be hard and fast, Giselda,” he rasped as he carried her to the bed. “I can’t wait anymore.”

  “I want it any way you want, Rodin, always.”

  Despite his urgency, he laid her down gently and traced her cheek, his mouth somber and unsmiling. Then he tore at his breeches, and his cock was free. He plunged into her in one quick motion.

  Giselda sucked in a deep breath. He felt so full and so familiar inside her. He filled her, deeper and fuller because he also touched her heart. Her legs automatically came up to clasp him to her. Tears threatened to overwhelm her; this was the culmination of their love, this physical joining.

  “Tears, Giselda?” Rodin asked softly, his lips kissing the tear that had slipped
free.

  “Of happiness. I didn’t think I would be this happy.”

  “It will be even better.” He started to move, thrusting in and out of her. “We can only get better as the years go by.”

  Rodin was like a man possessed; he thrust and plunged, quick, shallow stabs that compelled her to lift her hips and meet his movements. His hard body ground against hers in every downward stroke, stimulating the tight bud of her desire.

  His action drove her deeper into the bed. His shoulders were bunched, and his neck was corded as he strove to maintain his hard and fast pace. She clutched him by the shoulders, feeling his muscles clench, her fingers digging deep into his flesh as she lifted herself to meet him. She wanted more. She needed more, desperately.

  She wanted an affirmation of what they had almost lost ... and regained.

  He gave it to her.

  She lost herself in the waves of intense pleasure, in the sweet sensations of Rodin’s firm body atop her, his hard length inside her. She dug her heels deeper into his buttocks, as if by sheer force she could keep him within her. Her walls were contracting madly, milking his cock even as he tried to thrust through the ever-narrowing passage. She screamed from the mindless pleasure that rent through her. Her vagina gripped him, gloved him, pushing him to the brink, the rich surge of her cream washing over him, causing him to thrust into her furiously as he finally had his own release, shooting jets of seed into her slick depths.

  Their mating was fierce and urgent and frantic, born of desperation and love and need so deep it filled and overflowed their hearts.

  He collapsed on top of her, spent. She still pulsed around him, tiny contracting movements that sent aftershocks into their bodies. When he would have moved away from her, she stopped him. “No. Stay.”

  He was still inside her, and though his weight was heavy, he felt sweaty and solid and good. He felt like heaven. She gripped him tighter with her arms and legs.

  His mouth was muffled against her neck. “I’m too heavy for you.”