by Sarah Hawke
“Maybe two or three,” Rohen agreed. “They miss you—we all do.”
Her smile made him feel like he was sixteen again. Back then he’d been little more than a pale-blooded orphan trying to court the Usurper King’s daughter. Today he was one of the Guardian’s hallowed Templar…yet somehow, he still felt completely unworthy in her presence.
“You look like you’ve done well for yourself,” Delaryn said. “You’ve gotten taller.”
“A little, maybe.”
“More than a little.” Her blue eyes flicked up and down the length of his six-and-a-half-foot frame. “The armor looks good on you, though it seems like it would be a little…cold.”
“You get used to it,” Rohen told her.
“Well, I could stand to warm up—and since I’m the queen, you should do whatever I want,” she said with a sly grin. “Come, I’ll show you my sitting room.”
Delaryn led him down the corridor and around the main hall that dominated the center of the keep. The whole time they walked in silence, Rohen couldn’t help but marvel at just how easy it still was to talk to her. They hadn’t spoken in three years, and the entire world had been tipped on its head since. He was a Templar, she was the High Queen…and yet somehow, none of that mattered in the slightest.
They eventually approached a small, cozy room with a fireplace adjoining the keep’s library. An old woman wearing the red robes and oddly triangular hat of a Tel Bator priestess was standing outside, book in hand. She looked up at the queen’s approach, her wrinkled face almost immediately turning into a scowl.
“Your Majesty,” she said, nodding her head so subtly it was barely even noticeable. “Do you require something in the library?”
“Just some privacy,” Delaryn said, turning and gesturing to dismiss her handmaidens. “My husband wanted me to give Sir Velis a tour of the Hold.”
“I see,” the priestess said, her eyes flicking to Rohen and then down to the queen’s arm locked in his. “I wonder if His Majesty would approve of this young Templar’s…chivalry.”
“Sir Velis and I are old friends, Sister Jorga,” Delaryn said. “Now, if you don’t mind…”
The old woman didn’t move. “Perhaps you should show your ‘friend’ the chapel instead. He may wish to offer his prayers to the Triumvirate. We shall need the Watcher’s strength and the Guardian’s resolve if we are to defeat the Chol.”
Rohen glanced between the two women. “We could if—”
“Perhaps later,” Delaryn said pointedly. “For now, we are going to sit and chat—alone.”
Jorga still didn’t flinch. Rohen couldn’t believe that anyone would be so openly impudent in front the High Queen, even a priestess.
“As you wish,” the old woman said eventually. She finally stepped out of the doorway and offered the queen a cold smile. “I will have your handmaidens fetch you before dinner, Your Majesty. It shouldn’t be long now.”
With a final half bow, the priestess shuffled off down the corridor. Delaryn glared at the woman’s shadow for a few moments before she sighed and tugged Rohen inside the sitting room.
“What I wouldn’t give to banish that hag back to Silver Falls where she belongs,” Delaryn said, closing the door behind them. “She’s convinced I’m going to conjure a demon the moment I leave her sight.”
Rohen pursed his lips. “Because of…well…”
“My mother, yes,” Delaryn said. “I’m the daughter of the Winter Witch. Half the clergy believe I’ve ensorcelled the king somehow, and the other half think I’m personally responsible for the summoning the Chol horde. I’m not even a sorceress!”
“Old prejudices die hard,” Rohen murmured, touching the tip of his pointed ear. “The Templar are more accepting than most, but there are plenty of men in Griffonwing who think the same things about me.”
She turned and eyed his elven features, and her expression quickly shifted from anger to embarrassment. “Gods, I’m sorry. You’ve had to deal with this your whole life, and here I am complaining that I’m not pampered enough.”
“You’re the High Queen. You deserve respect.”
“You’re a Templar. You deserve respect.”
Delaryn held his eyes and smiled for a long moment before she chuckled. “Anyway, I apologize for all of that,” she said, turning and gliding across the room to stoke the fire. “Please, have a seat. There’s so much I want to talk about.”
Rohen nodded and stepped over to the couch, though he didn’t sit down. The small room really was quite cozy; the fireplace was warm, the couch was plush, and the door was thick enough to block out the noise from the kitchens. He could imagine spending entire days here in front of the fire quietly reading through every book in the adjoining library.
“Mmm,” Delaryn murmured as she placed the poker back on the stand. “Perhaps that’s a little too warm…”
She reached up to remove her white cloak, and Rohen nearly fainted when it fell from her shoulders. It didn’t seem possible, but somehow she was even more beautiful than he had thought. Her bodice wasn’t just cropped to bare her belly; it left the smooth, flawless skin on her entire lower and upper back exposed as well. The white, silken fabric of her long skirt was so translucent that he could also see her shapely legs from the back of her thighs all the way to her boots.
By the gods, it’s like staring straight into the bloody sun.
“Your sword is sticking out.”
Rohen’s heart froze mid-beat. He belatedly realized she was looking over her shoulder at him as she hung her cloak on the wall, a single eyebrow raised and a coy smirk on her lips.
“W-what?” he breathed.
“Your sword,” she said, turning all the way around and pointing at his waist. “It’s not supposed to stick out like that, is it?”
He glanced down and realized that his hand had been pressing down against the hilt of his sword so forcefully that the tip of the scabbard was indeed jutting straight out in front of him. He immediately lifted his arm and let it fall flat against his leg again.
“I won’t tell the Lord Protector if you don’t,” Delaryn said, sauntering closer. “Can I touch it?”
Rohen’s eyes gaped wide—
Delaryn burst out laughing, and the mere sight of her smile compelled Rohen’s lips to form one of their own. He chuckled nervously, then earnestly as his embarrassment slowly transformed into relief.
“Maiden’s mercy,” she said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “And here I was worried that the Templar would sap all the fun right out of you.”
“Zin would never let that happen,” Rohen said.
“Good point.” Delaryn took a step toward him and spread her hands to the side. “Well, now you know why I was cold. This isn’t quite the modest look my father insisted on back in the day.”
Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. For the love of the gods, don’t…shit!
“You’re, um…” Rohen paused and cleared his throat and his eyes invariably drifted down to her cleavage. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Not really,” Delaryn said, stepping even closer. “My husband likes to show me off, you see. He’s spent the last month since the wedding parading me before every duke and tharn in the kingdom. He finds their jealousy…invigorating.” She scoffed and clucked her tongue. “I’ve tried telling him that they’re all going to hate me no matter how I look. I’m the daughter of Darenthi’s most hated villains. That’s all any of them will ever see.”
Her eyes hardened for a moment before she reached out her hand and gently touched his pointed ear. “Like you said, old prejudices die hard. You’ve had to deal with it your whole life.”
She was standing so close to him now that Rohen couldn’t look away even if he had wanted to—which he most certainly didn’t. Everything about her was absolutely intoxicating, from the way her blond hair spilled across her shoulders to the way her bodice cradled her breasts. Her perfume filled his nostrils, enchanting him as thoroughly as any spell, and he had never bee
n happier that his brigandine coat stretched far enough past his waist to conceal his arousal.
She’s the fucking queen! What the hell are you doing? Why are you even here with her?
Delaryn abruptly smiled again. “Anyway, I would really like to see it.”
Rohen almost choked again. “W-what?”
“Your sword, silly,” she said, glancing down. “If you’re a full Templar now, you must have a wraithblade.”
“Oh…yes, yes!” Rohen blurted out as he took a step back and reached down to grab the hilt. He carefully drew the sword from its scabbard, then laid the blade flat atop his palm. The vatari runes inscribed within the moonsilver were currently dormant, but the shimmering, silvery metal still glinted in the firelight.
“It’s beautiful,” Delaryn said, dragging her fingertips along the flat of the blade. “What is it called?”
“Varlothin,” Rohen said. “It means—”
“Temperance.”
He looked down at her and nodded. He shouldn’t have been surprised; she almost certainly knew more Elvish than he did. The snow-covered pines of the Moonweald and the highborn city-state of Nelu’Thalas were just on the other side of Crescent Slopes, after all, and the Whitefeathers had always tried to foster the tenuous peace between kingdoms.
“I’m surprised they let you give your sword an Elvish name,” Delaryn added after a moment.
“So am I, honestly. But I like the sound of it.”
“Var-loh-theen,” Delaryn said, rolling every syllable. “Can it really shift into the Pale?”
Rohen smiled. “Among other things.”
She dragged her fingertips along the metal one last time before she lowered her hand. “Here’s the real question: do you know how to use it?”
“Absolutely,” he said, snorting as he returned the blade to its sheath. “I wouldn’t be much of a Templar if I couldn’t.”
Delaryn shrugged, and a coy grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “All I’m saying is that you used to be a little clumsy.”
Rohen scoffed. “What?”
“I was a much better rider than you,” she said matter-of-factly. “And better with a bow.”
“You beat me in the archery contest once!” he reminded her. “And then you refused a rematch!”
“Only because it made you so mad. It also made you pay attention to me.”
Rohen smirked and shook his head. “That was never a problem, believe me.”
Delaryn nibbled at the corner of her lip. “There was one thing you were always good at.”
“What’s that?”
“Kissing.”
Rohen froze again. Oh, gods. What the hell am I supposed to say? What the hell am I supposed to do?
Delaryn crept forward until their bodies were barely an inch apart, and she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands. He stood there, paralyzed, as she stretched up on her tiptoes and brought their mouths together. Her lips were every bit as soft and sweet as he remembered, and when her tongue swirled together with his, he couldn’t stop the deluge of memories from overwhelming him.
The taste of her soft tongue, the smoothness of her supple flesh, the warmth of her fingers as they curled around my swollen stem…
“Wait!” Rohen gasped, gently pushing her away. The gravity of the present crashed over him, and he realized what he had just done. If anyone so much as caught a glimpse of him touching the queen, his head would be on a block before dinner.
“It’s all right,” she soothed. “We’re alone.”
He swallowed and glanced back at the thick wooden door behind them. Someone could easily peer through the cracks if they were so determined. By the bloody void, what am I doing? Get out of here! Now!
“Just sit with me,” Delaryn pleaded. “For a little while.”
Rohen found himself sinking down into the couch before he consciously knew what was happening. At least now their bodies were obstructed if anyone did happen by outside…
“I’ve thought about you so much these past few months,” she said as she sank down in the cushion beside him. “When Thedric told me he was inviting the Lord Protector, I begged him to invite you, too.”
Swallowing again, Rohen couldn’t help but glance down as she crossed her shapely legs beneath her translucent skirt. She placed her right hand atop his armor while her left gently stroked the tip of his pointed ear.
“I was worried that it had been too long,” Delaryn whispered. “I thought maybe we wouldn’t know how to talk to each other anymore, but it’s as easy as it ever was. Just being here alone with you again…” She smiled again, and her blue eyes turned so bright they almost seemed to glow. “I just want to finish what I started all those years ago.”
Her fingers slowly crawled down the length of his brigandine coat. Rohen held his breath, entranced by her eyes, until her hand suddenly settled atop the bulge in his trousers.
“Shit!” he yelped. “Delaryn, we can’t—”
“It’s ‘Your Majesty’ now, remember?” she said, pressing her nose against his. Her lips were so close that he could taste her breath. “I’m the queen. That means you have to give me whatever I want.”
She kissed him again, more passionately than before, and the instant her tongue slipped through his lips, her hand slipped inside his trousers. A shiver of ecstasy cascaded through Rohen’s entire body when her fingers curled around his aching shaft and liberated his stem.
“Gods, I missed you…” Delaryn breathed, pulling away just far enough to speak. Her fingers began stroking his manhood, slowly at first but quicker and quicker every moment.
I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead. King Thedric won’t even wait for his executioner—he’ll cut me in half himself!
Rohen could have pushed her away. He could have run out of the library and back to the Lord Protector. He could have pretended that none of this had happened and spent all night begging the Moonmaiden for forgiveness. He could have done anything besides sit here and sin against the gods with the High Queen.
But he didn’t. Instead he curled his arm around her waist, placed his hand upon the impossibly smooth skin of her lower back, and pulled her in for another kiss. Her tongue swirled together with his as her fingers pumped him closer and closer to the edge of the abyss…
“Don’t hold back,” Delaryn breathed. “Never hold back…”
He didn’t. Rohen’s entire body shook as he erupted like a geyser, showering his trousers, his armor, and her hand in his scalding, sinful seed. Delaryn didn’t stop pumping until he stilled from exhaustion, and once he slumped back into the cushions, she smiled down at him and gently cradled his face in her other hand.
“This is what I get for making you wait three years,” she said, smiling. “Don’t worry. I promise, I won’t let that happen again.”
Her tongue slithered back through his lips, and the sheer passion of her kiss countered the inevitable wave of exhaustion that crashed over him. She didn’t even allow his stem to wither;
she continued stroking him tenderly, tortuously, utterly unconcerned by the glorious mess she had made.
Until a soft knock rapped at the door.
Rohen would have leapt up and dashed into the library if Delaryn hadn’t held him in place. She glanced up over the back of the couch as one of her handmaidens cracked open the door and peeked her head inside. From her perspective, she probably couldn’t see anything below their shoulders.
“Please forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” the girl said. “But Sister Jorga has requested your presence in the main hall.”
“Thank you, Mari,” Delaryn said. “I will be there soon.”
The girl’s eyes flicked between them. “She wanted me to escort you to—”
“I will be there soon,” Delaryn repeated sharply. “Now leave us.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty! I apologize…”
The handmaiden pulled the door shut behind her, and she scurried off so quickly her footfalls were audible even though the thick oak. Delary
n stared at the door for a minute before she sighed and offered Rohen a smile.
“I guess we’ll have to continue this later.”
“Gods…” Rohen wheezed, glancing down to the delicate, slender fingers still tugging at his stem.
“We shouldn’t arrive in the main hall together,” Delaryn said, stroking him one last time before she finally released her grip. She raised her hand up to her lips and studied the mess for a moment before she licked a strand off her fingers. The mere sight of his seed on the tip of her tongue almost made him spill again…
“What do we…” Rohen cleared his throat. “What do we do?”
“I will freshen up before heading to the hall,” she told him. “There’s a washroom around the corner to the right…take your time cleaning up.”
Rohen nodded as his heart started pounding again. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. None of this could possibly be real…
Delaryn stood and darted over to retrieve her cloak. She threw it back over her shoulders, clasped the brooch in front, then turned and leaned back down over him. “Meet me in the chapel just before midnight,” she whispered. “I’ll be there waiting for you.”
Rohen shook his head in confusion. “What? We can’t—”
“Just be there,” she said, touching his face. “Please.”
Delaryn kissed his lips one last time before she scurried out the door. Rohen sat there panting on the couch, still in denial about what had just happened, until he looked down at the evidence of their sin. If someone saw him like this…
“Guardian forgive me,” he said, hopping to his feet. He rushed out of the sitting room and followed her directions to the nearby privy, whispering a prayer to the gods that no one else would be there. He couldn’t imagine they would bless him now, in the wake of such a flagrant sin, but the keep’s emptiness worked to his advantage. He cleaned himself up in private, staggered that it was possible to be this drained and this energized all at once.