QueensQuest

by Suz deMello

  A cluster of about a dozen people milled about to the left of the open gate. They were grouped around a woman holding a small bundle in her arms, with a beaming man by her side.

  “A baby!” Excited, I dismounted, and Kaldir followed suit. “I heard about this child. She was born to the local greengrocer’s wife perhaps seven weeks ago.”

  He took my reins so I could get a closer look. I advanced and asked, feeling somewhat shy, “May I hold her?”

  The mother gasped and started to curtsey, a difficult task given her burden.

  “No, don’t do that,” I said hastily.

  “We are honored by your attentions, Your Majesty,” said the father. “Thank you for your gifts.”

  “I would have come sooner, but affairs of state…” I nodded at Kaldir, who still stood at the group’s edge, holding the horses’ reins. Given the rarity of births, the royal custom had long been to visit the homes of those blessed by a baby, if reasonably nearby, and to dispense gifts. I had sent presents, of course, but had not visited the home.

  “Here you go, Ma’am.” The mother, a chubby-cheeked wench of perhaps eighteen starturns, smiled proudly at me and deposited the baby, a sedate quilt-wrapped bundle, into my arms. “Her name is Beryla,” the mother said. “After the crown princess of blessed memory.”

  I pressed my lips together but tears sprang to my eyes. “Th-thank you. That is so very kind.”

  I stared down at baby Beryla, gazing at her closed eyes, perfect crescents rimmed by soft, dark lashes that rested like evening mist on smooth, rounded cheeks. She had a red, puckered mouth and a fluff of dark hair. She was lovely.

  I bent my head toward her face and inhaled the divine scent of clean baby, caressed her impossibly silky cheek with mine. More tears followed the first ones.

  At that moment, something shifted inside me, inside my heart.

  I ached for a baby. My baby. This was more than a politically inspired plan to secure the succession.

  I longed for my true king. My pussy longed for cock, yes, but my womb hungered for a child. This feeling, this craving, had been growing in me for starturns. I wanted to sniff the special aroma of my baby. I wanted to nibble my baby’s funny wedge-shaped, fleshy feet, so unique, so special, and to nuzzle ten pearly toes crowned with tiny shell-like nails.

  I wanted a baby. I wanted my baby, and I wanted to share that joy with my mate, my king.

  I reluctantly gave the child back to her parents. “She’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  The crowd bowed and murmured politely as Kaldir and I walked our horses through the raised portcullis and toward the stable. I asked, “Have you offspring?” I heard a wistful note in my voice.

  His mouth twisted. “Um…several, here and there.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He looked embarrassed. “A man gets around.”

  “Oh.” Was that a good sign? I wondered. That Kaldir had so many children he did not know them all?

  I was not sure. I would prefer the royal children—my children—to be raised by someone more like my father, who had doted on us, taken an interest in every minute of every day, had been actively involved in our upbringing. He had taught Beryla and me to ride, fight, fence and hunt. He had shown her the intricacies of statecraft while I had been the lazy one, embroidering with our mother, sneaking sweet pies in the kitchen, playing with Frayn or another friend.

  Kaldir and I left the horses at the now-busy stable and walked to a side door of the castle. Before we entered, he stopped, took me by the shoulders and kissed me. His lips were warm and soft, throbbing sensually against mine. “Later,” he whispered.

  Releasing me, he opened the door and ushered me into my castle. I wasn’t sure I liked that. It seemed a little proprietary.

  I went to my suite, bathed and dressed for the day. The massaging hands of my ladies continued to stimulate me, and the wall mirrors revealed that a sexual flush still pinkened my cheeks, my décolletage.

  My morning adventure resulted in repercussions, of course. Maia didn’t fail to register her disapproval, grumbling about security risks and schedules in disarray. Smiling, I assured her that the excursion had been necessary and swept into my morning meeting with the Ten Ministers with my grin and good mood intact.

  I settled myself onto the Golden Throne, and realized I had a major management issue when I saw Frayn’s glare. “I trust Your Majesty’s morning ride was invigorating?” he asked with a barely concealed sneer.

  “It was fine,” I said through stiff lips, wondering if he had planted spies in the stable. The guard? Perhaps he had bedded her. The stable boy? Only a few coins would secure his allegiance. I didn’t like that. They were my servants, not Lord Frayn’s.

  Frayn turned to Geoman. “The queen was accompanied by Prince-Scientist Kaldir.”

  Geoman leaned into the back of his padded chair, his eyes lazily perusing my face. His glance lingered on my lips, still swollen from Kaldir’s scalding kisses. He smiled, the heat of desire lighting his eyes. He was a most attractive man and I resolved to tryst with him as soon as it could be arranged. “Your Majesty, have you formed an opinion of the prince-scientist?” he asked.

  I attempted a demure smile, wondering why Kaldir’s jism tasted so unusually spicy. Perhaps it was the result of his diet. I resolved to find out. “I have only begun my…research. I feel that the prince-scientist cloaks a mystery, perhaps even has an unknown agenda which he has not yet revealed.” I could not rid myself of the odd feeling I had seen Kaldir before.

  Parlous sat straighter. “What do you suspect, Your Majesty?”

  I frowned. “I don’t believe it is anything that would threaten us, my lord. But I do wish to know what it is and am determined to worm the secret from my suitor.”

  “You must work quickly,” Lady Mercourie said. “The delegation from Darkside is no more than a day away. Once Prince Storne arrives, he will demand your attention.”

  Storne. There was something about the name that ruffled my nerve endings. “Who is this Storne?”

  “His clan won the latest spate of warfare for the control of Darkside. His father is the king, and Storne will inherit the throne upon his death. If you choose him as King of Shadow, he will rule two-thirds of this planet.” Parlous’ voice was dry.

  “We will rule two-thirds of Janus.” I tried not to sound huffy.

  “Thus upsetting the Balance,” Caducia said.

  “The Balance is upset whomever I choose.” I shifted restlessly.

  “No,” Kloutt said. “If you choose a Shadowlander, Balance is preserved.”

  “If you choose Prince-Scientist Kaldir, his people will elect another leader,” Parlous said. “Balance will, again, be preserved.”

  “That has ever been true. Perhaps that is why there have been so few royal marriages with the DarkDwellers,” Geoman said. “We have feared to disrupt the Balance, but as we have said, mayhap new blood would be beneficial.”

  “And Storne’s clan may not forever hold Darkside’s throne,” Mercourie said.

  “What can Shadow gain from Light?” I asked, tapping my fingernails on the Golden Throne’s right arm. “We can trade for their technology.”

  “Perhaps the secret that Your Majesty believes Kaldir conceals will be worth your hand in marriage.” Frayn eyed me. “But I doubt it.”

  “So nothing, really, has changed,” Caducia said. “I believe we should wait for the advent of Darkness’ prince and reserve a decision until all candidates can be thoroughly evaluated.”

  “Agreed?” I asked.

  “Agreed,” came a ragged chorus.

  Geoman and Frayn exchanged challenging grins, and I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. I wished that I had started my search for a mate earlier, as it was providing me with unexpected amusement, as well as new partners for sex play.

  * * * * *

  Lord Geoman had not misread my flirtatious glances, and when at midnight I heard a tap on my door, I knew ’twas him. I had asked M
aia to reject all other callers.

  I had been reluctant to tryst with Geoman, though we had enjoyed each other occasionally before I ascended the throne and had always been friendly. But now, with my seventeenth starturn approaching, I lost my fear of misleading him about my intentions. Statecraft had its demands, and as queen, I had to obey. As the Progenitors had said, ’twas a tough job, but someone had to do it.

  When he entered, I said, “I think you understand why I wanted you here tonight.”

  I wore a pink nightgown of flimsy silk, no impediment to his keen green gaze. A wry smile twisted his lips, which were finely carved and firm. “You’re trying out the available studs.”

  I smiled, twining my arms around his neck. We kissed. He felt good, even though I was not truly needy due to my earlier romp in the woods with Kaldir.

  I believe Geoman sensed my mood, for he moved his lips from my mouth to my cheek and then to my eyes, gently stroking each closed lid. His tenderness drew my tears. I blinked and looked at his kind, humorous, smiling face.

  He kissed away the moisture and continued holding me, caressing my back. “We would deal well together were I your choice.”

  After a short silence, I prompted, “But…”

  “But I should not be.”

  “You’re reluctant to share the Golden Throne with me? Why?”

  His hands tightened. “It’s not you. I have always cared for you.”

  “And I for you.” I looked into his green eyes and sighed, sensing a rejection.

  “More than the usual loyalty I owe Shadowland’s monarch.” We smiled at each other, my heart happy. He continued, “But in council, I am telling you the truth, Audryn. Consider Darkside’s prince.”

  “I will, when I meet him.” Even more impressed by Geoman, I went to the sideboard. I poured a glass of warmed red wine and offered it to him.

  “Darkside-carved crystal?” Geoman asked. The DarkDwellers created wondrous glass in the fires of Darkside’s volcanoes. The process, a closely guarded secret, gave the crystal a luminescent sheen, which their artisans then cut through to create fantastic designs.

  “Yes.” With a lifted brow, I served myself wine.

  “There are many advantages to an alliance with Darkside, and Lord Storne’s reputation precedes him.”

  “Mighty in battle and all of that?”

  Geoman tapped his goblet against mine. The crystal rang, a merry chime. “Your good health, beloved Queen.”

  “Thank you. And to yours.”

  “Apparently Darkside’s king is elderly, and not only did his son, Prince Storne, lead his clan’s battles but conducted the complex diplomacy that pacified many DarkDweller clans. Most saw the advantages of peace.”

  “After Storne had won a battle or two?”

  “Yes. He was reportedly most savage. His clan left no survivors. Storne butchered them all.”

  My goblet clattered as I set it back onto the sideboard despite my efforts to hold it firm. “P-personally?”

  “Personally.”

  I stared at Geoman. “And that’s…good?”

  “I share your suspicions of the Lightsiders. Worse, I also believe they have weapons that far outstrip anything we have. We need someone like Storne.” His mouth tightened. “We have allied with the Children of Light in the past, but it has advantaged us not. They elect a different prince-scientist and give us little of their technology. The truth is that they need Shadow and Darkness more than we need them.”

  “Yes, they need minerals and ice from the Darkside, and everything must pass through the Shadowlands.” I pressed my fingers to my lips, thinking. I looked at Geoman. “But what if I cannot control Storne? And marriage to him will not solve the issues that the Children of Light present.”

  “They will, in part. Unless their weapons are far superior to ours, Lightside will hesitate to attack Shadow with Storne on the Golden Throne and two armies, his and ours, defending us.”

  An idea struck me. “What if I were to tell Kaldir that I wish to see his realm before joining Shadow with Light? He could scarcely refuse.”

  Geoman twirled the stem of his wineglass through his fingers. “You’re right. But what of Storne?”

  I shrugged. “I want to see Darkside, also. I’ll treat them both equally, ask for a tour of his dominion as well. In exchange I’ll offer to show them around the Shadowlands.”

  “A Royal Progress. Yes, there has not been one for many a long year.”

  “Not since I was small. Beryla had planned…” I stopped and bit my lip. My sister had wanted to make a Progress after her marriage. We were all going to travel with her and her husband, who would have been the crown prince. I wondered who she would have selected. Kaldir? Frayn? Geoman? Storne? What would our parents have advised?

  Geoman’s hand covered mine. “I know what the crown princess intended to do after her marriage.”

  I cleared my throat. Even so, my voice came out husky. “The time is overdue. We shall make a Royal Progress through our lands, then continue to Lightside.”

  “Then to the DarkDwellers’ realm. Audryn, you’re brilliant.”

  “That’s why I’m queen,” I said smugly, while destroying the effect with a wink.

  He winked back. “Once we’re inside the Lightsiders’ citadels, we can pierce their secrets.”

  “Precisely. We’ll bring such a huge entourage that they won’t be able to keep track of everyone.”

  “And if the DarkDwellers come with us, so much the better. Storne is a master of warfare. If the Children of Light conceal any military secrets, he will worry them forth.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Let’s keep this plot to ourselves for now, shall we?”

  “Agreed. A Royal Progress, with no underlying motive.”

  * * * * *

  At our morning conference, I convinced the Ten Ministers of the viability of a Royal Progress without revealing my true purpose, then broached the subject to Kaldir at luncheon. He said, “What about the DarkDwellers? Aren’t they sending a delegation with a candidate for your hand?”

  I affected a careless mien. “I cannot wait indefinitely for Darkness’ emissaries.”

  “The temper of Darkness’ prince is said to be…unpredictable.”

  “I have not heard too much about him, but he is said to be a fearsome warrior.” I picked at my sallet. It was sprinkled with dried toreed, a briny-tasting water-grass alleged to have medicinal properties. “If we leave for the desert before Storne arrives, it is possible that he may take offense.”

  “You don’t sound concerned.”

  “He needs me more than I need him.”

  Kaldir stared at me. “Ruthless beneath the sweet façade.”

  “I prefer…realistic.”

  He chuckled. “If we leave before Storne arrives, I will have you all to myself.”

  I did not mention that Frayn and assorted other ministers would accompany us, to say nothing of numerous servants, guards, ladies-in-waiting, stable hands… Kaldir might be able to find a quiet moment to press his suit, but I doubted it.

  Chapter Five

  That afternoon, as usual, I held Open Court, an event at which any citizen of Shadow could ask me for advice or judgment. Daily, travelers arrived from all over the Shadowlands to speak, or most often to argue.

  My elaborate gown, swelled on each side by panniers, all but obscured the Golden Throne on which I sat. The dress, in a rich crimson brocade, was a vivid splotch of color against the gray slate hall. I gripped a scepter—another ancient symbol of power—in my right hand. I leaned my chin on my left, considering a boundary dispute between two farmers when I noticed a flurry of activity near one side of the Great Hall.

  Ignoring it, I straightened, conscious of the Throne framing me, and announced my judgment. The litigants retired as metal-shod feet rang on the slates. I had not noticed when the tall knight had entered, but at some point he had decided to make his presence known. My attention seized, I rose, seeking to pick out the interloper from
the crowds.

  He wasn’t hard to find, for he stood at least a head taller than anyone else in the room, and I understood the mockery of the Darksiders who called us “puny creatures of Shadow”. He wore a metal suit from head to toe, and I could see nothing of his face, hidden as it was by a helmet crowned with the double horns of the taqqa.

  I knew the moment he espied my glance on him, for the speed of his long strides increased. He bulled his way through the crowd, which parted for him like the stormwind rushing around the turrets of my castle.

  I consciously grounded myself, feeling the marble floor beneath my high boots, straightening my back. Deep breaths pressed my breasts against my corset, the lace trim scratching my flesh. My heart pounded.

  Managing him would not be easy. If I chose him as my mate, who would rule over Shadow?

  “I, Storne, Lord of Darkness, have come to claim my queen.” He approached and stepped onto the dais supporting my throne.

  I was offended. “Bow,” I said.

  Still standing, he reached up and removed his battered helmet. Long dark hair, unkempt from his journey, fell around his armor’s pewter shoulders. Cold gray eyes regarded me from a pale, set face, all planes and angles of bone. Not a stripling, but not wizened and old. Darkness had sent their finest champion, for Storne was a prince in the prime of life.

  He inclined his head, giving me the briefest of bows. “Audryn.”

  I lifted my brows at his use of my given name. “The Queen of Shadow greets Darkside’s emissary,” I said formally, extending a hand.

  He stripped off a gauntlet, then dropped it and the helmet to the stone floor with a startling crash. My body jerked. He took my fingers in his, caressing my knuckles through the glove I wore. Instead of brushing his lips on the satin, which would have been proper, he pulled at the glove, thrusting his thumb between it and my wrist.