by Suz deMello
My hands clenched on Maia’s scales. “Do you see that?” I shouted, my throat thickening.
Maia’s thoughts thundered through my brain. I see it. I see the thing that would take our land.
“It will not happen,” Storne stated simply.
The creature descended from the Golden Throne, which today was draped with chains, and gave its free hand to…to Kaldir. Or at least, one of the many Kaldirs in attendance. It led him to the bed.
They were about to consummate their marriage in public, as required by the law and custom of our realm. If that happened, the Lightsiders would have stolen the throne. My throne, my land.
Rage overtook me, the same terrible and terrifying rage that had seized me in the cloning room. Only Storne’s arm holding me close stopped me from leaping from Maia’s back a hundred feet down to the terrace.
She flew high, her bulk crossing the moons. As she impeded their reflected light, heads turned from watching the clone-Audryn and looked up. I saw the Ten, all of them, Frayn and his father included. Mouths dropped open in shock. Gasps and cries of surprise reached us even through the heavy beat of Maia’s leathery wings.
I felt their fear and gloried in it. Yes, I thought grimly, they should fear me and my wrath. If their loyalties had switched, my retribution would be severe.
Maia landed on the terrace, and as she transformed back into her usual state, I turned to face my people, my mate by my side.
Silence born of shock blanketed the scene.
I strode forward, feeling the swish of my long, elaborately embroidered skirts around my heels. I also had dressed for the occasion, but with additions I hoped the clone did not wear.
I clouted the clone across the face and the jewels embedded in my gloves were not kind. Blood spurted from its ruined nose and split lip. Crying out, it fled to hide behind Kaldir. His soldiers stirred and deadly black boxes appeared in many a Lightsider hand.
I regarded them. “You cannot prevail,” I stated. “Kaldir, look around you. Call off your dogs.”
He stared at me, his expression blank.
“Look around you!” I shouted. I circled the terrace, my arms spread wide, fingers pointing.
Our warriors spilled into the keep, surrounding the castle in a deadly ring five-deep. Their armor glinted dully in the pale light reflected by the three moons. Drawn swords rattled against scabbards, their scrape drawing a shiver along my backbone. The combined forces of Shadow and Darkness stood ready for battle against the Children of Light, and I prayed to whatever gods there were that my people, my realm, would survive.
Silence again, during which only one man stirred. Geoman strode out of the group of Ten Ministers and knelt before me. “Forgive me, my queen, for I was deceived.” He buried his head in his hands, dropping his forehead to the stones beneath.
Caducia followed, as did Parlous, Mercourie, all of them, with tears falling from old Lord Kloutt’s eyes. Were those tears real? Would he now weep for me if he’d plotted my family’s deaths? Perhaps the drownings had been a tragic accident, and the story told by the elderly lake-man fantasy born of too much toreed.
Or perhaps he wept in fear. Even so, I caressed his head, and said, “Rise, for you are forgiven.” His arthritis was severe and I did not desire him to pain himself.
“A touching sight,” Kaldir said. He and his men still had their evil little weapons trained on us.
“Shoot if you must,” I said tranquilly. “Think you to evade my warriors?” While we talked, they’d drawn closer. Our personal guard, including Rall, Parron and Hode, now mounted the steps leading from the lawns to the terrace.
Storne loomed behind Kaldir, wrapping one arm in a chokehold around Kaldir’s throat, pressing a knife to his neck. The silver blade dug deep into Kaldir’s dark skin. “Or me?” Storne said quietly into Kaldir’s ear. “Call off your desert scum or die.”
Kaldir began to shake, and I knew that despite his plotting and his perfidy, my initial assessment of his character was correct. He was weak and misunderstood statecraft. I had chosen my mate wisely.
Storne’s knife pressed deeper and a thin red line appeared. A narrow trail of blood crawled down Kaldir’s dark, sweating skin.
“Shadowlander slime! Betrayer!” Kaldir fired his weapon, not at me but at Frayn, who with his father kneeled at my feet. A slender blast of light jetted forth from the box, drawing a deadly line across Frayn’s back. With a cry, he sprawled on the stones. Kloutt rushed to cradle his son’s limp form.
Storne’s knife flashed, plowing a bloody trench in his captive’s throat. Blood burst in a thick arc from Kaldir’s neck, splashing on the slates beneath. Our warriors surrounded us as Kaldir’s personal guard began shooting. Storne used the Lightside prince’s body as a shield while the Ten Ministers stayed down, no doubt for protection.
Meanwhile I was running, with one hand fumbling for my knife as I searched for the clone. I caught a quick flash of golden embroidery as it disappeared into the castle.
I followed, aware I had the advantage. I did not know when it had arrived at Remarck, but I was certain that my familiarity with the castle, its nooks and crannies, its hidden passageways and tunnels would aid me in my quest to slay the creature that had plotted to steal my throne.
But it was fast—as fast as I was, of course—and cunning. As I chased after it, I stumbled over a gold-embroidered skirt discarded in the hall. The thick cloth had hampered it, so the clone had unlaced the garment and dropped it to impede my progress. But ’twas of no matter, for I heard the clatter of its shoes on the slate flooring. It was heading for my suite.
As I ran, I wondered about Kaldir and Frayn. Betrayer, Kaldir had shouted before he’d shot Frayn. Was Frayn dead? Had they plotted? If so, what had Frayn expected to get from the Lightsider Prince?
When I arrived at my suite the doors were locked, and I could hear it shifting furniture to further block the entrance. I allowed a grim smile to twist my lips as I also discarded confining clothes until I wore only a chemise beneath a corset. I tore at the rows of lace hemming the chemise until it was but knee-length.
The nearest entrance to the tangle of tunnels interpenetrating the castle was behind an arras in a nearby convenience. I grabbed a heavy torch, one of heavy wood with its butt-end wrapped in metal bands before I pushed aside the arras and climbed up into a square, dark hole. I blessed my frequent wanderings through Remarck’s secret places, for even with light, someone who didn’t know the castle never could have found her way to my rooms.
I slipped along the corridor until I reached the ventilation shaft that took me to my sleeping chamber. Gazing down at my bed, I remembered the morning when Storne had unexpectedly found me there, the sweetness of his kisses on my bared breasts, Maia’s disapproval when she realized how cleverly he’d sneaked into my room.
A room that, now, was empty of interlopers. I jumped down onto the bed on silent feet, gripping the torch with a tense hand. I crept toward the door, through it into my dressing room, crammed with gowns and shoes, chests and mirrors, and thence to my suite’s outer chamber.
Ah. There was the clone, chafing its bare arms, peering anxiously out the window. It watched Parron, his dark face intent, digging at the sill with his blade’s edge. He seemed to be trying to gain entry, while angry fists pounded at the suite’s outer door, shaking the furniture piled in front of it.
The clone whimpered and sank to its knees. For a brief moment, I allowed myself a flash of pity for it. It hadn’t asked for its pathetic life, hadn’t asked to be brought to Remarck and thrown into global political strife.
I squared my shoulders, hardened my heart and stepped into the room, the torch upraised. Parron’s glance shifted from his task to my face, and his brows lifted in surprise. The clone must have noticed, for it twisted, swinging a knife at my hands. Nevertheless, I brought the lit torch down onto its head, then used the metal-wrapped end to strike its skull with a crack.
Its hair caught fire, crackling and stinking. Lit wi
sps trailed across its face, leaving blistered skin in their wake. But it felt nothing, for it was dead before it hit the stone pavers beneath.
Chapter Eighteen
The conflict ended quickly. With both Prince-Scientist Kaldir and the clone dead, the Lightsiders had no further reason to fight. Compared to our warriors, they were poorly trained, dependent upon their mysterious boxes. After they were disarmed, they were overpowered quickly by conventional means. Those who had not been killed were sent back to Lightside in chains.
But we endured losses. Many of our troops had died or been injured by the Lightsider weapons. I learned later Rall’s heart had been burned through as he jumped between a Lightsider blast and me when I chased the clone into the castle. Frayn and Kloutt had also perished. Frayn’s spine had been severed and Kloutt had died attacking a Lightsider after discovering his son’s death. I believe that the truth about my family’s passing died with them. Certainly I would never learn what plot Frayn had hatched with Kaldir.
Though I had wanted to crown Storne immediately, I sensed that my people needed a period of time to calm, to bury our dead and to ponder the vast and terrible events many had witnessed. Truth to tell, I also needed a respite, to absorb what had happened and to mourn our fallen. Rall’s death grieved everyone at Remarck.
I wondered also if all were certain that the true Queen Audryn had prevailed. So I made a habit of riding forth with Storne daily to reacquaint myself with my people, and to allow them to see me, hear my words and listen to stories of my family and childhood. This, I felt, was the surest way to their trust. And they were rightly curious about my chosen mate, he who would be king.
A turning point came when Storne and I encountered a young couple and their baby, the same family I had met after Kaldir and I had trysted in the forest.
Then an infant, their daughter was now a cheerful baby, as chubby-cheeked as her mother.
I dismounted from my mare. “You are the greengrocer,” I said to the father, “and this is baby Beryla, hmm?”
Two pairs of eyes widened and two pairs of brows lifted. “Y-yes,” the man stammered.
The mother had more aplomb. “Your Majesty honors us. That you remember is very kind.”
“How could I forget the lovely baby you named after my sister?” I stroked the baby’s cheek with a tentative finger, which she promptly grabbed, wrapping her fist around it, gurgling and blowing spit-bubbles. I rubbed my own baby-bulge, smiling.
“Her Majesty is also increasing,” Storne told the couple. “We were fortunate that the battle at the Castle Remarck did not harm the infants.” He massaged my lower back.
“Infants?” The woman breathed.
“Yes.” I grinned at her. “I believe there are two and the Lady Caducia agrees.”
“She attended us,” the man said. “She is rarely wrong. She told us long before Beryla was born that she would be a girl.” He and the mother beamed at each other, then at their daughter.
“Blessings on you and your child,” I told them before continuing down the lane toward the castle on foot, leading my mare by the reins.
“That was a stroke of luck,” I told Storne, who walked beside me, leading his charger.
“How so?”
“I have spoken with them before and they remembered. They will spread the word that the queen recalled their infant daughter. That will help the people to again accept me as their rightful ruler.” I bit my lip and hoped that would be enough.
“The coronation ceremony will also help, I think.”
“Yes. Many who saw my Exhibition Day will recall me.”
* * * * *
The day of my seventeenth starturn dawned cool and gray, as so many did in our lands. When two of our three moons soared high in the pewter sky, Storne and I walked hand-in-hand to the terrace with Maia following.
As on my Exhibition Day, crowds filled the lawns between the gated wall and the castle proper, with the usual booths selling food and drink. Excitement, expectancy and conversation buzzed in the air.
All knew that this day was my seventeenth starturn, the day on which I had sworn to crown my mate.
The big ceremonial bed dominated the wide stone platform. The Golden Throne, today hung with chains, was set at one end and the Ten Ministers stood somberly at the other. Frayn and Kloutt had been replaced. Despite their possible treachery, I felt their loss. I was well aware that I had no family but for the man by my side and the babies in my womb.
This day, I missed my parents and sister with a pain so acute that it stabbed my heart. I even fancied that I sensed their presences.
In a pensive mood, I walked to the coping and regarded the crowd below. I wore only a thin chemise but didn’t shiver in the cool air. I allowed the thrilling day to permeate my soul.
“My dear friends.” I spread my hands. “I come before you today in what should be joyous celebration, but instead I am reminded that on these stones much blood has been spilled.”
Shadowlanders shifted and murmured.
“But even as the battle and loss of life were necessary, the spillage of some blood is sometimes necessary. My own Exhibition Day is proof of that truth.”
I paused, and in the quiet, a man shouted, “Blessings on our Queen Audryn!”
Others responded, “Blessings! Blessings!” Murmurs grew to shouts and I breathed deeply to avoid bursting into tears.
If I had ever left, they had taken me back into their hearts.
I beckoned to Storne, who was already naked as custom required. He joined hands with me and we gladly went to the bed.
We kneeled, facing each other for a long quiet moment before he reached for me. He framed my face in his hands and looked into my eyes, then kissed me. I purred with pleasure from deep in my throat and heard answering moans from my people. I knew in my heart rather than sensed with my ears and eyes that they were also kissing, touching, caressing their mates even as Storne and I kissed, touched, caressed.
My knees touched his. I swayed, and our bodies brushed lightly, the tips of my breasts ever-so-slightly rubbing his chest. His curls tickled my nipples, more sensitive now that I was pregnant. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, meeting mine, and I held his buttocks to remain upright. I wanted to tumble to the bed with him in my arms, and yet wanted this moment, this delicious anticipation, to last forever.
He cupped my breast in his hand, and teased its tip with a finger. My nipple drew tighter as my labia swelled and tingled. He pinched hard enough to sting, and I cried out. He bent his head to soothe away the tiny hurt with a lick and a suck.
My cries turned to moans and he sucked harder, holding my waist in both hands, lifting me to his mouth, caressing each areola in turn until I went limp and pliant in his arms. Desperate to feel his entire body on mine, I held on to his broad shoulders and pulled myself closer.
His cock brushed my belly and his liquid, sticky, held his rod in place. I leaned even closer and slipped a hand between his legs to caress his balls, which I found drawn up high and tight. I opened my legs so my knees were outside his, and he pushed me back so his moist, hard cock slid along my pussy. I was newly shaved, and the contact was electric, zinging through me like a ray of the Lightside sun.
But he wasn’t ready to take me yet, instead running large, warm hands up and down my sides. Tingling and heat enveloped me, and I opened my legs wider. My pussy gaped open, then closed, open and closed, like another mouth begging for his kiss.
He stroked down my body with his long dark mane. Every hair on my sensitized skin lifted in response. I lifted my arms above my head and stretched. My breasts thrust into the air, and I heard a groan I recognized as Lord Geoman. I smiled.
“Do it!” Caducia hissed.
Storne raised his head, visibly startled. I looked also, and saw that she was addressing Lord Parlous, not Storne. All of the Ten were occupied in various combinations. I especially envied Mercourie, who was enjoying three partners, one kissing her mouth, one licking her large breasts and another
with his head buried in her dark-furred quim.
“Well,” Storne said, smiling. “A happy minister is a productive one, I trow.”
I laughed.
He bent his head again to me and fastened his mouth to my pussy, sliding his tongue into my open, needy slit. I flung my legs into the air on each side of his head and wriggled, and Storne gripped my hips, digging his fingers into my arse before he rubbed his upper lip on my clitoris. His breath puffed over my cunt as he deep-kissed my vagina, continuing to caress my clit. He increased the pressure and I moaned, the excitement building.
I wrapped my legs around his shoulders, bringing him in, bucking to rub my clit against him. I wanted to come, and come fast. I had noticed since I became pregnant, my greed, my randiness had increased. I needed my tension relieved before I could really have fun.
I was on a hair-trigger, and a single slap on my arse shot me over the edge. My orgasm swept over me in insistent waves. I arched and writhed, crying out while Storne thrust his cock into my quivering pussy.
My cries of pleasure increased to shouts of delight as he buried his rod so deeply that the glans touched my womb. I heard my pleasure echoed by my people. Gasping, I came again, with his thick stem swelling as he spurted his seed inside me.
Storne rolled over, and his skin pulled away from mine, sticky with sweat. The aroma of male musk filled my nostrils. His heavy breaths evened, joining their rhythm with mine.
I rested for a few minutes, then asked, “Are you ready?”
He gulped but answered gamely, “I am.”
We went to the Golden Throne and he sat gingerly on the firm cushion in the middle. He lifted brawny arms high, resting them on the Throne’s elaborately carved back. I bound his right wrist to the Throne.