WinterofThorns
Page 25
“Understood but consider it a favor to us,” Kellan asked. He held out his hand to help his nephew stand.
“You should go. It is important,” Jana said as another nursemaid appeared to fetch Dane. Adjusting her breast into the bodice of her gown, she smiled indulgently at her wriggling child as the nursemaid picked him up and the baby boy started giggling again.
“Your witchy vibes kicking in?” Seyzon asked her.
“Take your king’s hand and go,” Jana said.
Seyzon sighed then slapped his palm to Kellan’s. The pretend king jerked him easily to his feet. The man’s strength never failed to impress him and he hoped he would be as viable when he was his uncle’s age.
“Keep him out of trouble, Your Majesty,” Jana said.
“We shall attempt to do so, milady, though no guarantees can be made,” Kellan replied with a little bow.
Jana sent Seyzon a look that made him want to pick her up and carry her to their bedchamber. That he couldn’t annoyed him as he fell into step beside his uncle.
“Why do you want me there?” he asked Kellan.
Though they were alone as they followed the brick pathway up to the keep, Kellan lowered his voice. “I have it on good authority he is attempting to assemble an army in the hopes of taking the crown for himself. I intend to disabuse him of that notion once and for all.”
“How?”
Kellan smiled. “You’ll see.”
* * * * *
The throne room at Blackhall had the distinction of being the grandest in all of Cairghrian Galaxy. It rivaled even the throne room of the Burgon’s palace on Aduaidh Prime in the Idimmu Galaxy. The opulence was wasted on Seyzon, who viewed the pure-gold throne with its rare jewel inlays, the ermine carpet under foot, the chairs and cabinetry made of Necromanian blackwood, and the expensive Chrystallusian silk draperies and pennants as a lesson in bad taste and egotistical excess.
“Gaudy is the word that comes to mind,” Kellan said as though he had read his nephew’s thoughts.
“I was thinking garish,” Seyzon mumbled.
“The extravagance was no doubt intended to impress visiting emissaries and cower those who are Meiraman’s enemies,” Kellan said.
“Looking at this overindulgence of wealth when there are people in our country whose children go to bed hungry at night makes me want to toss my lunch,” Seyzon told him.
“What would you think if I told you I have taken steps to strip this room of all its glitzy bad taste, sell off everything save the throne—where history has been made—and give that money to the poor?”
Seyzon turned to look at his uncle. “I’d say you would go down in history as a great humanitarian in the eyes of our people and a bloody fool in the eyes of the aristocracy.”
“I don’t give a Diabolusian warthog’s ass what the aristocracy thinks of me,” Kellan said with a sniff. “Do you?”
“Not fucking likely,” Seyzon replied.
“Good,” his uncle stated. “Then come stand at my right hand as we await the entrance of your little brother.”
Seyzon grinned. “He’s not going to like that.”
“It will give new meaning to daddy likes you best,” Kellan said, chuckling.
The doors at the end of the throne room opened and a page appeared. “Prince Vindan, Duke of Wicklow and Farinhale,” he announced.
Vindan came striding through the doorway but came up short when he saw Seyzon upon the dais with the king. His carefully blank face tightened, his lips thinned, eyes narrowed and he resumed his tread at a slower pace. His gaze was locked on Seyzon. He stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed. When he straightened, there was fury shooting from his blue eyes.
“Wipe that antagonistic look from your face, boy,” the king ordered. “It affronts us.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Vindan said through clenched teeth. He snapped his attention to his father. “I meant no disrespect to you.”
“No, you aimed it at your brother,” the king stated. “We will have none of that in our presence for your brother is not the one at fault here.”
Vindan’s jaw became even more rigid but he wisely did not comment.
“So, explain yourself to us, boy,” the king said, settling back on the throne and crossing his legs casually.
Vindan’s brows drew together. “In what regard, Your Grace?” he asked.
“This ragtag army you are putting together in a ridiculous attempt to usurp the crown,”
A look of shock relaxed Vindan’s constricted features. He flicked his eyes to Seyzon then back to the king. “How did you—”
“Learn of your witless maneuvering?” the king interrupted. “You forget we have spies watching your every move, boy. We knew of your stupidity the moment you first gave voice to it to one of our men.” He wagged his foot. “There is nothing you will ever do that will not be reported to us. The sooner you learn that, the better things will be for you.”
“The crown is my birthright!” Vindan all but shouted.
“Take that tone with us and we will see how well you like our dankest, darkest, coldest cell in Blackhall’s dungeon, you little shit!” the king bellowed in a voice that shook the fine-crystal chandelier hanging above him.
“Actually, the crown is my birthright,” Seyzon said quietly, unable to refrain from rubbing salt into his brother’s wound. “I am the legal heir, not you.”
Vindan took a step up the ermine-draped dais with his hands doubled into fists, lips drawn back from his teeth, his intent obvious, but he got no farther for the king shot to his feet.
“Stand down!” the king yelled. When Vindan did not immediately obey, the king repeated the order. “Stand the fuck down! Now!”
Though he continued to glare murderously at Seyzon, Vindan stepped back. His chest heaved with suppressed anger and his hands clenched and unclenched. His jaw bunched and relaxed, bunched and relaxed. At last he took two more steps back then raised his chin.
“What is it you want from me, Your Grace?” he asked the king.
“We are sending you as our envoy to Aduaidh Prime,” was the answer.
Vindan turned startled eyes to the king. “To the palace of Emperor Bakari?”
The king nodded as he relaxed once more upon the throne. “To meet with the Burgon, aye. There are matters to be discussed and we cannot go at this time. We are sending you in our stead.”
“But what of Wicklow?” Vindan asked, though from the quick look he shot at Seyzon, he already knew the answer.
“I have no desire to take the crown from you, Vindan,” Seyzon said. “Rest assured on that account. I have all I could ever want and when you return, I will be taking my family and journeying to Selwyn where I intend to make my home.”
“You have everything you could ever want,” Vindan sneered. “Including my—”
“Don’t you say it,” Seyzon warned. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“As for this little folly of yours regarding recruiting an army to overthrow us, we would have you think very seriously before you attempt that again,” the king said, his eyes boring into Vindan. “Try that shit again and you will be sent to Tyber’s Isle for a rather lengthy sojourn.” He leaned forward on the throne. “Are we making ourselves clear to you, boy?”
Once more the muscle tightened in Vindan’s cheek. “Aye, Your Majesty. Very clear.”
“Do not believe because you are our son that we will show leniency to you,” the king continued. “We would not have done so this time had it not been your brother bidding us indulge our compassion and clemency toward you.”
Seyzon shot his uncle a surprised look. From the corner of his eye he saw Vindan staring at him with brow furrowed.
“Why would you do that?” Vindan asked.
“Aye, Seyzon,” the king said, turning his head toward Seyzon. “Why would you do that?”
“I’ve no idea,” Seyzon replied. “Mayhap a foolish error on my part?”
“Or as an act of mercy?” the king pressed. “You i
ssued forgiveness when none was given you, perhaps?” He gave Vindan a steady look. “Mayhap you are the better man?”
“Some things you cannot forgive,” Vindan said.
“That is very true,” Seyzon agreed. “They cannot.”
“This conversation has run its course. Go,” the king said, waving a dismissive hand at Vindan. “No need to pack. Your things are already aboard our flagship. We shall expect you back at court in six months.”
Vindan gasped. “Six months?”
“There is much to discuss with the Burgon,” the king told him. “Less time would not see the subjects fully covered. Now, go! I am tired of that petty, vengeful look that has become permanently stamped on your arrogant face. Be gone!”
Vindan bowed stiffly, cast Seyzon a puzzled look then pivoted on his heel. He marched back the way he came with his body so rigidly held he looked like a walking post.
“Uppity little gobshite,” Kellan mumbled under his breath. “Rylan Bakari will take his pretentious ass down a peg or two.”
“The Burgon will eat him alive,” Seyzon replied, glad he wasn’t the one the Emperor of Aduaidh Prime was expecting on his palace steps.
“Chew him up and spit out the pieces if I know Ry,” Kellan joked. “And I do.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you became acquainted with the Burgon,” Seyzon said.
“I will but you need to go find your lady-wife. She will want to make sure your ego survived your encounter with your twin.”
Seyzon smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he acknowledged with an inclination of his head. “You are a wise and benevolent ruler.”
“Fucking A, we are,” Kellan agreed with a wink.
Epilogue
Her skin was like silk as he trailed his hand over her taut little bottom. He slipped his fingers along the deep cleft that ran between her cheeks and smiled when she writhed beneath his touch. She was lying on his belly with that sweet little ass in the air—the flesh tightening as he stroked that warm divide once more.
She lifted her head and looked around at him. “You are distracting me, milord,” she accused.
His smile became a wolfish grin and he wagged his eyebrows at her. She sniffed, tossed her head and returned her wet, hot mouth to his cock—drawing him deep within that slick cavern, rubbing her tongue along the underside to drive him mad as she sucked him. In return, he dug his fingers into her ass to part her cheeks so he could run his own tongue between them.
Her feet pushed hard against the headboard behind him and she made a little whimpering sound deep in her throat that vibrated through his hard cock.
“Like that, baby?” he asked in a gruff tone. He lapped at her again then thrust his tongue at her wet folds, tickling her with the tip.
A quiver ran through her and she released his cock. She sighed then laid her cheek on his thigh.
“I can’t concentrate when you are teasing me like that, Zonny.”
“Woman, I’m not teasing. I am fully serious,” he said then slipped his thumb into her rectum.
“Zonny!” she cried out and her body tensed around the intrusion.
He drove in and out a few times then removed his thumb, chuckling as she squirmed.
“You are a wicked man,” she said as she rolled off him and sat up. She tossed him her panties that were lying beside her pillow.
He wiped his thumb then dropped the panties on the floor. “Come here,” he said, opening his arms.
“I need to check on the boys.”
“You need to fuck your man,” he declared.
She swung her legs from the bed in preparation of getting up but her ass had barely left the mattress before he hooked his arm around her waist to pull her down. Before she could scoot away, he had her once more lying atop him—this time on her back. He locked his legs over hers and covered her breasts with his hands.
“Unh unh,” he said when she tried to wriggle free. “You ain’t going nowhere until you fuck me.”
“No?” she asked, prying at his hands.
“Nope. Not going nowhere,” he stated.
His cock was still hard and sticking up between her spread legs.
“I don’t see how I can fuck you, lying where I am,” she protested.
He remedied that by flipping them both over so she lay pinned beneath him with his hands molded tightly to her breasts.
“You were saying?” he crooned into her ear as he jacked his hips forward to slide his cock along her wet folds. He flexed his hips up and down, stroking her with his hard length.
“Did I say you were a wicked man?” she asked in a breathless voice.
“You did, indeed,” he replied.
“I misspoke.”
“Did you now?” he countered.
“I did.”
“Tell me, milady,” he whispered. “What was it you meant to say?” He flicked his tongue in her ear.
She cocked her shoulder in reaction to the wet probe. “That you are an evil man,” she replied.
“Evil as the day is long,” he acknowledged then pulled his right hand from under them to take hold of his cock. He put the tip to her entrance. “Shall I show you just how evil I can be?”
She lifted her ass. “I am at your mercy, milord.”
“Aye, dearling. That you are.”
With one sure stroke he drove his shaft deep within her warm sheath.
He was exactly where he wanted to be.
He was home.
She was his home. His hearth. His heart. The rest of the world could fade away.
About Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Charlee is the author of over eighty books. She was married 43 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, who passed away in 2009. She is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, the proud grandmother of Preston and Victoria and the giddy grandmother of great-granddaughter Amber Dawn. She is the reluctant house mother to seven obnoxious felines she believes are alien infiltrators from the planet Kys'r'azz Prime. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the Midwest.
Charlee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
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Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
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Fated Mates anthology
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HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
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Windverse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
Windverse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Winter of Thorns
ISBN 9781419992940
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Winter of Thorns Copyright © 2015 Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover design by Allyse Leodra
Cover photography by Shutterstock
Electronic book Publication March 2015
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.