Queen of Savon

by Tricia Andersen

  Victor pulled Cassandra against his hard, muscular body, feeling her mold into his contours. His hands explored her warm flesh, cupping her breasts and caressing her thighs as his mouth conquered hers in hot, wet embraces, allowing only her gasps and moans to escape.

  Rising to his knees, he lowered his body onto hers, grasping her thighs to wrap her legs around him. She clung to his shoulders as he descended on her, burying himself deep inside her body. As he pierced the barrier of her virginity, she dug her fingernails into his flesh. He groaned, incensed, thrusting harder and stronger inside her.

  He closed his eyes as he dug deep inside her, seeking the relief of his release. He ignored her pain-filled whimpers as she clung to him. He shook as he filled her, unsure if she felt any pleasure at all in their lovemaking, but unable to care enough to remedy the situation.

  He pulled away from her and settled on his back, drawing her to him. She laid her head on his chest, gently stroking his naked chest. He felt her touch his face as his eyes grew heavy. Before he drifted off to sleep, he heard her soft words as she skimmed his lips with her fingers.

  “Maybe he will be more gentle and caring when we are wed. Nevertheless, the pain is worth the reward.”

  * * * *

  Cassandra woke up alone, clutching the linens against her naked body. She found a note against her pillow.

  Needed to get back to the palace. Yours, Victor.

  Cassandra sat up and wrapped the sheet around her before rising to her feet. She sighed as she ran her hand through her hair, her thoughts wandering to the previous day's events.

  Deep down, she struggled with herself. She did not love Victor, but she wanted to learn to love him. However, every time she thought she could, Matthew would step in to repossess her heart. Now, she had to give her heart to Victor. She had not only vowed herself to him, but she had given him her body.

  Cassandra meandered across the chamber and dumped the contents of the mugs back into the ceramic container. A noise outside stopped her from returning the items to the other room. She crossed to the window.

  Cassandra watched as Gorgon's troops marched the streets of Sebrone, coming to a stop in the lane in front of her cottage. The townspeople cried in distress as they clung to each other. They searched the sky for their magical mistress. The soldiers stepped aside to allow someone to pass through.

  A gaunt, balding, gray haired man dressed entirely in black walked between them. His stone cold, gray eyes also scanned the sky. He looked down the path of parted soldiers for another. Cassandra's legs went weak as she recognized the blond locks on his commander's head as the same that graced her pillow earlier that day. Victor was also clothed in the traditional black garb of Gorgon's army.

  Victor motioned Gorgon through the door of the cottage. Cassandra spun around, throwing her sheet to the floor and quickly dressing. She raced to her book and began to flip through the pages. Her gaze wandered to her lavender bowl, discovering the key and her training stone missing. She read the new inscription that waited for her.

  “Beware of the traitor. Beware of the traitor lying next to you, the snake sleeping in your bed.”

  Cassandra spun around as the door was unlocked and pushed open. Two soldiers stepped in and flanked each side of the door. Gorgon strode in, his gray eyes piercing her soul. Victor followed behind him, his face emotionless.

  “My lady Cassandra, how good it is to see you,” Gorgon greeted.

  Cassandra locked eyes with her lover, fighting back the sense of betrayal that flooded her. “What do you want?”

  “I want to offer you the same deal I have given young Victor. Riches, power, anything…if you join my side.”

  Cassandra glared at Victor, taking a deep breath before addressing Gorgon. “I serve my king and my king alone.”

  “I do not think you understand my offer. Do you want wealth? It is yours. Do you want power? It is yours.” Gorgon smiled slyly. “Even if you want to be queen, I can even arrange that. All I need is your magnificent power. I need you.”

  “I serve my king and my king alone,” Cassandra scowled defiantly.

  “You drive a hard bargain, my lady.” Gorgon clapped his hands twice. Seconds later, a third soldier entered the room with a burlap satchel. Gorgon opened the sack and held it below Cassandra's nose.

  The room began to spin as her stomach lurched violently. She fell to her knees dizzy as she felt her lungs deflate, leaving her breathless. “Nightshade,” Cassandra gasped.

  Gorgon knelt next to her. “Now, my sweet lady, let me reiterate my offer. Will you now join my side?”

  Cassandra weakly raised her head to him. “I serve my king alone.”

  Gorgon rose to his feet, glaring at her. “Well, Cassandra, if you will not come willingly, then I will take you by force.”

  Gorgon looked up to the soldiers. “Bind her.” He addressed Victor, “You will be returning to the palace?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Victor replied.

  “Good. Inform King Matthew concerning the change in his command.” Gorgon hung the small bag of nightshade on Cassandra's neck. “We will return to the fortress.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Cassandra stared at Victor, her eyes begging for an explanation. He returned her gaze coldly as she was dragged from the room.

  * * * *

  Matthew paced the halls of the palace, panic filling his heart. Cassandra was not in the north tower where she always waited for him. This, along with Victor's disappearance, unsettled him. He stopped short and watched over the stone railing of the balcony as the entrance door opened. Victor stepped in, still clothed in his armor, as he pushed it closed.

  “Where have you been?” Matthew demanded. “Cassandra is missing.”

  Victor glared at him. “She is safe, Matthew.”

  “You know where she is? Where is she?”

  “She is safe.”

  “Victor, please, where is she?”

  Victor smirked. “She is in Gorgon's fortress.”

  “How can you say she is safe? Did you not try…?” Matthew's words died on his tongue as Victor removed his armor, displaying the black uniform he proudly wore. Victor’s mocking laughter echoed throughout the entrance hall. Matthew felt his blood boil at the deception. He softly continued, “She trusted you. She pledged herself to you.”

  “Yes she did, Matthew. And she is a sweet treat, every last bit of her. I can assure you.” Matthew glared at him, stricken and furious. “How do you think I distracted her?”

  Matthew's voice turned to ice. “As my last act of friendship to you—get out. Get out before I kill you with my bare hands.”

  Victor bowed his head then spun on his toe. He opened the door, disappearing as it slammed shut.

  Matthew slumped against the wall. His heart raged between hatred over Victor’s betrayal and terror over Cassandra’s capture. That son of a bitch. How could he take her? Has she been hurt? Is she still alive? She has to be alive…

  With that thought, he straightened and dashed to his chamber. He ripped clothes from his wardrobe, quickly changing before silently sneaking down the hall to the back staircase that descended to the kitchen. He spied across the courtyard to see if anyone was in the stables. Finding no one, he ran to his steed. Swiftly, he mounted the horse without a saddle and rode through the palace gates into the night.

  * * * *

  Gorgon sat back in his wooden chair as he studied the roaring fire in the fireplace. His commanders gathered around him, watching the aged man in silence.

  “One of us should interrogate her,” one commander suggested.

  “Not yet,” Gorgon answered.

  Victor leaned his elbow against the mantle, rubbing his chin. “My lord?”

  “Yes, Victor?”

  “You said she belonged to me. What good will she be to me dead?”

  “Do not worry, young one. She will break before then.”

  Victor shook his head. “Do not underestimate her, my lord. She would die
before betraying the crown.”

  Gorgon focused his glare on him. “Maybe you should interrogate her. Make her see reason.”

  The roomful of men turned at the stomp of feet. A soldier stood in the doorway.

  “My lord,” he announced. “Another peasant has scaled the fortress wall. Should we beat this one and send him away like the others?”

  “No.” Gorgon stood facing him. “I want this one run through and his head mounted on a spear. I want him as an example.”

  “I will carry out your orders, my lord.”

  “Wait.” Gorgon walked toward the soldier, his commanders flanking him. “I want to see the look of horror on his face before his life is extinguished.”

  Gorgon led his commanders through the fortress halls to the courtyard. Against the farthest wall, two more soldiers held a dark clad man to the ground, the hood of his cloak slumped over his face as he was pinned to the dirt. The piece stone that had tripped him up lay in pieces next to him.

  Gorgon stopped in front of the intruder. “Look at me, you piece of filth, before I take your life.”

  One of the soldiers ripped back the hood. A pair of smoldering dark eyes glared defiantly at him in hatred.

  “My. King Matthew. What a surprise,” Gorgon addressed, amused. “What possessed you to scale my wall?”

  Matthew stared at him in silence. Victor answered for him. “Cassandra. He is in love with her.”

  “She has caused you and the monarch of Savon to battle for her heart? She must be quite a woman,” Gorgon mused.

  Victor pulled free his sword from its scabbard and raised it above his head, preparing to strike Matthew. Gorgon grasped his wrist to stop him.

  “No. I want to savor this. Build gallows through the night. At sunrise, I will string him up personally and hang him. Until then, let him spend the last remaining moments of his life with the reason he sacrificed it.”

  Victor chuckled as he slid his sword back into his scabbard. He grabbed Matthew violently by the back of his neck. “I will gladly escort his highness to the tower to his beloved.” He wrenched Matthew’s head back to look into the king’s dark eyes. “Just remember, keep your hands off my bride. Understand?”

  He laughed, amused at Matthew’s weak growl. “You were never any match for me, Matthew. Never. You were always the weak one. When your body is dangling from the hangman’s noose tomorrow, Cassandra will realize the same thing. And she will realize between the two of us who the real man is.”

  He hauled Matthew to his feet and dragged him through the courtyards and up the steps to the tower, unlocking a large wooden door. With a sneer, he tossed Matthew inside, slamming the door behind him

  * * * *

  Matthew forced air in and out of his flattened lungs as he struggled to lift himself off the cold stone floor. He rubbed his neck where Victor’s iron grip had just held him, glancing around the dark room. In seconds, he scuttled across the floor and dropped to his knees beside Cassandra's limp body.

  She looked up to him weakly, unable to move. He pushed her hair from her face, feeling her cold skin against his fingertips. He instantly knew her calamity. “Where is it, Cassa?” he asked gently.

  “The ledge,” she croaked as she looked past him to the far wall.

  He turned, looking high above the floor to the ledge near the ceiling. Resting on it was a burlap sack, opened wide to expose the contents. He scanned the room for an object to help him reach it, finding only a small stool. He stepped on it, straining vainly to reach even a string. Turning around, he found her asleep, her breathing heavy and labored.

  Matthew jumped off the stool and picked it up, breaking off one of the legs. He chiseled away the mortar of the wall with the jagged end of the wood. He looked down to find Cassandra watching him with dim eyes as he hung to the tiny foot and hand holds he’d scraped away for himself. His knuckles, torn and bloody, kept digging harder into the cement, freeing space to bury his elbows and toes.

  After hours of slow work, he grasped the satchel and jumped from his perch on the wall. He ran to the window, tossing it out. Then, he fell to his knees next to her. “Is it gone?”

  Cassandra nodded then tried to push herself to sit up. Matthew gathered her weak frame in his muscular arms, gently cradling her to his heart. “Rest. You need your strength,” he whispered.

  Matthew pressed his lips to Cassandra’s forehead as she readily obeyed and drifted off to sleep. Hours later, he woke her with kisses. “Oh, my love. My sweet love.” Matthew caressed her face. She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Weak, but all right,” Cassandra answered tiredly. “Why are you here?”

  “They took you from me.”

  “Your devotion to your servant is extreme.”

  Matthew stared at her, hurt. “You are not my servant. Not anymore. I know the woman you wanted me to marry. I needed to hear it from your own precious lips.” He gently touched them, his heart still hopeful.

  “Matthew,” she objected.

  “Cassa, my life is almost over. Before I go to my grave, I need to know, and I need you to know.”

  “What is it?”

  “I love you,” he confessed. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. But you are in love with Victor.”

  Cassandra carefully rose to her knees and knelt before him. “No, I love you. I have loved you since the night my grandfather presented me to your father. The very first time I saw you. But I am forbidden to love you.”

  Matthew caught her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. “Not now. Not anymore.” He kissed her gently, deeply, searing the feel of her lips into his memory for his afterlife without her.

  As noise from the outside reached their ears, she pulled away from him and they scrambled to the window. They watched, terrified, as the soldiers shouted the completion of their project. The gallows stood as a thin skeleton in the courtyard, awaiting its victim. Cassandra gaped at Matthew in horror as he took her hand.

  “Cassa, please sit,” he begged.

  “They are going to kill you,” she breathed in disbelief.

  “Shortly, yes.”

  “No. They cannot. I only have enough energy to get one of us out of here.”

  “Then send yourself,” he demanded. “You are sick.”

  Cassandra touched his cheek then knelt back. She laid her arms on her knees, palms upward, as she began to chant. He listened to her recite the spell, her posture growing weaker with each round of the incantation. Her body shook violently.

  Matthew reached out to her. “Cassa, stop. It is not working.” As he touched her hand, it passed through hers. He stared at his fingers then the rest of his arm as his body slowly faded away. “Cassa, stop!” he pleaded.

  She kept up the chant, each word becoming more agonized. Matthew watched, panicked, as she became dizzy.

  “Cassa, I order you to stop,” he begged.

  Cassandra threw her head back, forcing out the end of the spell. Matthew watched as she collapsed, unconscious, before he disappeared.

  Matthew felt his knees and palms hit the cold marble of the palace floor. He looked up as Joseph approached, his face filled with disbelief. “Matthew, where—”

  Matthew cut him off, knowing he could not waste any time. “Summon the second-in-command, Otto, now.”

  “What about Victor?”

  Matthew rose to his feet. “We do not have time. I need to assemble the army now…to attack Gorgon's fortress.” He strode out of the throne room, ripping the hood from his head.

  Chapter Eight

  Matthew rode his horse across the countryside, searching the landscape for the fortress that in his wild determination he had found alone in the darkness the night before. His new Commander of the Army, Otto, sat tall in his saddle, adding a couple of inches to his already towering, thin, muscular frame. Behind them, a small delegation followed on Matthew's personal rescue mission.

  Matthew and Otto pulled their horses into
submission as they came upon three black-clad soldiers. They were stacking bales of hay around a crippled cart that was also buried with straw. Matthew's eyes narrowed as he watched the commander reach a dried stick into a pot of coals, creating an instant torch. The flames, along with the late morning sun, illuminated his golden locks as he wielded the torch.

  Matthew dug the heels of his boots into the flanks of his steed, driving the animal toward the wagon. He drew up short as Victor spun around and eyed him with a cold, hard glare. Victor tossed the stick to the ground and stomped out the flames. He gestured to the other two soldiers then mounted his own horse.

  “Draw!” He prodded his stallion into a dash, disappearing behind a line of evergreen trees.

  Otto rode up to Matthew. “There is something Gorgon is trying to hide,” he suggested.

  Matthew hopped down from his saddle, knowing full well Otto was right. Otto followed him as both men rounded the end of the cart. Buried deep within the dry, golden hay rested Cassandra's motionless body. Her skin was ash white and her lips and fingernails were blue. Matthew crawled along the bales to reach her side. He shook her gently, “Cassa?”

  Otto walked alongside the cart, laying his hand against her mouth and nose. After several moments, he pulled away. Matthew brushed her hair from her face. “Cassa, wake up. Victor is gone,” Matthew begged.

  “Your majesty, she is—” Otto breathed solemnly.

  “No. It is a spell. She will wake up.” Matthew shook her again. “Please, Cassa, wake up. It is all right. I am here now.”

  Matthew pressed his lips to hers, feeling them cold against his flesh. The touch of her cheek against his fingers was also frigid. He pulled away from her, fighting the realization that began to overpower him.

  “No. This cannot be. Cassa, wake up!” Matthew lifted her in his hands and jerked her violently. She fell back into the bed of hay, limp and lifeless. He collapsed against her, burying his sobs in the folds of her gown. “Oh, my love, why? Why did you leave me?”