Danaë dug her fingers into the meat of his back, gripping him close. “You feel wonderful.”
And he did, better than her fantasies, better than any of her other partners. It was the difference, she realized, between a musical student and a maestro. Her other lovers had been her age, still learning the erotic arts, enthusiastic but clumsy in their coupling. Matthias was an expert, playing her body like a stringed instrument and eliciting the loveliest song from her muscles and tendons, bones and tender flesh.
After a few minutes they found a flexing, dancing rhythm that drove Matthias against her in delightful waves, first shallow and slow and then hard and fast. It was primal, this dance, and drowned them both in its greedy beauty. Danaë clung to him, feeling him strike all kinds of wonderful nerve endings and making them sing.
Sooner than she expected she felt her second orgasm begin to build. His hips moved faster now, stuttering their rhythm until it was no longer a dance. This was work now, striving towards their mutual pleasure.
“Matthias, I’m close,” she gasped. “Very — oh, gods, please, please, with me.”
He grunted in agreement, stepping up his rocking pace into her. Her nerves lit and white fire blinded her vision, thrusting her over the edge again. Dimly she heard Matthias shout as he grew thick and hard in her. After one last powerful thrust, he cried out in his own climax. It triggered another, smaller spasming in her and she wrapped arms and legs around him, flying in his arms just as she’d always dreamed of doing.
With care, he dropped down until he was lying half on her, making sure not to crush her with his weight. “Little bird,” he kept repeating, kissing her ear lobe. “My little bird.”
The endearment made Danaë’s heart rejoice. She stroked his back, feeling the slick of sweat on his skin. “My conquering king and his mighty weapon,” she said dreamily.
Still breathless, he chuckled at that. With another kiss he rolled onto his back, pulling her along so that her head rested on his chest. “You are a marvel and a treasure,” he said. “This morning, I was wondering how we could make this work. Now I wonder why I was even worried about it.”
“I’m glad,” Danaë said, reaching out to wind his chest hair around her fingers. “Does this mean that you’ll stay with me? Tonight, I mean?”
“Are you sure? I’ve been told that I snore.”
“Flavia can shake a building down with her snores,” she reassured him. “If I can learn to sleep through that, I can sleep with you at my side.”
“Well, then.”
He pulled her into his arms, settling her against him. She drifted to sleep with the lull of his slow, steady heartbeat in her ears.
****
Matthias gazed at the shadowed ceiling, Danaë a warm weight against his chest. The bone-deep satisfaction that came after lovemaking made him reluctant to move, even when his blue-haired bride turned a bit and began to snore softly.
Is this your blessing, Hanne? Have you forgiven me for letting you die, for letting Lukas go? Can I rest now, forgiven for my sins?
There was no answer from the darkness. That in itself was a blessing that he had given up on long ago.
3
THE DEMON MIRROR
The next days were busy ones, but with pleasant intervals that surprised Danaë. She spent the mornings being presented to various city guilds, touring hospitals and barracks, and letting the populace get to know her as Ypres’s new queen. Afternoons were spent in council together with Matthias and his councilors, hamming out details for expansion of trade between their countries. In those sessions Danaë learned far more than she ever wanted to know about the transport of crops from field to market and the intricacies of horse breeding. When she could she would glance across the table at Matthias. He seemed absorbed in the reports from the various ranches, asking questions or making suggestions about bloodlines and trades.
When the topic turned to imports from across the Eastern Sea, however, it was Matthias’s turn to sit and listen while she, Darius, and their advisors explained fish runs, storm patterns, the care needed to transport delicate silks from the Han Empire, and ways to expedite customs practices and safeguard against both bandits and pilfering managers. A gleam of admiration grew in the king’s eyes, and she gave him a brief but meaningful smile in return.
Evenings were spent dining with various nobles and a rotating selection of ambassadors, all of whom had gathered to deliver their rulers’ best wishes to the wedded couple. With grace and good humor Lady Margot had ceded her role as Matthias’s hostess to Danaë, taking a seat farther down the table and spending the meals charming her neighbors. Danaë felt a certain sense of relief that the late queen’s sister hadn’t taken up against her. She couldn’t have blamed Margot if the serene blonde had been put out by her own arrival. But Margot was welcoming and eager to act as her Ypresian social guide, offering commentary and advice on their fellow diners.
At night Danaë could put aside the public persona of Queen and revel in her new role as Matthias’s wife. The king had been as good as his promise, and made sure to come to her chambers as soon as they were both ready for bed. Sometimes they would pass the time talking about the day’s events over goblets of crisp white wine provided by Flavia, but more often a laughing Matthias would tumble her onto the wide bed and proceed to drive her mad with his lips and hands, holding off until she was begging for release before he slid deep inside her.
For all his passion, there were curious gaps in the king’s sensual education. Danaë stumbled across one of these one night when she straddled him, rubbing his erect shaft against her mound and the slick flesh beneath it. He closed his eyes and groaned at the sensation.
“Well, you’re eager,” she teased. “I do believe I’m of a mind to ride the royal stallion tonight.”
His eyes popped open. “What? You mean … you on top of me?”
“Well, yes,” Danaë said, wondering if she’d come up against some odd Ypresian taboo. They breed horses—it can’t be that unknown among them. “Unless you don’t care for that position.”
“Oh. No, it’s not that. I didn’t know….”
Danaë paused. “You didn’t know what?”
He let his hands settle on her hips, cupping them. “That well-bred young women knew about things like that,” he muttered.
She couldn’t help laughing at the prim tone of his voice. “It’s a very common position, you know. And not just among tavern wenches and women of questionable virtue.”
“Danaë, really.” His mouth twitched. “It’s … well, Hanne wasn’t comfortable doing such things.”
“Ah.” She sat back on her haunches, wondering if the late queen hadn’t enjoyed the act of love, or was too reserved to ask for variety in her husband’s lovemaking. “I myself happen to enjoy it a great deal. It gives me more leverage and allows me to rub against you in a way that feels wonderful.”
“It does?”
“May I show you?”
The silver blue of his eyes darkened. “Please do.”
Rising up, she guided the head of his cock between her legs and eased him inside, grateful that his earlier kisses and caresses had left her well lubricated. Her inner muscles stretched from his girth, and the delicious sensation of fullness started a warmth in her belly that would soon build into a raging fire.
Humming, she slid down until he was inside her. “How does that feel, milord king?”
“Tight,” he said, breathless. “Warm, slick. Gods, you feel amazing.”
“You as well. Now,” she rose up and sank down on him again, “one of the benefits for you is that you can simply lie there and enjoy me. Feel me tight and hot around you, watch me go up and down as I ride you.” She cupped her breasts, stroking and tweaking the aching nipples. Pleasure arrowed from them to the wet flesh between her legs, enhancing the sensation of Matthias’s marvelous cock inside her. “I love feeling you like this, so thick and hard.”
“I can tell.” His breath had shortened. “Is th
at why you enjoy this position?”
“That, and also because I can also do this.” Her right hand snaked down, one finger landing on her clitoris and rubbing it in slow circles. Ripples of pleasure surged between her hips, timed to her tracing fingertip. She threw her head back, grinning at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s so good.”
His hand crept around from her hip, long fingers splayed across her thigh. “Show me how to do that,” he said, hoarse.
“Mm. Take your thumb and touch me gently, here.” She guided his hand until his thumb lay over her clitoris. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now rub it.”
“Like this?”
He didn’t rub in circles like she did. Instead, he dragged his thumb up and down, every stroke building the sweet heat inside her.
“Yes, my king, like that.” She began riding him again, pinching her nipples now and rolling them between her fingers. “Oh, just like that.” Her hips rolled as well, inner muscles milking Matthias’s shaft with each upstroke.
The emotions that gleamed in his eyes stoked her passion as much as his cock did. Heat, need, and a honey-sweet affection rolled off him in waves. His free hand stretched up, cupping her breast and toying with the nipple. She threw his head back and whined at the sensation, pressing her own hand against his to urge him on.
Instead, he tugged his hand free and grasped her hip again, pulling her down onto himself. His other hand intensified its sweet assault on her clitoris, strumming her now and sending molten fire coursing through her. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself on my cock. Come for me.”
The shocking words were the spur she needed. She keened as joy exploded through her.
He continued to urge her up and down, rubbing his shaft against her clitoris with each stroke. “You beautiful, wild creature,” he panted. “My little bird. Oh, gods!”
His head arched back, strong cords in his neck showing in high relief. One last, powerful thrust sent another series of shockwaves through her as he bellowed in orgasm.
She rode out the last of their mutual pleasure, finally sitting back and swiping the unruly curls from her face. “And that, my king, is why this position is so pleasurable.”
He licked dry lips, face still flushed. “I see your point. Do you know any others?”
She couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, yes.”
****
Honeymoons were wonderful things, but they had no control over the dictates of biology. Less than five days after her wedding Danaë rose with a familiar cramping ache lower in her belly. A few hours later she felt the slow interior trickle and excused herself, repairing to her quarters with Flavia in tow.
She had known better than to hope, but the appearance of her courses still disappointed her. While their time together had been wonderful so far, at some point she would need to return to Hellas while Matthias remained in Ypres. She did her best to ignore the fact, but it burned at the back of her mind. Once this sweet month was over they would meet perhaps two or three times during the year, barring wars or other disruptive events. If she managed to get pregnant now, at least it would allow her to bring a part of Matthias home with her.
After she’d donned the folded towels and necessary underthings, Flavia reassured her with a pat and a sympathetic smile. “You still have another five days here, mistress, and then there’s the trip back to Hellas, and milord king will have to spend at least a week there after the wedding,” she said. “And even if you don’t catch then, you’re young and healthy. You have all the time in the world.”
Danaë blinked away the annoying wetness in her eyes. “Yes, but does Matthias?”
Flavia chuckled. “That’s the last thing you have to fret about, mistress,” she said. “Men can be in their dotage and still get a babe on a woman. I’ve seen it happen any number of times. As long as the king stays healthy, you’ll have plenty of time to start your family.”
“You’re right.” Danaë accepted a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”
The maid’s mood turned solicitous. “Not at all. You’re a woman in love. It’s natural to want to have your husband’s child.” One corner of Flavia’s mouth twitched. “Plus you’re a queen in need of an heir. Don’t tell me that isn’t a part of this, mistress.”
“Perhaps.” The treaty that had led to her wedding also stipulated that her firstborn would become the heir to the throne of Ypres. That still left the throne of Hellas empty. And while Darius could sire a child if necessary, she couldn’t see him settling down long enough to raise it. Which made it her womb’s responsibility to supply not one but two royal heirs. She sighed, rubbing her aching belly. Matthias was in the prime of life, but it wasn’t impossible for him to die from an unexpected illness or an accident. Her own father’s death had proved that.
She flinched from the thought.
When Matthias appeared in her chambers after dinner, she had to inform him of what was going on. Disappointment flickered across his face, replaced by affection and concern. “It doesn’t matter, my dear,” he said, gathering her in for a gentle hug. “I can wait for you a few days.”
She rested her head on his chest, wondering if she should mention that it was possible for a woman to enjoy intercourse while bleeding. She’d never done it herself, but in her experience and from talking to other Hellene noblewomen it didn’t seem to hinder the experience. However, the men who weren’t bothered by it were few and far between. “I wish we didn’t have to wait,” she hinted. “I have so little time with you as it is.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her once. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it myself, my dear,” he said. “But we still have almost a month together. There will be more than enough time for ourselves. Now, I’ll leave you to get some sleep.”
That startled her. “You’re not staying?”
He shook his head. “My head is aching after that ridiculous council meeting, and Lord Bournos’s blathering at dinner didn’t help any. I don’t want to disturb you by tossing and turning half the night, especially if you’re already in discomfort.” He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, and we’ll dine together in the morning, yes?”
“All right.” Masking her own disappointment, she walked him to her chamber door and collected one last kiss before he disappeared to his own rooms. Disconsolate, she went back to the bed that now seemed too far too large and tried to settle in under the covers. It would be a long night without the comfortable weight of Matthias’s arms around her.
I suppose I’ll have to get used to it at some point.
With that depressing thought, she tried to sleep.
The next morning she woke sandy-eyed and out of sorts. To make matters worse her toweling had shifted during the night and she’d bled onto the back of her gown. Flavia took it in stride and put the gown aside to wash in cold water, but Danaë flushed at the thought of the gossipy castle maids seeing the stain on her sheets. Everyone will know I’m not with child yet. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
Bathed and dressed, she made her way down to the smaller dining hall that she and Matthias had started using for breakfast. High windows let in golden beams of sunlight and made the room far more cheerful than the gloomy great hall, and it gave them a quiet moment of time in which to start the day.
Except that Matthias wasn’t sitting at his usual space. Danaë took her chair and waved one of the waiting serving maids over. “Has the king come down for breakfast yet?”
The maid shook her head. “I haven’t seen him yet, your majesty. I can have someone speak with his valet if you like.”
Danaë frowned. Perhaps Matthias’s headache had kept him up longer than even he expected. “Please do. If the king is still abed, have his valet ask if I should come and visit him.”
“At once, your majesty.” The maid curtseyed and bustled off. Another came up with a platter of smoking ham steaks and fresh baked rolls. She loaded Danaë�
��s plate, pouring watered wine into the waiting goblet.
Delicious as it was, Danaë picked at her food and waited for the return of the serving maid. When she did reappear in the breakfast room, she was frowning. “I spoke with the king’s valet, your majesty,” she said. “His highness didn’t have an easy night and wishes to sleep in a bit more. He told the valet that you should keep to your schedule, and that he would see you at the noon meal.”
Danaë frowned. But trooping up to Matthias’s rooms while he was trying to sleep wouldn’t do him any good. “Does the king suffer from headaches very often?”
The serving maid looked a bit nervous at that, but said, “He gets them every few weeks, your majesty. The light hurts his eyes and they sap the energy from him, but he’s better after a day or so.”
“Hm.” Matthias’s headache sounded like something Hellene physicians called a hemikrania, a type of headache that often nauseated the sufferer and required him to lie in a darkened room until the pain had passed. “Thank you.”
The maid curtsied again, leaving Danaë alone with her breakfast. The only event on her schedule that morning was a children’s chorus that came to the castle and serenaded her with traditional Ypresian songs. She met the children and their choirmaster in one of the sitting rooms, applauding after each song and inviting them to stay for milk and cakes. This won her a cheer from the tiny choristers.
By noon Matthias made his appearance as promised. Appalled, Danaë wished that he’d stayed in bed instead. His skin had lost its healthy tone, looking grey and drawn, and the skin under his reddened eyes was dark and ringed. Worse, his hands trembled as he reached for his knife and fork, and he frowned at them as if trying to cow them into obedience.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, concerned.
He grunted, trying to saw at his slab of steak. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered. “Just give me a bit.”
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