by Bailey Dark
“Maybe,” I agree. “But I don’t think so.”
The look in my father’s deep blue eyes told me he’s worried. It may have been the first time ever that I truly felt that he cared for me.
Tristan pulls me into him. “Just be careful, Gwen. He’s let you down so many times. I don’t want him to break your heart further.”
I squeeze him back. “Can we talk about anything else for a while?”
He chuckles. “How about less talking, more kissing?” he grins.
“I am all for that,” I say, pushing him back onto my bed and crawling on top of him. “But I think you need to lose some of these,” I say, pointing to his clothes.
Allowing the towel to drop away from my body, I elicit the reaction I’m trying to achieve. His hazel eyes go wide at my completely naked form. They roam my body from top to bottom multiple times before he inhales sharply and blows it out. Without a word, he picks me up by my butt and places me on my back. I yelp in surprise.
He’s hovering above me, looking deeply into my eyes when he says, “I know we said slow, but can I do something?”
I bite my lip in anticipation. I don’t even need to know what he wants to do. I’m desperate for whatever it is. I nod, giving him the go ahead. He starts trailing kisses from my lips, down my neck, over my peaked nipples, and continuing his path downward across my flat stomach until he stops right below my navel.
“If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say so.”
His voice is husky with want and I’ll be damned if I stop him.
“Please,” I beg, wriggling beneath him.
When his lips touch my folds, my back arches off of the bed. His tongue dances expertly across my throbbing pussy. My reaction spurs him to increase his pace, causing my eyes to roll back into my head. Never before has anyone ever made me feel this way. I’m lost to the sensation, overcome with need. A few more laps at my swollen clit and I’m vibrating violently with the need to come on his tongue.
“Tristan, I…”
My words cut off when he bites lightly at my clit, sending me spiraling over the edge. I cry out in total elation as my orgasm sweeps over me. I stay still while small tremors continue as my body calms from the earth-shattering pleasure Tristan has just given me.
Nipping and licking his way back up my stomach, he finally seals his lips to mine. I taste myself on his tongue, salty and tangy, and I love it. I loved that I have shared this with him. No other boy has ever touched me in the places Tristan did today. I feel closer to him in this moment than I have ever before.
“You’re mine, Gwen. No one else will ever touch you like this. Do you understand?” he demands. “Mine.”
The years of his absence momentarily erase as though we’ve never parted. The elation I feel at finally being his is overwhelming. I feel drunk in it. His commanding ways do little to calm my sexual overdrive. I want him in every way. I want to cement this agreement and make it clear that not only am I happy to be his, but he’s mine as well.
Our lips are sealed for several more minutes while we stroke and explore each other. My hand runs across the rock hard length of his dick. I’m about to suggest that I relieve him of his own pent up sexual tension, when he groans.
“As much as I would love for your mouth to be wrapped around my cock, we have to get going.”
“Why?” I whine, not wanting to leave the room or his side.
“We don’t know how long it will take to uncover Andrews’ secret. We have to start now. Besides, I have my own trial to finish.”
My note says that I could discuss my tasks with Tristan, but does that extend to Tristan sharing his with me?
“What’s your task?” I ask apprehensively.
“I can’t tell you. My letter specifically forbade me from discussing the contents with anyone, including you.”
I chew on the side of my cheek. “That’s strange, don’t you think? I can talk to you about my stuff, but they don’t want you sharing yours with me? How is that fair?”
He places a kiss to the top of my head. “Nothing about this is fair, baby. Let’s just finish it so we can move on with our lives.”
We get up and clean ourselves off, both feeling hot and sweaty from our tryst. I’m on board with finishing this and moving on. But there’s one problem with that. When the trials end, Tristan will leave. What’ll happen to us then?
Chapter Fourteen
When we make it to the Chancellor’s office, I’m relieved to find not only the secretary absent, but his room unlocked.
“Does this seem a little fishy to you?” I ask Tristan.
Andrews has always been the open-door type. Maybe this means he doesn’t have anything to hide. I truly hope that is the case. I have always respected Chancellor Andrews and it would kill me to learn that my trust in him is naive. I resent the Council for having me spy on him. The truth is that I have an inkling to trust him more than I do the council.
If not for this horrible trial, I’d be blissfully unaware of any fallout between the council and my headmaster. But since I’ve agreed to take part, here I am going through a respected man’s personal belongings.
I start at his desk while Tristan sorts through filing cabinets. After a solid ten minutes of finding absolutely nothing, I huff, shutting the final of the drawers of his desk.
“I found nothing. What about you?”
“Nothing over here either,” Tristan responds.
“I think the council is wrong.”
“Or maybe this has everything to do with what we already know,” he lifts a hand as if to say duh. “He messed up when he made Thomas a champion.”
Could it really be that simple? It seems like such an arbitrary thing. If the council felt like he had a secret, it has to be something bigger than a misstep in choosing champions, right?
“But the emperor knew that already. That’s who Andrews was fighting with about the whole thing.”
Surely, Emperor Lucius has already filled the council in on that error. Isn’t that why they’re adding additional champions?
“Tristan,” I say, getting his attention. “We’ve been looking for a secret, but did you happen to come across anything that discussed the additional champions?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t looking for that.”
We both turn back to the places we’ve previously been searching. I move a stack of papers and find that the bottom drawer of his desk has a hidden compartment that I’ve previously overlooked.
“I found something,” I call to Tristan.
He comes to my side, looking over my shoulder as I lift the false bottom from the desk. A simple manila folder sits at the bottom with no markings to indicate the contents. I lift it from the desk and prepare to open it, when rustling at the door has my head snapping to Tristan’s. We are about to be caught.
I quickly stand from my crouched position by the desk, signaling to Tristan to move toward the closet door of the office. We are able to pull the door shut just in time. The sound of Chancellor Andrews coming through his door has me holding my breath. My hand shakes slightly, nerves overtaking me. What will happen if we’re caught?
It isn’t only the Chancellor we had to fear, but the failure of completing the trial as well. The Chancellor starts mumbling something incoherently to himself. I can’t make out the words, but I can’t miss the slurring. Was he drunk?
“I know yours in there,” he called. “I’s can hear you breathing.”
My body goes rigid, realizing he knows we’re there. We’re caught.
“You might as swell come out right now,” he says.
“Dammit,” Tristan swears.
He reaches for the doorknob but I grab his hand, pulling it back and shaking my head violently. Perhaps if we stay in here, he’d pass out. Then we can play this all off as drunken mix-up. But Tristan doesn’t listen. He strolls right out of the closet, chin held high as though he doesn’t give a damn in the world about what’s going to happen to us.
> I do not retreat so quickly. A solid minute passes before Tristan calls out, “Might as well come out, Gwen. Gig’s up.”
I want to punch Tristan for outing me. I’m perfectly happy to live in denial within the safe confines of the dark closet.
“Hi,” Chancellor Andrews says as I slink out of the darkness. “I’m not s-surprised to see you with her,” Andrews directs to Tristan.
My mouth drops open when my eyes meet the Chancellor’s. He isn’t drunk, he’s inebriated. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is slick with sweat. From the looks of it, he’d been hitting the bottle for hours.
“Chancellor, are you alright?” I say, my voice filled with concern.
Never in all of the years I’ve known him has he never acted like this. In fact, I’ve never even seen him have so much as a glass of wine. This is so out of character. Something is seriously wrong.
I crouch down so that we’re eye level. “Chancellor Andrews, tell me what’s wrong,” I say as though I’m speaking to a child.
“Everything’s wrong,” he nearly cries.
“Is this about the mistake with James?” Tristan speaks up.
The Chancellor’s eyes widen. “You know about that?”
I nod.
“That’s the devil of it. Thomas’s lineage matched up with the directives from the council. It wasn’t my fault that his bloodline is weakening. It’s not like it’s the first time that’s happened,” he says, sounding more coherent than he has since he walked into the office.
“Why does it matter? They’re school games.”
“No. They are so much more than that. These aren’t trials for school glory, Miss D’Morte, these are for seats as distinguished members of the Knights of the Round Table. Nobody has sat in those positions who hasn’t had very distinct abilities,” he sighs. “It’s necessary for the survival…for the safety of our society.” He stops as though he was finished. I’m ready to ask him to elaborate on the survival part, but he cuts back in. “There’s a key element that one of the fallen knights possessed, that so far, no one else has shown to possess. Without that ability, there is a crack in our armor, and that leaves the council exposed.”
“Is that why you ordered for additional champions?” I question.
He nods. His voice is barely audible when he says, “The council doesn’t know of the error. The emperor caught the mistake but swore to keep my secret from the council while I attempted to correct the error.”
“Why would he do that?” Tristan asks, harshly. “The Emperor’s loyalty is to the council,
I can’t understand why he would extend such a courtesy to you.”
“Lucius and I were raised together. He’s practically my brother. If it were anyone else, I would’ve already been sold out, but I trust him. I know I have his loyalty, but only for so long. I’ve yet to uncover the rightful champion and Lucius is on my back about the consequences.
“So, you decided to get drunk? Shouldn’t you be working towards finding the correct person?”
He huffs, “I do see how this could look bad.”
“You think?” Tristan snorts.
I shoot him a death stare, feeling sorry for my Chancellor. He’s distraught. You can tell as much and Tristan isn’t giving him any breaks.
“Did you choose additional champions?” I ask, trying to move the topic along. His eyes dart around the room as though there’s someone there that he needs to hide the information from.
“Indeed,” he admits. “But my course took a turn.”
Tristan and I share a glance.
“What turn?” Tristan presses.
“I’m afraid that’s not something that I can share with either of you.”
“And why the hell not?” Tristan barks, losing his patience with the drunk man.
“For one, you are students. For two, you’re both champions. It does not behoove me to speak so freely. Had I not drunk a bottle of whiskey; we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“Well given that you have, perhaps you could be a little loose lipped this one time?” Tristan snarls.
I may have had respect for the Chancellor, and I may have known him for a long time, but Tristan did not, and he clearly has no loyalty towards the man. He looks at me, ignoring Tristan’s heated glare. “Something’s off with this whole thing.” His eyes dart around in paranoia, and his voice lowers. “It’s the council. They’re not acting…right.”
My eyes widen slightly. I can’t disagree with him. I have witnessed the odd behavior of the council and have questioned it myself.
“What about the trial?”
“That too. It’s all connected, but I haven’t figured out how just yet.”
“That makes two of us,” I offer in solidarity.
“Martha allowed her own child to die,” he screeches. “There was plenty of time for her to save him. I hadn’t meant for any of it to go that far.”
I gasp at what he’s implied.
“What do you mean, you didn’t want it to go that far?” Tristan grates through clenched teeth.
“I-I had found something was off with the council, specifically pertaining to their magic. So, I orchestrated the fight between the boys.”
My hand flies to my mouth in shock.
“I ran up the stairs giving everyone ample time to act, but no one did,” the Chancellor’s voice shakes. “Martha has one of the best levitation abilities in the entire society. She had plenty of time to stop him from hitting the ground. Yet she didn’t,” he says on a sob. “Why?”
He’s imploring us to have some answer that make sense. Tristan and I remain silent, contemplating all of his words, but I need clarification.
“Are you suggesting that she was unwilling to save him or that she was unable?”
“I don’t know what I’m suggesting.” His shoulders fall in defeat. “I was hardly in a position to question her as her son lay dead at her feet,” he says coldly. “And then she had the nerve to blame me in front of all of them.” He shakes his head.
“Lord, I suppose she did. It was my fault the boy fell and I could’ve stopped it. She may not know that I orchestrated that fight, but I did and this was my fault. If I wouldn’t have been so suspicious…if I wouldn’t have involved a student, none of this would be happening. Marcus wouldn’t be dead.”
“But you did, and now here we are,” Tristan says, equally as cold.
“How do I move forward? I’ve caused so much pain.”
I take the Chancellor by the shoulders and give them a little shake. “For one, you need to sober up,” I glance at Tristan. “We’ll help you find the correct champion, but you need to let us know what your plan was and how much the council knows.”
“You’re putting me in an impossible position,” he whines.
“You’re in an impossible position?” I huff a humorless laugh.
Without thinking, I pull my final letter with the current trial from my back pocket. I slid it in at the last minute, as we were running out the door. Tristan narrows his eyes at me in question, but I ignore him, flipping the letter toward the chancellor without another word. If I don’t tell him, I’m not wrong, according to Tristan’s own words.
He takes a deep breath, “I see.” It’s all he says. “Well, I suppose I have to give you something. I can’t be the cause of your downfall as well. I’ve already hurt one student and I never intend to do it again,” he says, sadly. “I see you found my folder, you clever girl,” he chuckles, pointing toward the manila folder under my arm. “Well, open it up, child.”
I do as instructed, frowning down at the near empty paper. It’s a short list of names. “Are these the other champions?”
He nods.
“There are only five here,” I say.
“I couldn’t find a sixth that made sense.”
Something about the way he says that has me doubting his words. A voice within me whispers that he’s lying, but I don’t call him out on it. Why haven’t I? I’m not sure, but the same
voice that whispers that he was lying also stops me from opening my mouth and outing him.
“Place this in your locker. Add a note that simply says that a few additional students showed the possibility of carrying Thomas’ ability, and I was looking into it. Ensure them that my only secret was that I was trying to do it on my own without informing the council.”
“Do you think that will be enough?” I ask skeptically.
He shrugs. “Let’s hope.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, which doesn’t have me feeling any better about the situation, but it’s something, and I appreciate that much. I really don’t like the idea of going behind the Chancellor’s back, and this makes me feel as though we’re in it together.
“Sober up,” I say, grabbing a bottled water from his mini fridge and sliding it toward him. “Once we’ve completed our tasks, I’m coming back and you’re going to tell me more about what you had planned for these five champions.”
He sighs heavily. “I guess I’ll be seeing you then.”
Of that, he can be certain.
Chapter Fifteen
After leaving Chancellor Andrews’ office, Tristan and I walk silently back towards the dormitories.
“Are you ready to go turn in that folder?” Tristan asks, gesturing to my second trial.
I shake my head. “I want to run down the list of new champions and see if I can find any patterns with any of them, before I hand it over.”
“That’s a great idea,” he praises.
“I’ll probably do it tomorrow. I’m exhausted and want to get some sleep,” I yawn. “You wanna come to my room?”
He squeezes my hand, “of course, I do, but I really need to take care of some things.”
The shifty way in which he says it makes it obvious he’s talking about his own trial. As much as I want to press, I know it’s no use. Tristan’s honorable and he won’t break his vow. I don’t want him to. I care too much to let anything happen to him just to satiate my curiosity.
“Later?”
He grins, darting out his tongue to lightly swipe against his lower lip. The movement is so sensual that I have to clasp my thighs together and stifle a moan that wants to break through the back of my throat.