by P. S. Power
“Hey! Isn't everything supposed to be about me?”
Marvin ran over and picked her up by the waist, his hands, huge as they were, wrapped most of the way around.
“Always love. Right now though I think, if it's not an imposition, I'd like to sleep, after drinking about four gallons of the coldest water I can find. I think I speak for everyone in that…”
His point was well made and Tor felt thirsty again too, now that it was mentioned. They let Maria explain everything, since she'd heard it all over and over again, she even got most of it right. Her telling made their walk, which had been mildly uncomfortable, sound like a death march and when she got to the part about Prince Alphonse and Countess Thorgood apologizing to the servants she grimaced and sounded a bit grudging.
“I have to grant that they had style about it. Everyone else was standing with their nose in the air as if our people weren't worth an apology, but they didn't. I thought the King was going to burst though, when Tor gave everyone that gold and invited us to stay here with him as personal guests. I didn't know what kind of place you'd have Tor, but I wasn't thinking this. It's the nicest place I've ever seen. I would have lived in one of the little magic houses, with everyone, before going back though.” She stopped for a second, looked around and continued with the Major Jarad story. She didn't spare her husband in it either.
“So it might have been just, if it had been Marvin alone. Sorry honey, but you have to keep better track of your children from now on. The man has every reason to be angry with you, and we need to repay Tor for the gold he delivered as soon as we can. Thank you for that Tor, it was most generous of you, and something we should have done ourselves already. Still, we should probably have the Major killed for what he did to everyone else.” She said it so casually that it almost slipped past him that it wasn't just an off-hand comment, or said in jest.
The Count gave her a small head bow and Trice looked more than a little bloodthirsty herself. The others all looked uneasy with the talk of killing, so at least there was that. Then they weren't high royals, just real people that had recent experience with abuse of power.
“No.” The word just slipped out of his mouth, but he smiled and shook his head to soften it.
“He made us uncomfortable and grumpy, but now it's his turn. That's justice. Doing more would be taking it too far. We'll give it a few days and set up a meeting with him, talk it all out and fix it so that it doesn't happen again. I mean, if someone got one of my sisters pregnant outside of wedlock and didn't marry her, I'd be doing a good bit more than making him stand out in the sun for a while. That these others were caught up in it is bad, but not worth the man’s death.” Of course he didn't say what that retribution would be exactly. Possibly a stern letter writing campaign? Tipping his cows until they didn’t produce milk anymore?
Most of the other men in the room nodded, which got a sour look from the Count, since it was a clear rebuke, and from most of the room, then he sighed.
“Fine. But he at least needs to apologize to each of the innocents harmed by his actions. In person if possible. If Prince Alphonse had to apologize for him the least he can do is make that part right for himself.” It didn't even sound overly bitter.
That got a nod from everyone else too. Tor figured he'd had his revenge already as far as that went. You couldn't reasonably expect a very good apology from a man you'd kicked in the head with intent, could you?
Collette moved into action like everything had already been planned almost startling in her efficiency and skill. It was seamless. All Tor had to do was drink more water from the tap in his bathroom until he couldn't hold anymore, take a quick shower, and sleep until he felt like getting up. That was his plan at least.
It wasn't to be, since at about one in the afternoon someone jumped on him. The shield caught the blow but he very nearly started swinging wildly before he heard the familiar warm chuckle.
“Ursa? Hey… how’s my favorite Countess doing?” It was a sleepy mutter and only her arm pulling at him kept him from going back to sleep. The bed was soft and the room was cool. He wore a shield but nothing else, since he'd almost fallen into bed. Giggling she asked him to drop the shield. Actually she said, “what kind of welcome is this? Drop the shield silly!”
So he did, and expected a kiss as a reward. That being the tradition. To his surprise she did something else entirely, her head going much lower. She did use her mouth for it though, a trail of kisses moving past his belly button. For a moment he felt awkward and ungainly and nearly pulled her head up. It was daylight out and he could see what she was about to do. This wasn't some fumbling or whispered lesson in the dark like before. Well, she'd never fumbled, but he had. A lot.
Tor thought about it and shrugged. Was it right to let her do something like this? Yes, her social rules said it was. More, he really liked her. If he got her pregnant would he marry her? Tor nearly nodded, but her mouth touched his lower parts, a warmth covering him slowly, pressure from her tongue swirling around him. She wasn't too hurried, but there was a sense of urgency about her actions that almost didn't fit his sleepy and drifty mood. Well, if it was to be quick, he'd have to do something for her at the same time, wouldn't he?
It took her a second to realize what he was moving in place for and another fifteen for her to get her clothes out of the way, not having magic ones yet.
He'd fix that.
It would make this all so much more convenient if nothing else. Tor found her sex with his mouth gently at first, hitting with rapid flicks of his tongue the little nib that he'd been told about, shown really, by her, come to think of it. Even with her on top of him he could see a lot more of her now than he had ever before. It was fascinating, the pink and light tan skin folds in the mound of golden blond hair. It was soft, and did get in his mouth as he worked on her, but he ignored it. If this gave her any pleasure at all, it was worth a little hair, right?
She moaned. At first it was soft, but eventually it was loud enough that he was glad her mouth was full to muffle it a bit. Well, the walls weren't walls and didn't pass sound, so it would likely be all right. The door would since it didn't fit with an air tight seal, but anyone listening at the door had their own problems, didn't they? It was all he could do to wait for her, trying to finish at the same time, using his sense of her field to help him do it. They both shuddered in each other’s mouths, throbbing in tune with their heart beats for a while, waves of pleasure washing over them both.
After that she used her tongue to make certain he was clean, so he did the same for her, she stiffened in brief surprise at it, but then purred at him, another sense of pleasure, not as physical, but at least as strong came off of her.
“Hmmm. Someone’s been getting some practice. Good. Just remember that I saw you first. Or at least got into your bed first, so I win.” She kissed him, using her tongue and lips in a way she hadn't before. It was ardent and serious, like she wanted to do more. After a second she broke from him.
“Since your awake now… I'm supposed to tell you that you're summoned to the palace for luncheon. Formal dress.”
Chapter two
“Oh? The King calling me onto the carpet already? If so I'm not really sure why. I mean, I get that he seemed upset with me yesterday,” Tor stopped and shook his head.
“This morning I mean. Still tired. But if he's going to ride me about locking up the city guard…” Then what could he do? Tor had actually done it. It was illegal to interfere with a guard on duty, and stripping them of clothes and locking them up had to count as that for sure. Tor would just have to take his lumps and hope the lash didn't hurt too bad. He'd sneak in an extra healing device just in case.
Ursala gave him a quick kiss. Then a longer one that probably didn't taste that good since he needed to brush his teeth. A shower would be in order as well. Pulling on her arms he dragged the young Countess into the bathroom with him and started the warm water flowing into the huge black tub. She climbed out of her clothing with a grin
and joined him, since there was plenty of room. The space was nearly as big as his dorm room had been at school, about fifteen by fifteen. It had a full four person tub too. Overdone just for him, but the actual resource cost was only some water, he reminded himself and that got cleaned and returned to the river when he was finished, so the overall impact was minimal. If anything it improved the poor quality of the river slightly.
She shook her head a little and touched his arm gently.
“Really, it's not that, or at least no one mentioned that being the case. Everyone just wants to make certain you're alright and see what the plans are now. You and Smythe were looking for the Austrans and inside a week you found them. I'm not joking here either, even if they did attack you rather than being hunted down. No one has ever gotten one of their assassins alive before, much less a whole team. The arm and leg thing was a bad idea though. Effective, maybe needed, but too many of the Counts are considering it as punishment for sever crimes. It's even been suggested for Major Jarad.” Most of this got said while he was washing her back, just using his hands on her soft flesh, working suds out of the weak lavender scented soap. It wasn't his kind, but since Collette was in charge, they bought what she wanted. With his money of course, since that was only appropriate. Her house skills were amazing. Tor probably would have just been living in one of his little original houses and washing with sand if not for her.
The thought made his mind jump and skitter for a moment. Were there different kinds of spies for different tasks? Ones trained to be good husbands or wives, others to be whores and transport drivers? Well, that last thing was new, but the idea probably held. If you wanted to track military doings you got a military man. Or a whore that serviced them.
Tor had to show Ursala how to use the magical clothing when they got out, but the instant she got the idea, she loved it. If nothing else, he assured her, it would cut her clothing budget and make packing easier.
“Screw it.” He said, loading a small box with them suddenly. She raised her eyebrows.
“Harder to beat up on Tor when he just delivered a box of prezzies to your wife and daughters, isn't it?” Tor pantomimed a whip being used. “Lash. “But daddy look at my pretty new dresses!” Lash. “I can make it glow.” Lash. “Isn't Tor so wonderful daddy?” Distracting if nothing else, right?”
She kissed his cheek and helped him design something that would say both “formal” and “please don't beat me too much”. It was a heavy green velvet coat over a darker green silk button up shirt, with black velvet pants and dark green boots that shone like mirrors. It even had a belt though it didn't need it. That was black though, with a glossy silver buckle on it. Nice and elegant enough for a luncheon or even dinner at the palace, but not flashy or eye catching. No red to spur on combat rages or simple blood lust. Her reasoning sounded like rote learning, which she assured him it was.
“Didn't you have that class in school too? I thought everyone had that. It was always right before the class on recognizing spies.” The funny thing was that she sounded dead serious about it.
She had a new shield when they left too, which got her to make pleased noises as if it were just a glowy necklace instead of a device to keep her alive. That was a real problem he knew. No one wanted to wear one all the time, it made everything harder to do, like wearing gloves did. But if an attack came and you weren't ready, most people also forgot to turn it on in time. Sometimes you didn't even know you needed it until it was too late. Tor's spine ached in remembered pain from his own experience with that, a boot to the back that kicked him down some stairs.
He could fix that flaw, by having an automatic turn on for it, but it would have to be incredibly sophisticated to handle all real world threats. It would have to do that, turn on perfectly when needed, since most people would grow used to using it and forget to turn it on in times of potential danger, just counting on it to protect them anyway.
It was nice that she thought it looked good enough to be real jewelry. It was just dirt from outside with a bit of cow leather, so maybe she was just being kind to him about it? He had to remember that, who she was. He may get to play with her like it was something real, but in the end he was just her stable boy, and the junk he made a few wild flowers tied together with hemp string. It was easy to forget that sometimes because she was so nice to him, but that's really what it came down to. Tor was a servant, the kind that made things for you on demand, not an equal.
Well, that was nothing new.
They rode together to the palace, in a carriage, which Tor disliked in the main, but could put up with for his friend, since she actually thought it was special and tasteful. Not-flyers didn't allow for a lot of dignity, did they? People floating around like ghosts, right hand in the air to point their way. Fine for him and the kids, but the high royals didn't use them in the streets and Ursala was that for sure.
It was faster getting into the palace in a carriage though, and they'd probably let Tor in, which was never really certain. Twice he'd been turned away. Everyone had claimed it was a mistake, but how hard was it to let someone in who was expected? Just approaching the black metal bars made him want to turn around and leave the city all together anymore. This wasn't a comfortable place for him at all. It was too nice, too much had been spent on it, and bad things kept happening here. Attempts on his life, finding out unpleasant truths.
“Do you have need of bakers up in Thorgood?” It was an idle question really, since he was needed to work here for now. But after the war, maybe they'd let him go?
Distantly, since she was reading papers, the Countess murmured softly.
“Sure. Considering a career change?” Her voice was light, not really paying attention it seemed.
“Thinking about it.”
It was clear she was busy, and as much as he hated doing it, Tor shut off his shield and pulled the two blank bits of light tan from his pocket. The field to go on then was both old and new, and the decorations had to be too. Something unique. This was special. When activated, these would glow a brilliant purple, he decided. He had nearly an hour left to work, enough time if he could manage to go deep enough. Only this time it was different. Not bad, or scary, but he blinked and they were there. The new one up device in his hand had writing on it, as he'd intended, but he couldn't remember doing the work. It was perfect. He could feel that without hardly trying. Good enough, but a bit novel in how it happened. He'd encountered a little of that kind of thing before, but this was different, like a single blink instead of an hour. Not even a full single breath.
It felt odd.
Tor was still really deep in a trance state when he was led by the arm into the dining room. It wasn't filled with hundreds of people, but a good dozen sat around the table. Some he knew well, some he didn't. For some reason they sat him next to Connie again. They did that every now and then, as if it were a joke, since it was technically the forth most important place at the table and putting him there, he'd learned, would tell the world that he was either her top advisor, or her lover.
And he obviously wasn't her advisor was he?
She looked radiant as always, her skin clear and reddish brown hair artfully arranged, today pins with small butterflies in multiple colors in enamel held everything in place. That along with her gauzy light blue gown and white shift made her look very cool and comfortable. She reached out and took his hand gently as he sat.
“Are you well?” It was a murmur, polite and concerned, but said softly so no one else could hear. She actually wanted to know then? It had taken a lot of time and he had so much to figure out, but bits and pieces were starting to come together for him as far as courtly graces. Unless he was just dead wrong and it was a polite bit of small talk.
He leaned toward her, which made half the people smirk and half raise their eyebrows. What did they think he was going to do, jump up and hump her leg at the table? The idea would be amusing, but since he didn't want to be castrated, Tor spoke instead, his words equally low.
&nb
sp; “Physically I'm fine. A little shaken mentally, but only when I'm not working. Tired, but when am I not? You?” It came out automatically, someone asked how you were, you asked back. He expected her to say fine, or that she was well, but instead she whispered “later”, as if it were a subject too delicate for the table. It made Tor uneasy. What would have the Queen reluctant to speak of it at table? It couldn't be good.
No business was covered during the meal, but the second it was over and the dishes cleared, drinks were poured and the work began. Tor made himself both relax and stifle a yawn at the same time. He was a bit tired, but five hours sleep was more than he often got. The events of the last few days were weighing on him, but that was probably normal. Every other time he'd nearly been killed he was tired after too. Sometimes for months, like when he'd been poisoned.
The King gave a seated bow, getting one back from Tor, even though no one else did it. Oops. Rich just mumbled “honored” and started speaking then to the room.
“We have a few issues to discuss here, if everyone is ready? Good. First, with the holiday upon us the palace is about to be full to over brimming and we suddenly have thirty-six guests we hadn't expected from county Ward. I won't put them out, not after their ordeal, but things are going to be tight space wise, any suggestions?” Richard looked at everyone including him so he raised his hand a little, like in school. The King smiled and it even looked real.
“Tor, you have something?”
“I have some room and they're all invited to come stay with me, if they want.” It sounded oddly shy.
The King and Queen both looked at him with the same polite look that they always gave him when they wondered if he could handle something, and really thought the bumpkin just couldn't. Well, they'd be right this time, except he had friends to help him. Collette and Petra at least. They needed some servants, for cooking and light cleaning. The house mainly did that, making the beds and cleaning the tubs and toilets, but unless people wanted to eat out all the time they needed someone for that. Several if more people might be coming to visit too.