“I require little sleep,” he reminded her. “I will wander the grounds all night, travel all day tomorrow, and I will feel no fatigue.”
“That is so amazing,” she remarked.
“it is the simply the way of the Zanderone warrior,” he replied. “Fear not, Lizbett, it will be me who will wake you, and I will hold you warmly against me as the East sun rises.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“I am, but I believe there are still some words you must say.”
“Thank you, Larian, for your discipline. I deserve it, I need it, and I want it.”
“Good girl,” he crooned.
Leaning forward he scooped her into his chest and held her, rocking her gently, then laying her back down he pulled up the coverlets.
“One last thing,” he murmured.
“Yes, Sir?”
“As you sleep think upon this question, and give me the answer when it comes to you, but only when you are sure of it. It doesn’t have to be in the morning, it can be any time, but you must be sure of it.”
“What question?”
“More than anything else, what makes you happy?”
He rose to his feet and stared down at her; the question he had put to her, and the answer he was seeking had come to him directly after talking with his uncle.
“Goodnight, Larian,” she sighed.
“Goodnight, Lizbett,” he replied tenderly, then picking up his waist belt he walked slowly from the room.
As he moved down the hallway to his chamber he sensed he was on the brink of an important discovery. Like a shadowy thought he couldn’t quite grasp it, but he had learned to allow such things to float forward of their own accord; if he chased them they became evasive.
I must sleep a short while and perhaps the message will come. It is so close, I can feel it.
As Larian was thinking about the elusive epiphany, Lizbett was rubbing her thighs together, but she was also pondering his question;
More than anything else, what makes you happy?
But there are so many things. Riding Scarlet, eating tasty food, I’m happy after wine, getting presents, kissing you makes me really happy. You make me really happy. What is it you want me to say? This is a very difficult question.
Her thighs stopped their anxious rubbing, and as the moons continued their passage taking their pink-silver light from her chamber, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, a final thought crossing her mind.
Something important happened tonight, I’m just not sure what it is…
CHAPTER TWENTY
Larian had reached the doorway of his chamber, and though he needed to stroke himself and release the urgency in his trousers he felt a greater need to move out into the night. Making his way through the house he quietly unlocked the front door, slipped outside and stood in the quiet courtyard inhaling the cool night air. His senses were on alert, not because he felt lurking danger, but because, like Zinyana and so many other parts of his nature, it was an inherent trait.
He could cross a forest floor thick with dried leaves and sticks and not make a sound; he could hear a footfall when others could not; his eyes would adjust to changing light in an instant, he could lift boulders, climb the tallest tree, and bring a woman supreme pleasure. He could do all these things, and yet his uncle had needed to speak to him as a young, naive man.
It had humbled him, and standing under the two moons, gazing into the infinite ebony night, he realized he had needed to be humbled as much as Lizbett had needed his spanking hand. His meteoric rise had tilted his ego, an ego he had learned early in his training could be his undoing if not kept in check; were it not for his uncle he could have fallen victim to its clutches.
He needed to be with the horses. There was little that fed his soul like a still stable, whether it be day or night. As he ambled in, the smell of the hay and the soft, powerful, noble energy of the animals washed over him, calming his center and soothing his mind.
Settling on a bale of hay he thought back to the days when he would hold the youthful Lizbett in his arms amongst the billows of loose straw in the King’s stables. Even then he had the ability to whisper and touch, to comprehend her moans and gasps.
You have done her no favors, Handerah, allowing her to grow into womanhood with no discipline, but somehow you have kept her innocent, sheltered from the ways of men. How did you manage that? She has a passionate soul, she aches for all a man can give her, and yet she knows so little, has experienced so little.
The image of her naked beauty bathed in the soft moon-glow sent a fresh wave of need through his loins, and unfastening the flap in the front of his trousers he withdrew his cock and began to rub.
Closing his eyes he saw her sweet rosebuds atop her large, perfect mounds; how delicious it had been to suck them until she was gasping. While the intense sensation might have been momentarily punishing, it would have fueled her sexual awakening and sent nurturing wet heat to the garden between her legs.
His moment was brewing and he rubbed vigorously, flashing back to the moment he had swished the crop upon her bottom after he’d found her fighting with Tholl. He had to smile as he recalled the surprise on her face when he’d arrived on the scene, and how quickly she had hurried away, knowing she would soon meet his chastisement.
Feeling the urgency in his cock and wanting to reach the end he indulged again in the fantasy of plunging into her succulent depths for the first time. He saw himself holding her hips and thrusting forward as she gasped and called his name, and suddenly his manhood jerked, shooting forth his cream. He groaned, fervently rubbing until the spasms began to abate, then dropping his hand away he laid back into the hay to catch his breath.
Nestled in the cloaking gentleness of the barn his heart’s pounding began to settle, but the incident with Tholl floated back into his mind and he was struck by a thought.
Lizbett is not a stupid girl. She would have known Tholl would send for me.
Standing slowly he ambled to a water bucket and washed himself, thinking back over the journey in the carriage and her absurd request that the warriors fight so she wouldn’t have to hide. With the urgency of the moment he done the only thing he could think of to get her into her hiding place, and not considered anything past the point of her atrocious behavior and the discipline he’d have to exact.
“…she will use her knowledge to get what she wants, but all the while you will be thinking you are in control.”
Like a sharp bolt of lightening the epiphany struck.
“Lizbett! This is exactly what you have been doing!” he exclaimed to the empty barn. “You ache for discipline so much you have maneuvered events to have me deliver it. Our reunion at the bridge, our time in the meadow…that was a moment you had been seeking your entire life and once you tasted my spanking hand you wanted more…you needed more…you knew I would punish any misbehavior.”
His discipline had become her reward.
The sound of a soft nicker called to him, interrupting his outburst, and turning around Larian was surprised to see Thunder’s large black head peering over his door, his huge brown eyes staring straight at him.
The stalls in the stable opened into the barn, but also to large pens at the back so the horses could wander in and out as they pleased. Rarely did he see a horse in its shelter, the natural state of the outdoors was always preferable.
“Thunder,” he smiled, and finding the bucket of carrots he grabbed a handful and carried them across to his noble steed. “My friend, you heard me.”
The horse took the gift, munched loudly, then leaned the weight of his heavy head against Larian’s chest.
“You calm me, you chase away the worry. Now I know why my instinct told me to ignore her hand between her legs earlier. She wanted more attention, more spanking or discipline of some kind. She is starving for it. Thunder, my uncle was right, she is wily, and she used what she learned to control me. There is much I must ponder through the remainder of this night.”
Thunder softly nuzzled him, as if understanding everything Larian had just said.
“I am glad of one thing. I did not need to be away from her for a full passage of the moon to see this. I have no wish to be away from her for any length of time, but I understand what my uncle meant. I would not have seen clearly had I been laying beside her. I would have been captivated by her body, I would have been thinking only of the joy of being with her.”
Thunder pricked his ears, and a moment later Larian heard it too; the distant sound of approaching hooves.
“Who would be coming here so late?” he frowned, and giving Thunder another stroke on his neck he moved out into courtyard.
His keen hearing told him he wouldn’t have long to wait; whoever was riding was galloping at top speed. Looking across to the fields he saw the horses moving around, anticipating the arrival, and he could see Scarlet bucking in her paddock.
While he didn’t anticipate an adversary he didn’t feel comfortable waiting alone with no sword at his side, so he hurried over to the warrior’s house. Opening the door carefully, not wishing to disturb anyone who might be in Zinyana, he spied two of his men quietly chatting and sharing some wine in a corner. They looked up as he entered, and he signaled for them to join him and bring their swords; moments later the three were headed back to the courtyard.
“I hope it’s not bad news,” one of them remarked.
“Whoever it is, he is very close,” the other added.
Practiced in the art of defense they immediately separated so each would have a third of the courtyard, and while Larian remained visible his two men stayed hidden. He heard the horse break from its gallop into a trot, and a short time later it entered the courtyard; Larian immediately broke into a broad smile.
“Zoltaire!”
“Commander!” the warrior hailed in reply as he leapt from his horse.
“I’m glad to see you,” Larian declared. “You must have traveled with great haste to be back so soon.”
“I was anxious to bring you the news,” Zoltaire declared.
The warriors who had been hiding appeared from their covert positions and hurried across to welcome him. Larian was eager to hear the report, but knowing the two men and Zoltaire needed a moment for a reunion, he took the horse into the stables and began to take off his saddle. The camaraderie between the three was essential; in battle they were brothers, each fighting for the other, and the small moments mattered. He had just put the horse into an empty stall and filled its water bucket when Zoltair entered the barn.
“I have much to tell you,” he said quickly.
“Let us go into the kitchen and sit at a table. You must need food and wine.”
“It would be good,” he nodded, and together they crossed the courtyard and headed into the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The kitchen was well stocked, and as Zoltaire removed his sword, waist belt and heavy jacket, Larian plated cheese, bread, some fruit and nuts, and some slices of meat left over from the dinner he’d shared with his uncle. There were several bottles of wine on the counter, and selecting the one that contained the most he set it on the table along with two goblets.
“This cheese is excellent,” Zoltaire declared. “I am never hungry until I begin to eat.”
“The warrior’s curse and blessing,” Larian remarked. “Now, please, tell me what news you have brought.”
“The King was greatly heartened by the news that the marauders were bringing the escaped nobles to the castle. He looked weary, Larian, and I feel the absence of the Princess has been difficult, but shortly after I arrived his wife rolled up in her carriage, and that brightened him.”
“I can imagine the King would be missing Lizbett very much,” Larian said thoughtfully.
“The King told me that the plot to kill him had been long in the planning, but they could only execute their evil deed while the Queen was away.”
“Why?”
“Because she is famous for her sense of smell. Their only chance was the poison, and she would surely have detected it. Apparently few know that the Princess inherited her mother’s gift.”
“So my being there…”
“…while the Queen was out of town gave them their chance. They’d been waiting for a banquet, and your arrival happened to coincide with her absence.”
“What happened with Delina?” Larian asked, recalling the handsome woman who had appeared so warm and capable when he’d arrived.
“Delina had no stomach for interrogation, and just before I left I heard that in exchange for a quick death she has promised to tell all she knows, so I suspect there is even more news by now.”
“And did the marauders arrive while you were there?”
“They did, Larian. I had met with the King…oh…that reminds me, he gave me something for you,” Zoltaire said getting up; walking to his waist belt he retrieved a sealed letter from his bag and swiftly delivered to Larian’s hand.
“Ah, thank you,” Larian said as Zoltaire sat back down.
“Anyway, I was just getting ready to leave when the marauders arrived. Those nobles did not look very noble!”
“I’m sure,” Larian grimaced.
“I waited to see what would happen, and after they’d been taken away, the nobles, I mean, a cart packed with food and bowls, clothing, many things, was handed over to Zanock, and then the very best thing happened.”
“What?”
“The King’s own medicine man came out and left with them to tend to the leader’s son.”
“That is excellent news.”
“The King looked much better when I left than when I arrived,” Zoltaire said solemnly.
“Thank you for bringing me all this so speedily. It is all very good to hear.”
“He said your meeting with Zanock was no accident, that it was the God’s doing for many reasons.”
“Maybe he’s right,” Larian sighed.
“I believe I will take myself to the warrior’s house,” Zoltaire announced, “unless there is more you need from me?”
“No, nothing. Take what foods you want with you. I have some thinking to do outside of all this, and I must do it before the East sun rises.”
“Until we leave tomorrow then,” Zoltaire said standing up.
“Yes, until then.”
Taking his goblet of wine with him Larian ambled back to Lizbett’s chamber, and silently entering he sat at a table in the corner of the room. Sipping his wine, gazing at his wife-to-be sleeping softly in her bed, he turned up the oil lamp, broke the seal on the letter and unfolded the paper.
Larian
The tale of your encounter with the marauders does not surprise me. Your skills as a warrior are not your only gifts, and though you are still young, you have an uncanny ability to see past the obvious, to be empathetic, to touch hearts and read minds. Should your wedding to Lizbett come to pass I would like to offer you the position of Head Negotiator of Verdana. You know this is a very influential post, and while some may see your youth as a disadvantage, I see it as just the opposite. I believe our adversaries will underestimate you, giving you the upper hand. (Of course I would offer this irrespective of the marriage, but I doubt your Prince would let you go).
I thank you most deeply, Larian, for all you have done for myself and my realm, and of course, for Lizbett. These are difficult days, and while I miss her very much it is best she is not here to witness the tumult that surrounds us.
Please give her my love, and I wait your response.
King Herandah of Verdana
Leaning back in his chair Larian took a deep breath.
Head Negotiator! I would be the King’s right-hand man. This is astonishing.
Folding the letter he placed it on the table and stared across the room.
Lizbett. What a future we could have. It all rests on my shoulders now, my shoulders and your heart. I will do my best to win you, I will do my best to open the door, but it will be you who must step through it.<
br />
Picking up the letter he returned to his room, placed it carefully in his bag, then headed back to sit at Lizbett’s side. Pulling up a chair he sat watching her sleep, pondering what he would do, what he would say and how he would say it.
She was wily indeed, and it was a trait she would need one day as Queen, if she really did want to control him they were doomed, but if she chose to surrender to him, to their love, then soon they would be sharing the glory of a life together.
He felt his eyes grow heavy; this was a good sign, this meant his mind was working and he would open them with answers. It was how he found his path outside of Zinyana. His small naps weren’t exactly naps, but a closing of his controlling thoughts just enough to allow his inner guide to take over and show him the path.
It was the tweeting of a bird on the windowsill that stirred him. WIth his sensitive hearing it was as if it were sitting on his shoulder singing into his ear. Blinking open his eyes he stared out the window and saw the light of the East sun. Soon the household would stir, the morning meal would be laid out in the dining hall, and they would be leaving.
He realized his head felt clear. There was no worry or debate, and looking across at her he suddenly saw the map, what to say and what to do. Standing up and stretching he sat on the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder; she mumbled something, then frowned, then rolled on to her back and yawned.
“Good morning, Lizbett.”
Her violet eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him.
“Mmm, what a wonderful sight. My warrior.”
It brought a smile to his lips, and in that moment he could almost understand why her father had been so lenient. He could imagine her as a little girl, all eyes and hair, staring up at him innocently…I’m sorry Pappa, I didn’t mean it. The vision was so clear he wondered if he’d once actually seen it, but of course he hadn’t, and shutting it out of his mind he set about untying her wrists.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“So well, even if my bottom is still sore and my nugget is starving.”
The Warrior and the Petulant Princess Page 14