“Segundo DeLorion, are the LFP commanders aware of the possible change in Verdantia's status?” That woman again. Docenti Fourisone, whom Ari thought an attractive woman of middle age with an amazing memory for ritual magicks, asked another in a long series of questions. She had begun her inquiries of him and Doral three hours ago. “How vulnerable are we to invasion?”
Ari nodded when Doral checked for his consent to answer. “On your first question, as a whole, no. We know of two commanders from Augoust Herrimon's territorial guard now planet-side who are well aware of Herrimon’s plans to occupy Verdantia. We think Herrimon planted them here from the beginning. We feel several of the League’s most elite squadron leaders and their troops would defect should Herrimon, with or without League approval, try to occupy us directly. Captain Seffania Rickard and her elite Blue Daggers are certainly ours. In general, the units reporting directly to our Primo are loyal to him, personally, and could probably be subverted. We might consider offering the vacant estates of our known dead as enticement to switch allegiance.”
Ari nodded his head in agreement. “In answer to your second question, we are very vulnerable. Herrimon will employ his own, handpicked squadrons to replace those currently planetside. We must get our interior defenses established and those problematic LFP squadrons neutralized before the switch begins.”
Elder Kittredge looked to Fleur in question. “Your Majesty, you met extensively these past two months with what remains of Parliament and our House of Lords. Can they be of any use to us in the administration and operation of our diamantorre and gateways? This is assuming we can design a gateway construct that doesn't require a sixth-level magister.”
“Possibly. The issue remains one of numbers, however. How many? Where? And, for how long?” Fleur ticked off the areas of concern. “A full two-thirds of our parliamentary roster is dead or missing, including our prime minister. Many of our representatives no longer have a constituency to represent. Parliament is willing to help us but they don't know if they can produce the people to fill the positions.”
Although her voice began strong and assured, Ari became concerned as it became shaky recounting the devastation. “When I spoke with him an hour ago, Senior Speaker Arnolo promised to do his best to meet our requirements but…” She spread her hands helplessly.
“Our House of Lords…” She looked down and stroked the fabric of her skirt. “Our House of Lords is in far worse shape.” Her voice became husky. Her chin began to quiver. She cleared her throat and inhaled a steadying breath. “Of the thirty-two original houses, the heads of eight remain. The others vanished from the face of our planet. It is a story I heard repeatedly from both our common citizens and our nobles. Some are confirmed dead, but most are out there somewhere.” She gestured toward the heavens, her voice bleak. “Of those remaining eight noble houses, three are House Constante, House DeTano and House DeLorion.” Fleur's eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I, alone, represent House Constante. Visconte DeLorion, alone, remains of House DeLorion. The Duca, Duchessa and Conte DeTano make up House DeTano. Elder Kittredge, our House of Lords no longer exists.”
She sat rigidly upright and stared sightlessly ahead. Her normally mobile and animated features were devoid of expression. Tears overflowed her eyes and streamed steadily down her cheeks, a sight made even more distressing because of her silent stoicism.
“We recovered auction receipts,” she recounted tonelessly, “of tens of thousands sold into slavery.” Her desolate gaze lingered on the gathered group. “We know where to start looking. However, it will take years to bring them home. It will take fleets of star ships we do not possess and have no way to obtain.” She stopped abruptly. Her nose began to run, as tears continued to roll from blank eyes. She wrapped her arms around her waist tightly as if trying to physically contain her pain. “How could this happen? We were oath-sworn to protect our citizens. They trusted us to protect them. As their monarch, as their magisters, we failed our people utterly.” Her slight body shook as she rocked slightly.
Ari had had enough. He left his seat and knelt before her, wiping her cheeks, eyes and nose with a soft linen square. He gathered her into his arms with a gently voiced, “Come to me.” She collapsed on his shoulder shaking soundlessly.
“I promise,” he murmured, “I promise, my Queen. We will find our people. We will bring them home, every last one of them.” He closed his eyes and held her tightly. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Doral had moved to kneel beside him.
“Believe, kitten. You must believe.” Doral tenderly moved Fleur's hair back from her face. Her tearful blue eyes met Doral’s. “In this matter you should be a little, umm, ‘pig-headed’.” He tapped her nose and winked at her.
She gave a watery chuckle, a small smile on her lips and sat up, lovingly stroking first Ari’s face and then Doral's as they knelt side-by-side.
“All right, for a little while, I will believe in miracles. With the two of you, who knows, anything is possible.”
All three of them realized at the same moment they had a rapt audience. Elder Fourisone watched intently with an expression of great yearning. Elder Patricio observed them closely, his face as inscrutable as ever. Elder Kittredge and Elder Eirdale fidgeted with their papers, obviously embarrassed to be witnessing such an intimate, emotional scene.
He and Doral stood, looked at each other in common understanding and returned to their chairs. Ari swore to himself that he would not disappoint her.
Wiping her face with the heel of her hand and taking a deep breath, she smiled ruefully at the elders. “How terribly undignified of me. Please forget you saw that.”
“Nonsense, Your Majesty,” Elder Kittredge said staunchly. “Your feelings for your people do you great credit.”
“And the Primo and Segundo's feelings for you do you great credit,” sighed Elder Fourisone.
“Elders, Magisters, Your Lordships, your Majesty,” Patricio spoke thoughtfully. “I would like to recall our assembly and take their recommendations for those magisters who will accompany our cavalry for the tower survey and gate construction. We will then need to bring them together with our scholars to experiment with forming pass-through gates that meet the Primo's requirements.” Ari watched thoughtfully as Patricio’s eyes scanned the small group.
“Elder Eirdale, if you would please tell the bell-ringers to sound the summons.” Eirdale left the chamber.
“I transfer authority over the High Enclave couriers to you, Primo and you, Segundo. You will need them.”
Patricio glanced at the timekeeper hung on the opposite wall. “We are approaching early afternoon. Docenti Fourisone, please meet with your senior heads and come up with some suggestions for our gates. Elder Kittredge, gather those who have been chosen to accompany our rides and report back here with them following our general session.” Patricio leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together in thought.
“We will try to man our towers and gates with members of the High Enclave, willing or not.” Patricio looked at Ari. “For now, is there anything else you require of us?”
Ari caught Doral and Fleur's eyes. They shook their heads. He nodded toward Patricio in thanks. “That is a good beginning, Elder Patricio. We will work out the military end of things. I would like to dispatch a courier with each of our cavalry rides and move them out by tomorrow noon. Hopefully, by week's end the couriers will be returning with news on the status of our sigil towers.”
* * * * *
Fleur snuggled close to Ari, glad of his warm strength, reassured by his gentle kisses. They had fallen into bed together after a tension-wrought, stressful day with the magisters and military commanders. Exhaustion hounded her. Still, something pricked at Fleur’s consciousness preventing her from sleeping. Oh By Her Light. Not again. Enough. Enough!
“Ari, is Doral in his rooms?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was behind us as we came up the stairs. I am stupid with fatigue, though. I could be mistaken.”
/> She groaned and crawled toward the edge of the bed. “He’s not doing this again—the idiot.”
“Where are you going, love?”
“To get a silly lump of maleness called Doral.”
“Shall I come with you?”
Fleur sighed. “No, I’ll be right back.”
She staggered sleepily out of the royal apartments and blinked, owl-eyed at her royal guard. “Eric.”
“Your Majesty?”
Not stopping, she wobbled barefoot down the hallway toward the rooms Doral had occupied since before her coronation. She pushed the main door to his chamber open, slamming it against the wall. She gave a soft snicker of amusement. This is my second entrance via crashing door. She made her way to the figure now sitting upright in the dark in the large poster bed. Pulling back the bed linens, she grabbed his hand firmly and pulled.
“What are you about, kitten?”
“This is the second night you are in the wrong bed. Come.” She grabbed his wrist and turned around, fully expecting him to follow.
“Fleur, I am naked, wait a moment.”
“No. I’ve seen it all. Come along.” She pulled forcefully on his arm, yawning sleepily, then staggered backward when he didn’t move. “Doral! Come!” Her naked foot made a slapping sound on the stone floor as she stomped.
With a soft snort, Doral scrambled out of his bed. Fleur marched him, stark naked, down the palace hallway, holding his hand as if he were a naughty child.
“Eric.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Eric.”
“Visconte?”
She smiled inwardly at the confusion she heard in Eric’s voice. Eric’s eyebrows hitting the top of his brow were almost audible. She pulled Doral through the entry to the royal chambers with a sleepy command of, “Close the door, please.” She marched methodically into the bedroom. She stopped long enough at the bedside to pull the covers back and crawled in, pulling Doral along behind her. Snuggling up in her original position against Ari, she finally released Doral’s hand and drowsily patted the bed next to her.
“Right here, Doral. Pull the covers up, please.” As he settled next to her, she released a heartfelt, contented sigh and sleepily announced, “Perfect. Now I can sleep. Don’t make me get you ever again.” She reached back and grabbed Doral’s arm, draping it across her waist.
Doral whispered softly into the quietness, “Sorry about this, Ari. She wasn’t going to be deterred. I would never presume…”
A sleepy snort interrupted his apology. “Idiot, you heard her. This is perfect. Don’t make her get you again.” Ari’s arm slid down her side to rest on Doral’s hip. Silence descended in the chamber for a moment before she mumbled, “We’ll move your things in the morning. Do try not to flash Sari or Camilla. Nudity like yours and Ari’s gets them agitated.” She yawned widely. “Imagine.”
Doral lay in the soft quiet of the night listening to Fleur and Ari’s even breathing. He was acutely aware of the slight rise of her ribcage beneath his arm, the feeling of warmth from his hand resting on his naked hip. His soul basked in their touch. Had he ever felt this wanted? The suppressed memories of unbearable anguish flooded back. Yes, someone had cherished and adored him and they had died. He had failed them. He would not fail Ari or Fleur. It didn’t matter what they asked of him.
* * * * *
Dust hung in the air, stirred by the chaos of over one hundred horses and their Verdantian riders filling the inner courtyard to the High Enclave the next morning. In spite of the quantity of animals and men, only the snorting of horses and the jangling and creaking of harness broke the tension-laden quiet. Each group of eleven—eight cavalry riders, their commander, a High Enclave courier and a magister— massed under an identifying pennant awaiting orders from their Primo and High Lord, Conte DeTano.
Ari made the circuit of the courtyard, handing written orders to each ride commander and discussing the assigned area for inspection and evaluation. He knew each of them by name and many of their men. He spoke briefly with each courier rider, impressing them with the need for all haste in their return. and handing each their royal dispatch pouch.
He spoke in turn with each magister about possible locations for gates through the newly existing energy walls. Members of each ride would remain to operate and defend the newly constructed gates until the High Enclave could staff them.
Acknowledging Ari’s instructions with a crisp salute, each ride commander barked the orders to “form up.” Under their identifying banner, each unit trotted smartly out the archways.
Pennants flying, horses and men in precise unison, the sun flashing off their polished brass, the final ride commander wheeled his cavalry formation out of the courtyard at a brisk trot. For the briefest moment, Ari felt bereft. Part of him would always yearn for a different path. He missed the feel of a solid mount, the clash of steel, the exhilaration of outwitting enemies in the field of battle, the comradeship of his men at arms. The only battles he fought now were with words. But he could not regret this choice. His place was in Sylvan Mintoth with Doral, at the side of their queen.
A small hand took his arm. Fleur had come up quietly to join him. “Is that the last of the rides?”
“Mmm.” He nodded.
“Ari, since we have a moment alone, I want to apologize. I used you shamefully.”
He straightened back and looked down at her quizzically.
“The other night, when we first came together as a threesome.” Her small hands petted his chest but she would not look up at him. “When I told you to keep the cockrings on. Doral told me what I did to you was far more cruel than any teasing could be.”
She looked up and held him with earnest eyes. “You wore them during the Great Rite. I thought it would be like that. I thought just to taunt you a bit as payback for calling me pig-headed. Doral said it was many times worse. He said it was vicious torture and not to ever do it again. Ari, I am very sorry. Will you forgive me?”
Sincere apology shone from those blue eyes of hers. She could never hide anything she felt. He should remind her not to play games for high stakes. He returned her apologetic gaze with an accepting smile. “Forgiven, my Lady.”
“Thank you, Ari.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and spoke into his chest.
“I have been sent to drag you up to the sigil tower, my Lord. Elder Patricio wants us to come together on the dais from now on.”
“Come together? Fleur, your word choice is very suspect.”
She raised her face, her eyes lit with humor. “Patricio's words, not mine. He didn't even realize the double entendre until I pointed it out to him.”
Ari groaned. “This will be an interesting week. If we are to spend every afternoon up there, I hope they padded the diamantorre well. As I remember, it was decidedly uncomfortable.”
“Hmm, yes, well, I think Sari and Camilla worked their usual magic. When I last looked, the dais was two feet deep in feather pillows. You will be challenged to find it. Come along, my Lord. Doral is waiting for us.”
* * * * *
Ari looked through the open door to the Chambre Cristal. Fleur was correct. The central dais was hidden, overwhelmed with feather pillows and silken serici bedding. Comfort will not be an issue.
Doral stood gazing out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows ringing the eight-sided chamber. That window overlooked the now empty courtyard and the eastern road.
“With any luck, riders will return within the next ten days with the status of our sigil towers,” Doral commented as he turned toward them.
“Yes,” Ari replied absently.
Fleur stroked his arm. “Are you content with your decision to remain my consort?”
Ari straightened. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“As the riders departed you wore such an expression of loss. I thought perhaps you wished the freedom to go with them,” she answered quietly.
“I have seen those shadows, but our Primo’s old life has been replaced
by us, Prima. Us and the defense of Verdantia.” Doral examined Ari’s face carefully.
Ari frowned slightly. “Shadows? Am I that transparent to everyone?”
“Hardly.” Doral snorted.
“We are, perhaps, a little more aware. Your happiness is everything to us, Ari.” Fleur’s eyes shown with love.
Ari looked at Doral and Fleur, considering. “Should I be offered the same choice a thousand times, a thousand times I would choose you.”
He stepped forward, taking Doral’s hand and then Fleur’s and pressing both to his chest. “I sacrificed nothing compared to what I gained.”
Fleur’s eyes caught Doral’s. “Do you think now would be a good time?” she asked gently.
“If you want me to give him words, it better be soon. I am not good at this sort of thing, Fleur. Give me a blade and a battle anytime. I don’t do feelings.” Doral shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat.
Oh, this is going to be good. She is going to make him ‘talk’. Good luck, sweetheart. Ari arched his eyebrows in question.
“My dear Lord and husband, I suggested…”
“Suggested, my ass,” Doral muttered between gritted teeth.
Ari bit back his laugh when Fleur smiled and repeated, “Suggested to Doral, he and I make love to you. You left too early this morning to hear our conversation, but it seems our Doral has some misguided ideas about what he means to us.”
She looked at Doral shyly. “I think I presented our case convincingly, but he needs to hear the words from your mouth, too.”
Doral looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
“Why, Visconte, you are blushing,” Ari teased softly. “Was she that outrageous?”
“I’ll have you know my repertoire is expanding, Ari. I am certain my technique has improved.” Fleur flashed coquettish eyes at Ari.
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