revelations 02 - on a white horse

by corwin, monica

  Gwyn shrugged. “So you will be a queen not to be trifled with. My last queen was trivial and pitiful. I hated her more often than not.”

  Bianca blinked at the mention of her predecessor. Strangely, a tendril of jealously snaked through her. She cleared her throat and her head of those thoughts. “What happened to her?”

  “She descended to the Underworld and gave up her throne.”

  “If you didn’t like her, why did you marry her?”

  “She was beautiful in her prime. Then, as Anwyn weighed on her, she lost her sparkle and soon even the will to live.”

  Victor leaned forward and grasped Gwyn’s hand, and the circle of power swelled once more between them. “I’m sorry,” he told Gwyn, who squeezed his hand in response.

  She took a deep breath and addressed them both. “I have no idea if this is actually going to work, but I guess we will find out.”

  “I don’t want Hel in power,” Gwyn said. “It would seem she’d found a way to control powerful men, and I don’t mean to become part of her harem.”

  Victor chimed in, “harem?”

  Gwyn nodded and continued as if he were dishing out the latest gossip. “Word is she held Hades captive for a century and Baldr along with him.”

  Bianca nodded. “That is true. She does like beautiful men.” The fear in Victor’s eyes gave her heart a lurch. She cleared her throat and determined to change the subject. “Well then, husband, consort, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

  Gwyn lifted her up by the hand. “You choose what you want. This is Fairy; anything you desire is yours.”

  She considered. “Not a bad way to live. Let’s see Victor’s rooms first.”

  They exited back out into the hallway, and a new door lit up as if a light had just been turned on from within. She opened it and smiled. It had a masculine vibe, sort of like a men’s club with leather and deep maroon tones through the room. She glanced out the balcony, and it would seem they shared a view.

  “What’s with the waterfall?” she asked Gwyn.

  He shrugged. “Fairy does what it wants.”

  Of course it did. They exited Victor’s room and she sighed. “And your room?”

  Gwen’s mouth twisted up at the corner. “This way, My Queen.”

  He needed to stop calling her that. Especially in public.

  As he opened a door, she jerked back in surprise. The bed sat low on the floor but very large, and the only other furniture was a rug and a lamp. A book sat on his bedside and a photo stood beside it. “This is…not what I expected.” She said, checking behind the door for more. Gwyn had a very distinct personality. She expected his room to reflect that.

  He shrugged. “I live with so much in my head every day. This is my sanctuary. I prefer my own version of simplicity to the opulence.”

  “Whatever floats your boat. Who is that?” she gestured at the picture of Gwyn with his arms wrapped around the shoulders of a man whose hair appeared white. She couldn’t make out much else in the photo.

  He cleared his throat and stepped in the hall. “That’s my brother, Nuada. I’d prefer not to discuss him if you don’t mind.”

  His request surprised her, but she nodded in acquiescence. They followed him out, and she took another fortifying breath. “Now I need to see the dungeon.”

  Gwyn grimaced. “Maybe we should specify the play dungeon. Not the real dungeon.”

  She eyed him. “What do you mean by real dungeon?”

  “Well, my enemies have to be locked up somewhere.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’d like to see the play dungeon.”

  A door materialized behind her and she pushed it open, afraid to find thumbscrews and a rack inside. But it appeared very much like every other dungeon she’d been in. Whips, chains, and other equipment hung on the walls, and she’d glimpsed enough. She wasn’t quite ready to picture topping both of these men…even if she’d probably be doing it in a few short hours.

  She roamed the spacious suite; no windows, and no accessories save canes, whips, chains, ropes, and knives. She ran her hand along a wicked curved blade, unable to imagine herself using it to inspire lust in another person. To gut them if necessary sure, but even in play, it appeared to gruesome to wield. After she put the knife back she found a stunning riding crop hanging on a hook by the door. Fairy already anticipated her tastes well. She caressed the leather before turning to her men, who stood eyeing her like the last piece of pizza in the box. On that note. “All right. Food.”

  They shuffled down the hall and she noticed the men automatically followed her lead. She continued walking and hoped the place would open up to the dining room. Eventually, they made it to a long table, but they weren’t the only ones present for dinner. Fifteen others sat in chairs along each side of the table. She couldn’t tell if they were fairy, human, or something else entirely.

  Gwyn edged around her, raising his hand, and the sound of a trumpet greeted her. She glanced down at her faded floral sundress and she wished she were better dressed for such an occasion. Instantly, she was. A black satin dress sheathed her beautifully and finished in a mermaid skirt.

  Glamour. She had glamour now…a power Cloris possessed and Bianca always envied. She mentally cheered as she followed Gwyn up the sideboard.

  “Ladies and Gentleman. This is your new queen. Her name is Bianca. Be nice to her or deal with me.”

  She put her head up and forced a polite-but-in-charge sort of smile and grabbed Victor’s arm as he trailed behind her. Her hands were clammy and shaking, but he followed her lead and raised his own chin. “This is Victor. He is mine.”

  She stopped speaking. They didn’t need any more information.

  Chapter Twelve

  DINNER PASSED TOO FAST for Bianca’s comfort. There were five lovely courses, but something about time in Fairy seemed strange. As if they sat eating dinner for a lot longer than she would have in the real world, yet it whooshed by. Her phone buzzed as dessert began to float around—literally.

  She shifted her gaze from the glittering candlesticks to eye Gwyn at the other end of the table. He talked animatedly to a man on his left and waved his hands energetically. She feared leaving Victor by himself, but the need to speak to Katherine to have a shred of normalcy in such a ludicrous situation trumped that fear.

  She stepped out of the gilded dining room and sagged in relief as her black gown became her sundress again. She pushed talk on her phone and whispered, “Hello?”

  “Bianca?”

  Relief washed through her at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Katherine.”

  “Where the hell are you? What happened with Victor?”

  “Frick,” she cursed. “I’m sorry, hon. I was busy trying to deal with the fall out of that. I forgot to call and tell you.

  “So...”

  “Well.” She swallowed and cleared her throat, trying to buy some time, wishing she didn’t have to say what came next. “I married the Fairy King and have taken Victor as my consort.”

  Silence stretched through the line before Katherine shouted, “what?” before beginning a tirade Bianca could barely make out. She pulled the phone away from her ear before Katherine’s shrill diatribe popped her eardrum.

  Bianca cut in. “Just wait a second. I’ll tell you. It would seem Gwyn Ap Nudd can also see visions. He saw Hel opening my seal, and it was going to get messy. I saw the vision myself.” Even the glimpse she’d seen sent shivers up her spine. A world without order and the end of times was not something that one could see without fear.

  “So what does that have to do with you getting married?”

  “It would seem Fairy magic trumps Biblical magic, and when Hel opens my seal, and she will, I won’t be forced into my mantle of horseman.”

  Dead silence graced the line, and Bianca feared she’d lost her. “Kat? You there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Just trying to figure out how this went so sideways.”

  Bianca snorted. “I’ve been trying to figu
re it out too.”

  The dining room door opened, and Victor beckoned her with an imploring look. She nodded at him and held up a finger. A young woman with floor-sweeping, wine-red hair stepped out from behind Victor and trailed her long, thin fingers down his neck. Bianca froze, and the world seemed to silence and pinpoint on the scene.

  “Kat, I have to go. The fairies seem to like Victor. I need to go rescue him.” Even as she spoke, she felt oddly calm. In her mind, the urge to rip the woman’s head from her shoulders over took her.

  Victor glared at the woman, softly pushing her away and the fairy woman winked at him. Bianca interrupted what Katherine was saying. “Tell the others, will you?”

  “Of course. Call and let us know what’s going on soon.”

  Her voice didn’t even sound like her own. “Sure thing.”

  She hung up and sank into herself before straightening her spine again and walking back toward the door. The woman jerked as she approached but went to touch Victor again. Bianca caught her hand before the caress landed. She squeezed tight enough to make the girl yelp. “Touch what’s mine again and I will break you.” She released the woman with a shove and turned back to Victor.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered, winding her arm in Victor’s, allowing him to lead her back to her chair.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  Fear gutted her from belly button to throat. Gwyn stood at the head of the table. His eyes read as apologetic, yet Bianca figured he’d probably never been sorry about anything in his life.

  “What did you do?” she asked him, anger leaking into her tone. She needed to be patient with him, and it would take time for them to get to know each other and come to some sort of peaceful accord, but she couldn’t help the anger surging through her now. It was day one, and he had not done a single task to make the experience easier on her or Victor. She didn’t appreciate the lack of courtesy. And she had a feeling whatever caused such a pained look in Victor’s eyes was Gwyn’s doing.

  “My Queen,” Gwyn bowed. “The court would like a demonstration of your power.”

  “What is this? Some sort of sick hazing ritual?”

  He pulled her in and whispered heavily in her ear. “If the court requests a demonstration, you must give it. But only the one time. They need to know you mean business and you won’t be made a puppet of me or anyone else.”

  She sighed heavily. “I don’t use my powers because they are consuming. The more I use them, the more they eat away at the control I use to hold them off.

  Gwyn shrugged. “You will have to deal with it and try not to go overboard.”

  She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, stepping to the head of the table. Anger bubbled under her skin, and they were about to truly taste her magic.

  “You want to question my power?” she said to the room. A silence grew heavy and weighted, not even the tinkle of china broke the spell.

  She raised her hands above her head and summoned that spark inside her. That little bit of her longing to be in control. “You will get a show.”

  Flexing her fingers slightly, she met each of their eyes, and suddenly the party became a marionette dance. The dinner guests began to twist like puppets on a string, nothing but hard angles and disjointed limbs. After a few moments, she made the crowd do a dance around the table. Once they returned to their seats, she released them and sagged down. Gwyn caught her, and she growled at him. “You. I won’t even use my power on you and you will bend to my will.”

  He swallowed hard and refused to meet her eyes. “Yes, My Queen.”

  As he helped her sit, she took a crystal goblet of wine from a nearby place setting and tossed it back. After she finished it off, she beckoned Victor closer and kissed him hard on the mouth. He jerked against her painful crush of lips, and she hoped it didn’t hurt him too much because she needed him to ground her. He held on to her neck and let her take his lips brutally. When she ended the kiss, both of their mouths were swollen and bruised, but her power was under control again, and Victor had a dreamy look in his eyes. She was happy she hadn’t hurt him too bad. Maybe he even liked it.

  “I’ll finish that later.” She kissed his bottom lip, and he took his seat again. Gwyn sat on the other side. The room remained silent, and for the first time she looked around at the other guests as they all stared at her. Finally, after a moment of awkward contemplation, they rose and bowed to her before trailing from the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  BIANCA STARED OUT HER window. The moon hung like a holiday ornament in the sky. It appeared larger, more touchable, from her Fairy window. She stood in the balcony frame, and the hem of her red night gown fluttered in a warm breeze. She didn’t hate Anwyn…and she didn’t hate Gwyn for ultimately saving their lives…hell, the human race probably. The power inside her, raged against the bonds of her control, and she feared she couldn’t hold it back forever, even without the seal there to guard against it.

  When she popped into the world, fully formed and aware of her destiny, she saw it all: her role in the apocalypse and what the world would look like after destruction rained. The part she didn’t understand was why she had a conscious awareness of it. If the world needed a destructive machine in the form of the horsemen, then why make them living breathing organisms with consciences and feelings. They never talked about it, but she often wondered how the others felt about their place in the world and what was expected at the end.

  A rustle behind her made her jump. Gwyn stood in her doorway eyeing her. “You look quite beautiful crowned by the moon, My Queen.”

  She perused him from head to toe. Standing in her door in nothing but gray boxer briefs. She had to admit he was quite lovely himself. His shoulders stretched broad and a swath of hair covered his pecks and nipples and trailed down his belly to meet the cotton waistband. He had thick, muscular thighs, and he stood as if he knew he looked good and was happy with her inspection. The urge to bite him surged up, but she restrained herself.

  “May I come in?” he asked, giving her a little bow. His abdominal muscles contracted and brought the dip in his hips into greater relief. Her mouth watered to sink her teeth into the fleshy part of his hips and hear him yelp in pain or pleasure.

  She waved her hand like she had no opinion on the matter.

  He cleared his throat and stepped over the threshold. His scent wafted to her, carried by the warm night air. He smelled like the forest, deep and lush. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, and she did not mind the view. “My Queen, Victor and I discussed it, and we feel maybe tonight you should begin with me until he joins us.”

  She put her hands on her hips and regarded him. “And neither of you thought I had an opinion on the matter?”

  He bowed a little lower, not meeting her eyes. “My Queen, you may be in charge, but it is our duty to see to your needs. And this is something we decided together.”

  She approached him and slid her fingers through his hair. The wet strands parted easily around her fingers, leaving tufts sticking up at odd angles. She liked the disheveled appearance compared to the perfection of his muscular form.

  “And what do you want, Gwyn Ap Nudd? You’ve got your wife, and a dominant one at that. What else do you require from me?”

  He shivered against her hand, and she tightened her hold on his hair in response. His shivering increased, and his utter disregard in hiding it began to warm her from the inside. “You like pain, Gwyn.” She didn’t ask, but told him.

  As she clutched his hair, she could make any request of him and he would grant it for a little more of that pain. She hadn’t intended on taking him down any hard roads tonight, but the power she’d exuded earlier still coursed through her blood. She wanted to take him, hurt him, and use him. She trailed her fingers from his hair and across his shoulder to push him down to his knees. He hit the floor on the left and then shuffled onto the classic kneeling slave position. He wasn’t as well trained as Victor, but she might able to use that against him
. This powerful King no better than a lowly human.

  She crouched down so her face aligned flush with his. “What is your safe word?”

  He cast his eyes up and locked gazes with her. She hadn’t considered how his power might play in their affair. He cleared his throat, and she didn’t catch the whisper. Like most of her life decisions she’d cross that bridge when it tumbled at her feet.

  She alerted him to displeasure with a loud sigh. “You are going to have to speak up, Gwyn. What is your safe word?”

  “Excalibur,” he said, louder so she could hear.

  “Thank you.”

  She turned, walked to her sideboard, and then poured a few fingers of whiskey. Before she finished the glass she ran through the supplies she wanted to use on Gwyn, and they appeared next to the liquor dram before her.

  Giving a silent thank you to Fairy, she perused the offering. She picked up a long piece of black silk ribbon and a leather riding crop from the display and trailed back over to him. She gripped his upper arm and drew him up to his feet before pushing him back down on his knees on the animal pelt near her bed. She tied his hands together behind him with the ribbon and then tied the ribbon to the baseboard of her bed.

  “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Gwyn?”

  “No, My Queen.”

  She was beginning to like the way he said, “My Queen.” Each time he uttered it, it sent a ripple through her. Even more so, she liked how he said it, right now, while tied at her mercy.

  She made sure his bonds pulled tight before crouching in front of him again and depositing the riding crop between his teeth. He bit down and said nothing. Maybe not so badly trained as she thought.

  She leisurely strolled back over to the sideboard and picked up a small flogger with three pieces of leather bearing knots at equal distanced intervals down the hide. She snapped it against her hand a few times, watching him, but he didn’t even flinch.

  As she trailed behind him she pushed his arms down a little so they would stay out of the way of his back. The ribbon contracted, biting into his skin as he moved. She trailed the flogger over his shoulder and down the center of his back. He didn’t move. And then she snapped her wrist, making contact with his flesh. A red bloom appeared across his back and he bowed in, allowing her better access. He liked the pain more than she anticipated. She hit him again and squeezed her thighs together as his breathing turned to a pant.