Coven Queen

by Jeramy Goble

  Jularra stroked the nearest leaf of ivy a final time, then took a long, deep breath and returned indoors. She removed her outer morning clothes as her maid, Keleah, lifted a thin, beige tunic and positioned it over Jularra’s head. Jularra lifted her arms and twitched gently as Keleah dropped the tunic and helped it fall down around her.

  “I see your bruise is just about gone, Your Majesty,” Keleah said. “About time. Is your leg doing well?”

  “Mmm, yes. It is,” Jularra replied. “Haven’t needed to wrap it for a few days now.”

  “Well, that sure is a relief, ma’am. And it’s a beautiful day in Burrek County. This combination is a gorgeous compliment, Jularra,” Keleah gushed.

  She was one of the few permitted to use the queen’s familiar name, though only in private, and only while in her residence tower.

  “Yes, but I’m sure the day won’t stay that way,” the queen grumbled.

  Keleah reached for the next piece of Jularra’s ensemble.

  “Oh, don’t let it get you down,” the maid offered. “They just need to say things to cover their own egos, if you’ll forgive me.”

  The queen huffed in agreement. “I’m not saddened, or intimidated,” she replied flatly. “I’m indifferent. What I loathe is the predictability of it all.”

  Keleah paused to consider the queen’s statement.

  “What will be predictable? What they will say, or what you will say? Or both?”

  “Oh, most assuredly what they have to say,” the queen clarified. “I don’t know what I will say yet.”

  “Well,” Keleah started, “I’m sure you’ll keep them on their toes.”

  “We’ll see.” A smile started on Jularra's lips before her face solidified in determination.

  “I wonder, Your Majesty,” Keleah said with a meek lilt, “have you had any time to consider that matter we discussed recently? It’s just that I’ve been reading a lot over the past few weeks, and have started to acquire a good deal of—”

  “No, I haven’t had time to think of it, Keleah,” Jularra interrupted, coldly.

  Keleah added nothing.

  Jularra sighed. “I would be honored to help you develop your magical aspirations, Keleah, I just have too many demands on my time already. I haven’t forgotten, though. We’ll get to it.”

  Keleah’s voice was soft as it cracked slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Next out of the wardrobe came a thin gambeson, deep violet in color, that fell just below Jularra’s waist. Keleah threaded and tied the gambeson, then stepped back to the stand where Jularra’s ceremonial armor rested. There were numerous configurations of the armor for any given situation, but today's ensemble consisted of a practical plate cuirass with etched mountain motif, plate pauldrons, vambraces and cuisses, and leather fauld. The configuration was very similar to what the female Spire wore in combat, and while it didn’t provide as much protection as the Bedrock men's full plate, it gave the additional mobility needed for the Spire's particular specialties.

  After a time of buckling and fastening, Jularra’s armor was properly secured.

  “My crown?” Jularra ordered gently.

  Keleah retrieved it and moved behind the queen. She placed the crown gently on her head and reached through the top to confirm its placement, and the positioning of her hair.

  “There,” Keleah said.

  Jularra shrugged to settle into her attire and cracked her neck with a quick jerk of her chin. The crown stayed in place. Her armor felt good.

  Without being prompted, Keleah reached for Jularra’s sword belt. The sword always came after the crown when the queen was being dressed for official functions. The queen's sword, and all the swords of the Spire and Bedrock, would come between the Acorilinian crown and anyone wishing to do it or the country harm. After Jularra tweaked her belt, she turned to Keleah.

  “Yes,” Keleah murmured as she draped a rich, pine-colored coat over Jularra’s shoulders. Bits of light escaped through the clouds and struck the clothes. The abundant gold-threaded accents and tastefully placed emeralds flung sparks of light throughout the room. “This is my favorite combination.”

  “Thank you. That will be all,” Jularra said. “It’s almost time.”

  “Of course. My best to you in your council meeting today, my queen.”

  Jularra thanked Keleah again and watched her flutter out of the room after a curtsy. The queen was about to follow her out, but then an idea kept her from moving.

  She would make them wait.

  She began to pace, considering how best to wield her contempt for the meeting. The majority of her lords had little to no respect for her, so she decided to use that to her advantage. By making them wait, she would anger them. Their anger would lead to outbursts, which she could then use to manipulate the upcoming conversation.

  A breeze rolled its way in from the balcony and kissed the back of Jularra’s neck. She walked back outside, thankful for the cooler air. Changing clothes always made her sticky and hot, which ultimately led to a headache. Now was no different. Her skin itched as her mind grew thick with a dull pain. She reached down and yanked up fistfuls of her garments and crashed down on one of the balcony’s stone benches, propping her feet up on the nearby ledge and smirking as the breeze both cooled and aroused her.

  After shifting her heels so that her feet were comfortable on the ledge, she leaned back slowly and let the outer wall of her residence tower catch her head. She closed her eyes. The mountain breeze mixed with nurturing sunlight and, with her skirt and underclothes clenched in her hands and pulled up to her waist, Jularra began to relax.

  I’ll go after I cool down a bit, she thought.

  But the next breeze turned her mind to less innocent thoughts. It streamed between her legs and sent a thrill through her loins.

  She let her eyelids open slowly, her gaze going straight to the firm but fleshy ivy that had recently crested the ledge. She grinned.

  She let go of her clothing and closed her eyes again. After waiting a few seconds, she flung out her hand and caught the power of the next breeze. Moving her hand back and forth to confirm she had full control of the zephyr, she then began rippling her fingers around it as she manipulated its movement.

  While one hand harnessed the moderate breeze, the other reached out to the ivy, fingers outstretched and rigid. She harnessed and concentrated the sunlight the plant was receiving. At the same time, she drew the humidity out of the area around the ivy and condensed it onto its leaves, hastening its growth. Larger and longer it grew towards Jularra. When it reached her body, she flicked her fingers and shifted from growing the plant to controlling its position and movement.

  She spread her legs wider and felt the ivy tickle her ankle. Over her shin the leaves crept, and then up the insides of her legs. Her other hand came to rest on her thigh; she only needed to focus on the ivy now.

  The first leaf brushed against her clitoris. Her pelvis twitched from the expected pleasure. Her fingers waved gently as she commanded the leaves and settled them into a slow and gentle rhythm. Each glancing stroke was shallow, but thorough. She concentrated on each leaf’s initial contact, its sensual slide against her, and then its playful retraction. And then the next leaf, and the next leaf, and then a fresh cycle started over.

  Her fingers waved with a deliberate and fluid guidance. Each stroke of her clitoris by the plant was a carnal and primal connection to the world. It was more than just pleasure. Her excited nerves rippled with respect and love for herself, as well as for the sun, the vine, the air, and the mountains encircling her. She was wrapped up in the freedom of the open air and the freedom to do as she wished.

  She sped up her fingers. The leaves at the end of the vine continued doing her bidding at the speed and pressure at which she commanded them. Quicker still, her fingers worked. Her hand became tenser and more rigid as she worked towards her orgasm. The leaves became increasingly firm, but erratic, as her ecstasy caused her to lose some of her focu
s. The vine’s appendages flicked and licked her, pressing against her harder and rougher. She couldn’t move her fingers any faster. She felt so good, and wanted everyone to know how good she felt. Jularra began to moan and, just before her orgasm, decided she was going to scream out with her climax, and didn’t care who heard her.

  “Are you coming, Jularra?” Korden shouted from just inside her bedchamber.

  “Shit!” Jularra spat.

  Her legs flailed as she severed her magical focus and swatted at the plant to retreat from her body. Aggravated by the interruption of her pleasure, she rushed to stand and slung her clothes back into place. The vine receded just as Korden slung back the curtain. He met Jularra with his eyebrows knitted in curiosity.

  Jularra faced him after just barely getting herself back together in time. In the awkward silence, Korden's eyes flicked up to her flushed forehead. A few beads of sweat rolled down from her hairline.

  “Um,” Korden began, “is everything…”

  “I was just getting some air!” Jularra blurted loudly. She looked over the balcony edge to check no one down below had heard. She cleared her throat.

  “I was just collecting my thoughts,” she added.

  Korden could only smile at her. “Let’s get over there, shall we?”

  “All right,” she obliged calmly.

  Korden’s smile took on an admiring quality as he stepped back and held the curtain open for her.

  “Thank you,” she offered sincerely, eager to move past the embarrassment she had caused herself—though she found some relief in knowing Korden didn’t catch her completely. She picked up a cloth and patted her face with it, clearing her mind of the disappointing and wasted indulgence. She shook her head at herself before reaching into a nearby bowl of water. She wet her hands and dabbed her face before drying it off again.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Korden gestured at the few Bedrock just inside her room. The massive door leading out of her chamber swung open, causing the greater complement of Bedrock further down the corridor to snap to attention.

  Jularra left her chamber, tense with dread and unsatisfied desire. Korden fell in behind her, and so too did the guards as she passed between each pair. They moved through the corridor with hefty strides to keep up with Jularra’s determined march. The powerful wind of Jularra was on the move.

  The queen and her entourage made their way to the only lift that accessed that area of her residence tower. Stepping onto the platform, they were lowered at the quickest pace the lift operators could muster. Five floors to the base level allowed enough time for a conversation of decent length, and the queen would often engage in conversation with Korden or her Bedrock. This ride down was not one of those times. She had unfinished business occupying her mind. Remnants of her embarrassment on the balcony were overtaken by her intentions and expectations for the council meeting.

  The opening to the ground level slid into view, and the massive oak timbers of the lift’s platform clunked solidly into place. Jularra and her men stepped off, and servant staff stepped on in their place, making their way up to their day's work in the residence tower.

  “Good morning, Your Majesty,” the staff greeted as she exited the lift amid bows and curtsies.

  “Good morning,” she warmly returned, appreciative of the momentary distraction.

  Jularra's group marched down the corridor, creating a racket that brought others out to watch their queen pass by. Over the noise, an obnoxious, but familiar laugh echoed through the hall. It wasn’t enough for Jularra to care about, but the sensual moan that followed immediately caught her attention. It might not have done so at any other time, but her recent escapades on the balcony had left a lingering sensitivity to such sounds.

  Jularra slowed, then stopped. She tilted her head in the direction she thought the sounds had come from.

  “Jularra?” Korden whispered.

  “Listen.”

  Another feminine moan. A male chortle accompanied it.

  Jularra stormed into a nearby room. It appeared empty. She paused and listened. More moans from behind a wardrobe.

  “Who’s over there?” Korden shouted.

  Sounds of shuffling scratched from the far side of the room. Flailing limbs banged and slapped against the wood of the wardrobe. The familiar face of Flemmal, Burrek’s regular army commander, came stumbling from behind it. He covered himself with a clump of clothes.

  “Your Majesty, I, er…”

  Jularra shook her head as Keleah crept out from the opposite side. Her head hung in shame in front of the queen.

  “Keleah? What the fuck is this? You were just dressing me thirty minutes ago!”

  Jularra continued her reprimand as she gestured wildly at Flemmal.

  “Quit using my tower as your brothel, Flemmal! Quit using my staff as your whores! How many fucking times do I need to tell you?”

  “Uh, we were just—”

  “Shut up! Just stop it! I wish you spent as much time training our armies as you do fucking my staff! Stop!”

  Jularra glared at him, her chest heaving with molten rage from her repeated castigations. She stared at him, furious.

  “Do you understand? I will not tolerate this!”

  “I understand,” he said quickly.

  Jularra whipped out a pointing finger at Keleah.

  “I fucking can’t believe you. I’ll deal with you, later.”

  She continued to stare at Keleah, then finally turned to Korden and the Bedrock to ensure that there was no mistaking how serious she was. After looking back to Flemmal one more time, she stormed from the room.

  Back in the hall, Jularra leaned in to Korden. “If you or anyone else catches any of that shit again, be sure I’m told,” she directed him. “Flemmal, Keleah, or anyone else.”

  Korden nodded.

  Jularra shook her head as they continued along the hall, beyond disgusted with Flemmal, and disappointed in Keleah.

  Once the main portcullis had been ratcheted up, they passed through the modest portico and out into the main courtyard. The queen waved as her presence was shouted and echoed by guards in various locations. Citizens, nobles, visitors, and merchants all stopped to pay their respects. Her heart and mind found a secret stash of peace, as they always did when she was in the main courtyard, and it helped to soothe her current fury. Seeing her city go about its daily business—the life coursing through its streets and alleys—renewed in her a sense of purpose and possibility.

  She crossed the courtyard and offered more waves, each one calming her further. She knew some of the faces and greeted them sincerely by name. As they approached the state tower, small groups of clustered crowds split up, with some people disappearing into the tower and others dispersing into larger throngs. Jularra looked to Korden and waved him over. He jogged to her side.

  “I suspect someone here today had some involvement with my attacker. Be sure to look out for any peculiarities,” she ordered softly.

  “Yes, of course. I had thought that as well,” he replied. “Possibly more than one.”

  Jularra turned to Korden, eyes widening slightly at the suggestion that the situation could be even more dire than she had thought.

  “Possibly,” she agreed. They continued walking as she considered the dozens of implications.

  “We must all be extra vigilant today,” Jularra added. “Yesterday’s failure may be a victory today.”

  Korden slowed his pace to speak with the nearby Bedrock while Jularra scanned the groups at the tower's entrance for anything suspicious. The mystery didn’t prevent her from stopping and chatting with some of the citizenry, though.

  “That song again, Marliban?” Jularra teased the musician. Korden and the other Bedrock shifted, anxious at lingering in such an exposed spot, but Jularra refused to be intimidated.

  Marliban swung the instrument out from his chest, playfully prompting the queen for a request.

  “Why not something more…” Jularra trailed of
f, considering her mood, before finishing firmly with, “unrelenting?”

  The minstrel’s eyes sprung wide, having no obvious idea how to interpret such an adjective musically. He usually got asked to play the same three tunes, or a love serenade, or a dance piece of some kind.

  Jularra recognized his discomfort. “Something driving," she added, "and powerful. Ambitious!”

  The minstrel remained frozen for a moment, still having trouble with being put on the spot with such a request. But with the clarification from Jularra, his face expanded in an epiphany, and he began strumming his instrument once more. A few bars in, Jularra recognized the piece as "Tullinnia", a beloved Acorilinian folk piece. She smiled heartily and clapped once as she bowed her head in appreciation. She looked to Korden in amusement at the exchange and passed under the state tower’s portico.

  The minstrel’s song skipped along, fortifying her resolve with its anchoring downbeats and rich chords as she wove through the edges of the crowd. As the tune faded behind her, Jularra mentally shuffled the various disciplines of her political acumen and stacked the deck with cards she hoped would help her. As she entered the state tower and passed through its portcullis, she internally drew her cards in preparation for the game awaiting her.

  Like the most important rooms in each tower, the official state reception hall was on the top floor. A Bedrock shouted at the lift operators, “Make way for Queen Ju—”

  “No, no,” she interjected. “I don’t have time for that.” With that, she grabbed a handful of her clothes, pulled them to one side, and leaned into the door leading to the staircase.

  “Come on,” she ordered.

  The Bedrock looked to Korden. He looked back at them. Jularra rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, the stairs,” she confirmed with mild agitation. “Move it.”

  The Bedrock did not allow themselves to hesitate again. At their queen’s orders, they surrounded her and started climbing the stairs. Though Jularra and her fellow Spire wore specialized mail and leather, the Bedrock wore much heavier plate. There were, however, no complaints as they ascended. The Bedrock skipped up the stairs swiftly, though their steps echoed and clanged in an obnoxious jumble in the confined stairwell. Doors on various floors swung open as the group climbed. Curious staff and visitors watched the group go by with confusion, unable to fathom the motive for the queen taking this route. Others understood, and met them with amused smirks.