Before long, my ladies came to dress me for the midday meal. The court had a pleased murmur and I felt many eyes on me.
They must have heard me last night… My skin heated. The idea was too humiliating to bear, and yet, the mood seemed approving, except for Madame Bariel, who was rudely complaining to the king about the food.
This is what they wanted from me all along. They wanted to hear my cries echo from the bedchambers…
As always, there was a large crowd of onlookers, curious visitors from Luminé and even other countries, gathered behind the balustrade to watch the royal court eat. Some of them looked quite wild, like faeries in stories; men with beautiful, dangerous eyes and women with flowers laced through their hair, but they all had to wear formal coats and day dresses to be allowed admittance.
Augustus glanced at me when I sat next to him. “You look beautiful this afternoon,” he said. “I want you to drink this now.” He offered me a cup of something that smelled very sweet, more like grape juice than wine.
I had a shiver of foreboding, considering what the last potion had done to me, but of course I did what he asked.
A feeling of warm, languid pleasure swept over me as the drink went down. I could feel its warmth rush through me all the way down to my center and I clenched my legs together, braced for the next minute to pass.
Augustus salted his food with one hand and with the other, he reached under the table and pulled my left leg open toward him again, just in time for the clockwork to send a tremor through me. The sensation was infinitely more potent than usual, and I jerked a little in the chair.
Conversation continued around me as normal:
“The weather has been so beautiful this week…”
“Yes, have you seen the portrait they sent? And portraits always flatter. Her nose is too strong and her chin is too weak! I feel sorry for him with that match.”
“The dressmaker is coming by to fix it tomorrow, but it really was a shame. All that lace…”
But occasionally eyes flicked to me, there and gone, as I tried to master myself. I picked up my fork and desperately stuck a bite of chicken and plum sauce in my mouth.
Another minute passed. “Mm—“ A desperate little sound croaked out of my full mouth. My eyelids fluttered. I twisted, trying to escape the way the little clock encircled my clit, but I already knew that I could not wriggle out of it. I felt threads of pleasure weaving together, drawing me deeper into what would soon be a release I could not stop.
“You may come,” Augustus whispered to me, his finger brushing around the sensitive edge of my ear before he returned it to my leg.
I choked down the bite of food and exhaled. I was helpless now, in any case. I was finally going to do what he wished and climax right in front of the entire court.
I shut my eyes, desperate to ignore the world, trying my best not to let my expression change as the pulsing seemed to go on forever, sending sparks through my entire body. Just as I was starting to recover, another minute passed and I bit my lip hard not to moan. My face twitched involuntarily, but I managed not to betray myself otherwise. I wanted to close my legs, but I didn’t, because Augustus’ hand was still there.
Finally, it all started to subside and I had to open my eyes again. I couldn’t just sit through all of dinner with my eyes closed, but I burned inside. Madame Bariel was shooting me a sneer that made me feel as if I had reacted all wrong. I wondered if the king ever did such things to her; if so, I had never known. But perhaps it was not done to the Mistress of Many Loyalties.
The king, meanwhile, gave the faintest nod to my husband.
They all know.
It felt as if something monumental had happened, but no one acknowledged it in any outward way. And yet, I felt a sense of relief settle over the gathering.
The crowd of rabble had their eyes on me the whole time, their strange faery faces grinning and leering, even the women. My hands were still trembling with aftershocks and nerves.
Augustus withdrew his hand, smiling as if to himself for a moment before he got back to eating.
They had all been waiting for this, I thought. Waiting to hear me scream, waiting to see me struggle against the ultimate pleasure. This was what my role meant. The awareness that this was expected, and that it gave my husband greater standing in the court, eased a little of the humiliation.
And yet…
Oh, Mother, perhaps I should have stayed a spinster.
Chapter Seventeen
Augustus
I couldn’t deny the rush of fulfilling my duty at last, even if I needed an aphrodisiac to get her there. Such aides were perfectly acceptable by court rules; all that really mattered was that I demonstrated control one way or another. I had resisted forcing her, but it was a relief simply to have the first time done with. As Rose would learn to hide her pleasure, so the court would become more attuned to spotting her tells and she would never truly have privacy even in that.
I had always found the idea abhorrent, but my dear wife had such beautiful skin that showed every bit of embarrassment and every bit of satisfaction, and I could see that everyone was impressed by her. Her vulnerability was exquisitely beautiful. As with most rules of the court, as soon as I followed them properly, I understood why they were there.
Still, it was a delicate balance. I never wanted her to hate me or resent me. I wasn’t always sure when to push her toward the role of Queen, and when to set her free.
She certainly was alluring in a different way when she was free.
I told her we would go riding that afternoon, and as always, I removed her dress and put on her britches myself. This was one of the small rebellions I knew I could get away with. While changing her clothes could be viewed as an act of mastery, it was also something that a servant would normally do for her, and so it was both domination and submission. I was never more intrigued by her than when I found the line between them, but I smothered my own lingering sense of shame.
A king should never yearn to submit to his queen.
Still, I could not help but cherish her. I lingered on every lace and button.
“You were perfect last night and today,” I said. “I don’t think we’ll hear any more of that ridiculous lie.” Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. I had to insist to myself that it was.
When I first heard the dread whisper—the prince dreams of letting the little human teach him a thing or two—horror swept through me like I had seen the specter of my own death.
There was no better way to bring down a king of the Sun Palace than to say he had handed the reins of control to the Queen Who Bowed.
And it was an unfair assessment. Maybe as a child I had preferred to let others take the lead, but that time was long past. I had found my own identity as a future king. I certainly had taken to my duties as a husband.
But—
She had such a gleam of mischief and rebellion in her eyes. She was a good wife, but there was something in her restless nature that stirred my imagination in different ways. What would she do to me?
My cock was getting hard at the unbidden thought. When we reached the stables, I pulled her into an empty paddock.
“Before we ride, I want you to pleasure my cock.”
There was a little flare of resistance in her eyes. “Yes, my lord.” She dropped to her knees and started unbuttoning my britches.
“Are you angry at me?” I asked her.
“No, my lord.”
“Augustus,” I prompted her. “You are angry.” My breath quickened. “Take it out on me, then,” I said softly. “You can be rough, my love.”
Her eyes widened. I didn’t dare say anything more to prompt her, but an understanding passed over us like a chill and I almost regretted what I’d said.
I would bare my soul to this woman, even if it were the death of me. I also loved to have her mouth around my cock because although it was quite acceptable for a future king to demand, she was the one in control of me then. I could have told her to stay
still, held her head, and fucked her mouth, but no—I wanted to feel her anger on my skin.
She bit the tender head, hard enough that I was surprised even as sparks of forbidden pleasure lit through me down to my toes. When I jerked against her, her hand wrapped around my balls in warning.
She looked at me like, It was your command, wasn’t it?
This girl….she knows what I want, and how well she takes to it! I had never expected what a prize of a wife I would have.
Now it was my turn to master myself. She slid her tongue up and down my shaft but just as I started to relax into it, she bit me again, and just when I was starting to expect that, she squeezed my balls in her hand.
I winced, biting back a cry, and then I was afraid. We could be found out, and it would be fatal to spur another rumor just as I had managed the first one.
She seemed to understand, and she finished me off as normal. She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I put an arm around her and pulled her against me, her body so little and light in her riding clothes.
“Augustus…” She said my name tenderly again, her fingers creeping up the buttons of my shirt.
I kissed her, matching her tenderness. “What a fortunate man I am, that you should be mine…”
Her smile was slow to fade, but then she said, “Will I have to do it often…what happened at table today…?”
I felt so selfish again for bringing her here. “Yes,” I said. “You asked me why I wanted you to learn to master yourself. Well, now you see why, don’t you?”
She would give me the image of power. The image the faeries expected for a king.
“I do,” she said, lowering her eyes.
“It will get easier for you,” I said, and I prayed this was true.
“That was more like it,” my grandfather told me. “But I don’t like the hunting. You can’t keep outrunning your guard. You’ll put her in danger, and the court wonders what you’re up to when you’re out of sight.”
“It’s the one moment we have all week,” I said. “And it is truly, just a moment. The guards catch up within five minutes, if that. These tongues that would wag over five minutes, what forbidden activity do they think we’re up to? I am always at Rose’s side; nothing would happen to her.”
“You have the potential to come into your own now,” he said. “Don’t squander it by loosening Rose’s bonds. This is your chance to become a man, to shed that old image of a child tinkering at locks and be the king they dream of. You do understand the point of it, don’t you? Whatever people say, deep down, they all want a master. You are her master but all you want is to bring her pleasure. It’s the dream of every faery feast and dance and spell: for someone to master you who only wants the best for you. You never have to worry again; you never even have to think again…all you have to do is give yourself to the king’s command.”
“I do understand…,” I said.
Our lore and our history was laced with escape. Feasts of sweets laced with aphrodisiac, dances that lasted for days, humans stolen away to be faeries’ lovers. Two centuries ago we had no formal court, no judges or ministers, no laws of marriage. Our ancestors seemed happy in their merry bands—until the humans and elves took advantage, warring with us, stealing our territory.
“Isn’t that what got our ancestors into trouble?” I asked.
“That’s why it is only the few of you to represent the many. You to be the master and Rose to do your bidding. Your brother to guide the festivities. And Madame Bariel to flaunt her charms without consequence. Speaking of Bariel, I think the perfect move for you now is to end this nonsense. Tell Rose to say something to her.”
“If Madame Bariel wants a word from my wife, perhaps she should stop glaring at her and starting rumors.”
“Oh…” Grandpapa scoffed. “I hardly know where it all started, but Rose could put an end to it. It’s not as if Bariel can address her. She doesn’t hate Rose. It’s just a little rivalry. The whole thing has become much more of a scandal than it needed to be. You’ve indulged her long enough…in so many things.”
Although Grandpapa’s manner was casual, I knew he must be serious to bring it up again. The feud had dragged on for many months. I didn’t really want to be involved.
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll speak to Rose.”
Interlude
A knock came at the Cobblestone Witch’s front door. The thin, haggard woman on the stoop was wiping tears from her eyes. She was shivering in a threadbare shawl as snow began to fall softly outside, but when she saw the witch, something like courage seemed to come to her, and she curtseyed and then stood tall.
“Thank you for answering, O Wise One. I have come to ask you to pray for the spirit of my daughter Lia, who passed back into the dirt three days ago.”
The Cobblestone Witch was so gentle as she took the woman’s hand in her own (old and wrinkled, today), no one would have ever thought that she had once cursed an infant. “Of course I will pray for your little Lia. Have you a lock of hair?”
“Yes, madame.” The woman expected the request. She opened her palm and offered the thin blonde strands, carefully tied with a blue ribbon.
“I will pray for Lia and someday—someday, justice will be done,” the witch said. “Someday, the royals will see their world crumble to dust and the trees will rise up from the earth and tear the foundation of their palace of sin.”
“Yes. Yes, Lia will not truly rest until I see them in chains.” The woman nodded, fervent with her wish to see such a thing; not that she had ever been able to travel the twelve miles to see the Palace of the Sun. She knew of its golden gate and golden roof, and the royals within and their silken gowns and jewels, the feasts that anyone could view but only they could eat.
All that mattered, anyway, was the child she had just laid to rest. She could wallow in grief or she could seize upon her anger. If only the children had more to eat…
The witch offered the woman a roll of bread. “It’s not much, sweet, but it’s something. You need your strength. Blessings be with you,” the witch said, sending the mother on her way, the shivering figure still wringing her hands.
The witch took the lock of hair to the elaborate arrangement she kept at the altar where she called upon dark powers. She made a tiny braid of the hair and wove the ends into the last lock, all of them coiled into a wreath of the hair of dead children.
The first lock of hair on the wreath was a tiny wisp of baby hair the witch had clipped from Rose’s head when she cursed the girl. The witch prayed for baby Rose; the life she planned to sacrifice. She knew the gods, the wild faery gods who made their thrones from trees instead of gold, would forgive her.
All the desperate peasants knew that for every child who died, the witch would offer a blessing. These blessings seemed to bring small fortunes in their wake. A coin sparkling from the roadside grime, or a good crop on a fruit tree. But more than anything, the witch whispered of their grievances. She told them the things they were desperate to hear.
This suffering is not your fault; it is theirs, always theirs. When the world is put right again, you will never want again.
There was certainly some truth in it. The unification and organization of the faery kingdom had led to a much safer world. But it had also delivered its bounty unevenly, and of course to the royal family had especially benefited, as they felt practically required to pair faery decadence with enough pomp to impress any foreign dignitary.
Not long after the witch had fixed the little blonde braid to the wreath with a small pin, a knock came at the back door. It was a harsh knock. The witch stiffened. The witch always had Countess Noria come to the back door, one small way to turn the tables. In the witch’s world, peasants had the place of honor where flowers twined around the door, and the high born must pass the privy and the well.
This knock didn’t sound like Noria, however.
In a dark cloak, the king’s whore stood, her perfect face glaring out imperiously, blonde cu
rls falling loose from her hood.
The witch transformed before Madame Bariel’s eyes until she matched her fair beauty with her own raven-dark hair and long lashes.
“Jeanne—I told you never to speak to me again,” the witch said.
“You think I’d come to you if I didn’t have something you want to know?” Madame Bariel glanced over her shoulder. “This is a great risk for me too. But I know Noria won’t tell you. She would never put the prince at risk, only the little foreigner…” She leaned closer. “I know how you can catch her.”
“I’m not sure the time is right…and why would you tell me? You have embraced your position fully from what I hear.”
“The court has turned the human against me.” Jeanne spat. “I’m sure you’ve heard. The king says she is planning to speak to me at the new year’s celebration. Ha! Anything is an insult at this point. It’s far too late. When the king dies, I’ll be turned out.”
Madame Bariel had already been feeling the bitter turn of her fortunes. Her autumn fete this year was poorly attended despite the hiring of a hundred singers and dancers.
“Maybe you’re pleased to hear that my reign of glory will be soon end, but you shouldn’t be. I could be useful to you.”
“If that is true, you’d better start demonstrating your usefulness now,” the Cobblestone Witch said.
“Your intention is to curse the princess with a prick of her finger, yes?” Jeanne asked.
“Yes…”
“How does that work? Why a spindle? How do you intend to get to her? She is watched every moment.” Jeanne fired off questions like arrows.
“I am patient,” the witch said. “There will come a day when a part of her yearns to touch the spindle, because she knows it is her escape from that place where no human girl should tread. I know what you people ask of your queen. And when the time comes, it’ll be easy enough.”
Jeanne snorted. “And what if that day never comes? There are rumors that Augustus is not that strong after all. That if given the chance, he would let Rose have control over him. The thing that saves him is that he’s been playing the part well enough for the public. And he loves her, I think.”
The Surrender of Sleeping Beauty Page 12