The Surrender of Sleeping Beauty

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Then I felt a hand grab my wrist.

  “There you are.” Augustus’ words settled on my shoulders, and I suddenly felt as if I’d betrayed him. He pulled me against him, drawing his cloak around me, and I didn’t even say goodbye to the northern elf as Augustus swept me off to the carriage.

  He lifted me onto the seat and stood below me, looking up at me, his arms on the frame of the door.

  “Are you angry?” I whispered. “It was nothing.”

  “Theodor said you were talking to him for two hours. I told you to enjoy yourself. But not that much.”

  “It wasn’t like that!” I insisted.

  “The look in your eyes when I came upon you… Now, that—that said otherwise.”

  “Are you jealous?” I was starting to feel more annoyed than anything. “We were talking about the opera!”

  “I don’t care what you were talking, Rose. Don’t insult my intelligence. You had a spark in you. You don’t look at me like that.”

  “What? Of course I look at you like that! I mean, it’s different, of course, but that’s because of the nature of—of us. And anyway, this is hardly fair. You can take a mistress if you want, and even if you tell me you won’t, the fact is that you can and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I don’t even want any other man, but if you want me to deny that he’s handsome, well, I would be lying.”

  “Stay here,” Augustus said ferociously.

  “What are you doing? Don’t hurt him; he didn’t even know what he was doing.”

  “Oh, he knew,” Augustus said. “And I’m sure you know that he knew.”

  I sat back. This was true.

  “I’m inviting him to the coronation ceremony,” he said.

  “Why? Not the— Please, please don’t! Augustus, please!” I half covered my face instinctively. “I don’t want him to see me like that!”

  “Just as I thought.” He shut the carriage doors.

  Chapter Three

  Augustus

  Seeing Rose with the handsome foreigner was like seeing everything I had to deny her. Had we truly fallen in love? The fact that she chose me over the witch meant nothing, in the end. Who would choose to sleep for a hundred years?

  The ways of courtship and the privilege of falling into love were denied to us. So it was with many royal marriages, but it was so pronounced in my kingdom because our duty was not just to have children, but to play these roles that consumed us body and soul, wiping away our own identities and replacing them with those of our ancestors.

  Anyone might chafe against such treatment, but especially one so spritely as Rose, and when I saw the way she gazed at him, I wanted to tear her away.

  She’s mine. All mine.

  No man of Ellurine would dare to look at her the way he did.

  I swept back into the ball, and he was still right where I left him. He raked a hand back through his hair and smiled. “Managed to fit her back in the box, have you? It’s always harder than when you unpack them upon arrival.”

  “How dare you,” I growled.

  He looked back at me, unmoved and with a somewhat offensive amount of good humor in his eyes.

  High elves were the worst. Who but an arrogant race would dub themselves the “high” elves? As they said, what’s the difference between a high elf and a wood elf? The wood elf climbs trees, and the high elf builds a tower taller than the trees so he can still look down.

  Up close, now that I wasn’t distracted by Rose herself, he really was a striking man. He was beautiful in an almost feminine way, with the slightly slanted pale blue eyes, brows so fair they almost disappeared against his high brow, the sharp cheekbones, the thin but sensual lips characteristic of many high elves. In some ways, he resembled her, both of them blonde and exceptionally attractive, but she had the tender, soft lines of a human and he looked more unearthly, except for his expression, which ruined everything by seeming more jovial than alien.

  “Will you punish me for talking to her?” he asked. “Or will you just punish her?”

  “You knew who she was, and who I am, and you would talk to me like that?” I was incredulous.

  “It is a legitimate question,” he asked. A faint smile teased at his lips, and he leaned closer. “The King of the Sun Palace is quite famous for putting everyone in their places, is he not?”

  I grabbed the lapels of his coat and shoved him against a wide column, everyone in proximity scurrying out of my way. “Don’t test me.”

  “I’m not your subject, Augustus…”

  “Yes, but you are in my country, and I will have to punish you to save my own face if you don’t back off.”

  “Please do.”

  He met my eyes, and my hands slid away from his coat. I kept my gaze locked on his, unwilling to back down.

  The look in his eyes was hardening my cock. I broke into a sweat, willing it to stop.

  What the hell is this? I wasn’t attracted to other men.

  But that isn’t quite it, is it…

  Rose knew that I was not naturally dominant, at least certainly not to the degree that was demanded of me. One of the reasons I loved Rose was that she understood this; she was the only person in the palace who knew my secret. The King of the Sun Palace should never, ever desire for his wife to rule over him, not even for a moment, but even when I had her tied down and helpless, even as I was coming inside her, I sometimes imagined myself in her place. The urge grew stronger these days, with a woman to put to the fantasy. Rose was playful and strong, with a streak of delicious wickedness.

  Practice might make perfect but it seemed that nothing could sway a man’s inner thoughts.

  Suddenly I knew that two things were true: this man guessed the truth about me, and he was capable of playing any role asked of him—with pleasure. He would submit to me in order to have her, but he would never seem like my subject the way the faeries were.

  My anger could not hold. I was shocked by what I saw in him. It was no wonder Rose was attracted to him.

  As soon as I met his eyes, images raced through my mind. I saw him tied up beneath her now, a proxy for myself. Or was it more alluring to think of her pinned between both of us?

  Gods, what am I thinking? I can’t allow her another lover. I’m the one who is supposed to choose a Mistress of Many Loyalties…

  I was angry at him again, for tempting her, and testing me. He knew our positions. He knew this could never be.

  “Prince Augustus,” he said. “Perhaps I have gone a little too far…” He shrugged. “I’ve read up on your etiquette but it’s quite another thing to witness it in the flesh. Our nations have had some bitterness in their past, but we have enjoyed a long peace which I have no wish to break…no, indeed.” Brazenly, he glanced down at the growing length in my trousers. “I hope to see more of both of you. Am I the only one to think so?”

  I clenched my jaw. I had never met such a presumptuous man. “You will never talk to my wife again unless I give you permission.”

  He raised his brows. “It is my pleasure to await your permission.”

  He was not making the situation any better.

  “Believe me, I want to stay in your good graces, Your Highness,” he said. “I am a mere count of a beleaguered nation and you are soon to be king of a shining domain.”

  “What did you come here for? Not just to spit out some flattery, I imagine.”

  “To ask for your military aid in dealing with the trolls. Well, that’s why I came, anyway. We’ll see why I stay…”

  “I want to extend an invitation to the coronation and the bowing ceremony to you,” I said. “That is where things stand. The princess is all mine, but I will permit you to watch.”

  I was a very private man, and Rose had the shyness of a human. The idea of fucking Rose before the court had seemed rather abhorrent to the both of us. I don’t know why, but for some reason, when I thought of him watching, I wanted to claim her that way. I wanted him to see her helpless beneath me. I wanted him to desire her, and be u
nfulfilled.

  He didn’t even look pleased; he looked like he expected this all along. “I’ll see you again, Count…”

  “Count Farren.” He took a step so we stood shoulder to shoulder. “Axel,” he whispered. “Until we meet again.”

  Chapter Four

  Rose

  Augustus had every right to be angry with me, I thought. It might be his right to take a mistress, but he had never expressed interest in another woman. I never even saw his head turn to anyone but me. I had never doubted his loyalty to me. Now he had a reason to doubt mine. If it had been innocent, I’m sure it wouldn’t bother me half as much.

  What upset me so much was that the face of the elven officer was carved into my mind, and I kept recalling the conversation with a joy I couldn’t quite suppress. But I never meant for that… I never meant to feel this way.

  I was in horror at the thought that this man would see me in my shame at the coronation.

  I thought Augustus would punish me. I almost wished he would. If he made me cry, maybe it would cleanse me of this desire. Instead, he sat down and glared out the window. The carriage started moving.

  I couldn’t stand being quiet for long. “Augustus…can we talk?”

  He fidgeted, scratching his fingers along his knees. It was then I noticed he was painfully erect. My eyes widened.

  “Hush,” he snapped.

  “I didn’t say anything…”

  He pulled me onto his lap, pressing his cock against my buttocks. He leaned into me, nipping my ear before breathing softly against my cheek. “I can’t keep a secret from you, Rose. That is what it means for our lives to entwine. That man is trouble…”

  He pawed at my skirts, pulling them up again, and I felt him unbutton his trousers beneath me. He spread my legs and seated me on his rigid shaft, before unlacing my bodice enough to tease his fingers over my breasts. His hands were possessive.

  “That man… Count Axel Farren,” he murmured. “He wants you.”

  “Did you—invite him?”

  “I want him to watch you.”

  I was rigid even as my nipples stiffened to peaks beneath his hands. “Why? My lord, why?”

  “Because he wants you, and he can’t have you. I want him well able to imagine it. You are surely the most beautiful woman in all the realms, but so far, everyone has held their distance from you. That insolent man was the first one who dared to monopolize your time. He would steal you from me if he could.”

  His cock throbbed inside me and I breathed hard. “And so you would reward him with the sight of me?”

  “It will be no reward, but a punishment,” Augustus grunted. He slid his fingers along my throat. “I will torture him with just enough of you…” He pushed me toward the opposite seat of the carriage, folding himself over me now and fucking me deep and slow, each stroke exquisite. I had always found him to be both tender and aggressive in his love making, just as he should be, but now I thought…I knew nothing of what love making could be. I felt the edge of some new purpose, some greater confidence in him now.

  “You’re…not angry… at me…” I panted.

  “We’re not going to talk about it,” he said. “But I think you understand.”

  Did I?

  What had happened between them?

  Whatever it was, it made Augustus hard, and it made him want me. Perhaps jealousy was good for him.

  Despite the awkward confines and rattling of the carriage, I came hard, stimulated by his cock alone. Augustus was so fierce with me that my whole body was tingling with eager response.

  And it meant I would see him again.

  Axel.

  But it would be under very different circumstances.

  Chapter Five

  Interlude

  When the Cobblestone Witch returned to the city, she wore a new face, one no one would recognize—young, lovely in a common sort of way. Her eyes were not innocent, but the freckles and the patched but clean apron was enough to divert most people’s attention. The prince and princess were finally visiting the city, and the Witch was far from the only lie on display. Everything had been made beautiful for them. Peasants were clean up or shoved out of sight, shutters painted and flowers adorning every street where the royal entourage would pass.

  Jeanne du Bariel had wrangled her way into the masked ball. The Witch could not stand such a crowd. She waited just outside, selling flowers to the attendees. It was late when Jeanne came running out.

  “I have found our mark,” she said. “And he could not be more perfect if we had planned him from the start. When he comes out…”

  “Who is it?”

  “Count Farren of Aveborg. You’ll see. He is just about the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. A high elf, fair and tall. You can’t miss him.”

  “Yes, yes,” the Witch said impatiently. “I know him. I tried to sell him a corsage for his lapel, and he said he didn’t need it.”

  “Well, he doesn’t. The princess couldn’t take her eyes off him, and neither can anyone else—including Augustus himself.”

  “Is that so…” The evening was shaping up to be very promising. More than the witch could have dreamed. “Ready the wagon and I’ll ready the spell.”

  Jeanne looked annoyed. She did not like being ordered around, even for the sake of revenge, but there was no sense in arguing. She still made sure to flounce off, dreaming of the former days when she had her own private apartments and the king put jewels around her neck.

  The witch edged to the door, waiting patiently as a cat, watching the guests leave until she saw Count Farren, easily recognizable even behind his mask. Although one could not hear the music of the ball from the street, he walked as if he still followed a rhythm, and then he whistled the tune as he turned the corner.

  The witch pounced on him, prodding a wand to his back, sending a jolt through him. “Come with me or I’ll let loose the full force of my magic,” she said.

  “Miss…” He laughed. “You must be mistaken. I don’t think you’re looking for me.”

  “Oh yes, I am.” She jolted him again.

  “Ouch!” He reached for a weapon.

  She was forced to knock him flat; he was clearly too good with a weapon to take any chances. He collapsed, and she dragged him off into the alley before fetching Jeanne to help her lug him into the wagon. They took him several blocks away, where the poor lived at the foot of the rich. The witch no longer had a home. The king’s guard was still alert for her. A network of anti-Royalists offered her the use of different rooms.

  “He really is a pretty one,” Jeanne said, stroking his unconscious face. He was strapped to the table now. Jeanne had never gone so long without a man’s attention in all her life. “Can I play with him?”

  The witch turned from her spell work with a slight smile. She would never admit that it was nice to have company. “You can unbutton him. If it serves my purposes…we’ll see about more.”

  Jeanne threw open the coat, releasing the essence of northern trees and something more ethereal. “Elves don’t sweat much, do they?” she commented, as she unfastened each pearly button.

  “No. They wilt in the heat, however,” the witch murmured.

  Jeanne got the feeling the witch had little use for a person who didn’t sweat. Well, the former courtesan wasn’t complaining; she’d had enough sweaty men to last a lifetime, and Count Farren was muscular perfection beneath his shirt, such fine skin, but marked with some intriguing scars. Jeanne traced them with her fingers, across his chest, down his stomach, until she finally loosed the buttons of his trousers. Of course, a man wasn’t as much to look at when he was unconscious, but hopefully that would be remedied soon enough.

  The witch turned, holding two fine hairs pinched between her fingers. One was pale and very fine, one of Rose’s baby hairs, and the other was thicker, chestnut brown. “You were clever to nab one of Augustus’ hairs, I must give you that. I told you, you could be a fine witch.” She looped the hairs around Count Farren’s
cock and tied them around it as tight as she could, like finishing off a thread. Then she clapped her hands. The hairs disappeared, while Count Farren woke with a start.

  He immediately struggled, rocking the table as he yanked his arms back and forth. “Where am I? Who are you? What is this?”

  “Count Farren,” the Cobblestone Witch said. “I am sorry for the indignity. If you calm down, you’ll be well rewarded. What brings you to the city? I doubt it was a pleasure trip, at least to start.”

  “No, madam, I am here to ask for aid with the rampaging trolls of the northern forests. I still don’t understand why—“

  “I will take care of the trolls,” the witch said. “In fact, in good faith, I will do it immediately. I will send a shipment of spells particularly potent against trolls in which to dip your arrows. Do you suppose that would save a lot of your kinfolk back home?”

  “If it works!” He growled, still struggling. “Tell me your name and why I’m half-undressed and tied down!”

  Jeanne slid a hand up his chest. “I’ll bet you’re popular with the ladies back home.”

  “It’s no business of yours,” he said, but he was a little more gentle in his reply. Jeanne still had all the beauty that had once attracted the king. In fact, the Cobblestone Witch thought she was more beautiful taken down a peg; less artifice covered up her natural glow.

  “I have placed a spell on you,” the Cobblestone Witch said. “You will be unable to have any sexual release until I remove it, not even in private, except by two people. King Augustus and Queen Marie-Rose.”

  His mouth opened in horror although he tried to stay calm.

  Axel Farren had faced more frightening things than some devious witch; he had stared the most gruesome of deaths in the face more than once. His hand had been in a troll’s mouth, his hand saved only by a perfectly timed arrow from one of his men.