Desire and Duty (The Consort's Chronicles Book 1)

by Jarvis, E. C.

  “Congratulations, Ma’am,” Lusk said, spitting a mouthful of fish over his own plate. She lay her fork back down, no longer wanting to eat anything—not while he spat food everywhere.

  “Thank you,” she said, not managing to match her gratitude with a smile.

  “Did the doctor give you a date?” Barentyn asked, though he seemed to be directing the question at Averys. Her husband shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at her. Three male faces stared at her expectantly, almost threateningly. Yes, of course she would give them a date only to have them announce it to the room--the entire Empire would be sitting on the edge of their seats when that day rolled around. No one would question it if the anticipated progeny arrived a month or two late—if at all.

  She squirmed again, at first thinking of saying no and then worrying that they’d simply call the doctor back the next day to press him into an answer. She didn’t want that poor man, her only ally besides Nathanial, to be put on the spot.

  “I’m told it’s still very early. Too early to tell anything much.” She looked at Averys with imploring eyes, hoping he would understand her worry at having given the announcement so early. If he understood her look, he showed no signs of caring. Of course, this night was more about proving his Empirical virility than a celebration of her. He may as well have announced the successful plantation of his mighty seed into a suitable womb. Most likely people would still have cheered and toasted his penis instead of his wife.

  “Not to worry. Everything will be as it should,” Lusk said, an odd quirk in his lips. “You should eat, though. Good for the child. Good for your body.” He pointed to her abandoned fork and resumed stuffing his face, turning his attention back to Barentyn.

  Lenora regarded the fork and the food, wondering how long it would take to starve to death and if starving was in any way a less distressing end than being murdered. Her rumbling stomach seemed to think better of it.

  As she moved to eat, she froze again. Something brushed against her ankle. At first it was subtle, as though someone had crossed their legs together and accidentally touched her foot, but then it happened again. A foot, clear and determined, caught her bare ankle and snaked up between her calves. She stared down at the limp-looking fish on her plate. Perhaps she would throw up all over dinner after all.

  Barentyn was still talking; the Emperor guzzled another goblet of wine; the elderly man to her left couldn’t have curved his leg around at such an angle if he were thirty years younger; and she couldn’t bring herself to look at the man opposite to see that awful sneer no doubt plastered on his face as he ran his foot all the way up to her thighs, pushing her dress up with it.

  She scooted back on the chair, parting her legs, locking them around the chair legs and resting her butt as far back as possible, escaping the unwanted under-table fondling. His foot fell away. Her heart pounded in her ears and she reached for her wine glass, remembering too late that it only held water. She contemplated launching it across the table at Lusk, but before she had the chance, something clanged against the floor.

  “Shit,” Lusk muttered.

  “Lusk, watch your language in front of the women,” Averys admonished.

  “Sorry, Sire. I dropped my fork.” With that, he disappeared under the tablecloth.

  Lenora felt her head grow dizzy; she might even pass out as she froze in place, unable to move, unable to breath. She felt something graze against her legs, parted wide, dress raised up—no knickers. Without warning, something cold and hard pressed against her opening. Her traitorous lips opened up and accepted the odd offering as it was pushed in deep. A long, calloused finger tracked over her clit, and then the presence moved away.

  Lusk popped out from under the table and waved for one of the servants. “Can’t find my fork under there. Give me a new one,” he demanded, then promptly stuck his finger in his mouth. Once the replacement fork was delivered, he returned to stuffing his face and spitting out his food as he chewed.

  Lenora felt herself shrinking away from reality. She was stuck, pinned in place by fear, anchored to the spot, unable to formulate a coherent thought. Had he really just stuck a fork, handle first, into her pussy?

  “I’m not feeling well,” she breathed as she saw the edges of her vision turn dark. No one seemed to hear. She grabbed hold of Averys’ thigh and dug her nails in, finally getting his attention as she managed to will her legs into uncurling from the chair legs. Her dress tumbled back over her knees.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “I’m not feeling—” She felt her face flop forwards onto his chest and was powerless to stop it. The chandelier light turned pitch black, and the noise of the party faded to a distant blur.

  VIII – Revelation

  “Best sign yet. Pregnant women faint all the time, Sire.”

  “Good. Shame she had to do it in the middle of dinner. Would have been better timed after dessert. Typical.”

  Lenora’s head felt groggy, as though she had drunk a barrelful of wine. She could hear voices talking above her, though they sounded much farther away. Her body seemed stuck in place, curled into a ball, but despite being awake, she couldn’t will her eyes to open or anything else to move.

  “Will you return to the gathering?”

  “I had better, seeing as I organised the thing. Make sure I’m informed when she wakes.”

  “Sire. Will you be joining me later?”

  “Of course.”

  A scuffling noise followed, sounding like someone breathing heavily. If she hadn’t known the two voices better, she’d have sworn they were kissing. A giggle escaped her lips.

  “I believe she has awoken, Sire,” Barentyn said.

  Her eyes fluttered open, head still spinning. She found Averys frowning down at her.

  “Well?” he snapped.

  “What happened? Where am I?” She rolled halfway over and rubbed her head, trying to recall her last thoughts. Had she been drinking?

  “That page better have been serving you water, or I’ll have his head on a pike.” Averys stormed out of the room, which she now realised was their bedroom. She frowned up at Barentyn as he looked her up and down.

  “I’ll have the servants bring you some food, Ma’am. Rest well.” He turned on his heels and headed out.

  Her swimming head caught up with her as the noises from across the palace drifted into focus. She rolled over further, then stopped mid-roll, noticing the unusual sensation below. She sat up, gripping a post for support, and stared at her pale face in the mirror. Standing up on wobbling legs, she lifted her skirt up to see the unwelcome dinner silverware sticking out between her legs. She pulled it free and sunk to the floor, letting silent tears roll down her cheeks. What was she supposed to make of that? It was so tragic and odd, it was almost comical, and she snorted with laughter between sobs as she looked down at the fork.

  “At least it’s not a knife,” she said aloud, resting her head against the bedpost and giving into the tears. Why did her apparent pregnancy cause so many men to suddenly risk everything in order to get at her pussy? She was becoming quite tired of being prodded and poked without consultation or consideration of her wishes. She contemplated calling the guard and asking for Averys to return so she could explain to him exactly what had happened—so he could arrange for Lusk’s head to be piked instead of some poor servant who had done nothing wrong. Even then, she had no idea where to begin explaining the bizarre occurrence to him. Would he even believe her, or might he think her mad? She wasn’t entirely sure she believed it herself, and she was the one who’d had the fork stuffed into her privates. No doubt Lusk would deny all knowledge of it, though she did have his missing fork as evidence, a chunk of fish still clinging onto one of the prongs.

  At least her fainting spell had added credence to the pregnancy story. Shame about not being pregnant yet, but as long as they thought she had passed out for that reason and not because someone had stuck a fork in her crotch at the dinner table, it was to her benefit, she suppos
ed.

  A knock at the door had her slipping the fork under the bedsheet, though she couldn’t quite will her wobbly legs to continue holding her.

  “Dinner, Ma’am,” a female voice called to her.

  “Yes, come in.”

  The maid took on a horrified expression when she found Lenora sitting on the floor, face flushed with tears, and she hastily placed the tray of food down. “Ma’am, are you ill? Shall I send for the doctor?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. Just a little overwhelmed.”

  “Of course, Ma’am. We’re all very pleased to hear the news.” The kindly woman offered an arm to help her up, then scurried away with a wave of the hand.

  Lenora flopped down onto the bed and poked at the tray of food with her fingers—having developed a sudden and intense fear of cutlery. As if she didn’t have enough problems trying to get pregnant, now she had to worry about how far Lusk was willing to go with his strange sexual advances. He’d already made a bold move, treating her with such an act when she was sat right beside her husband in a room filled with people. Though she supposed it to be a good move, who would ever suspect a man to be that daring?

  Exhaustion tugged at her limbs once she stopped her stomach from rumbling with a few bites of food, and she flopped down on the bed, holding onto a faint hope that a solution to her mounting problems might come to her in a dream.

  When she awoke next, it was pitch black. She reached out, finding the tray of food had gone and she now lay under the sheets, naked. Groggy from too much sleep, she found a match and lit the lantern. Lying on the bedside table was a folded piece of paper. She picked it up and opened it to find a letter.

  Wife, I removed your clothing. I will sleep elsewhere until the child is born so you may rest. The gathering was a success despite your absence. Make its purpose a success and you shall be rewarded. Do not turn up late in the future. You have been warned.

  Averys

  She read the letter over several times, making sure she understood it. It was almost romantic, if it weren’t for the sinister undertones. It was odd that he’d taken such care with her, but she reminded herself not to get too enamoured. He’d only acted gently because he believed she housed his precious future son. Were it not for that, she would have probably been smacked around the face for being late, then smacked again for not making it through dinner. She reminded herself to never forget that, no matter how kind he might seem.

  After sitting in the dim lantern light for a few minutes, noting the time as somewhere around two in the morning and realising she was wide awake, she slipped out from under the sheets and pulled on a nightdress. She padded to the door, sliding down to her stomach only to find a pair of boots standing at the opposite end of the hallway. She dropped her forehead to the floor, silently cursing, then turned her attention to the window.

  Outside, a few lights shone in the city below, and a calm Spring breeze drifted across the palace wall. She leaned out to find a thin ledge stretching the entire length of the building. Nathanial must have used it to sneak into her room earlier. She glanced down at the guards patrolling the grounds. Their attention remained focused on the gate and external walls. It felt like a mad thing to attempt, given her lack of athletic ability, but the thought of spending every night confined to her room alone made her sick. How was she supposed to get pregnant being stuck in here? She couldn’t rely on Nathanial ever knowing that Averys would no longer be sharing her room anymore, either.

  Lenora studied the latch on the window and resolved to try the next room along and go no further, at least for tonight. Her desperation to share what happened at dinner with someone, the only person she trusted, fuelled her to act beyond reason. Slowly, easing her body through the window, gripping the sill with all her might, she found the ledge with her toes. The breeze whipped across her legs, feeling much stronger outside than she’d realised whilst inside. Inch by inch, she moved along until the next room came into view.

  She peered in at the window, unable to see anything in the darkness. A sudden twinge of fear made her worry that Averys had perhaps taken up residence in that room instead. But as her arms and toes protested the odd way they hung, and the guard patrolling the courtyard below turned to march in her direction, she realised going back would be even riskier.

  She pushed on the latch and snuck in as quietly as possible. It was empty inside; she took a moment to calm her nerves before peeking out through the door. The guard watching her bedroom yawned, peered up and down the corridor, not noticing the slightly open door. Then he promptly stuffed his hand into his trousers and began to languidly stroke himself.

  “Baffoon,” she whispered, not knowing or caring if it was the same buffoon as earlier. She supposed members of the elite guard were needed for far more important jobs than ensuring the Emperor’s wife didn’t leave her bedroom. After she watched him fondle himself for a few minutes, he eventually left his penis alone, adjusted his trousers, and assumed a slow patrol down the corridor.

  She slipped free, scurrying in the opposite direction, hoping to catch Nathanial asleep in his bunk. She’d tell him all about Lusk’s incident with the fork; hopefully he’d be as willing to deal with Lusk as he’d been to deal with her useless guard. Then they could spend a good hour or two fucking each other senseless before she needed to return.

  By the time she reached his room, having successfully snaked her way through the patrolling guards, her heart rate had doubled and her thighs were soaked with the promise of another round of hot sex. Beneath her nightgown, she was without knickers once more. She tapped lightly on his door and danced from foot to foot, waiting for him to wake up and let her inside. After a minute passed with no response, she grew impatient and opened the door herself.

  His bunk was empty. In the dull light, she saw a selection of his knives and weapons missing from the walls. He must have been called away on a mission. The door clicked shut, and she leaned her forehead against it. All her effort for nothing. Dejected and depressed, she took a step back the way she came until a noise caught her attention. Strange muffled grunts and scrapes echoed up from the stairwell leading down to the dungeon. One particularly familiar noise held her attention.

  Against her better judgement, she found her feet following the steps as they curved in a spiral. A burning torch lit the way down. The noises grew louder; it sounded like animals fighting—or rutting. She peered around the bend, half expecting to find Nathanial, bare-chested and locked in a wrestling match with another soldier. Instead, she found one of the cell doors ajar and no guards nearby.

  She tiptoed up to the open door and peeked inside, feet ready to flee if necessary. One look inside sent her heart up into her throat.

  She turned her face away, at first disgusted by the sight, but as the familiar harsh sounds of her husband’s barking sex noises filled her ears, she peered back around the door. Averys hunkered on hands and knees, Barentyn kneeling down behind him—two overly muscular figures rocking together in the dim light. Barentyn pulled back his hips and crashed down into Averys with immense force and relentless speed.

  Lenora watched for a moment, captivated by the sight of her husband, the Emperor, on his knees getting fucked hard in the backside—within the dungeons, no less. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense—Barentyn’s lack of a wife or lack of interest in any woman, and her own husband’s poor performance in the bedroom. He didn’t want a wife to fuck; he wanted to be fucked by a man.

  Heart racing, she watched through short breaths, hearing their shared grunts and moans. Feeling the intense heat inside the room, the senses fuelled her own arousal. Her racing mind treated her to a picture of herself beneath Averys, being fucked by him as he was fucked by Barentyn, and the thought of it made her giddy with desire. She almost stepped inside to join in the fun before remembering who she was and who they were—and that she was most definitely not invited.

  With a shake of her head, she turned away. She began to pivot on her heels to head back upstairs, but a
hand gripped her neck from behind, holding her in place.

  “Shhh,” a deep voice whispered next to her ear, lips almost touching. Her first thought jumped to Nathanial. Who else could have snuck up on her so stealthily? Who else would dare to put his hands on her? A long pause followed. The sounds inside the room continued, muffled by the door. As her flesh crawled, a shiver snaking down her spine, a deep chuckle reverberated against her neck. It was not Nathanial.

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” The words struck her like a dagger to the chest. It was Lusk. He had her trapped down here, alone, in the dark. She daren’t call out, terrified of what would happen if Averys saw her down here when she was supposed to be sleeping sweetly upstairs.

  “Lusk,” she whispered. “I was just…looking for the Emperor.” Her mouth turned dry as her chest constricted.

  “I believe you found him.” He still kept a grip on her neck, pinning her in place, pushing his body against her back.

  “I shall leave him in peace. It can wait until morning,” she said, making a move to step away.

  Lusk’s grip tightened. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been out of your room at night.”

  She snapped her mouth shut. He couldn’t have known the truth; she’d been more than discrete with her excursion. Even so, she noted that he hadn’t posed it as a question; it was a statement. Somehow, he knew. Either Nathanial had told him, or Lusk had been watching. Either way it terrified her, as did the fact that he now held her in place right outside the room in which her husband was getting buggered senseless. If the quieting sounds were anything to go by, the two men were about to be finished.

  “Did you enjoy my gift at dinner?”

  “You’re sick.”

  “Oh, you have no idea, Lenora. If I’d have thought I could get away with it, I would have gladly sat under that table all night, fucking you with whatever I could get my hands on—cutlery, candlesticks, my fist...”