Wygard led her past a huge kitchen, dozens of people at work over chopping boards and steaming pots. Whatever they were cooking, it smelled delicious. Her stomach rumbled and the old man apparently heard it, which was a little strange. Didn’t old people usually have bad hearing?
“Oh, are you hungry, my dear?” he asked. Before she could answer, he scuttled off into the kitchen and returned with what looked like a barbecue fork. He handed it to her. A red hunk of raw meat was impaled on the twin tines. A drop of blood dripped to the floor.
“Elk,” Wygard said.
She looked at the chunk of meat, as big as her fist and completely raw. Was this how they ate food here? If so, she might be in trouble.
He was staring at her with those huge eyes, the pupils dark and curious. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “I thought your clan always liked to char your own meat.”
Something clicked. She remembered the woman in the diner, the real Siccora Wildfire and what she had ordered. She remembered the steak she had brought out, nearly raw, and the crispy black piece she had found afterwards. But she still didn’t understand how that had happened, or how she was supposed to char her own meat, as the man had said.
“Um,” she said. “I’m just not in the mood for elk, I guess.”
He furrowed his bushy brows at her.
“Do you maybe just have a piece of bread or something?” she asked.
His eyes, curious before, looked suspicious now. Oh shit, she thought. The old man had expected her to cook the meat in front of him somehow, put on a little show. And he’d found it strange that she hadn’t.
But he took the fork as she handed it back over. Then he walked back into the kitchen and returned with a hunk of dark black bread. For a moment she was worried that it was burned black, but it was just a rye. He handed it over, the bread warm and soft.
“Here you are, my dear,” he said, his voice warier than it had been before.
She bit into it, barely chewing before she swallowed. It was delicious. “Thank you, Wygard.”
He brightened a little at the sound of his name. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Now let’s see about finding you a room and something to wear.”
Corban had said something about putting her up in a servant’s room. Miranda didn’t care where her room was because she was getting increasingly nervous about being revealed as a fraud and was readying herself to make the trip back home. Wygard had seemed offended at the idea of her staying in a servant’s room, though, and he continued to apologize as he led her down a dark hallway with simple wooden doors along either side.
There were no locks on the doors. Servants, it seemed, didn’t deserve any sort of privacy. So Wygard simply opened the doors one by one until he found one that was clearly unoccupied.
“I’m so sorry about this,” he said. “I’ll have another talk with the King, or perhaps it would be better to talk to his sister. Either way, we’ll find you something more accommodating.”
“This is fine,” she said. The room was simple, with only a straw bed, a small wooden table and chair, and a cedar chest against the wall. But it was clean and cozy.
The old man went to the chest and opened it. “Ah yes, good. There should be something for you to wear in here. Again, I’m sorry. I’ll set the tailors to crafting you a new wardrobe at once. I should have done that before you arrived. But we weren’t sure exactly when or how you would come, or if you would bring your own things along.”
She smiled at him, finding it cute how embarrassed he was at following the King’s orders. She was still trying to piece this all together. Why was she here? Or rather, why was Siccora Wildfire supposed to be here? She was obviously someone important. Was she just here on a visit? Wygard had said he had met her as a little girl. She’d been gone a long time, then.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. None of that matters. She’d had enough of this charade, or elaborate hallucination, whatever it was.
She cleared her throat. “Would you mind if I had a little privacy,” she said. “You know, to change?”
“Oh, of course,” Wygard said, blushing. “I’ll, uh, stand watch at the door. Just come out when you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” she said. But she had no intention of stepping back out of the room. As soon as Wygard closed the door, she was going to take this stupid necklace off. She was sure it was what had not only brought her to this place, but was keeping her here.
Wygard bowed, and she felt a little pang of sadness. The king had been rude, but the old man had been nothing but kind and pleasant. She was going to be a little sorry to leave him.
He closed the door behind him, and Miranda unfurled his robe from her naked body and draped it on the bed. Again, she would have expected to feel cold. There was no fireplace here, just those blue icy walls that seemed to be providing their own kind of strange light.
She reached up to the back of her neck, then wondered if going back naked was such a smart idea. What if she didn’t end up back in her trailer? She had no idea how this was going to work, or even if it would, but she decided it might be best to put on some clothes either way.
Miranda looked through the trunk and found a simple white dress. She pulled it over her head. A pair of what looked like leather moccasins sat at the bottom of the chest. She pulled them out and slipped them on.
Then she reached up to the back of her neck and found the clasp. She tried to unhook it with her thumb, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned her neck and pried at the catch with her fingers.
“Dammit,” she said.
“Everything all right in there?” Wygard said through the door.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be out in a minute.” And maybe that was true, because the damned necklace seemed glued to her neck. After a few more fruitless attempts at unhooking the clasp, she resorted to grabbing both sides of the chain and pulling. Nope. This thing wasn’t going anywhere.
She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Shit, she thought. Looks like I’m stuck here.
Wygard was waiting for her when she opened the door. His already huge eyes widened when he saw her.
“No one ever made such simple robes look so magnificent,” he said, and even though she figured he was blowing a little smoke up her butt, it was still nice to hear a compliment. She wasn’t sure the last time that had happened, other than some biker telling her she had a nice ass. And while that could sometimes be nice, it just wasn’t the same.
“Thanks,” Miranda said. She handed him back his robe. He nodded and slid it back on.
She thought about asking if there were a jeweler or blacksmith around, someone who could help her get the damned necklace off. But before she could say anything else, a breathless young guard ran up to them.
“Sorry to interrupt sir, and ma’am,” he said, turning to Miranda. “But the King has requested your presence in his chambers.”
Wygard raised his eyebrows. “Right now?”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said.
“Well,” Wygard said, chuckling to himself. “Perhaps he’s had a change of heart. You should go to him, dear. We’ll get you a proper set of clothes and a tour of the keep another time.”
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Wygard said. And then a thing so strange happened it made Miranda wonder again if she were in a dream.
The old man took a step back and began to shrink. She watched in amazement as his robes turned to feathers, his arms folding along his sides like wings, his legs and feet transforming into those of a bird. Within only a few seconds, the old man had become a white owl, sitting on the stone floor and looking up at her with very nearly the same eyes.
Then he took to the air, wings fluttering, and disappeared down the hallway.
Miranda felt dizzy. She reached out and put her hand against the door frame to brace herself.
“What the hell was that?” she asked the guard.
He looked at he
r quizzically. “Have you never seen anyone shift into owlform?” Then a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh, yes. You’ve lived your whole life in another world. Do those that live there not have two forms?”
She’d been with a few guys who might qualify as pigs, but not literal pigs. Two forms? Just what the hell was this place?
“Uh, no,” she said.
“How strange that must have been,” the guard said.
Yeah, right, Miranda thought. My world is the one that's strange. The guard reached out to take her arm, but she straightened up and shook her head.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m fine. Just show me to the King’s chambers.”
The doors to Corban's room were larger than most others. The guard pulled the iron ring that served as the handle and the huge door swung open.
“You may enter,” he said. “He is expecting you.”
It took her a moment for her mind to figure out what was happening. She had expected him to be standing in front of the door, or perhaps sitting nearby in a chair. But her eyes scanned the room only to see the bed at the far end, a white round ass facing her and jiggling.
The door closed behind her, and she looked over the round cheeks to see the King, propped up against the headboard, smiling at her.
For a second she had thought only one person was on the bed, that the King was transformed into some strange beast. After all, she’d just seen an old man turn into an owl and fly away. But as her mind wrapped itself around the scene, she realized there were two people in the bed, and then it became clear what they were doing. Or rather, what the girl crouched on top was doing to him.
With their eyes locked, Corban shuddered all over. He had planned this, for her to walk in right as he came. She had to admit, part of her was actually a little turned on. But even though he was without a doubt the most amazing-looking man she’d ever seen, another part of her was kind of grossed out.
He touched the shoulders of the girl who’d had her head down in his lap and pushed her up. Her hair was short and blonde, and as she turned, Miranda saw her large brown doe eyes and the shiny mess on her chin.
“I realized I never gave you a proper greeting,” he said. “Welcome to Everfrost Keep.”
And now the pieces were falling in place, little by little. Siccora was supposed to travel here, to this world. For exactly what, Miranda still didn’t know. But she was to be a guest in this guy’s castle, this Corban Everfrost.
And it was clear he was a giant asshole.
No wonder the real Siccora didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
He was lying there, smirking at her, the doe-eyed bimbo sitting at his feet with his cum on her lips.
“So that’s why this thing around my neck shot me halfway across the universe?” Miranda said. “To watch you get sucked off? Is this what does it for you?”
Her mother had always said her mouth would be the end of her one day, and as soon as she spoke, she wondered if today was that day. This was a world she knew almost nothing about, other than that it was filled with people who could change back and forth into animals. And she’d just given a piece of her mind to the King of all people. For all she knew he could transform into a bear and chew her to pieces. Or he could just have her thrown in the dungeons. All castles like this had dungeons, didn’t they?
Corban had an angry look on his face. She’d definitely ticked him off, and she had to admit that was satisfying. Even though she dreaded what he might do next, she did her best to stand up straight and remain defiant. Now wasn’t the time to back down.
He leaned forward and slapped the girl’s ass, the sound of the smack filling the room. She jumped a little and smiled.
“Go on, Deelia,” he said, keeping his eyes on Miranda. “Leave us be.”
Deelia jumped off the bed and bent at the waist to pick up some gauzy, transparent piece of cloth from the floor. She looks like some kind of forest animal, Miranda thought, the memory of Wygard’s transformation fresh in her mind. She can probably morph into a gazelle or something.
Deelia slipped the fabric over her head, and Miranda wondered why she even bothered wearing anything at all. The garment was basically a veil, revealing the brown triangle of tangled hair where her two long legs met as well as her small, but perfect, breasts. She walked gracefully past Miranda, giving her a sideways glance and a smile. And then she was gone, closing the door behind her.
“I hope you weren’t expecting anything like that from me,” Miranda said. “I don’t go down on a guy until the second date.”
Corban swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He had looked impressive in the skin-tight scaly armor he wore, but now that he stood before her completely naked, he was even more incredible. He almost looked like he belonged in a museum, high up on a pedestal.
His hair was a silvery-blonde, his eyes a pale, icy blue. His chest, arms, abs, and legs looked chiseled from marble, lean and muscular. And she couldn’t help her eyes drifting down between his legs, where his nice thick cock hung, shiny from the forest-girl’s mouth.
“Your eyes tell a different story,” he said.
She looked up quickly, feeling the heat rush into her face. She looked him in his cold, beautiful eyes, trying to ignore the rest of his body, especially the part dangling between his legs.
“Are you sure you don’t want a turn in my bed right now?” he asked, smirking again. “It’s a bit of a break from tradition, but I’m sure no one will mind.”
Break from tradition? What was he talking about? “Is that why you summoned me here?” she asked. “For a turn in your bed?”
He walked up to her, and she stood her ground, resisting the urge to take a step back. He stood toe-to-toe with her, and she could smell the sex on him, along with the smell of freshly-fallen snow and a hint of pine.
He was an asshole, sure. He’d sent her away with Wygard to put on servant’s clothes. Then he’d summoned her to his chambers just as he was getting off with some other woman. He was trying to humiliate her, put her in her place, a strange thing to do to a woman you’d never met. Everything that was happening was so confusing, and having a King with a god-like body hovering over her wasn’t helping her concentration. Even though he’d treated her with nothing but contempt since she arrived, part of her still wanted him to reach out with those powerful arms and lift her off her feet. He would just carry her back to the bed, tear off her robes like they were tissue, and push that impressive shaft up inside her, over and over and—
“No,” he said. “I summoned you here to show you where things stand. I have plenty of consorts to wet my cock. I have no need of you.”
He was looking down at her while he said it, his look cocky and defiant. But there was something behind those eyes. She was putting up a front herself, but she could see that he was as well. Like her mom used to say, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. His mouth was saying he didn’t want her, but something in his eyes said he did.
“Well then,” she said, reaching out with her index finger to touch his chest. For some reason she expected his flesh to be hard and cold, but it was soft and warm. She trailed her finger in a circle around his nipple, watching with satisfaction as it hardened. “Consider your message received.”
He was looking down at her finger, a confused look on his face. This wasn’t how he had expected things to go. He’d probably wanted her to run crying out of the room at the spectacle of receiving a blow job. And not only had she not done that, here she was standing up to him and teasing him.
“I have a message for you as well,” she said.
“And what is that?”
“Eat shit.”
His look of confusion turned to anger. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip like steel. "You have a foul mouth for a princess," he said. "Did you learn that particular vulgarity from the weak-bred people of Earth?"
His grip on her wrist was hurting her, but she tried not to show it. Her mind had keyed in on one particular word
he had uttered. Princess?
“Listen to me, Siccora Wildfire," he went on, "Our clans have warred with one another for centuries. Your arrival here doesn’t change any of that. You are a distraction, nothing more. I do not need you here, nor want you here. Do you understand?”
Before she could respond, the door opened once again. Had his consort left something behind?
They both turned towards the door. Miranda saw the female version of Corban enter the room, a beautiful silver-haired goddess with pale blue eyes.
Corban let go of her wrist, a red imprint left behind. That’s going to hurt, she thought.
“There you are!” the woman said, closing the distance between them in just a few steps and sweeping Miranda up in a hug. The woman’s arms squeezed her tight, almost painfully. Miranda hugged her back.
Then the woman pulled out of the embrace, holding Miranda by the shoulders. “I heard you were here,” she said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Miranda just stared at her, not really knowing what to say.
“I’m Astra,” the woman said. “Corban’s sister. I just wanted to—” She caught sight of her brother standing there naked and wrinkled her nose. “Please, brother. At least cover yourself.”
She turned her attention back to Miranda, looking her up and down. “Are those servant’s robes?”
Corban walked back to the side of his bed where his suit lay on the ground. He began putting it on, grinning the whole time. “She came through naked,” he said. “We had to give her something to wear.”
“This won’t do,” Astra said. “You’re coming with me this instant. We’re going to find you something much more appropriate. We can’t have you looking like this when your father arrives.”
Dragon Blue: A Lie That's True (The Dragonlords of Xandakar, Book1) Page 5