by YatesNZ, Jen
‘Great Lady!’ he greeted her, scarcely stopping to draw breath and briefly bending his knee. His sacred partner, Lady Ferena and the others went quickly to their knees.
‘Please rise. Let us not be formal today.’ Turning to Camud, Gynevra said, ‘The King is anxious to know what his people are thinking. Would you mind sharing with me your thoughts about the proposed change to the siring laws?’
Camud and his companions were quite vocal in support of the idea. Only Lady Ferena had little to say. Having ascertained their feelings Gynevra deftly encouraged each one to open up about their positions, their homes, their families, and their interests. To her surprise the Lady Ferena followed when she left the group, snagging her attention with a murmured, ‘Great Lady, may I have a moment more of your time?’
‘Of course,’ Gynevra said, with a carefully regal smile. Something about the Lady Ferena made her wary.
‘I didn't like to burst Camud’s little bubble back there but I just wish to register my support for maintaining the status quo with the breeding flabria. As a woman sacredly joined to a non-Dragon I have deeply appreciated the law. The DragonBloods have such amazing physiques, immense stamina, and in my experience anyway, are wonderful lovers. Camud is a good partner but he's not built like a Dragon. I believe the King is right about what is happening to our children and returning to general siring is important. But I'm hoping he'll hold off for at least a year before instigating the change for I'd like another chance to be seeded by him before that happens.’
Freezing a hard little smile to her lips, Gynevra said as graciously as she was able through gritted teeth, ‘I'll see the King knows of your sentiments in regard to this matter. It's been a delight talking with you.’
Fighting to keep her smile in place as she approached another group, Gynevra was a little dismayed at how she'd allowed the woman to drain her energy and turned aside to ask one of the many servitors to fetch her a glass of wine.
‘You look a bit tired,’ Taur commented later over a very rare private dinner in their apartments.
Gynevra sighed and adjusted the cushion at her back.
‘Talking to people is incredibly tiring.’
Taur grinned at her then helped himself to a charcoal-grilled beef roll stuffed with succulent local oysters.
‘No doubt you found, as I did, that those not of the Blood are for abolition and the DragonBloods are against it?’
‘Pretty much,’ agreed Gynevra, ‘though it seems the women would like to retain the status quo.’
It was impossible to keep her feelings from her voice.
Taur raised his brows enquiringly.
Suddenly her fatigue was forgotten.
‘How well do you know Lady Ferena, sacred partner to Camud, the city financier?’
Taur considered her for a moment with a smug little smile.
‘Actually, not well enough to remember though I think she may have a child by me.’
‘She does,’ Gynevra snapped, ‘and she agrees it's time to change the laws but she's hoping you'll wait until you've sired her next child.’
Taur wiped his hands on a linen cloth and laid it aside. Watching Gynevra from under raised brows, he asked, ‘When?’
‘If I have my way it'll be never!’ she cried, appalled at how volatile her feelings were on this matter.
Taur grinned wickedly. Surging up off his dining couch, he took her into his arms and whirled her out through the portico onto the balcony overlooking the city. Lifting her onto the wide stone parapet he circled her tightly with his arms then took her lips, his tongue probing for the inner essence of her. She wished the change of law could be instantly wrought but knew Lady Ferena was the more likely to get her wish.
Important, far-reaching decisions couldn't be taken without a deal of research and debate just as Taur was finding with his plans to build a Star Path pyramid. The bottom line for most people's arguments, for or against, was personal gain. Sighing, she slipped her arms about his body. The passion of his touch wasn't conducive to thought.
‘Gyn'a, I only have to think of you and I want you no matter how many women I take, or where or how. Just like that very first time. Sometimes it even frightens me a little, how you make me feel. Some would say it's not very kingly. But cloabad if I care just at this moment.’
Nor did Gynevra. Her fingers threaded through the tangle of his hair and she could see the tiny dancing reflections of the distant street-fires in his eyes. She knew they but hinted at the deeper fire within, knew he gave her more, conceded more to her within their relationship than any other Paggi Lord in Atlantis offered his sacred partner. Yet still she wanted more. Was it wrong to want all he could be, all he was as man to her woman, for herself alone? Was that un-natural?
He'd freed her breasts from her gown and cupping them gently in his huge hands, murmured wonderingly, ‘They're swollen. I didn't understand how increasing with child could make a woman more desirable. You glow, you swell with my seed, and I swell with an ever greater desire for you. I want to see and touch every change in your body that I have wrought.’
He bent his head to suckle. Gynevra moaned and swayed. Clinging to his naked shoulders she begged him to take her down from the parapet, to take her.
Gynevra's mornings were divided between the Temple and the Houses of Children. She visited each of the different Houses twice each tonn. The other mornings were spent in the Temple Clinic. Even so she visited Foab the Qeggi first thing each day for healing and to talk to him of communicating with the mind. At first he'd been sullen and unresponsive but hadn’t been able to maintain this attitude for long in the Queen's presence. To her surprise their sessions proved as healing for herself as they did for the Qeggi.
She'd talked to him of her life in the Temples, how terribly she missed her sisters, the pain of losing them. She talked of the simple devotion of Nyd and her stories of the Qeggi servitor from her childhood finally brought the light of a smile back to Foab's eyes and brought him to a point where he wanted to communicate with her. Tuned to his mind, Gynevra knew instantly he wanted to pledge himself to her in similar fashion. He longed to be her servitor in Nyalda.
When she gave him word for word the thought from his mind, his eyes widened with wonder and a smile even tugged at the corners of his mouth. The realization that here was one person he could communicate with quickly changed the smile to tears. Gynevra felt her own tears well at sight of it.
When the tears were wiped away, she gave Foab his first lesson in mind connection and deep mental concentration and was delighted with his instant understanding of the concept. Day by day as his physical body mended, she continued to work on his mental and emotional body. These were slower healing, and there were times when she wondered if it would all go for naught the moment he regained mobility. At least once every day he reiterated his intention of killing Lord Reggo and Judge Lomy. Each time she took the thought from his mind she reminded him that justice had already been served and that Lord Reggo at least was now far from Nyalda.
The day she asked him to be her personal servant and bodyguard was the day he began to really concentrate and work at receiving the thoughts from her mind as well as sending his to her. Two months after his mutilation, he came to Heceuda Castle as the personal servitor to the Queen. His presence, huge and dumb, caused quite a stir, not least because royalty were traditionally served by the Moera, not the lowly Qeggi whom most considered to be little above the animals.
Foab, it was noted, stayed as close to the Queen as Qerlim. Foab was a big man, taller even than Taur and much more bulkily built. His face was more open and formed with more symmetry than the average Qeggi. He tended to amble when he walked, rather like a bear but could move with a surprising agility if necessary.
Gynevra was aware not one of her people thought she should have brought such a creature into the castle, let alone allowed him anywhere near her person and conjectured as to her purpose in doing so. To her inner amusement she found herself imitating an ex
pression she remembered well on the face of her movuon. Archinus Ianthe was mistress of the quelling stare, which reminded lesser mortals of their place and relative insignificance in the scheme of things and Gynevra discovered the device to be extremely useful.
Trouble was she'd often find a teasing thought in her mind, which clearly came from Foab, ‘The queenly look. Oh dear, a bad omen I fear!’ and be hard-pressed not to giggle.
Lady Nudon had been more vocal than the rest, missing no opportunity to criticize the woman who’d usurped her throne.
‘It's to be hoped as Queen you'll be as unrelenting in championing the rights of the Paggi, your own class, as you have been for that kapi. A Queen is judged by the company she keeps and so far you've befriended a wolf and a Qeggi kapi who is also a criminal! Not a record to inspire confidence.’
‘Foab was acquitted of any crime—and you forget your son,’ Gynevra said gently. ‘He's my greatest friend.’
Nudon raised her chin a notch.
‘Any delilah could do for him what you do.’
Gynevra nodded thoughtfully.
‘True, but he chose me.’
Nudon glared at her stonily for a moment then with a huff of indignation, stalked from the court.
Summer segued into autumn and feeling daily more cumbersome Gynevra often found herself gazing listlessly from the high windows onto the slowly coloring countryside. The bright, warm colors of autumn had always stirred a sense of magic within, but now she felt only the heaviness of grief. Solon would have been three years old and though she longed to hold this second precious babe in her arms her heart would ever yearn for the first. The growth of the darkness in her mind seemed to keep pace with the swelling of her womb.
Most afternoons she managed to seclude herself in the privacy of the Emerald Pavilion, where Difleer and Foab sought to distract her with games of tromuod or spenuoba. They'd be huddled over the board gambling with chestnuts or walnuts, Qerlim asleep with her head on her mistress's feet, when Taur would erupt among them with the restiveness of a penned stag.
Energy and virility flowed from him in waves and whenever he was near her, Gynevra also sensed impatience. He sought valiantly to hide this from her by talking of his hard-won progress in the Temple toward Dogon's level of enlightenment, of the planning sessions for the Star Path Pyramid which he'd finally got Council to agree to build, or sharing comical moments of the lively lessons in archery, spear fighting, and sword play he'd given the lads in the House of Children. The best days were when he brought funny little gifts to lighten her mood—a stone carved with an ugly face which yet had the look of himself, or a huge hen's egg. Double the normal size, the poultry maid assured him it would have two yolks and he'd brought it to her because he thought it knew how she felt.
Like double her normal size! When she'd carried Solon she'd been healthy and filled with zest, dancing the dawn latreia almost until the day of his birth. That Gynevra seemed impossibly young when she thought of her now. This pregnancy was very different. More often than not, she just wanted to hide her face from the world and not even go down to the Temple on her clinic mornings. It was difficult to understand for she was pampered on every side and her child's pavuon was proud and happy. She couldn't have said what more she needed, but there was a large part of her that felt empty and wretched when she should've been feeling fulfilled and contented.
Sometimes she just sat with her hand resting against the lustily kicking child in her belly while the tears poured helplessly down her cheeks. Then would the wolf creep to her side and slip her head under her arm and Foab would stand guard, turning aside any who came unless it were the King. Taur mumbled to Gynevra he believed the Qeggi would like to turn him away too, only he didn't quite dare.
With only a tonn to go before the birth Gynevra found herself a mess of conflicting desires. By far the most precious times were when she lay with Taur, her head on his shoulder, his hand resting on the bulge of her stomach. Every time he touched her she knew he wanted her. She longed to want him too but her body felt so heavy and ugly there was no desire in her any more, only a resentment for his. Before dawn he was gone to his kingly duty on the altar and she resented that too. Usually she didn't see him again until the sun began dropping to the western mountains. Even then there was generally someone waiting for the King's ear on matters that always seemed to be of the utmost urgency.
She knew there were siring contracts pending which he'd put on hold until after the child was born, knew also there were countless other women who would gladly give their King the sexual release she was unable to offer.
She'd kill them. She just knew if she came upon him with another woman she'd kill them both. What now of all your Paggi training, Great Lady? she mocked herself. And you presume to think yourself higher than the Qeggi Foab and Moera Difleer?
It had been a typical late autumn day, with a cold brittle morning followed by bright sunshine. The moment the sun vanished behind the mountains the chill set in again. She shivered. Her back ached. Her heart ached, and her head throbbed with wanting Taur close, yet not wanting him. Difleer wrapped a blanket around her knees and gently rubbed her back.
Foab standing guard at the doorway was disinclined to move aside when Taur approached, frustrated and snarling from an encounter with a Poseidonian couple who'd travelled to Nyalda at much cost and inconvenience for him to sire their child. The woman was luscious and ripe to bear her first child and he'd found himself wondering if she might ease the peculiar ache he carried deep inside him for not having taken Gyn’a for many days now. Altar duty didn't touch it, and holding Gyn’a's swollen beauty in his arms only intensified it. He'd not take her again until the child was born. Most women slept apart from their sacred partners during the last tonni of pregnancy but he'd not been prepared to forego the joy of holding her as she slept and she hadn't suggested it. He could've taken her anyway as most other Paggi men would've done, whether she welcomed him or not, but to his confusion he found he needed her to want him just as he wanted her, to respond in her loving, giving way.
The Poseidonian was a Daughter of the Dragon and had the golden Dragon bloom, not unlike his Golden One when he'd first seen her on that long ago day in Fyr Poseidyr. Cloabad if he wasn't tempted to fulfil the contract anyway.
Foab filled the doorway and projected the thought, `The Queen desires to be alone.'
Taur glared at the Qeggi, shouldered him aside and stormed into the solar.
‘Out!’ he barked at Difleer, who nevertheless stopped long enough to gain the Queen’s nod of dismissal before complying.
‘Almost need a breara password to get near you,’ he growled, taking the seat Difleer had vacated. ‘I think to come to my own apartments for a bit of peace and I'm accosted and all but turned from my own door by a cloabad Qeggi! Seems to me you're happier to have that kapi around you than me!’
The dull tension across her brow became a full-blown ache in seconds and somewhere deep inside her a thread of control snapped. ‘At least he doesn't want to kurn me all the cloabad time!’ she cried and turned her back on him.
For a moment in time there was absolute stillness, a tense non-breath of unbelief. Without a word Taur stood up and stormed out again. Gynevra burst into tears as soon as he'd gone and Difleer hurried back to try and calm her mistress. Contrary in her misery, it was only Taur's presence she wanted now. With a mumbled order to send word she'd not be at dinner, she threw herself on the bed and huddled round a clagren. Why? Sacred Ist, why did she feel so miserable?
The night was black and far advanced when Taur woke her, coming clumsily and drunkenly to their bed.
‘I've sorted the problem,’ he announced fulminatively as he clambered under the blankets. ‘The Lady Pulina is anxious to return to Poseidonia and has been hassling Maden for me to honor their contract. So I'll honor it.’
Turning his back he almost instantly began to snore.
For several moments Gynevra couldn't move. She felt as if he'd stabbed her with
a dagger. As movement returned to her limbs, a searing pain burned into her heart. She was going to be sick!
Without a word, she left the bed and crept out to her chair in the solar where she curled up with a rug round her shoulders. Waking much later shivering with cold, she slipped out to the ante room and huddled onto the maid's cot with Difleer and it was the housekeeper whose stern words in the morning dug down to that place where the old Gynevra lurked.
‘Lady, you're not yourself. I know you've got pride. So let's see a bit of it. Where's that woman who fought Loudmouth Gotham with a stick like a man? Or the one who stood up to old Yadu, and Lord Kah? What's eating you lately?’
‘If I knew, Diffie, I'd do something about it,’ Gynevra sniffed.
‘Well, if you was to ask me, I'd say you was still grieving for your wee Solon and you be needing some healing—from the Lady Varia, maybe? How about you have a bath and I do up your hair on top of your head how you like it and dress you in that beautiful violet and gold silk? That will make you feel better for starters. Then after you've eaten, Foab can get the bearers to take you down to see the Archinus.’
Slowly Gynevra sat up and slanting Difleer an angry determined grimace that could almost be called a grin, she said, ‘Trust you to have a strategy, Diffie. And you're right as usual. I'll be the most beautiful pregnant cloabad Queen there has ever been!’
‘That's it, Lady!’ Difleer cried, bouncing out of the cot and helping Gynevra up.
It was near three hours later when the Queen passed through the King's Presence Chamber. There seemed to be several informal meetings going on as there often was at this time of the day and Taur was in close discussion with the beautiful Lady Pulina of Poseidonia and her dark bow-shaft of a sacred partner.
Gynevra hadn't intended to linger in the Chamber but of an instant there was a burning need in her to make a point. What the point was she hadn't clearly decided for herself, but make it she would! Casting about the great room she spied Lord Dimidon, Son of the Dragon extraordinaire and half-brother to the King. In stature and muscular development Dimidon rivalled the King and for golden beauty he would almost have outshone the legendary Gotham of Trephysia, so many said. But at little more than twenty years, Dimidon was still fighting to make his mark in the lucrative world of siring contracts, thus he relished every opportunity to vaunt his desirability to the female population.