Leksi and Kratos sat straighter in their chairs. “Did King Jordyle know you had done this?” Leksi asked.
Krull shook his head, a half-smile on his darkly tanned face. “Nay, and if he had it wouldn’t have stayed my offer. At the time, my youngest daughter had just turned twelve.”
“Did you go to Nebul?”
“I was almost to the border when a lone rider came galloping toward me. She was an emissary from Queen Mona. She gave me a handwritten note from the Queen. In the note, she bid me return to Tasjorn for her niece had been returned to Bandar.”
“Dead?” Leksi asked quietly.
“Aye and mutilated beyond belief except for her face. Abalam had left that intact so the child could be recognized.”
Kratos narrowed his eyes. “You went on to Nebul anyway, didn’t you?”
“I knew I’d never get near enough to Abalam to take him, but our spies in Nebul found out who the men were who had taken the child,” Krull replied. His smile widened. “I sent their heads—intact, so they would be recognized—to Queen Mona.”
Leksi whistled. “So she owes you now.”
Krull shook his head. “She doesn’t owe me anything, Helios. What I did, I did for the child. She needed to be avenged.”
“Nevertheless, she should help us get that psychotic demon. If ever a man deserves to die an agonizing death, it is Abalam Robeus!” Leksi growled.
“Bring him to the dungeons here at the keep and I’ll make that death last a long, long time,” Kratos stated.
The Lord High Commander looked at his lieutenant. “I’ll hold you to that, Kratos Hesar.”
“Consider it done, Your Grace!”
* * * * *
Queen Mona of Bandar listened quietly as the Council of Elders heard the petition from Galatea Atredides. She sat primly—as befitted her station—and when angry voices were raised in protest to helping the Venturians, stood slowly, drawing the eyes of each woman there.
“As you know,” she said, “I have reason to be grateful for the assistance of Lord Konan Krull, Lord High Commander of the Venturian Forces. I did not ask for his help when my niece Jeinna was taken. He offered and I accepted. When her…” Queen Mona stopped, momentarily overcome with grief, “…when her body was returned to us, I sent word to Lord Krull to relieve him of his vow to find and kill the men who took Jeinna.” She looked around her, meeting every Councilwoman’s eye. “Nevertheless, he continued on to Nebul—at the risk of his own life—found the men and avenged my family.”
“Such is the way of a man with six daughters of his own,” Galatea Atredides commented.
“True, and Konan Krull is an honorable man who strives to do the right thing,” Queen Mona agreed.
“And because of his boon to you, we are to risk our warrioresses?” Flavia Pantasriste, the Abbess of Education, smirked.
“What he did for Mona, he did for us,” Queen Deianeira, the defense queen of the Amazeen said. “It could just have well been one of ours those Nebullian pigs murdered. We all have kin at the Abbey.”
“Does Lady Isabell know you slept with her husband, Queen Mona?” Flavia asked.
“For shame, Flavia!” Queen Antianeira, the Amazeen domestic queen said, her eyes wide. “We do not bring personalities to the Council of Elders!”
There was low rumbling among those gathered, but none turned their eyes to Queen Mona. Flavia shrugged, crossed her legs and arms, and looked away. Her manner was of one being bored at the proceedings.
Queen Mona could feel the stare of her young daughter scalding her but refused to look down at Lilit. It was bad enough that the child knew of that ill-favored affair of so long ago. To have her be a witness to her mother’s shame before the assemblage of the Council brought fresh pain to the Queen’s heart.
“If my vote counts here,” Queen Mona said, her head high, “I vote we help the Venturians.” With that, she sat down again, her hands folded gracefully in her lap.
“Your vote most assuredly does count here,” Queen Antianeira stated. “We must, however, have a majority. Do we call for the vote now or shall we discuss this matter further?”
“I say let us vote and be done with it,” Flavia snapped. “I vote no.”
“I vote no, as well,” Okypous, one of the other Councilwomen—the Abbess of Healing and Flavia’s only friend—piped up.
“Well, I vote to help Lord Krull,” Queen Deianeira responded.
“Since I brought this matter before the Council, I vote to help,” Galatea said.
Kynthia was there—not as a member of the Council—but as an observer. She knew it would be necessary to have at least seven of the thirteen Councilwomen vote in agreement in order for the motion to carry to help Ventura. Five of the Councilwomen were Amazeens, five were Daughters of the Night and two—Galatea and Celadina, from the Daughters of the Multitude. The remaining member—and the one whose vote would break a tie—was the Mother Superior of the Abbey at Marpesia.
“Lord Krull has been a stalwart ally over the years. He has never made war on us as the Akkadian once did,” Lysippe Iphito remarked. “I vote to help the Venturians.”
“It is to our advantage to be rid of Abalam Robeus and have his daughter take the throne. Though she is not of our assemblage, she is a Daughter, I am told,” Queen Antianeira said.
“She is a Daughter of the Multitude, aye,” Galatea offered. “Her practice of the arts must be kept secret for her sire is a mad dog, as we all know, and would surely put her to the stake if he felt like it.”
“I vote yes,” Queen Antianeira said.
“Six votes to two,” Celadina, Kynthia’s sister announced, “for my vote is to help.”
“I vote no,” Eurybe, Abbess of Agriculture put in. “I’ve no love for the Venturians any more than the Akkadians and Pleiadesians. What help have any of them ever given us when there was famine or drought?”
“Lord Krull sent water wagons to Bandar when there was a drought four years ago,” Queen Mona said softly. “And as I remember, he also sent flour and grains to you a year before that.”
“Because you lay with him,” Flavia spat.
“That is enough!” Queen Antianeira shouted. “I will have no more of your wicked tongue. If you can not be civil in this assembly, take yourself from it!”
“I vote no, as well,” another Councilwoman spoke up. “I have no beef with Krull but I do not like sending our women to a war that is not of our making.”
“Six to four, then,” Flavia’s friend Okypous said smugly. She turned to the woman beside her. “What say you, Harmothoe?”
“I vote no,” the Abbess of Womanly Arts replied.
“Six to five,” Okypous said. “That leaves Antiopeia and the Mother Superior.”
“I vote no,” Antiopeia, the Abbess of Sporting said.
“We have a tie,” Queen Antianeira said with a sigh. “Mother Superior, how do you vote?”
Mother Tecmessa swept her gaze around the room. She studied Galatea, Kynthia then finally Queen Mona. Known for her impartiality and her wisdom, she had been the Mother Superior at the Abbey for over thirty years. Each of the women seated on the Council of Elders had studied their letters under Tecmessa and she knew them all well.
The Councilwomen and those who had been allowed to sit in on the discussion and vote locked their gazes on Mother Tecmessa, and waited breathlessly for her to cast the deciding vote.
“Krull,” Mother Tecmessa finally said, “has proven himself a friend to both the Amazeen and the Daughters of the Night. What—if anything—he has done for the Multitude remains to be seen, but should not enter into the decision here. As we have been reminded, it is to our advantage to be rid of Abalam Robeus. He is an evil man who preys on young children and for that alone, he should be cast into the lowest depths of the Abyss.”
The women nodded and voiced their agreement to that statement.
“To turn aside when we are asked to help a man who has gone out of his way to help us, who, in fact, risked
his life to avenge the brutal death of one of our own, would make us no better than the thieving Pleiades or the arrogant Akkadians. Therefore, my vote is yes.”
Applause broke out among those who voted and those who could not but were behind the plan.
“But…” Mother Tecmessa said, holding up her hand for silence. “If the Lord High Commander of the Venturian Forces and his Captain of the Guard wish our help, they must come and ask for it. They must come alone—without escort—to prove they trust us if we are to trust them. Only then will we agree to ride beside them—not behind them—into battle.”
Galatea turned and looked at Kynthia. “Will they do it?”
Kynthia shrugged. “I don’t know. I would think so, but I will have to ask Leksi.” On impulse, she stood up. “If,” she said, drawing all eyes to her. “If they agree to come, will their safety be guaranteed?” She turned her stare to Flavia.
“Why? Are the little boy soldiers afraid of us?” Flavia asked with a chuckle. “They should be. I’ve the right eye and thumb of many a man pickled in brine and lined up neatly on a shelf over my desk.”
A few of those gathered laughed at the boast, but Queen Antianeira had had enough and stood up, her arm straight out in front of her, finger pointing. “Leave this room, Flavia Pantasriste. We have endured enough of your venom and spite for one evening!”
Flavia shot to her feet, swept her gown aside and flounced from the room, Okypous like a little puppy following a few steps behind.
“You’d better watch that one, Kynni,” Celadina whispered. “I don’t trust her or that smarmy little toad who hopped away behind her.”
“Will the warriors’ safety be guaranteed?” Kynthia asked again.
“No woman’s hand will be lifted against them,” Queen Antianeira vowed. “This I swear for all the Amazeen.”
* * * * *
Flavia cursed viciously as she swept into her quarters. So angry was she, she forgot Okypous was behind her and slammed the door in the other woman’s surprised face. A timid knock on the door brought instantaneous fury to the face of the Abbess of Education and when she threw the door open, was only mildly appeased to find her only friend and supporter standing there.
“Well, don’t just hover there like a timid hummingbird, Okypous. Come in!” Flavia ordered.
“If this is a bad time, Lady Flavia—”
“What is the name of that cousin of yours in Nebul?” Flavia interrupted.
“Phoebe?”
“No, fool!” Flavia snarled. “The male!”
“Oh,” Okypous said, her face brightening. “You mean Sorath.”
“Aye,” Flavia said, narrowing her eyes. “That was the bastard’s name. He is something in the Pleiadesian government, is he not?”
“I believe he is the Chief of the Secret Police,” was the reply.
Flavia smiled nastily. “Think you he might be interested to know there is a plan afoot to invade his country?”
Okypous frowned. “We would let him know our warrioresses are coming?” she asked, her voice strained. “Would that not be a treasonous thing to do?”
“Of course not, you dolt!” Flavia shouted, and struck the other woman a vicious blow. “Our women will never leave Amazeen’s borders if I have anything to say about it!”
Staggered by the brutal slap, Okypous stood with her palm pressed to the stinging pain. She was shivering and dared ask nothing more for fear Flavia would attack her again.
“I want you to get a message to your cousin and use that special code you once told me about. We don’t want anyone to be able to decipher the missive should someone intercept the messenger. We do not want anyone to know what we are about,” Flavia was saying as she paced back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back. “Tell your cousin, Konan Krull and Leksi Helios will be making a trek to Amazeen within the next few days. Since they will be coming across our southwestern border from Tasjorn, he can have a troop lying in wait to capture them on the Qabala side.”
“Ah,” Okypous said, and flinched as Flavia turned to glare at her.
“Tell him under no circumstances is he to allow the Venturians to cross over to Amazeen land. They must be taken before entering our lands. Stress that to him. The Qabalans won’t interfere, cowards that they are, so there should be no worry there.”
A thought crossed Okypous’ mind and she opened her mouth to speak it, but was terrified of Flavia’s reaction. Instead, she clamped her lips shut and looked down at the floor.
“What?” Flavia demanded. “You have something to say?”
Her shoulders hunched in anticipation of a blow, Okypous asked what should happen if the Pleiadesians should slay the Venturians. Would not the Council of Elders find out about it and lay the blame on her and Flavia?
“Of course those bloodthirsty bastards won’t kill the great Lord High Commander, you fucking idiot! Nor would they murder Helios,” Flavia said. “Abalam would like nothing better than to have those two handsome brutes in his dungeon. Can you imagine the exquisite pain he will put them through?”
Unease rode Okypous’ shoulders. She gnawed on her lip until a bead of blood oozed over the thin surface. She stood watching Flavia pacing, talking all manner of wildness as she walked. Though she knew she should report this scheme of Flavia’s, she knew she would not. To do so would be to court certain death.
“Go,” Flavia ordered, taking hold of Okypous’ arm in a punishing grip and propelling her to the door. “Send word now to your cousin, and make sure whomever you send does not return to report where she went!”
Chapter Nine
Kynthia was waiting at the stream. The sun had set but a few moments before and the onset of autumn was in the air. She hovered in her cloak, wrapping it around her as though she were cold. In truth, she was not. Reapers rarely felt the cold for their body temperatures are much higher than a normal person’s. What she was feeling was nervousness and anticipation and as she drew the rough material of her light cloak up to her nose—only her eyes peeked out beneath the voluminous hood—she shifted from foot to foot.
A low growl came from Kirkor, and the white wolf got up from where it laid in a patch of grass and turned to the east.
“Is it him?”
The wolf looked back at her and seemed to grin.
“Go find your lady then,” she commanded. “I want no voyeurs about when I get my hands on the warrior.”
Kirkor shook his body, his tail whipping from side-to-side then he loped away, looking back once before disappearing in the forest beyond the stream.
Throwing aside her cloak, Kynthia smoothed the fabric of her gown over her thighs—she adjusted the bodice, tugging the short sleeves into place. Not the type of clothing she normally wore, she felt uncomfortable in the garment but beneath it, her legs were bare—free of stocking or boots. Likewise, she wore no banding about her breasts. She wanted no impediments to the warrior’s touch. The gown itself was of poor quality and she did not mind if it got ripped. In Aeolus’ saddlebags, there was a blouse and pair of breeches for later use.
Along with that wondrous portion of the warrior’s anatomy she could not stop thinking about.
“You are turning into a slut, Kynthia,” she mumbled to herself.
The neighing of a horse drew her attention and she squinted in that direction. Sniffing the air, her keen sense of smell caught Leksi Helios’ scent and her womb quickened. When the warrior came into view, she felt giddy with lust.
He was out of the saddle and running toward her, his strong arms opened wide. She flew to him, jumping into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and as their mouths locked upon one another, he swung her around and around.
The kiss was deep, their tongues dueling. Her breasts were pressed tightly to his hard chest and she could feel his stony erection pressing against her belly. He staggered a bit when he stopped spinning them around then dropped to his knees with a grunt muffled by her mouth.
His momentum carried her to her back and he wa
s fumbling at the skirt to her gown, shoving it aside so he could get his hand between them. The moment his palm touched the core of her, Kynthia came, her vaginal muscles tightening in quick little spasms that made her squeal with delight. She tore her mouth free of his and squealed again—a high-pitched tone of pure satiation.
“It would seem you missed me, wench,” he teased.
She made no reply but released his hips from her tight embrace and twisted her body, flipping over so their positions were reversed. She was above him, sitting upon his thighs, the skirt of her gown bunched around her own.
“That’s twice you have pleasured me, warrior, and I’ve yet to return the favor,” she said in a husky voice.
Leksi started to speak but her hands were on the clasp of his breeches, her fingers flying through the buttons. He gulped as she slipped her hand inside the fly and drew out his cock. The warmth of her hand was so intense he sighed with the sheer pleasure of it.
She stroked that long, erect tool and ran her fingertip over the slit in the tip, allowing her fingernail to delve gently inside.
“Wench!” Leksi gasped.
“Lay still, warrior and let me be about my business,” she said.
She leaned down and blew her hot breath across the head. It was all Leksi could do not to grab her, but he laid immobile, his blood beginning to quicken and his body trembling slightly.
Trying to remember all her aunt had imparted to her during their ride back from the Amazeen keep, Kynthia lightly gripped his weapon with one hand while she stroked its length with her other. She paid close attention to the underside of the head.
“Kynthia, I am—”
“Hush!” she ordered, and with one lithe movement was on her knees at his feet, tugging off his boots.
Leksi raised his head and watched as she drew off first one boot then the other, stripped him of his stockings then returned to his breeches. With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she tugged at the waistband and began drawing the breeches off, aided by the warrior lifting his hips to accommodate her.
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