QueensQuest (18 page)

The nearest entrance to the tangle of tunnels
interpenetrating the castle was behind an arras in a nearby convenience. I
grabbed a heavy torch, one of heavy wood with its butt-end wrapped in metal
bands before I pushed aside the arras and climbed up into a square, dark hole.
I blessed my frequent wanderings through Remarck’s secret places, for even with
light, someone who didn’t know the castle never could have found her way to my
rooms.

I slipped along the corridor until I reached the ventilation
shaft that took me to my sleeping chamber. Gazing down at my bed, I remembered
the morning when Storne had unexpectedly found me there, the sweetness of his
kisses on my bared breasts, Maia’s disapproval when she realized how cleverly
he’d sneaked into my room.

A room that, now, was empty of interlopers. I jumped down
onto the bed on silent feet, gripping the torch with a tense hand. I crept
toward the door, through it into my dressing room, crammed with gowns and
shoes, chests and mirrors, and thence to my suite’s outer chamber.

Ah. There was the clone, chafing its bare arms, peering
anxiously out the window. It watched Parron, his dark face intent, digging at
the sill with his blade’s edge. He seemed to be trying to gain entry, while
angry fists pounded at the suite’s outer door, shaking the furniture piled in
front of it.

The clone whimpered and sank to its knees. For a brief
moment, I allowed myself a flash of pity for it. It hadn’t asked for its pathetic
life, hadn’t asked to be brought to Remarck and thrown into global political
strife.

I squared my shoulders, hardened my heart and stepped into
the room, the torch upraised. Parron’s glance shifted from his task to my face,
and his brows lifted in surprise. The clone must have noticed, for it twisted,
swinging a knife at my hands. Nevertheless, I brought the lit torch down onto
its head, then used the metal-wrapped end to strike its skull with a crack.

Its hair caught fire, crackling and stinking. Lit wisps
trailed across its face, leaving blistered skin in their wake. But it felt
nothing, for it was dead before it hit the stone pavers beneath.

The conflict ended quickly. With both Prince-Scientist
Kaldir and the clone dead, the Lightsiders had no further reason to fight.
Compared to our warriors, they were poorly trained, dependent upon their
mysterious boxes. After they were disarmed, they were overpowered quickly by
conventional means. Those who had not been killed were sent back to Lightside
in chains.

But we endured losses. Many of our troops had died or been
injured by the Lightsider weapons. I learned later Rall’s heart had been burned
through as he jumped between a Lightsider blast and me when I chased the clone
into the castle. Frayn and Kloutt had also perished. Frayn’s spine had been
severed and Kloutt had died attacking a Lightsider after discovering his son’s
death. I believe that the truth about my family’s passing died with them.
Certainly I would never learn what plot Frayn had hatched with Kaldir.

Though I had wanted to crown Storne immediately, I sensed
that my people needed a period of time to calm, to bury our dead and to ponder
the vast and terrible events many had witnessed. Truth to tell, I also needed a
respite, to absorb what had happened and to mourn our fallen. Rall’s death
grieved everyone at Remarck.

I wondered also if all were certain that the true Queen
Audryn had prevailed. So I made a habit of riding forth with Storne daily to
reacquaint myself with my people, and to allow them to see me, hear my words
and listen to stories of my family and childhood. This, I felt, was the surest
way to their trust. And they were rightly curious about my chosen mate, he who
would be king.

A turning point came when Storne and I encountered a young
couple and their baby, the same family I had met after Kaldir and I had trysted
in the forest.

Then an infant, their daughter was now a cheerful baby, as
chubby-cheeked as her mother.

I dismounted from my mare. “You are the greengrocer,” I said
to the father, “and this is baby Beryla, hmm?”

Two pairs of eyes widened and two pairs of brows lifted. “Y-yes,”
the man stammered.

The mother had more aplomb. “Your Majesty honors us. That
you remember is very kind.”

“How could I forget the lovely baby you named after my
sister?” I stroked the baby’s cheek with a tentative finger, which she promptly
grabbed, wrapping her fist around it, gurgling and blowing spit-bubbles. I
rubbed my own baby-bulge, smiling.

“Her Majesty is also increasing,” Storne told the couple.
“We were fortunate that the battle at the Castle Remarck did not harm the
infants.” He massaged my lower back.

“Infants?” The woman breathed.

“Yes.” I grinned at her. “I believe there are two and the
Lady Caducia agrees.”

“She attended us,” the man said. “She is rarely wrong. She
told us long before Beryla was born that she would be a girl.” He and the
mother beamed at each other, then at their daughter.

“Blessings on you and your child,” I told them before
continuing down the lane toward the castle on foot, leading my mare by the
reins.

“That was a stroke of luck,” I told Storne, who walked
beside me, leading his charger.

“How so?”

“I have spoken with them before and they remembered. They
will spread the word that the queen recalled their infant daughter. That will
help the people to again accept me as their rightful ruler.” I bit my lip and
hoped that would be enough.

“The coronation ceremony will also help, I think.”

“Yes. Many who saw my Exhibition Day will recall me.”

* * * * *

The day of my seventeenth starturn dawned cool and gray, as
so many did in our lands. When two of our three moons soared high in the pewter
sky, Storne and I walked hand-in-hand to the terrace with Maia following.

As on my Exhibition Day, crowds filled the lawns between the
gated wall and the castle proper, with the usual booths selling food and drink.
Excitement, expectancy and conversation buzzed in the air.

All knew that this day was my seventeenth starturn, the day
on which I had sworn to crown my mate.

The big ceremonial bed dominated the wide stone platform.
The Golden Throne, today hung with chains, was set at one end and the Ten
Ministers stood somberly at the other. Frayn and Kloutt had been replaced.
Despite their possible treachery, I felt their loss. I was well aware that I
had no family but for the man by my side and the babies in my womb.

This day, I missed my parents and sister with a pain so
acute that it stabbed my heart. I even fancied that I sensed their presences.

In a pensive mood, I walked to the coping and regarded the
crowd below. I wore only a thin chemise but didn’t shiver in the cool air. I
allowed the thrilling day to permeate my soul.

“My dear friends.” I spread my hands. “I come before you
today in what should be joyous celebration, but instead I am reminded that on
these stones much blood has been spilled.”

Shadowlanders shifted and murmured.

“But even as the battle and loss of life were necessary, the
spillage of some blood is sometimes necessary. My own Exhibition Day is proof
of that truth.”

I paused, and in the quiet, a man shouted, “Blessings on our
Queen Audryn!”

Others responded, “Blessings! Blessings!” Murmurs grew to
shouts and I breathed deeply to avoid bursting into tears.

If I had ever left, they had taken me back into their
hearts.

I beckoned to Storne, who was already naked as custom
required. He joined hands with me and we gladly went to the bed.

We kneeled, facing each other for a long quiet moment before
he reached for me. He framed my face in his hands and looked into my eyes, then
kissed me. I purred with pleasure from deep in my throat and heard answering
moans from my people. I knew in my heart rather than sensed with my ears and
eyes that they were also kissing, touching, caressing their mates even as
Storne and I kissed, touched, caressed.

My knees touched his. I swayed, and our bodies brushed
lightly, the tips of my breasts ever-so-slightly rubbing his chest. His curls
tickled my nipples, more sensitive now that I was pregnant. He thrust his
tongue into my mouth, meeting mine, and I held his buttocks to remain upright.
I wanted to tumble to the bed with him in my arms, and yet wanted this moment,
this delicious anticipation, to last forever.

He cupped my breast in his hand, and teased its tip with a
finger. My nipple drew tighter as my labia swelled and tingled. He pinched hard
enough to sting, and I cried out. He bent his head to soothe away the tiny hurt
with a lick and a suck.

My cries turned to moans and he sucked harder, holding my waist
in both hands, lifting me to his mouth, caressing each areola in turn until I
went limp and pliant in his arms. Desperate to feel his entire body on mine, I
held on to his broad shoulders and pulled myself closer.

His cock brushed my belly and his liquid, sticky, held his
rod in place. I leaned even closer and slipped a hand between his legs to
caress his balls, which I found drawn up high and tight. I opened my legs so my
knees were outside his, and he pushed me back so his moist, hard cock slid
along my pussy. I was newly shaved, and the contact was electric, zinging
through me like a ray of the Lightside sun.

But he wasn’t ready to take me yet, instead running large,
warm hands up and down my sides. Tingling and heat enveloped me, and I opened
my legs wider. My pussy gaped open, then closed, open and closed, like another
mouth begging for his kiss.

He stroked down my body with his long dark mane. Every hair
on my sensitized skin lifted in response. I lifted my arms above my head and
stretched. My breasts thrust into the air, and I heard a groan I recognized as
Lord Geoman. I smiled.

“Do it!” Caducia hissed.

Storne raised his head, visibly startled. I looked also, and
saw that she was addressing Lord Parlous, not Storne. All of the Ten were
occupied in various combinations. I especially envied Mercourie, who was enjoying
three partners, one kissing her mouth, one licking her large breasts and
another with his head buried in her dark-furred quim.

“Well,” Storne said, smiling. “A happy minister is a
productive one, I trow.”

I laughed.

He bent his head again to me and fastened his mouth to my
pussy, sliding his tongue into my open, needy slit. I flung my legs into the
air on each side of his head and wriggled, and Storne gripped my hips, digging
his fingers into my arse before he rubbed his upper lip on my clitoris. His
breath puffed over my cunt as he deep-kissed my vagina, continuing to caress my
clit. He increased the pressure and I moaned, the excitement building.

I wrapped my legs around his shoulders, bringing him in,
bucking to rub my clit against him. I wanted to come, and come fast. I had
noticed since I became pregnant, my greed, my randiness had increased. I needed
my tension relieved before I could really have fun.

I was on a hair-trigger, and a single slap on my arse shot
me over the edge. My orgasm swept over me in insistent waves. I arched and
writhed, crying out while Storne thrust his cock into my quivering pussy.

My cries of pleasure increased to shouts of delight as he
buried his rod so deeply that the glans touched my womb. I heard my pleasure
echoed by my people. Gasping, I came again, with his thick stem swelling as he
spurted his seed inside me.

Storne rolled over, and his skin pulled away from mine,
sticky with sweat. The aroma of male musk filled my nostrils. His heavy breaths
evened, joining their rhythm with mine.

I rested for a few minutes, then asked, “Are you ready?”

He gulped but answered gamely, “I am.”

We went to the Golden Throne and he sat gingerly on the firm
cushion in the middle. He lifted brawny arms high, resting them on the Throne’s
elaborately carved back. I bound his right wrist to the Throne.

A collective sigh escaped the populace.

Then his left, and murmurs arose.

I wrapped more chains around his neck, his waist, his legs
until he was secured to the Throne.

I kneeled to give him fealty. I kissed his ankles, then
caressed up his legs with my lips, feathering his inner thighs with fingers and
tongue. I rubbed my cheeks against the muscles, enjoying the faint scratch of
hair. He groaned, his cock again standing high. I buried my face in his crotch
and breathed deeply, delighting in the aroma of aroused male. I licked his
balls then stroked up the length of his rod with my tongue.

He groaned and I circled the round head, nipping and
flicking.

“Please…”

“Please, what?”

“You’re torturing me.”

“Yes, and isn’t it nice?”

I stroked his tip with my tongue, licking just inside the
tiny hole. He grunted, and his hips jerked. His rod pushed halfway into my
mouth, and I took the invitation, sucking him into the depths of my throat.
Swallowing, I allowed his glans to rub against the bony ridge of my palate.

A strangled cry rent the air as Storne came in my mouth, his
sperm jetting in a thick stream. I sucked and swallowed, but still, his body
wrenched and thrashed.

I looked up to see Storne’s muscular body, gleaming with
sweat, straining against the chains. I stood and placed a hand on his chest.
“Don’t resist,” I murmured.

His strained pants gradually calmed as he relaxed into the
chains holding him to the Golden Throne. He blinked rapidly, seeming to come
back into himself, and met my gaze.

“I understand,” he said quietly. He clutched the back of the
Throne with his bound hands. “It—they—will never let me go.”

I nodded.

“And I will never let them go. I will never fail them, or
you. Never.”

I smiled and released him. As each chain slid off his
wrists, his ankles, from around his waist, the murmurs of the people rose to
delighted shouts.

“Blessings on our king! Blessings on Storne! Blessings!
Blessings!”

The Shadowlands had accepted my choice, and a knot of
tension I had not realized I carried between my shoulders finally relaxed.

Only then did I set the King of Shadow’s crown on Storne’s
head.