Miladys Wiles Chapters 13-16 free porn video

"Milady's Wiles" by Brandy Dewinter with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright Chapter 13 More Than Sleeping Together I truly had inspection duties to accomplish as part of this trip so I spent much of each of the next several days out and about the lands of North Vale. I had become accustomed to the discomfort of riding in the maiden's lover, even sidesaddle, and actually enjoyed the crisp autumn air in the higher elevations of this barony. The logging operations that had once occupied an inordinate amount of a Council meeting were proceeding at good pace. This would actually result in less flooding of Clifton, the neighboring barony. The roads into the virgin forest that had been cut to support logging operations allowed the woodsmen access to already fallen trees in place of live trees from the periphery of the forest. Clearing these from the deeper woods would have less impact on runoff than in prior winters. On the other hand, Julia's task was not proceeding well. Strane remained attentive, impossibly polite, and unbelievably unaware of Julia's flirtations. I teased, she defended, Strane ignored. Julia began to complain of bruises on her tongue from all the times she had bitten it rather than launch a vitriolic attack on 'His Denseness' as she had taken to calling him. "I have done everything but rub my bosom against his arm as you did with Lyonidas," she claimed one night as we readied for bed. "That was an accident!" "Right, and Strane is seething with passion," she snorted. "He's probably afraid of what would happen, after the episode with Olrin," I offered. "No. One thing I'll say for Strane, I don't think he's afraid of anything. I'm not sure why, but I think he'd walk into the fires of hell if his duty required it." That triggered an idea in me, "Maybe that's how you can get him." Her eyes held no sign of understanding so I continued, "Make it part of his duty to kiss you. Then he'll have no choice." "I am not that desperate for men that I can only get a kiss through appealing to his duty!" I let a single arched eyebrow answer her comment. I swear, the ends of her fiery hair began to lift like living flames as she prepared to vent all of her pent-up fury at me for my implication. Yet even as her eyes began to spark, her shoulders slumped. "Perhaps you're right," she sighed. I took her in my arms to comfort her, finding my lips near her ear as my cheek cradled hers. "No, my beautiful Lady, you are not desperate for men. But you may need to appear so as part of your duty." Her own voice was barely a whisper in my own ear, "Am I really your Lady?" "Now, and forever," I promised. In my heart that promise was more than liege to vassal. I couldn't tell her that, though. We held each other for a long, wonderful moment, though the moment went nowhere but into oblivion. Then we moved to the bed and slipped quietly under the covers, huddled together now as was our custom. In the dark, her quiet voice had no trouble reaching my so-close ear, "Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Goodness, her troubles with Strane really were undermining her selfesteem. At least this question was easy to answer. "Milady Julia, you are the most beautiful of all God's creations, and you are very pretty as well." I could almost hear her smile in the darkness as she snuggled closer for delicious warmth, all the more precious because it was unnecessary. The next day dawned crisply clear with a special tang in the air that promised it would be one of few left in the year. We were up and about early, completing as best we could the inspection Mother had ordered. The newly-created Baron of North Vale actually had things well in hand, which I had known from the first day we arrived, but it was good to let him show off his competence so that I could duly report it back to the Queen. We recognized that the visit would soon have to end if we were go get back to Stalwart Guard before the roads became impassable, yet we had not succeeded in our secondary mission. That night I retired early to my studies. I had brought along sufficient new information that I had no lack of interesting concepts to pursue. And I had brought my flute as well. Consumed in my private exercises, I lost track of time. When next I thought of the hour it was actually quite late, though Julia had not returned. I summoned Minah for myself and had just gotten into bed when Julia arrived. She respected my repose by saying nothing, merely removing her own clothes and donning her nightgown unaided. She slipped in continued silence into her side of the bed but instead of huddling close to me she lay with her back to me, as far to her side of the bed as possible. I wondered if I had done something unconsciously wrong in going to bed so early. As I was trying to find some way to word an apology to an error I was not even sure I had made, I realized that Julia was shaking with silent sobs that were growing in intensity. Rolling close to her, I snuggled into her back and wished once again that my steel prison was not in the way. My false bosom held me back from truly molding myself to her, the stiff cups threatening to jab her painfully rather than provide healing warmth. "Do you want to talk?" I asked gently. In response, she rolled toward me and drew her arms in like a small child. I wrapped my own arms around her and cradled her soft tresses on my own shoulder to make a pillow for her. As though a dam had broken, her tears burst forth accompanied by gasping sobs that threatened her with the lack of air her own corset allowed. "Tell me what happened," I ordered. Well, more of a suggestion though with enough force to make it clear that her words would not be selfish complaint but response to my opening. "I . . . kissed . . . him," she gulped out between heaving attempts to breathe. "That was what you came here for," I gently reminded her. "But it was awful," she cried. "We were watching the stars and I said that a maiden's fondest dream was to be kissed by a strong man under a starlit sky. He just nodded. Then I said, 'I am a maiden who has never had that dream fulfilled.' He just nodded again." She stopped at this point, too embarrassed to continue, but I urged her on with a slight nudge. "Then I turned to him and put my arms around his neck and kissed him. Like a barroom strumpet. Like I had no pride at all. Like I was so desperate for men that I had to fling myself at anyone who would put up with me!" Her gulping breaths became even more painful, "Then . . . when I moved back . . . I saw the most . . . satisfied . . . smirk . . . on his face." Her anger began to overcome her shame, "He agreed with me! I could see it in his eyes. He thought I was a cheap floozy, too overcome with my own needs for any dignity at all!" "That smug, self-satisfied, slug! I'll kill him for making me beg for a kiss!" Her voice had risen but I let my own quiet tones remind her of the need for discretion even as I replied, "That's the idea." It brought her up short in her tirade. If we were contemplating murder, then acting a bit undignified was surely no greater crime. Or greater demand from duty. It defused her anger but in its place, shame returned. She buried her face in my own long hair and shook once more with silent sobs. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I should do but suddenly I found myself doing something that I knew I shouldn't do. I took her chin in my hand and lifted her face from my shoulder. Lowering my lips to hers I caressed them with gentle warmth, trying to replace the memory of her shame with one of true . . . what? The pressure of her lips increased as she lifted her head to meet my lowered one. Her arms clutched at me with strength fueled by a desperate need for reconfirmation of her femininity, of her desirability, of her ability to feel passion from an act that had so recently filled her with disgust. I was only too glad to supply such reassurances as I could. Julia herself had taught me some of the duet that lips and tongues and beating hearts could play. I explored with her a new composition on that theme, point and counter point, melody and descant, building to a climax that created an almost-pleasurable pain in my so-terribly-confined intimate reactions. Though the room was already dark I felt a greater darkness flooding in behind the pounding in my ears and the unsteady rhythm of my frantic heart. I felt the strength leave my own embrace as the world receded far away, connected by only the single thread of her lips. Then even that faded away. My next sensation was of a none-too-gentle nudge accompanied by a silvery giggle. "Do you always fall asleep in the middle of a kiss?" Julia teased. Her good humor hid the fact that her own breath had become short enough to demand most . . . interesting . . breathing exercises. Exercises I could see only too well from my position. I had been rolled over onto my back and now Julia leaned over me, her bosom literally heaving with demand for air. It was as difficult as anything I could remember doing to look up from that so-graceful set of curves to meet Julia's eyes glowing softly in the dim light of our night candle. "I . . . would hardly . . . call it . . . sleep," I gasped. "Perhaps your corset is just too tight," she offered in explanation. An explanation accompanied by a wandering hand that traced the gentle curve of my so-tightly-confined waist. I felt my body move into her hand as though controlled by an outside force. My heart started another upward spiral and my gasps became too forceful for words. She took pity on my predicament and lowered her lips for another kiss before I died another small death. Her lips were softer than ever, swollen now with more fullness than I had felt before. Yet as I once again began to sense the greater darkness swallow me she lifted her head and smiled at me. "Thank you," she whispered. "Milady Wonderful, it is I who should thank you," I managed to get out. "No, though I am gratified that you found my kisses sweet," she grinned. "But you have shown me in ways that cannot be falsified that you do indeed find me attractive." "I think that is a valid conclusion from our little . . . experiment," I smiled. "We'll have to tell the Queen to give you a bit less constraining corset, though," she said. "If only we could," I sighed. "But this has become my acknowledged shape, now. All her gowns fit this form, not anything more relaxed. It seemed like the only option at the time." Julia snuggled down into the cradle of my arm again, snickering quietly as she moved a portion of my hair that was soaked from her prior tears. "I guess I'll just have to help you get used to it," she whispered. I wanted to ask her just what sort of help she had in mind, but the moment was too magic for further words so I just tightened my arms about her and held her until her regular breathing showed she had fallen asleep. My own sleep was not so quick in coming. Who was I? What was I? What was right for me? Why could both Lyonidas and Julia arouse such passion in me that I would swoon within my too-tight corset? Why did only Julia elicit a response from a more intimate area as well? How much of me was me? And how much was Mother? The fruitless spiral of my thoughts eventually claimed my consciousness but my dreams provided no clearer answers. True to expectations, Strane dispatched a message rider the next day. He courteously offered to convey any messages we might have as well so I included facts and figures from my inspections as though the data were too critical to wait until we traveled ourselves. If our true purpose had been no more than our claimed purpose, to inspect North Vale, we would have set out ourselves. But our true purposes were many and complex. We had been away from Lyonidas for a time to keep that relationship from going too far, too fast. In it's place Julia and I shared a togetherness that was much more than sisters could understand. I tried to keep it out of my thoughts, to keep it out of my eyes, to keep it from being proclaimed by my face, but every time I looked at her fiery hair and sparkling eyes a blush would mount my cheeks. I could feel it as though I carried a looking glass around with me. Unfortunately, or fortunately, as God is my witness I couldn't tell which, a cold rain started that afternoon. The crisp chill brought color to a lot of faces, giving the lie of apparent excitement to weather that was drearily heavy. I busied myself with my studies for the day and Julia had brought a most intricate embroidery with her. We spent the day in our room, carefully not looking at each other. Or so we pretended. But it seemed only moments would go by and I would lift my eyes to find her own rising to meet my glance. It always brought a flare of heat to my cheeks and a smug satisfaction to hers. One time when I looked up though, I saw her staring out the window at the heavy grey skies instead of doing her work. "What are you thinking about?" I asked. "What we have to do to Strane," she answered. "Do you think it is wrong?" "No, it is our duty. We cannot meet them on the field of battle, and they have stolen all our men from us. I will kill that cold man without regret. Actually, I was just trying to decide how we might do it." Julia, my strong, practical, lady, I thought. I wished I had her fierce intensity, even if it made her seem harsh to others. I knew that in her so- feminine breast beat a heart full of love and passionate energy, but in her case she could balance it with a strength of character I could only envy. "Tell me of your thoughts," I requested. At that, she turned to look at me. There was a hint of . . . what? . . . guilt, or sorrow, or something in her eyes. "There is a way, but I cannot do it alone. In fact, you would have to strike the killing blow yourself." I just nodded. Whatever the demands of duty, I had no choice but to try and do my part. She looked out the window as she began to speak as though avoiding eye contact, or perhaps a mental connection with the distance out the portal would provide an emotional distance from a cold-blooded plan for murder. "The balcony where we have been walking in the evenings is reached through a dark stairway. There is a guard niche near the top, though how an enemy could gain access to the balcony is not clear. Nonetheless, the niche is there. If you were to hide in the niche, wearing a dark dress and covering your hair, you could get behind Strane as we reached the opening to the balcony. I could pause at the doorway. At this time his back would be unprotected." An elegant plan, simple, direct, and utterly unscrupulous. If I felt restricted by the honor men require of themselves, I would have refused. But for women who need to overcome their physical weakness by mental toughness and guile it was perfect. I nodded once again. With out decision made it remained only to work out the implementing details. I sent Julia in search of an appropriate bludgeon, blunt so as to support our excuse that Strane had fallen down the stairs. A sword cut would hardly be appropriate. For myself, I went to my wardrobe to find a suitable outfit. Among the many gowns that Mother had sent I found a dark grey ensemble that seemed too useful for coincidence. The outfit was really a knitted top with a separate skirt. The top was longsleeved and unadorned, though there was an overvest with bright embroidery. And best of all there were leggings as I had once worn that could be concealed by the removable skirt until the time came for quiet movement, perhaps in tight quarters. There was a matching snood that would contain my hair, though in accordance with Lyonidas' edict I would not be able to wear that until the moment for stealth arrived. When fully dressed all appeared normal. Before we went down to supper Julia and I strolled in apparent leisure to her favorite balcony. There, in the guard niche we placed the bludgeon and the snood. The cold rain was blowing through the opening, though not badly. It was enough to leave a sheen of dampness on the steps near the doorway, but not enough to make an excursion obvious folly. At supper it was difficult for me to act naturally. I was too introspective, thinking of our plot, thinking of murder. "Highness, you seem ill at ease this evening. Is anything the matter?" Baron Spencer inquired politely. I dredged up a grin and answered, "Well for one, you are still calling me Highness." Then before he could return to his question, I provided a reasonable answer, "It is the weather. I do not like cold rain. I think I will probably retire early this evening." "Not me," Julia chirped brightly. "I like a stormy night. I like to feel the energy in the air and smell the fresh cleanness when everything is washed new." "Strane, will you escort me up onto our balcony again?" she asked. In her eyes was an invitation that offered more than a simple walk. The smug smile on his face would have confirmed me in my purpose if I had wavered. The though that this cold, unfeeling man thought himself good enough for my Julia awakened emotions within me that were as powerful as they were confusing. I excused myself to cover my distress at the thought of his lips on my beautiful redhead's lips, his arms around her slim waist, his . . . It took self control that I knew came from Mother's impressed personality for me to walk from the dining chamber with patient grace. Once clear of the room I walked quickly through the small castle to our appointed rendezvous. My skirt was removed in a few seconds, the billowing petticoats in only a few more. The inside of the skirt was dark enough to conceal the pile of material, though I feared the delicate fabrics of the undergarments would not survive the night. My brightly embroidered vest joined the pile, itself inverted into equivalent darkness. The snood covered my golden halo, such an inappropriate image for murder anyway, and I took the thick club in my hands to wait. Perhaps if I hadn't had to wait, I would have been less tempted to think. Thinking is a dangerous pastime when you wait to murder someone. My legs were free of skirts in public for the first time since the day I had become Cherysse. I missed my beautiful skirts, my femininity. I missed the graceful sweep of them and the illusion of protection the wide buffer of petticoats provided. If anyone saw me now, my secret would be exposed, my death would follow immediately. As would Julia's. As would Mother's. More than that, for the first time I would have to behave as a man. Not as young Deacon, the boy child, but as Deacon the man, the killer. I could no longer claim to be fulfilling my duty by smiles and delicate gestures of my wrist. I had to be a man and do a man's work. Violent work. Ugly work. It was just an execution, I told myself, much as had been done to Bareth and my uncles. Yet it was murder, too. It was well within my abilities as Deacon, I told myself, but I felt much more like Cherysse. Perhaps for the first time, I really wanted to be Cherysse. A girl would not be expected to wait with a club to take a man's life. Brutally. From the darkness like a coward. A man should not have to be a coward. A girl should not have to be a murderer. What was I? What did I have to do? My duty became clear before my heart resolved the rightness of it. Julia gave me plenty of warning, chattering brightly as she ascended the stairs. I turned the lightness of my face into the shadow and tried to disappear as one more shadow among many. Her voice gave me a clear track on their progress, along with the rustle of her skirts and tap of her court shoes. Strane moved silently. Except for our plan I would not have known he was there. So I waited until she was well past before carefully looking out from the niche. She stood on the top steps, drawing his attention past her shoulder even as she stood within the last bit of shelter within the doorway. "Oh, look, Strane, at the halo the moon makes through the clouds. The rain must be slacking off." My slim leggings made no sound at all as I stepped out from my hiding place. The heavy club I held seemed surprising light in my hands as I wound my body up in a deliberate imitation of the coiled spring that had once characterized Drayson. It was an execution, I told myself. The justification for my assassination rang within my mind as I took the final step, "For my father, who never loved me yet whom my mother loved. For my brother, Tamor, whom Julia loved. For Drayson, whose hands I held between my own as I took his loyalty oath. And for Bareth, who among all men was the only one that ever respected me." The club caught Strane just at the base of his neck, sinking so deeply that I knew the bones were crushed. He collapsed without a sound but I caught him before he could hit the ground. "Quickly, Julia, catch some water to put on his boots," I ordered, gasping under the weight. She dampened his boots and the step as well, adding some to her own feet with foresight I didn't appreciate right then. Together we held his body upright as I squeezed past to stand beside her on the highest step. Then we pushed Strane's lifeless body down the dark stair, losing it to gloom before it had even stopped moving. "Let me get back to my room before you cry out," I said. "Of course," she replied, a feral grin on her face that showed more pleasure than I wanted to think about right then. I had to dress before I moved past Strane in case someone else saw me so it was a terribly long time before I was on my way. I was sure that at any second someone would see his broken body, leading inexorably to a demand for explanations I could not provide. But my fear were groundless. In moments I again appeared the demure, well-dressed princess. Picking up my skirts to avoid any contact with the dead body, I moved quickly to my room. As soon as I was there I summoned Minah to help me change into my dressing gown. She took the ruined petticoats and hid them in a trunk of her own clothes, adding the leggings and snood that were inappropriate for my attire. Then we sat down to wait in a painfully-tense repeat of the night of Olrin's murder. I almost fainted when a harsh knocking sounded at our door. "Your Highness, Princess Cherysse, come quickly. There has been a terrible accident." I nodded at Minah but sat quietly at my desk. When the door opened, Baron Spencer himself stood in the doorway. "What accident?" I asked as I stood quickly, letting him see my hurry. "Lord Strane of High Canyon has fallen and killed himself." "What? How?" Playing a part was never harder. "He and Lady Julia went to the balcony they have favored lately. Julia says she slipped a little, and Strane fell himself in saving her." "Is Julia all right?" "Yes, fine, though she is shaken by the experience. She may also have to fear a chill since her own shoes are wet." As though this were a cue Julia appeared down the hallway, escorted by Baroness Pamela and two or three other attendants. They swept into our room as though they owned it, which I guess they did, and started stripping Julia of her wet clothes even as I stood talking to Baron Spencer. Minah took the edge of the door and started to close it in a pointed demand for privacy. Nodding at her, I followed Spencer out into the hallway and we went to look at the body. It looked different in the light of the torches held by bystanders. More crumpled somehow, helpless. No longer something to be feared, no longer something that justified cowardly assassination rather than honest combat. Strane had not been a man to like but he had not been without honor in the service of his own king. For the first time I realized what I had done in a way that was more than intellectual. I had murdered a human being and that sin would be with me to my grave. It made me suddenly ill to think of it and I nearly collapsed. "Are you all right, Highness?" Spencer asked. I just nodded, trying to swallow the bile that threatened my throat. Trying at the same time to draw clean air into my lungs, and failing as always within that despicable garment that imprisoned me. It was several moments before I could speak. "Have you examined the body? You're sure he was hurt in a fall?" I asked. "Yes, certainly. Look, there is no blood, no cut. Strane was a strong man and no attacker could have killed him without a fight, except with a stab from behind. Also, look here. His neck is broken, obviously from one of the stairs." The close range display of his broken body threatened once again to overwhelm me and I had to turn away. Baron Spencer moved as though to comfort me but I waved him weakly away as I leaned against a nearby wall. When I could, I stood straight once again. "You say he died protecting Julia?" "Yes, Highness, at least, that is her story and it makes sense. The top steps can get slippery. If she started to stumble, he would have supported her which might easily have caused him to overbalance himself." "Very well, or actually this is very bad. It will not go over well with our 'guests'. Make sure that everyone involved makes a statement witnessed by a priest, excepting only Lady Julia who will accompany me back to Stalwart Guard." "Are you leaving then?" "Yes, as soon as possible in the morning. Have, um, something done with the body so that we can transport it back with us. I'm sure Lyonidas will want to see for himself. Oh, and get some of his men up here before anything is moved. Make them witness as well, though they may refuse to witness before one of our priests if they choose." I sighed with all the emphasis my steel companion allowed and concluded, "Now, I had better return to Lady Julia. I'm sure she is distressed." Even the dressing gown had enough sweep to allow a distinct gesture to emphasize my movement and I was unimpeded by further comments while I returned to our chamber. Julia was already in bed, looking very pale. I nodded to Minah who started to shoo the other attendants away then spoke to Baroness Pamela myself. "I think we should just get some rest, now." The Baroness looked at me and nodded, moving to follow the others who were departing. When she was gone, I dropped my own dressing gown and slid into bed beside Julia. "Are you all right?" I asked now in my turn. "Yes," she said, trying a small smile. It didn't work very well, but the effort itself was reassuring. "He looked so . . . different when the torches arrived." "I know. I didn't think it would be like this when we were planning his death." "His murder, you mean," Julia whispered. "His execution, if you will," I replied. She nodded, not convinced but not arguing. "Hold me," she asked quietly. "Only if you will hold me," I answered. We wrapped ourselves together and lay in silence until at some point sleep took us. Whether both together or one at a time I couldn't say. Chapter 14 Winterfair Day If the trip to North Vale had been a saga of increasing discomfort, the trip back to Stalwart Guard was an odyssey of unbearable torture. The storm that had been the trigger for Strane's murder had been expected to blow through and allow a few more days of moderate weather. Instead, the clouds had lowered even further and the temperature had dropped low enough that only the continued rain kept frost from forming. It was apparent the next morning that we would never make it all the way back in our carriage. Instead, we rode horses. Baron Spencer provided sturdy carts for our baggage, including the body of Strane pickled in alcohol and packed in a keg. I knew beyond doubt that when the time came for me to pay for my sin of murder my penance would be more of this trip. Unending rain caused unending mud that spattered everywhere on this unending journey. The itches under my maiden's lover that had been irritating on the trip out and constantly troublesome in the ten days we had spent in North Vale became a screeching demand for impossible attention with each jolt and stagger and slip of my horse as we forced our way along a road turned to glue. The trip out took four days. The trip back took eight, and even then it only ended because we required grooms to hold lanterns in our path so that we could reach the gates of Stalwart Guard long after dark. No matter how tired we were, and I was so exhausted I had to be helped down from my saddle, Mother knew nothing was more important that relief from our steel prisons. She had the water heated even as we were entering the gates and I slipped into the warm embrace before saying a single word. Julia was not far behind. It was the only time in my whole masquerade that I couldn't be troubled to open my eyes to look at her slender form when she slipped into the water. Mother had even provided brushes, stiff enough to assuage the screaming itches without being hard enough to damage our already-distressed skin. I scrubbed all the places I could reasonably reach then began to work on Julia's back. She returned the favor as soon as the worst of her own torments had been relieved. Then we slipped down in to the heavenly warmth and tried not to fall asleep lest we drown. "An hour ago I would have sworn that I never wanted to be wet again," I mused. "An hour ago, I was just swearing," Julia replied, humor re-entering her body with the life-giving heat from the bath. Mother began to wash my hair. She clucked and worried about the damage that the bad weather and limited cleansing had caused, but nothing was worth worrying about right then. Julia's hair was in no better shape but it responded to Mother's gentle ministrations, too. While for Julia it was humor, a sign of returning life in me was my interest in Julia's form as she leaned her elbows against the edge of the tub. She saw my gaze, even if Mother did not (or at least pretended not to notice), but this time her grin and wink indicated pleasure in my pleasure and appreciation. I think she got out of the tub more slowly than was her typical practice, offering me finger-span by finger-span of additional exposure. If the water had been any shallower, I think my response would have showed regardless of how low I settled into the slowly-cooling tub. It didn't help that Julia wore a thick, warm robe rather than her usual thin silk. At least, it didn't help enough. After all we had been through together, after all the indignities that circumstances had forced us to weather together, after sharing a murder, for the love of God you would have thought I'd be past embarrassment at my physical response. Well, you wouldn't have thought it if you looked. The bright color on my cheeks was matched by a darkly red evidence of excitement that wasn't going to diminish any time soon. Mother noticed. How could she not? "Dear, that's not going to be very comfortable." "I believe I am aware of that," I said tightly. "The palace hairdresser will simply not hear of you going to bed with wet, tangled hair so you both have to suffer his ministrations before you retire," she explained. "Considering the condition your hair was in when we started cleaning it, I suspect he is right. But that means we need to continue or it will be dawn before you even get to bed." Continue. Such a simple word for such a trial. Still the maiden's lovers had been cleaned while we bathed, the residue of a month of constant contact with our bodies removed and the inner side oiled. The silken tubes that had been our only protection from the steel were ruined beyond repair, but at least these could be replaced with new ones now that we were home. Once I was ready to take my part in our activities, Julia removed her robe. Mother provided Julia and I with sharp blades to remove the body hair that had grown surprisingly little under our devices. Oil applied directly to the skin aided a moisturization that had been desperately needed. When we had completed all the preparation steps we could reasonably include, Mother began the laborious task of lacing us into our tormentors. Actually, the fit was not too bad this time. My waist had shrunk considerably and what fat I had had redistributed to hips and bosom. Even without the maiden's lover I might be able to wear Mother's gowns. Now why was that desirable? Only in one area was the fit distressingly uncomfortable. However, as it had done so frequently before, that very discomfort eventually brought about a reduction in the distress, leaving it compressed enough to minimize further problems. Once we were safely locked away Mother handed us robes and we were led into the outer chamber. The palace hairdresser insisted that we spend what was left of the night with our hair wrapped around short, thick wooden pegs, but by then we were too tired to care. Someone, I never knew who, practically carried us to bed and I fell into a pit so deep that minor distractions like wooden pegs and compressed intimacies had no relevance. The next morning they had relevance. Of course my maiden's lover always had relevance in my life. Even the change in my body shape that made it less painful did nothing to relax the stiffness at the bosom and the rigidity in the nether plate. What was less expected was the effect the wooden pegs had on my hair. Great, bouncing curls remained behind when they were removed the next morning. With these energetic yet delightfully feminine shapes to build upon the palace hairdresser provided us with unfettered hair that was nonetheless formally styled. A new style of formality, to be sure, but wonderfully elegant. Gowns to take advantage of this energy were selected and we went to the throne room with joyful exuberance. Neither the joy nor the exuberance lasted very long. Lyonidas held an inquisition into the death of Strane that was frankly hostile. Actually, Lyonidas was silent while Reynal was hostile. He started in on Julia as soon as Mother took her seat. "What were you doing when Strane met his untimely death?" I interrupted her response. Perhaps a month in charge of an independent party had awakened within me a sense of responsibility. Whatever the reason, I would not stand idly by while someone attacked one who had been part of my group. My eyes locked on Lyonidas while I spoke, though my words were for Reynal. I did not use the simpering voice I had once used. Instead, I spoke in calm, reasoning tones, using only the musical animation of a feminine voice to force Reynal to accept my intercession. "Excuse me, General, but could you explain what is going on?" He sputtered a bit, but I still looked only at Lyonidas. In his eyes I saw pain and embarrassment and guilt, and even a bit of fear that I knew was not for himself. I felt the power of the white-cold mind building within me and I knew I could use any of those seams in the tapestry of his mind to insinuate suggestions he already appeared half ready to accept. I would not, though. This was not a time for coercion, not of Lyonidas. I let a memory of our last kiss float up into my own eyes, balanced by sadness of my own that one who had been so close to me would trust me so little. General Reynal was speaking by this time and I let his words become part of my conscious thoughts. "We are trying to get to the bottom of what happened to Lord Strane." I finally let my eyes move from Lyonidas to Reynal and asked, "Have you read the reports we provided?" "Yes, but there are several irregularities," claimed Reynal. "Which things in the reports, specifically, seem irregular?" I asked, still speaking in dulcet tones of sweet reason, eminently ready to help in any way that I could. As long as that did not involve interrogation of my people directly. "I don't believe Strane would just slip on some steps and fall hard enough to break his neck!" Reynal declared. "Have you inspected Lord Strane's body?" I was finding that the Queen's technique of asking questions instead of answering them was pretty effective. "Yes, and the damage is not right." "His neck is not broken?" This earned him the derision of an elegantly lofted eyebrow. "No, it is broken, all right, but not from a fall," Reynal asserted. "Have you seen the steps at North Vale?" "No, but, . . ." I interrupted again, "Then on what basis do you make that claim?" "Strane would not have fallen. He was the most sure-footed rock climber in High Canyon." "Did you know he often went to that balcony with Lady Julia?" Now I was controlling the questions, sending them into a tangent that Reynal had not expected. "Yes, but . . ." "Do you know what they would do on that balcony?" This brought a nice gasp from the audience in the throne room. Reynal just snorted, but my eyes were back on Lyonidas, and I spoke again before Reynal formed an answer. "It seems that some men of High Canyon visit Achaiean maidens on high balconies. Sometimes they kiss." I let pain that was only too real into my eyes as I said this and then let my eyes drop when I continued. "Sometimes, I suppose, the men of High Canyon even enjoy this experience enough to look forward to doing it again." I sighed, still looking down, then with a shrug I looked up and carefully avoided Lyonidas' eyes. "Though I wouldn't know about that. Still, Lady Julia has told me that Strane kissed her the night before. He seemed most anxious to return with her to the balcony that evening, though it was raining. She hesitated at the doorway and slipped." Now I turned to look Reynal directly in the face and gathered up the power of the white-cold mind to full purpose. My voice hardened with righteous anger as I continued, "General Reynal, Strane was a man whom my closest friend found appealing enough that she would consent to his kiss. He gave his life to protect her from injury. I don't care whether he was from Achaiea, or High Canyon, or some place we've never heard of, that was a noble gesture. I will not have you degrade the nobility of an honorable man with accusations formed from ignorance. You have the sworn statements of your own men that this was an accident. You have the sworn statements of Achaiean nobles that this was an accident. Will nothing satisfy you except more blood?" I had reinforced this claim with all the power of the white-cold mind that I could call upon. Reynal wanted to believe that Strane had died a noble death rather than an ignoble one. His only possible murderer was Julia and the thought that a mere girl could have beaten a warrior of High Canyon was distasteful to him. With these existing desires to build on Reynal was no longer a problem even as I finished speaking. Lyonidas was another matter. I refused to use the special powers of my mind on him. I don't know why, but I would not extend the lie I was living to even greater deceit. Instead, I looked at him then moved to kneel at his feet. With head bowed as though to the executioner's axe, I offered, "If only blood will satisfy you, then take mine. No one is more responsible for his death than me." Sometimes the best way to lie is with the absolute truth. The conviction in my voice needed no special enhancement since it was true. Regardless of the falsehoods I had showered on Reynal, I had not lied to Lyonidas. And so I had not had to use the power of my mind to impress on him belief in a lie, however desirable. His large hands reached down to me, one to cup my chin and gently force me to look up, another extended in an offer of support in rising. I let my hand accept his offer and let him help me to my feet. Though I had not used any powers beyond those available to all women, still there was conviction in his eyes as great as that I had imposed on Reynal. "Let there be no more talk of this," Lyonidas pronounced. "Strane died in an accident and no further pain will change that fact. Come, let us all take an early lunch and have you tell us of your journey." He glanced at Reynal for acceptance but that was already in place. Though it would have been more proper for Lyonidas to escort Mother, he did not relinquish his hold on my hand and we walked to the dining hall together. Neither Mother nor Julia had said a word in the inquisition, though both wore small smiles of gently surprised appreciation for the way things had turned out. The rest of the day went much better. Julia's sharp wit found humor, now that it was in the past, in things that had been impossibly unpleasant at the time. It seemed that each clod of mud that had hit me in the face had been deliberately aimed by a particularly accurate horse, coincidentally the one that she was riding. She, on the other hand, had stayed pristinely clean throughout the journey, though she had slipped in unnoticed since the drenched woman on the horse next to me had clearly been someone else, not the elegant Julia. While she was entertaining the dinner guests, Lyonidas leaned over and whispered to me, "Did you visit any balconies while you were there?" I nodded, a small smile playing at my eyes. "Did you visit them with anyone?" This time I shook my head in negation. I could see the humor in his eyes, the promise that I had once wanted so much. Yet now I only wanted Julia's kisses, right? Why did the smile on his lean face interest me so much? Why did my breath get short at the thought of standing once again on a balcony with Lyonidas? I felt the flush building in my cheeks even as I pointedly leaned back to listen to Julia's latest story. After a moment, when I glanced back, Lyonidas was still looking at me with that humor in his eyes. I couldn't meet his gaze. I let my own glance slip downward to study the frilly cuff on my elegant gown until the corner of my awareness absorbed that he had leaned back into his own seat. There was no chance to find out what balcony excursions he might have wanted that week, nor the next. The autumn storms had come in earnest for that year, making all exposed parts of the castle too unpleasant for nocturnal exploration. Instead, after supper I would retire to my rooms, to my music, to my studies, to my painting. Usually I would play for a while before turning to quieter pursuits. After my room had fallen silent one evening Minah knocked discreetly, then entered. "You play very will, Highness," she said. "It's nice that you think so," I smiled in return. A conspiratorial grin lit her face as she said, "Oh, I'm not the only one who thinks so." She was begging for a question, but she didn't have to beg too hard. I gave her what she wanted immediately. "Who?" "Well," she giggled like a happy child, "it seems Milord Regent has found occasion to wander by your rooms most evenings lately. He stands outside while you play, then moves on when you stop." "Lyonidas listens to me play?" I needed confirmation. "Yes, Highness, nearly every evening." "Hmm," I mused, "then Minah, this is what I want you to do . . ." A few nights later tunes of High Canyon found there way into my practice sessions. Minah had found someone who knew some of Lyonidas' favorites. I had no idea how Minah found out what I needed, or who she asked, but she seemed to me to be the best spy in the two kingdoms, at least for matters like this. It was only at the end of the month, nearing Christmas, when the rain finally changed to softly-falling snow. Behind this last front the air was crisply cold but the clouds were gone and there was no wind. The contrast was wonderful. The sun was bright and almost seemed warm. The soft blankets of snow seemed clean and pure after ages of drear. Clearly a celebration was in order. It even got brought up in Council, by Lyonidas who surprised us by attending. His seat had been left empty to reflect his right to attend, but he hadn't bothered since the first interminable session on mundane matters. Mother and I still brought our cats so Reynal found his duties took him elsewhere even on this occasion when Lyonidas attended. Hugh of Sandars rose to announce the first issue. Not surprisingly he had something boring on tap just in case a High Canyon noble chose to attend. Before he even got started, though, Lyonidas gently interrupted. "Your pardon, Lord Chamberlain, but I wonder if I might take the Council's time to discuss an issue of some importance before you get to your scheduled topics?" Hugh wouldn't have looked more surprised if Lyonidas had reached out and tugged on his beard. His mouth fell open just as though his beard truly had been pulled and he spluttered incoherently for just a moment. Even Queen Selay didn't surprise him with topics. If there were something she wanted discussed, she informed Hugh and got it on the schedule beforehand. Still, there was nothing he could do but agree so he nodded jerkily and sat down. I had been watching Lyonidas, after a brief glance to absorb the impact on Hugh, so I saw the warm gleam in his eyes before he spoke. A grin that he couldn't quite contain started to show as Hugh spluttered to his seat, prompting a grin of my own that I tried very hard to hide from our honorable Chamberlain. Lyonidas stood as he addressed the Council, "Good members of the Council of Achaiea, you know that we of High Canyon do not celebrate the birth of your Christ. Still, we do honor the solstice that represents the turning of the seasons toward longer days. I would like to suggest a holiday, a Winterfair, that we can both celebrate. The weather has moderated at least for a while and I think the people could use a little warmth in their hearts to offset the cold." Would he have even cared six months ago when he first arrived? Six months ago! I had not even realized it had been so long. The changes in Lyonidas were dramatic. Where before he had been a strange man of High Canyon, with more wit and humor than others, now he was more a strange man of Achaiea. He knew of the workings of an agricultural society with specialized craftsman. He knew of the benefits of restitution over punishment in justice. Yet I had not realized he knew of the joy that his father seemed to have denied in his own life. There is a great difference between a simple sense of humor and a joyful appreciation of God's world. It seemed that Lyonidas had bridged that difference. As Lyonidas sat down, Hugh looked at Queen Selay. Queen Selay nodded to Hugh and said, "I think that would be a good idea. Let us proclaim it quickly before the weather changes yet again." Hugh nodded, recovering his dignity. He had been afraid that Lyonidas was going to announce some onerous new tribute or demanding schedule for transferring the skills of our craftsmen. Instead, the suggestion had been as light in enduring importance as the matters that Lyonidas believed the Council typically considered. Our Chamberlain quickly assigned actions to those who would see that the preparations moved with good pace, then once again stood to announce the first official item on his schedule for the meeting. Lyonidas took this as his cue to excuse himself. Our Regent probably misinterpreted the sigh of relief as he left. It was not really because he left. It was because with him gone none of us had to listen to the deliberately pointless discussions that were meant to drive him away. The Winterfair celebration was held on the second following day. The weather still remained clear. Hugh took advantage of this by having outdoor activities in which most of the castle staff participated. There was a massive snowball fight and for the first time warriors of High Canyon and of Achaiea joined sides against their officers. And there was a contest for the most fanciful sculptures in snow. I was looking down on the courtyard from my balcony when I felt a presence nearby. Lyonidas had joined me. I looked at him from within the fur-trimmed cowl of my cloak. "What brings you up here, Milord Regent?" "You're not supposed to call me that, My Princess." "It is proper," I protested, but softly. "It is not," he denied. "It is too distant. More distant than we should be." I didn't know what to say, what to do. A part of me was calling out to accept his offer of closeness, to cling to it, to build my life on that closeness. Yet a part of me thought always of Julia, every minute of every day. How could I resolve those two desires? Instead of answering, I looked down at the courtyard, "The snow sculptures are very creative." Out of the corner of my eye I saw him lean against the parapet. "You're changing the subject," he claimed with a grin I could hear without looking. "Which sculpture is your favorite?" I asked. He chuckled at my obstinance, but he turned to look at them. This turned out to be a bad idea, at least as it applied to the problem I was trying to avoid. "I think that one down there," he indicated with a pointing finger. The sculpture he selected was quite readily recognizable as a man and a woman. The man was quite tall, though lean. The woman was slender, yet shapely. One of her hands held the hem of her gown while one of his hands was around her waist. They were clearly dancing, but dance was not the end of the story portrayed by the anonymous artist. The figures in the sculpture were standing very close together and they leaned toward each other in a motion that would consummate in a kiss. "Now, who do you suppose the artist is portraying?" he mused, that grin still so apparent in his voice it needed no visual confirmation. "I don't know. Perhaps the artist should add some color details," I replied. "Don't you think the woman should have red hair?" "No," he said softly, "I do not." The grin was out of his voice, replaced by something not as simple to define. I looked to see his expression and found him now standing close to me. Very close. His hand slid softly through my golden tresses. The overwhelming sensuality of it drew my eyes closed as though there were some hidden mechanism. Generations of Achaiean women had reserved that touch for their lovers only and it spoke of love even more than a kiss. Or perhaps not, for in the next moment his lips were warming mine and their touch was even more absorbing than his hand in my hair. The hand that captured my waist and pulled me closer to him was hardly needed for my body swayed to conform to his even as my arms reached to embrace his shoulders. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my body now fit within my steel prison so much better? Where before a moment of his kiss had caused me to swoon, now my breath sustained me. Barely. My heart pounded with desperate needs that I didn't understand. But it was not lack of air that interfered with my breathing. From some distant place I became aware of applause and good-natured shouting. It seemed unimportant. Nothing in the world was more important than the touch of his lips but Lyonidas drew back just a little, though enough to turn his head. Down in the courtyard a crowd had gathered around the snow sculpture we had been admiring. The artist, a young man who clearly had the approval of the group around him, was adjusting his figures. Where before they had been only close to kissing, now the postures had been changed and the kiss was a realized promise. The attention of the crowd clearly was encouraging him to make his creation match the reality on our balcony and he was ostentatiously studying us to make sure he had his composition correct. "Oh, we should not be doing this!" I gasped. Well, all right, the gasp was as much to get my breath back as out of any sense of propriety. "Why not?" Lyonidas grinned. "Didn't you enjoy it?" "But it is broad daylight!" "Yes, and a very fine day it is, too." "But there are people watching!" "Yes," he agreed, "and enjoying what they see. Don't you want your people to be happy?" "Yes, but . ." his lips interrupted my protest and it died away, never to be resurrected. Chapter 15 Winterfair Night News travels fast in a small community and by the time I had descended from the high balcony to the hallway near my quarters it was not a question of whether Mother had heard of our very-public kiss, but how many times. My feet had barely been touching the flagstones as I descended the stairs. My cheeks were rosy with more than the cool air, my eyes alight with more than the bright sun. Then I saw Mother standing at the doorway to her chambers that I must pass on the way to my own. If I had been thinking of more than myself, I would have expected it. As it was, surprise died before I hardly had a chance to recognize it. At least, surprise at seeing her and the look of concern on her face. I was surprised though, to see Julia standing with her as they obviously waited for me to come by. I could have done without seeing Julia right then. In all my life I had never met anyone more beautiful. She was warm and caring, but strong enough to use her lightning wit and razor tongue when her sense of right and wrong was violated. And I had violated it. We had worded no promises between us, but our nights sleeping in each other's arms had brought us close enough that no words should have been needed. Our kisses had stirred my heart and my blood to levels that made all previous intimacies fade into distant memory. Yet, almost as soon as I was back in Stalwart Guard I had turned to another. To a man. What had my kisses for her meant? What had my caresses of her so vibrant hair meant? She knew what they had meant to her, but what meaning could they have had for me if I turned away so quickly when another was available? One with whom she could not compete, if my interest were in men. In her eyes I could see only betrayal. I would have preferred to see fire in those green jewels, fire like I had seen so many times before. Though I had just been kissing another my heart went out to Julia and I reached for her in a renewal of the embrace we had so often shared. She turned away from me, turned back into Mother's room, turned her back on me. I moved to pursue Julia but Mother's arm held me back. Her eyes allowed me to move into her room, but not to touch my fire-tressed girlfriend. Mother's look also commanded me to silence. It was like a blow to me to realize how disappointed they each were in me. My own shoulders sagged, my own head drooped, my own eyes filled near to overflowing with shame and confusion. Mother's gestures motioned Julia and me to our accustomed stools as she took her own seat. Greyshadow provided a moment's distraction and a focus for my eyes that couldn't meet Mother's or Julia's. I expected a scolding that would be all the worse because it was delivered from pain and disappointment rather than anger. Bowing my head even lower, I readied myself for the attack from which I had no defense. Mother's words were for Julia, though. "Julia, are you familiar with the legends of our family?" Julia looked up in surprise. I had been aware of how her own despair had pulled her head down though I couldn't look at her directly. From the corner of my vision I saw her motion followed by a shake of negation in her flowing mane. "I'm sure you've heard something," Mother pressed. Julia's eyes glanced at me for the merest heartbeat, then she replied, "Well, I never gave them much credit. Witches with strange powers to control men's minds. It is not possible. I have watched you since Tamor first invited me to live here and I know you are not in league with the Evil One." "No, we are not in league with the Evil One. Yet in a way the legends are correct. In my family we have the ability to influence people's minds. It is not infallible, but when it works it can provide amazing results," claimed Mother. "Let me show you," she said, capturing Julia's green eyes with hers of brilliant blue. "No, Mother!" I cried, stepping between them. Julia started where she sat, and Mother sat back abruptly as well. She looked at me with a frown that showed surprise and confusion more than anger. "Mother, this is not right. Do not cloud Julia's mind, sharpen it! Let her help us with her wisdom and judgment," I demanded. "Cloud my mind?" murmured Julia, even more worry on her face. "What Mother says is right. We have the ability to influence people's minds. Sometimes. But it is wrong to use it on people you respect . . . and love . . . without their understanding and consent." "Love?" Julia whispered, picking up on one word from my declaration. "Yes, love," I whispered back as I knelt at her feet. I took her hand in mine and gently kissed it, then pressed it to my forehead as I knelt before her, my gown spreading wide around my legs. Mother coughed delicately, causing Julia's head to come up even as I held my submissive pose. "Cherysse is right. We should explain without artificial enhancement to our words." Then she paused for a moment before continuing, "That honesty will make her a good Monarch when the time comes for her to take her rightful throne." A compliment? My shameless display on the balcony warranted many things, but hardly a compliment! "Cherysse, take your seat again and I will explain, this time without additional, um, persuasive effects." I did as I was bid while she continued, "Julia, what I said was true. Under the right circumstances we can influence others with force beyond words alone." "We?" Julia asked. "Those in my family who have our distinctive blue eyes," Mother explained. This caused Julia's eyes to flick to mine. Her green eyes widened even further than their shining norm as she reminded herself of the similarity between Mother's eyes and my own. I nodded to her in answer to her unasked question, then we both looked back at Queen Selay. "Yes, Cherysse has the power as well. She has used it with greater discretion than I would have expected in one so young. But then, she among us all has had to grow up very quickly in this last half year." "One of the things this power allows us to do, if the subject is willing, is to share a part of ourselves, to create a mirror personality within an existing mind. Deacon could never have been convincing as a woman. Cherysse was created when I put aspects of my mind into Deacon's." Finally Mother explained the strange feelings I had been experiencing. Explained them, though I wasn't sure how to react to her words. "That is why she has been so attracted to Lyonidas. Those parts of her mind that allow Cherysse to be convincing, to move in a feminine way, to understand what it means to be a woman, exist even as those parts that are Deacon exist. Those parts that are Deacon are attracted to you." Then Mother sighed and her tone became apologetic, " I was forced to rush when I imposed Cherysse on Deacon's mind. There was no time for fine tuning. Subtleties are uncertain in any event. Since then any further modifications would be even more uncertain and we could not take the chance of arousing the suspicions of Lyonidas or Reynal. As a result it is as though the Princess is two persons. On the outside, especially when she is near a handsome man, her feminine persona is dominant. I had to make this so since it is at this time when she is most vulnerable if she behaves inappropriately. Yet when no man is around her true personality can emerge, at least partially." "Cherysse cannot truly control which persona is dominant, but she is honest to the feelings of that person," Mother concluded. "In her heart of hearts, or perhaps I should say in 'his' heart of hearts, Deacon loves you, Julia." "And you agreed to this mind control?" Julia asked me. A good question, for which I had no really good answer. "I don't know. I didn't understand it at the time sufficiently to truly agree. But at the time we had no alternative." After a moment's further thought I realized, "We probably still don't." "No, perhaps now less than ever," Queen Selay agreed. "We are about to move into the most dangerous part of our plan. Once we remove Reynal, Kragdle is sure to return." "Remove Reynal?" I asked. "Yes, but I cannot afford to have either of you involved," she said, dismissing my obvious curiosity. Queen Selay straightened in her seat and gave additional orders. "Julia, you need to accept your defeat in obtaining Lyonidas' affections. Since you were not yet married to Tamor you can officially end your mourning at the feast tonight. Be polite to Lyonidas, but flirt with anyone else who catches your fancy. Make it clear that there is no hope of coming between Lyonidas and Cherysse. If Lyonidas petitions his father to overrule our period of mourning, it will add to Kragdle's reason for returning. Yet he cannot now come before the spring. Only the hardiest of messengers can make