Miladys Wiles Chapters 17-22 free porn video

"Milady's Wiles" by Brandy Dewinter with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright Chapter 17 'Tis Better To Give Than To Receive It was so late it was early when we finally retired to bed. After the trial and the discussions afterward that had no doubt included more groupings than our own, no one rose until mid-morning at least. Part of the reason, or excuse, for that was the lack of sunshine. Our good weather had broken and while there was no new snow, dark, heavy clouds hung low over Stalwart Guard and its surrounding fields. Even at noon it was still unbearably gloomy. Or perhaps that was just the mood in the castle. I knew I needed to escape it in any event. Taking my hooded cloak and gloves, I went to my high balcony to find it isolated from the world by an icy cloud. And to find it already occupied. "My Princess," came a quiet voice from the shifting fog. Even the cloud could not disguise the voice, however much it hid the man that produced it. "Milord Regent," I said, trying to keep any guilt from my voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "For what, Milord?" my voice still stiffly controlled. "For the shame of my countryman." It was a good thing that he was still standing too far away to see my face, for the shame I felt must have been all too apparent. I couldn't speak. I just leaned against the frigid stones of the ledge and tried to get myself under control. He must have taken my silence, my stiffness, for anger. I sensed as much as heard a sigh, and a settling back against the ledge at his own position. Even in the gloom his proximity was enough to set my heart racing, to set my mind careening down memories of the feel of his arms around me, of his . . . It was too much. I turned to escape back down the stairs. A part of me wanted desperately for him to call me back, for him to make things right between us. But they could never be right between us. We were enemies in a war he thought was over. We were incompatible in even more inescapable ways. We were . . . He said nothing, though. I fled back to my rooms and spent the evening working on my paintings. I even sent for a light supper rather than go to the dining hall. As a result, I missed out on the excitement until finally Minah found me and told me the news. Reynal had indeed escaped. In a surprising display of incompetence, his guards (coincidentally Achaieans) had allowed him to slip out of their grasp while moving him to a cell with better light at the request of Lyonidas. Before they could recapture him, he had locked a door behind himself . . . with them on the wrong side. The near-anonymity of High Canyon warriors had provided disguise enough with his features concealed behind the usual hood. The only giveaway had been his selection of his own horse from the stables. The guard at the drawbridge had been reluctant to fire his crossbow on so little justification and in minutes Reynal was out of sight. The alarm was raised of course, but the Captain of the guards was in his turn reluctant to set out without proper provisions for his men, with a storm so obviously threatening. The threat was realized during the night. When we arose the next morning we were greeted with snow falling more thickly than the previous day's fog. By evening, the new blanket was near to the belly of a horse and clearly impassable. Mother was proven right once again, for with Reynal's escape the sense of gloom was raised from the castle. Without his constant presence, known even if unseen, the tension between High Canyonite and Achaiean had no focus and soon dissipated. Except between Lyonidas and myself. I wished a thousand times I had not chanced upon him during the period before Reynal's escape. Perhaps without that particular focus our own tension could have dissipated. But it did exist. He thought I held him responsible for Reynal's shameful act, yet I knew that it was my own people who were truly to blame for the false accusation. I kept much to myself, or would have. Mother would not allow it. Our Winterfair feast had actually been a few days before Christmas and when the day we celebrated the birth of our Savior arrived, Mother demanded that I take on at least the outward signs of joy in respect for the occasion. She had me dress in a gown much too lively for gloom, gaily festooned with lace and ribbons and bright colors. As so often happens, pretending to be happy brought the reality on its heels. Julia was bubbling with her usual energy. Amity was so much improved in temper that I thought she might give our whole conspiracy away but Mother's serene confidence dispelled even that fear. By now I had come to love wearing pretty clothes as much as anyone, and my new dress was so beautifully feminine that I couldn't be unhappy when I wore it. The only note of gloom was the absence of Lyonidas. With the departure of Reynal he had become almost isolated. No High Canyon nobles remained. In addition, this was not an occasion his people celebrated so he did not appear as we laughed and nibbled on traditional pastries. Each of us had small gifts for each other, actually several for it was our custom to exchange things throughout the day at unexpected times. As the afternoon wore on though, I stood to leave the table in the dining hall where we had been holding our festivities. "Where are you going, dear?" Mother asked. "I have a, um, gift to give someone," I tried to smile back, but I'm sure my worry showed. That was clue enough for whom the gift was intended. "It will be fine, Cherysse. Trust yourself," she advised. I merely nodded, but my heart was in my throat as I went to my room to get the gift I had prepared in the long sessions in my chamber. At least, one of them. A few steps that had never seemed so long and I was down the hallway to another room. The room that seemed to hold only quiet. My knock, though, was responded to immediately. "Who is it?" I swallowed to get my voice to work, then tried as hard as I could to sound casual when I answered, "Your Princess." Then my voice went away again as I squeaked when the door was flung open. I hadn't heard a sound of movement to give me warning, but with a magic of his own Lyonidas was standing there before me. I almost dropped the package I carried in favor of using my arms to clutch at him, but I managed to hold it up instead. "Merry Christmas, My Prince." Then the package slipped to the floor unheeded as he swept me up into his arms and crushed my lips with a kiss so passionate it was almost painful. But dear God, what sweet, sweet pain! Whatever had passed before had no more meaning than time itself while I was suspended in his arms. I don't know whether it was moments or days before he slowly let my feet return to the floor. Surely my racing heartbeat was no accurate measure of time. But eventually my toes touched the package I had brought, making the wrapping rustle softly. Moving my feet to avoid the package must have seemed to Lyonidas like a wiggle of complaint at my so tight bondage within his embrace. He quickly lowered me the rest of the way to the floor and stepped back. "I'm sorry, m.. uh, Princess," he said. The good humor that had returned to me with our party carried me past the guilt that had earlier seemed so oppressive, so I teased him rather than retreat into equivalent formality. With a heavy, artificial sigh and a pout that was a deliberate reminder, I said, "So quickly you tire of me, that after only a few times you come to regret kissing me." The twinkle in my eyes must have given me away because he didn't rise to the bait with any defense. Or perhaps he did, because in the next heartbeat his lips were again pressed to mine, and then again, and then again, and then again. His hand was in my hair once more and I surrendered to the sensuous touch while his breath whispered in my ear, "My Cherysse, I only thought you were angry with me." My answer was smothered, but none the less clear for all that. As though it were the chaperone my steel prison made unnecessary, the package once again rustled as someone's foot touched it. This time I did wiggle to be let out of his embrace and bent to retrieve the nagging distraction. Lyonidas reached for it before I could get my stiffly- corseted body into position, and held it out to me. "No, My Prince, that is for you." "What is it?" "Now I suspect you're smart enough to figure out how to determine that," I laughed. He gave me an artificial little frown before grinning himself. "You know that we of High Canyon do not celebrate your Christmas. This is not necessary." "It is never necessary, My Prince. It is a joy to honor our God with a small reflection of his gift to us of a Savior. Accept the gift for the pleasure it gives me, if there is none for yourself." Opening the package he found first a set of leggings like those I had worn as Deacon so long ago. Well, not exactly like, these were quite a bit bigger. In addition there was a shirt, and a tunic, and a wide belt. What made them special though, was their color. The leggings were black, of course. That was traditional. And the shirt was tan in honor of his homeland. But the tunic was richly red, embroidered with black and white and silver and blue as befitted a festive occasion. It was an outfit such as a man of Achaiea would wear for a Christmas feast, not the loose tan shirt and trousers of High Canyon. "Would you honor me by wearing these, My Prince?" He nodded, then stepped to the chest at the foot of his bed. "Would you honor me by wearing these, My Princess?" he said as he handed me a small package, not as big as my fist. In it was a pair of gleaming gold earrings such as a noblewoman of High Canyon might wear. Simple loops, since their styles did not include much ornamentation, yet the rings were smooth and shining with rich depth. I knew of the styles of High Canyon of course, just as I knew of the styles of Verdantland, and of the ancient Empire, but I never expected to have the occasion to wear such beautiful treasures. Then the problem of how to wear them came to me. "My, um, Lyonidas, I can't wear these." His face fell as though I had slapped him in the face. "No, My Prince, it's not that I don't want to. I can't. These require that I have holes in my ears as High Canyon women do," I explained as I removed the spring clip that was part of my jewelry for the day. "Oh," his face was not much less despairing, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to do that." "Well, um, maybe," and it was as though I had a string of my own attached to the corners of his lips, pulling it upward, "but I have heard very, um, unsettling rumors of disease that results from the, uh, punctures?" "Not if you do the anointing," he declared. "Anointing?" "Yes. When a noblewoman of High Canyon adopts the rings, her ears are anointed twice a day for two weeks with fine wine. It wards off sickness." "Pouring wine on my ears will ward off sickness?" I snorted. "Well, you don't really pour it on, you just sort of dampen your ear with a wine-soaked cloth. But it works. My mother wears the rings, and she had no trouble, nor any other noblewoman that I know." Well. When I brought Lyonidas his Achaiean outfit, I never expected to be asked to become a High Canyon woman. Part of me wanted to flee from this strange . . . perversion. But I could seldom tell Lyonidas no when he was so close to me, with such longing in his deep dark eyes, and on his so warm lips and . . . I found myself nodding my head. One of the pins I had worked into my hair provided the puncturing tool. Lyonidas insisted on purifying it in a candle flame, at least the part that would touch my ears, as part of the ritual. It didn't hurt . . . much . . . though the immediate application of a few drops of wine stung a bit. The earrings were themselves anointed before he placed them in my ears. They felt quite strange. I couldn't tell if it was because of the weight, they were quite heavy, or because of some magical aspect of the ritual. I found myself tilting my head from side to side to feel the tug on my ears. The motion caught a reflection from one of the candles that flashed at me from the small looking glass near Lyonidas' bed. "They are beautiful!" I cried happily. "They are nothing beside your own beauty," my prince answered. That earned him a chance to examine them from closer range. Very close range. I flung my arms around his neck and started kissing him like a barroom strumpet, but I had never received such a personal gift in my life. No one could take these away from me. They were now part of my very body. "Now, My Prince, you need to wear your new gifts," I demanded. Some time later. "Very well, my Cherysse. Will you wait for me in your chambers?" "Maybe I should just wait here," I suggested with that smile I had learned from Mother. The one that could heat the castle. I swear, he hunched over just a little. I had a feeling I had all too good an idea of what pain had caused his grimace. It embarrassed me with the recognition that I had once again lost track of who I really was. I was going to have to talk to Mother about reducing the compulsion of her persona. Someday. But for that day I just grinned at him and turned away in a swirl of delicate lace. When I returned to the dining hall, Lyonidas accompanied me. At our entrance a wave of silence flowed out over the room as people recognized Lyonidas in his new attire. Then murmuring flowed in behind it like a reflected wave. I never knew who it was that started the applause, though I suspected that Hugh of Sandars had something to do with it. Still, once started it grew until there were cheering children and beaming adults in all corners of the large hall. I saw a flush flow up from Lyonidas' neck but he nodded with good grace and escorted me to my seat. "That looks very good on you, Milord Regent," Mother said. "Thank you, Majesty. It is surprisingly comfortable. I can see why men of Achaiea like the style." "They like the style because the women of Achaiea like the style," Julia laughed. "You have good looking legs, Milord Regent." That brought a new flush to his neck, along with a rueful grin, but the agreement that followed on the heels of Julia's pronouncement covered any protest he might make. I was laughing along with the others when Julia noticed my own new gifts. "Cherysse! What have you done?" Now it was my turn to blush, a good thing because I was doing about as good a job of it as I could, my turn or not. In our tradition Lyonidas may have claimed me by kissing me in public, but marking me as his with rings inserted into my ears was hardly a matter of tradition. It was a clear statement. Mother looked at me as well but she said nothing. I could see concern in her eyes, though not anger. Well, sometimes you just have to make decisions by yourself, based on what seems right at the time. I was prepared to defend myself to her if need be. Though perhaps I should say I was prepared to answer to her if need be because I wasn't entirely sure why I had allowed Lyonidas to put his rings in me, so how could I defend myself? Julia was not angry either. Once again I saw hurt and disappointment and confusion in her eyes. I would have changed them all for pure anger that might burn clean rather than see her pain. She left the table to flee to her own rooms. Mother moved to follow her, but this time I held her arm to make her stay in her position. With a brief glance of reassurance to Lyonidas, I went after Julia myself. Instead of going directly to her room though, I went by my own quarters first. I had made a special present for her as well and hoped it would act to bridge the gulf that had suddenly opened between us. But when I knocked on her door I received no answer. "Julia, please let me in," I called. "Go away!" For the first time in many months, I used a voice that was not full of music and light energy. I spoke as Deacon. "Julia, let me in." I heard the bolt withdraw, though without voice to confirm the invitation. Nonetheless, I opened the door and moved into the room. She was standing on the far side of her room, looking out the window. It was a struggle to maintain "my" voice, but I spoke again as Deacon, "Julia, will you give me a chance to explain?" She just stood at her window, looking out in to the darkness. Taking her continued silence for as much consent as I was going to get, I let my voice relax into its now-normal tones. "Julia. I'm sorry. When I am with Lyonidas, I can refuse him almost nothing. If I did not wear my maiden's lover, he would have found out my secret, for on the night of Reynal's supposed attack I allowed him to undress me. Yet, when he is not near me my thoughts are always and only of you. I swear this to be true, but know I cannot prove it to you. Will you take this gift from me, if not as proof then at least as evidence of how I feel about you?" "Why shouldn't he undress you? He owns you. You wear his mark in your flesh." Well, at least she was speaking to me. Sort of. "And I wear your mark in my heart, where no one can see it but me. It is the one that never leaves me, though." "Hah! It leaves you soon enough if Lyonidas is around." "Then perhaps I should have said that I wear your mark in my soul. For though Lyonidas can indeed excite my heart, only you have ever touched my soul." "Hmmph," she grunted, but I could see questions in her eyes though they were still mostly turned away. "It is true. In all the time since Tamor died and I saw you in a different way, no other person has ever caused me the, um, discomfort that you see evidence of every time we bathe." I began to move closer to her as I spoke, "No other person has ever been in my dreams when I wake up at night, and every morning. No other person has filled my mind with visions of beauty beyond the fairest flower, beyond the brightest sunrise, beyond the clearest sky." "Let me show you how I see you," I pleaded softly, not as a beggar but as a lover. There, I said it to myself. Would she believe me if I said it to her? The gift I had prepared for her was a painting, a portrait of her. It was almost childishly emotional. Julia was my angel, floating near the sun with widespread wings and a glowing smile that I had worked on forever. Her smile was full of life, of real humor, yet full of warmth and compassion. It was hers, but it was more than hers, it was mine as well, mine to cherish until I captured it in pigments I had had to mix myself. The painting was not sexual. After all, it was an angel. Others might find it nearly blasphemous, but not sexual. Still, the shape under the robes of the angel was hers and just clear enough to reflect an image burned into my memory. It got her attention. She turned fully away from the window and moved over to where I held the painting near the light. "How did you do this? I never posed for you." "My, uh, Julia, I remember everything about you. Whenever I am not under the influence of Lyonidas, I think only of you. I have memorized every curve of your face, every color, every shadow." "Not only the curves of my face, it would seem," she said, but I could see pleasure in her face, hear it in her voice. "Not only the curves of your face," I agreed. I set the painting up on her dresser, and took her face gently between my hands. Now or never, I decided. I took as deep a breath as my hidden tormentor would allow and said, "Julia. I love you. I love you with all my soul, and with all of my heart, my own heart, however buried that sometimes seems. You know as well as I do what part I have to play. Please believe me when I tell you it is only a part, not a true reflection of my feelings." Her answer was a slow movement toward me. I moved just as slowly toward her, wanting desperately for the kiss that seemed now possible yet afraid to frighten away the fragile peace within us. It did not escape. The fragility of the peace was transformed into tenderness as her soft, full lips sought out my own. My hands slipped from her cheeks to her flaming halo of hair even as I felt her own hands come up to caress my golden tresses. I cannot conceive of a more sensual moment than when we shared caresses while we shared kisses. I have never enjoyed a more tender moment than that moment when I told her of my love. "Oh, Deacon, what are we to do?" she sighed. "For the first thing, you better not call me Deacon," I smiled sadly. "But I can't tell you how much pleasure it gives me to hear you say my name." "Oh, my love, I know it is you under there. Like you reminded me, I see the evidence each time we bathe. Yet, sometimes it seems so hard to watch while you give yourself to Lyonidas." She called me 'love'! She doesn't hate me. I was too happy to share the worry she expressed. "Oh, don't worry about that. I could not do it without the persona impressed on me by Mother. But when it is in force, I cannot hold back, either. It doesn't mean anything unless he's in the room." "Did you really undress for him?" she giggled, suddenly remembering my earlier claim. "Well," I giggled to her, "he did most of the work. I was a bit, um, incapacitated at the time." "Then what happened?" she asked. "I fell." "You fell? Where?" "In his room," I remembered with another sigh. "No, dummy, I mean how did you fall? What happened?" "I got tangled in all the material of my gown and just tripped. I ended up on my nose with my chemise up around my armpits." Now I was laughing. A lot of things are funny long after they're over. "So he saw your maiden's lover?" "Yes. He was horrified. He accused Achaieans of being more cruel than High Canyon." "He's probably right," she snickered. "I certainly would have agreed at the end of our trip to North Vale." "Don't remind me," I snorted in a most unladylike way. "We better get back to the party," I cautioned. "Not quite yet," Julia disagreed. "I have something for you as well." Her manner suddenly grew somber as she went to a chest and pulled out a package. As she returned to me she said, "I had these made when we returned from North Vale. Afterward, I wasn't sure if you would be interested." She opened up her package to reveal two identical hair adornments, combs with delicate pearls arranged in a small circle. She handed me one and took the other for herself. "Julia, are you sure about this?" I asked, tears forming in my eyes. "Yes, my love. Very sure. It was you that seemed distracted." The combs were the symbol of betrothal for Achaiean maidens. It was, of course, unique for me to have one. Typically only the girl wears one in her hair as a sign of her commitment. But I wore the combs and pins of an Achaiean Princess rather than the coat of arms of a prince so this would be my appropriate sign of commitment as well. Or maybe not. "I'm not sure I should wear this. If Lyonidas finds out what it means, he'll be suspicious." "Of what? He'll be flattered. Maybe that's what the rings in your ears mean to him already." "No! Really? Do you think so?" "No, but we better look into it," Julia suggested. "You're right. I'll have Minah find out. In the meantime, I'll cherish this pin, but neither of us better wear one. Oh Julia, I'm so happy! I love you. When this is all over, I'll find out a way to show you. I promise!" She smiled and held me. "The only promise I want is the promise of our love." "That you have, now and forever. Or at least, when Lyonidas is not in the room," I grinned. That was probably dangerous, but I had to make sure things were settled. "You just remember who I am when he's not in the room," she laughed as she poked me in my armored waist. "You never know, I might have to play a part too, before this is done." She laughed when she said it, but it was to prove all too prophetic. Chapter 18 Silver in the Springtime Winter in Achaiea can be harsh. Even if you have laid in enough supplies to last through the cold times, there is little to do. In the year we were conquered by High Canyon it was too cold to leave the castle from Christmas until spring. Of course it was possible to go outside for short periods, sometimes even for a day or two at a time, but to what purpose? At any time a new storm could descend, making travel impossible and life itself a desperate struggle. So excursions from the castle grounds were tentative and short-ranged. The residents of Stalwart Guard turned their attention inward when the world outside was so forbidding. The example set by Lyonidas was sufficient justification for the other members of the High Canyon contingent to adopt Achaiean styles. Soon, all the warriors from his nation wore tight leggings, a soft tunic, and a tan shirt that was itself much softer than their previous attire. They would often wear a heavy fur cloak when on outside guard duty and it was soon difficult to tell a guard born in High Canyon from one of Achaiea. The changes were not all one sided, either. I noticed that the swords worn by the Achaiean soldiers in the castle were becoming longer as the winter wore on, and lighter. When the days were warm enough for drill in the courtyard I saw our men learning the quick, light-footed style of High Canyon though their officers still required more discipline than was apparent in the amorphous flow typical of the High Canyon horde. And on this the pendulum swung back the other way with the warriors of High Canyon finding comfort in a more structured formation, confident that the man on their right or left would stand his ground. They would be guarded in battle even as they guarded their comrades, while still maintaining an aggressive front. The winter sun set early, so on most afternoons Lyonidas would find me on our balcony before supper. We would watch the sun set, sometimes not saying a word for long moments, content to be in each other's company. No matter how cold the world outside might be, when I was surrounded by his strong arms, leaning my body up against his, I never felt uncomfortable. Those wonderful silences together did not replace his kisses. Now that I was claimed by him publicly, in our style with his unashamed kiss and in his style with the earrings I wore, he felt it was his right to kiss me whenever we were alone together. And who was I to tell him no? I went to his embrace joyously, eagerly, every time he gave me the opportunity. I suppose it could have been considered demeaning. I had found out through Minah that wearing his earrings was a sign of his claim on me but carried no corresponding claim on him. It was a signal to other men to keep away from me, but no promise to me at all. Still, I wore them gladly, unashamedly. When he molded his body to mine, when he warmed my lips with his, when he caressed my unbound hair, I was transported to a corner of heaven that knew no shame, no pride, only glorious surrender. He would escort me to supper. There, we were models of decorum. Still, my often-disarrayed hair, my cheeks glowing with more than the coolness of the outside air made it clear what we had shared only moments before. Sunset after sunset. After supper I would retire to my rooms for quiet studies or painting. I seldom went alone. But it was not Lyonidas who came with me. Julia and I would spend evenings together, me with my studies, her with her embroidery. We would share the same sort of companionable silences that spoke so much of the depth of comfort in each other's company. I did several paintings of her that winter. In later years I would realize they were shallow, actually, with simple love and overly-romantic images. I never apologized for the message in my paintings though, for it was true. One evening I looked up from my studies and just watched her at her fine work for a long time. She finally noticed my attention and looked up herself. "What are you staring at?" she asked archly. "You," I answered with a grin. "Why?" "Because you are the most gloriously beautiful woman in all of Christendom," I declared. "That's not what Lyonidas would say," she giggled. I giggled too, at her compliment and at the irony of it. Then I sobered and asked her a real question, "Do you think what I'm doing is right?" "Of course, if that's what it takes to win back the kingdom," she replied without concern. "But what about us?" I asked. "What about us?" she echoed, then answered. "We are honest with each other and Lyonidas is an invader. I don't particularly like the idea of you in his embrace, but I know your heart belongs to me." "Do you really? I wish I could prove it to you," I sighed. She laughed, "I think you make a pretty clear statement every time we bathe together." I blushed in embarrassed acknowledgment of the truth of her comment. Then, another sign of commitment came to my mind and I went to my dresser where I kept the betrothal hair adornment she had given me. "Put this in my hair, will you?" I asked. She took the small circle of pearls from my trembling hand and placed it appropriately. I was ready to return to my desk when she reached into her bag of sewing materials and drew forth the twin to the decoration that was now in my golden tresses. "I keep this one with me," she said softly. Then, she turned so that I might put her own symbol of commitment in her fiery mane. I could not imagine a more beautiful sight than all that glorious hair highlighted by the softly-glowing pearls. From that day on we wore out betrothal pearls every time we were alone together, and we were together most evenings. Perhaps even more than with Lyonidas, these companionable silences were merely counterpoint to greater passion. Our kisses were softer than those that captured Lyonidas' power, but even sweeter. And even more frequent. There were many nights when she completed little embroidery and I completed little on my paintings, but neither of us complained. As God is my judge, I felt guilty when I was alone though. Not for what I did, but for the emotions that I felt. If I could have ensured that my dual life would continue forever, I would gladly have given up my kingdom, left my family unavenged, made all of Mother's plans come to naught. I know it was selfish, but for the first time in my life I was liked, respected, even loved by someone of my own age; someone beside Mother. The imposed ruler of our land showed me of his passionate affection nearly every afternoon. The most beautiful woman in the world showed me of hers every evening. I never wanted that winter to end. But God turns the seasons as He wills, and the time came when the days grew longer and warmer. One day when Lyonidas and I were inspecting the sunset the guard at the castle gate announced incoming riders. We moved to the courtyard for a first-hand appraisal of the situation to see a contingent that looked strangely out of place, foreigners where they didn't belong. Warriors of High Canyon. Perhaps eight or ten all told, but even in riding they confused their formation too much for an instant count. I tensed at this intrusion but Lyonidas had no qualms. In fact, as the riders clattered in through the gate he laughed hugely and roared out his challenge. "Who let you out of jail?!!" The lead rider, still anonymous within his cowled cloak for all I could tell, pulled up and exposed his face. "Who are you to ask? You can't be Lyonidas. You're entirely too pretty in those fancy clothes." "Well, now Elgion, I've always been better looking than you so that's no reason to forget your sword brother." Actually, Elgion was not bad looking, though of course he was not as handsome as my Lyonidas. He was shorter, though still much taller than me. Where Lyonidas had richly-black hair and deep, dark eyes, this man had a dark-blond shaggy mane that covered his collar. His eyes, when I could see them, were sort of neutral, too. Hazel, but not really light in color. I stood forgotten on the steps to the courtyard as Lyonidas splashed through the puddles and almost pulled Elgion off his horse. They clasped arms like the brothers Lyonidas had claimed and then turned back to me. When they got closer, Elgion reached out to take my hand. "So this is her," he said, looking at me but speaking to Lyonidas. "The girl whose hair is finer than the purest gold, whose eyes are bluer than the highest sky, whose . . ." "Yes," Lyonidas interrupted, "this is Her Royal Highness, the Princess Cherysse." "Nice earrings," he finally spoke to me. It provoked an instant's embarrassment, but then I stood proudly and shook my golden hair back to make them stand clear. "Yes, they are beautiful," I declared. Elgion was about to say something, but just then Queen Selay arrived with Julia. He dropped my hand like an old rag and flowed to them with the fluid ease that Lyonidas demonstrated, though at a much higher energy level. He went to one knee right there in the muddy courtyard, but before Julia, not the Queen. It was Julia's hand that he now reached for and it was at his lips before the warmth of his touch had been forgotten by mine. His words though, were once again for Lyonidas. "Sword brother, I am going to have to teach you how to write more clearly. You said her hair was red, but you did not tell me it glowed like molten copper fresh poured from the furnace. You said her eyes were green, but you did not tell me they were brighter than a meadow after a cleansing rain. You said she was pretty, and perhaps here you can be forgiven for surely the words do not exist to capture such beauty. If I didn't know better, I would have accused you of downplaying your reports on Achaiean women so that you could keep them all to yourself." "And you, sword brother," returned Lyonidas, "are still possessed of the most silvered tongue in all of High Canyon. In all of two kingdoms, now." Lyonidas offered his arm to me as we trailed over behind the high energy of our visitor. By the time we were close enough for polite conversation Elgion was rising from his muddy knee to stare unabashedly into Julia's eyes. "Your Majesty," Lyonidas began the formal introductions, "allow me to introduce Elgion, my sword brother, and oh, I guess you'd say about a Count in your titles. Elgion, this is Her Majesty, Queen Selay, and the Lady Julia you have recognized." "May God preserve me if I made a mistake," Elgion laughed, "for if there are two such beauties as you in Achaiea, then I will make a traitor of myself and stay here forever." I wondered if anyone but me noticed the slight start Mother gave at that declaration, and then the moment of cold calculation that followed in her eyes. The arrival of the first party from High Canyon after the long winter gave more than enough excuse for a party. Though I remember being tired near to death after our own muddy journey the previous autumn, Elgion needed only a quick bath and a change of clothes to reappear fresh as the spring flowers that decorated the tables. The shapeless tan garb of our new visitors seemed oddly out of place. Once it would have been impossible, then unavoidable, then merely unnecessary. Now those anonymous outfits were back in our home, a nagging irritation that we were subject peoples to a foreign invader. Not that anyone mentioned any of that. Elgion seemed to say three words for any one from someone else, yet the laughter his stories brought forth made it seem like all were equal partners in the conversation. Well, almost all. Lyonidas was as often the butt of Elgion's stories as was Elgion himself, and just as Elgion could laugh at himself with true humor, so too did Lyonidas. They conversed over my head with reminiscences that drew on their years together, more years than I had yet been alive. And when Elgion was not talking to Lyonidas, he was focused on Julia with an intensity that made me desperately afraid. His smooth talking and ready compliments were a talent I had always envied yet never possessed. I was only too aware of how lonely Julia had been once Tamor had died. How much of her present affection for me was simple loneliness? Queen Selay signaled for the musicians and the party moved to an even more active stage. At least in this I would not need to feel inadequate. Lyonidas and I had danced together many times since the time I had run out on him. We had become so accustomed to each other that we could devise wonderfully intricate responses to the music. Yet even here I found myself lacking. Worse, Elgion's bright energy made even Lyonidas seem, well, dull. We moved with precision and tempo, he moved with true art. And worst of all, his partner was Julia. She had found a kindred soul in Elgion, all bright enthusiasm, unconcerned about intermittent breaks in the flow as they found each other's rhythms. I was grateful when the musicians turned to slower tunes. That is, until Elgion took Julia into his embrace as shamelessly as Lyonidas had once done to me. While Lyonidas and I danced quietly together, I asked him, "Did I hear you ask how Elgion came to be out of jail?" "Oh, that was a joke. I always told him if he didn't have me around to keep his impulses under control, he'd end up in jail." "Perhaps that would be the right place for him," I murmured under my breath. "What did you say, My Princess?" Lyonidas asked. "Uh, oh, nothing," I lied, surprised myself at how much truth there was in my feelings about this intruder. Those feelings were not improved when I retired for the evening. Elgion was still recounting tales, each more impossible than the last. Lyonidas had long since quit defending himself against these obvious lies, just laughing at the creativity in the storytelling. Julia stayed to listen. I reached my room alone for the first time in many evenings and tried to lose myself in music of my own. Nothing moved me though, and my studies were no more captivating. In the end, I called for Minah to help me undress and went to bed early, clutching my unworn betrothal pearls in my hand as I worried about so many things. The next morning was a bathing day and I reached the chamber quite early. Mother was there, already finished with her own morning duties, and helped me from my imprisoning steel embrace. I said nothing, not even in response to the most intimate relief. For once it was not significant next to the ache in my heart. Julia entered gaily a short while later. She bounced and chattered and giggled and sighed and showed all signs of being infected with the personality of our newest invader. For the first time in a long time, I felt guilty watching as she slid into the warm water. Now it was as though I were the intruder. Mother went to the dresser to pick out the day's dresses for us, giving us a short while to soak in the renewing heat. "You should have stayed at dinner longer," Julia advised me. "Elgion had so many wonderful stories about Lyonidas." "Stories is right," I grumbled. She didn't even hear me, already launched into a second hand rendition of one she found especially amusing. "Doesn't Elgion dance well?" she next asked. Like I cared. "He certainly is uninhibited," I offered in faint agreement. "You could do with a little less inhibition," she chuckled. "Then why don't you just ask HIM for HIS earrings to wear," I cried, turning away. Julia sputtered to a stop, only now picking up on my despair. "My love," she said softly, "you know there is only you in my life." She slid around the tub to hold me in her arms but for the first time, I shrugged her away. "Oh, Julia, you deserve so much more than me. You deserve someone with the bright happiness of Elgion, not some not-quite-man who will always be a disappointment." "Do you want Lyonidas more than me?" she asked. "No!" "Then why should you think that I want anyone else more than you?" Had her brains gone astray during the party last night? "But you are a beautiful woman! You deserve a strong, handsome man, not a soft weakling." "Do you like the kisses of your strong, handsome Lyonidas more than mine?" she asked. "No," again I answered. "Then why do you think that I would?" "Because you're a beautiful woman," I repeated, "and I'm a . . ." "The Queen has said that when you are with Lyonidas, your responses are those of a beautiful woman. Yet you still prefer the sweet tenderness we share. Please believe me when I say that I am the same." She kissed me softly, tenderly, and reminded me, "I told you once if I had to choose, I would choose gentle over fierce. I love you, my darling, not Elgion." The strange situation I had found myself in for most of a year had resulted in many inexplicable responses. With the touch of her soft kiss I began to cry, though the tears were not of pain or sadness. Sometimes a woman may sob from relief and joy as soon as from sorrow. I was unaware that Mother had returned sometime during our conversation. When she spoke, her words created yet a further surprise. "Julia, it is good that you do not intend to be forsworn, but it may indeed be necessary for you to wear Elgion's earrings." "Forsworn?" Julia asked tentatively. "Oh, child, don't you think that I know you had betrothal pearls made for you both? How often do you think that happens? Amy knew about it before they were delivered. If, after all those evenings alone in her room, you had not offered them to Cherysse and she accepted, then you would not be so close right now." "You knew?" now it was my turn to ask. "Of course. And I approve. You will be good for each other, and more importantly, good for the kingdom. I even think you can be happy together, which is an additional positive factor." Then she laughed and continued, "If you didn't both wear your maiden's lovers, I would never have permitted you to spend so much time together unchaperoned." "Speaking of which, I expect it will be easier for Cherysse if you give her a chance to recover from that embrace before she must once again wear her armor." I blushed, but my brave Julia just kissed me once again, and if there were less tenderness than previously, it was replaced with fierce pride I found even more satisfying. Mother chuckled at our response, but then sobered, "Actually, Julia, what I said was correct. We need to convince Elgion to support Lyonidas in the coming confrontation, not Kragdle. You will need to be a major part of our inducement." "Me?" she replied. "Yes, you," Mother confirmed. "He is obviously quite smitten with you . ." "I can understand that," I interrupted with a snicker. "And you can show him the value of Achaiean ways just as Cherysse has shown Lyonidas," she continued. Now Julia snickered at me, "That's not all she's shown him." I rewarded her jab with the expected blush, not that I had any choice in the matter. But in the next instant I pulled one of her slender ankles so that she slid under the water. She came up spluttering, but laughing. Mother, though, was not so amused. "Girls! Pay attention. Julia, you need to arrange in a month or so what has taken Cherysse more than half a year with Lyonidas. It will not happen if you remain so focused on each other. Cherysse, just as Julia must accept the attention that Lyonidas gives to you, now you will have to accept the attention that Elgion will be paying to Julia. There can be no more of that sour attitude you showed last night at supper. Can you both play your parts?" "Yes, Mother. Yes, Majesty," we answered guiltily, but under the water Julia's fingers found their way to mine and twined within them. We completed our bath and dressed for the day in bright colors. The spring air was still cool but the bright sun made any exposed place too warm for winter clothes, too cheerful for winter colors. It seemed everyone in the castle found an excuse to spend the day outdoors and the courtyard was still bubbling with activity when I stepped out onto our balcony to wait for Lyonidas and watch the sunset. The sunset arrived on time, but Lyonidas did not. When the sun was fully down and it was clearly too late for any further hope, I descended from the balcony to the dining hall. Was it my sinful pleasure in the passion of Lyonidas' kisses, followed so closely by the sweetness of those from Julia, that now denied me both? Chapter 19 Vinegar and Honey My delay at the balcony had caused me to be the last to arrive in the dining hall. Just before I entered, I heard Julia's crystal laughter spill out. My heart lurched once again and it was with sick certainty that I knew I would find her in Elgion's company. And so it was. My place was vacant at the table but that didn't seem to bother Julia, nor even Lyonidas for that matter. When the servant pulled my chair out (and how often had Lyonidas done that instead?) I sat quietly. Some instinct made me look up to see Mother's frown, but I just couldn't work up any cheer right then. "I trust there were no serious problems that delayed you," Lyonidas said. "No," I sighed, "I only stayed overlong watching the sunset." I was gratified to see a moment of guilt on his face. But before he could reply, Elgion spoke up. "Highness, if you are going to arrive late, you should use the occasion for a grand entrance, not slip to your seat like a quiet mouse." "I don't believe I have ever been likened to a mouse before," I said stiffly, then found sadness rather than humor in my voice when I tried to make a small joke. "Perhaps my cat will stop enjoying my company." The silent 'too' echoed at the end of that statement. Lyonidas again looked guilty and I felt additional sinful pleasure in his discomfort. However, any excuse he might have made was again forestalled by Elgion's quick words. "Ah, yes, the infamous cats of the women of your family. Has Lyonidas told you of his mother's cat?" He was not interested in any answer though, continuing immediately. "Her cat is blacker than midnight and I swear they talk to each other, though not with words." Julia inserted herself into his stream of chatter, "Her cat is more grey than black, but they do seem to have a closeness. Of course, she spoils it rotten." Elgion looked at Julia with a grin that I found infuriating, "And what do you spoil, Milady?" "A girl has to have some secrets," she grinned in return, "but you need not worry. It is not possible for me to spoil you." "And why not?" he replied, though in his tone he made it clear he was knowingly giving her the opportunity her comment implied. "Why, because it has already been done, of course," she giggled. "I am not the one dressed like a dandy of this gentle country," Elgion snickered in response. "No, you are the one dressed in shapeless, colorless rags," Julia snorted. He protested, "But these clothes are quite proper for High Canyon." Julia looked around the dining hall, as though seeing it for the first time, "Goodness, I didn't know we were in High Canyon." "No, and it appears there is little of High Canyon left in those who have been here for a while," he observed. This brought a growl from Lyonidas, "Careful, sword brother, you go too far." I decided to try some sort of positive contribution for a change and made a peacemaker's offer, "Perhaps, Elgion, if you tried an outfit more like Milord Regent is wearing, you would find it comfortable, too." "Good idea," Queen Selay seconded. "I'll have something made for you right away." Now Elgion was in the position of accepting or being rude, so he merely nodded. Then his humor returned as he looked once again to Julia, "I must admit, the brighter colors of Achaiea are most pleasant to the eye." "What colors most suit your fancy?" asked Julia, shamelessly fishing for compliments. Which she received as Elgion answered, "I have become partial to bright copper, and crystalline emerald green." At least that tart had the grace to blush at his comment. Queen Selay stepped into the silence with a question. "Count Elgion, what was the condition of the roads between here and High Canyon?" "For the most part, in good condition," he answered. "I must admit you Achaieans do a good job of building roads. The high passes in the mountains between here and High Canyon are still very difficult. But once you are on the plains the only problems are with swollen rivers." "Then perhaps, Milord Regent," she continued, now speaking to Lyonidas, "you would consider beginning the spring inspections. You might remember the case of Samuel the farmer, who stole his neighbor's ram? He has petitioned for release from his servitude on the basis of skills learned over the winter. If he has indeed learned to be a more effective farmer, the evidence will be found on his farm. We should also inspect the irrigation project in that area." With that trigger Lyonidas launched into an enthusiastic explanation to Elgion of the benefits of restitution over punishment in justice. Elgion relaxed into his seat with a smile but I saw a look of surprise behind his always-laughing eyes. "Goodness, Lyonidas, it seems more than clothes have changed about you," Elgion said when Lyonidas finally ran down. "Perhaps," Lyonidas answered with a grin of his own. He next launched into stories about the many interesting challenges he had faced during his tenure as regent. His reports were not as glibly entertaining as Elgion's tales but it was clear that his enthusiasm was honest, not only for the technology we possessed but also for the intelligence of the people who had developed it. I noticed though, that he made no mention of Reynal in all his comments. The ex-general was too important a personage to be ignored so I assumed he had covered that situation with Elgion in private during the day. As the meal was drawing to a close, Elgion slid his chair back and stood up, "With your permission, Majesty, I think I will go enjoy the evening air. I am somewhat unused to being indoors after my long journey. The stars are calling to me." Queen Selay nodded but her eyes flickered toward Julia. She needed no additional direction and was already signaling a servant to withdraw her own chair. "You could easily get lost in this old rockpile," she explained. "Perhaps you could use some help finding a suitable vantage point." It was a good thing I was leaning a bit forward in my seat, for with the backwards motion of Elgion and Julia, all eyes but mine were looking behind me. They did not then see the tears that filled my eyes as the one who had promised me her heart, and accepted mine in return, threw herself at the dashing intruder. I managed to cover up my distress by fiddling with a bit of bread and by the time they had left the hall I was merely quiet. I felt more than saw Mother's look of concern but it was Lyonidas who next required my attention. "My Princess, perhaps some of this fresh spring air would be of value to us as well." I nodded without words and let him pull my chair back. My soft hand slipped into his large one as naturally as it had done a dozen times before. Yet I still said nothing. He respected my silence as he escorted me to the balcony I had once considered ours. When I leaned against the surrounding ledge, he moved to stand behind me. "You are very quiet this evening," he declared the obvious. I merely nodded, still looking outward. "Will you tell me what is bothering you?" asked my tall companion. No, I thought to myself, for that would undo everything. What lie could I use in its place? The thought that leaped into my mind fullfleshed carried with it the realization that it was not truly a lie, for it had much too much basis in truth. My voice was barely more than a whisper. "I missed you at sunset." "Oh," he dismissed the problem, or so he thought, "Elgion and I were just catching up on things." "That is what I expected," I said, still barely louder than the sigh of wind through the eaves. "Then what is the problem?" he asked, confusion in his voice. "That is the problem," I answered, though I knew it would not reduce his confusion. Actually, I was wrong. He said nothing for a moment, but when he spoke again it was clear he had worked out at least part of what was troubling me. Wrapping his arms around my armored waist, he said with softness of his own, "My Princess, do not worry. Though I owe my sword brother my life many times over, time spent with him will not make me lose my enjoyment of sunsets on our balcony." Sometimes, the easiest way to mislead is to accept a statement that is the truth without being the whole truth. I said nothing as I leaned back into his embrace. We watched the stars in companionable silence for a while, still comfortable in each other's company. I should have turned to look at him. If I had done so, I would not have seen the flicker of motion at another balcony, one that had on another occasion held a High Canyon noble and an unfaithful Achaiean maiden. One that had witnessed the murder of Olrin at Drayson's hands. One that this time held Elgion and Julia. They were too far away for us to hear their words but the pure tones of Julia's laughter carried all too clearly. Each note seemed like a dagger in my heart but the silence that followed was much, much worse. I could see that they were facing each other. I could see his hand reach out and insinuate itself within her soft waves of dark copper. That was too much and I gasped at the sight. "What is wrong?" Lyonidas asked. His attention, returned from the stars to look at me, followed my gaze to the other balcony. He laughed as he saw Elgion take shameless liberties with Julia's hair. "What is wrong?" he asked again, though this time there was laughter in his question. He turned me to face him without releasing me from the surrounding prison of his arms. "He has his hands in her unbound hair!" I hissed in shock. "You mean like this?" Lyonidas asked as his own hand worked its way into my golden cape. "It is wrong," I gasped, weakly. His response was so soft that I had to lift my face to his in order to hear, "For them, or for us?" The gentle embrace of his arms tightened enough to lift me to my toes even as his own head bowed lower. The sensual magic his fingers worked whenever they caressed my hair pulled my eyes closed and pulled my perceptions inward to a world that had no space for cares beyond our own balcony. The soft touch of his lips provided a path for all the intense emotions that had been tearing at me since Elgion had arrived and I poured my heart into our kiss, grasping desperately at the linkage to another in a world that had become incredibly lonely within the space of barely more than a day. It was impossible to feel lonely when his lips were crushing mine. I put my arms around his neck so that I could pull myself even closer to him, molding my curves to his strength. My own fingers danced within the hair that guarded his collar and I forgot myself for a moment. For the first time I let my tongue sneak out in an invitation to a more intimate dance that I had previously only shared with Julia. At first I felt him stiffen, then I felt his lips open to my invitation. It seemed he knew this dance. If not the same dance as Julia had taught me, then a cousin close enough to find a compatible theme. I had once thought there could be no touch more sensual than the feel of his hands in my hair, then learned to my joy that his lips were even more captivating. Now, we shared a touch that made all previous togetherness seem as distant as hails across a wide chasm. The whipsaw of emotions that had weighed on my heart had made me more vulnerable than I knew, for the release that poured out through our kiss swept me along into passion that I was not able to control, stealing my breath away as thoroughly as my once-tight corset had done. My last thought as I felt darkness closing in on me was a more fervent wish than ever that I could be released from my steel guardian, so that I could press my unbound softness into the more natural hardness that had arisen between us. My next sensations were strangely familiar. I felt strong arms supporting me with a rhythmic pulse as I bounced slightly with each step Lyonidas took down the staircase. Since I found my arms still draped around his neck, I added my own hold to the bond between us and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to go back?" He was so surprised at my brazen invitation that he almost dropped me and I clutched at his neck in real need. Then he laughed and let my feet swing to the steps. "You haven't had that particular problem for a while," he snickered. "Maybe we just needed the starlight," I giggled. "No, I don't think you need anything more than the passion that lives within your soft . . ." and he ran down in embarrassment. Instead of saying any more, he turned to continue down the stairs. I could see the flush gradually recede from his neck. After a moment or two he asked a question that lit a flame in my cheeks so bright made the very torches of the stairway seem dull. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?" "Like what?" I stammered in a wasted stall. "You know what I mean," he gave me no relief. What could I say? I had no reasonable answer. My fiery blush was answer enough that I knew what he was talking about, but revealing my relationship with Julia was just not possible. My panicked mind searched fruitlessly for an answer that would be at once believable and safe, when Lyonidas provided one that met those needs, though it did nothing for my embarrassment. "Did Julia show you how to do that?" I had merely thought my cheeks were aflame before. The unerring accuracy of his guess brought so much heat to my face that I feared my hair would catch fire. It was an answer that allowed no denial, and again I was at a loss for words. "I just wondered," he mused gently. "In High Canyon, it is rumored that younger maidens often ask those with a little more, um, experience for, uh, instruction in how to be pleasing to men. It seemed reasonable that Julia might have instructed you." "You're not disappointed in me?" I asked in surprise. "Goodness, no!" he laughed. "I'm flattered, actually, that you would want to learn more, um, effective techniques for me." "You did learn them for me, didn't you?" he asked gently. "Oh, Lyonidas, there are no other men in my life, nor will there ever be," at least this was the truth. For once. The next morning I arrived early at the stables. Julia came down shortly after I did. We looked at each other, but didn't say anything. Who was most embarrassed? Who had most reason to be embarrassed? She had only done what her duty required of her while I knew that I had lost control completely. I had forgotten her! I had initiated a further intimacy with Lyonidas myself, far beyond any excuse from duty. For long moments I had no world beyond the arms, and the lips, and even the tongue of Lyonidas. Surely nothing she did could be worse than that. Since I had betrayed her so badly, I knew that it was up to me to offer an apology, but it was hard to find anything to say that would not make my actions sound shameless and cheap. Yet, for the love and honor she had showed me, I owed her no less. "Julia, I . ." "Cherysse, I'm . . ." we interrupted each other. I was about to speak again, but she put a slender finger to my lips and made me wait. "My darling, I'm sorry for what happened last night. I did more than duty required of me. I found that the arms of a strong man have an attraction I had forgotten. It was a passing fancy, but I surrendered to it. I kissed him, eagerly, when the opportunity arose. This was not the same as Strane. That made me feel cheap. This made me feel, well, wonderful. It is only today that I feel cheap. Please forgive me." "My love," I whispered, "there is nothing to forgive. I have surrendered many times to those urges, more so than you. Instead, I must beg your forgiveness. Last night when I saw Elgion holding you I, um, gave myself more fully to Lyonidas than before. I, uh, well, I kissed him like you have kissed me." "How?" "I, oh Julia I'm so sorry! I let my tongue become part of my kiss." The blush that lit her face seemed most strange to me, for a moment, then an insight that had the ring of truth raised itself in my mind. "You did the same!" but I said it with a grin, such a weight off my shoulders from my own guilt that no jealousy could pull me down. She nodded, her cheeks as bright as her hair. I embraced her and giggled into her ear with a further whispered