Miladys Wiles Chapters 9-12 free porn video

"Milady's Wiles" by Brandy Dewinter with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright Chapter 9 All Kisses Are Not Created Equal Bathing the next morning started out as usual. The heavenly feeling of release from my steel guardian, the soothing warmth of the bath were each so desirable I'd never willingly miss an opportunity. Together, I'm not sure even the safety of the realm could convince me to pass the chance. Though it was always wonderful to be released, I was actually becoming somewhat accustomed to the constriction. Even without the tight corset section, my waist had narrowed appreciably. The excess flesh had migrated to my bosom and hips, which now had a decidedly feminine shape at all times. Julia never looked anything but beautiful. Her own imprisoning garment had not needed to enhance her delightful curves more than the barest amount. Each day as I rubbed my pained ribs under the scented water, I watched her delicate form slip into the tub with envy. Mother always gave me as much time out of my maiden's lover as possible so I was always the first into the tub and the last out. Mother and I had always been close. Indeed, I knew Father had considered us too close. She had impressed her own memories on me, but not all of her memories. Those dealing with her married life were private to herself and her lost husband so I had a strange combination of experience and naivet? to work with in understanding how to act. She had opened herself to me in a most strange and intimate manner, yet there were still things I didn't feel I could talk about with her. This morning when Mother needed something from the other chamber and left us alone for a few minutes, I leaned closer to Julia. "Will you answer a few questions for me?" "If I can." "Does, um, Lyonidas kiss well?" "Yes," she replied, a dreamy reminiscence in her eyes. "I mean, uh, does he kiss better than other men?" I persisted. "I've only been kissed by Lyonidas and Tamor," she answered. "Well then, uh, which of them was, um, better?" "It's not a case of better or worse, they're just different." I kept pushing, "How?" "They just are. Tamor was stronger, and even taller, and he had a mustache. He was sort of, um, powerful," she tried to explain, but I could see her mind drifting back into memories. "Lyonidas seemed terribly powerful to me," I mused with my own memories. "Well, yes, he has a rock-solid strength," she smiled, "but he's gentle, too. He keeps that strength under control. Tamor was as likely to sweep me off my feet as caress my hair. Though he did that as well." "That doesn't seem as, um, nice." She laughed, "Well, sometimes you don't want nice. Sometimes it's grand to be swept off your feet." "Do you like that better than gentle?" The dreamy look was back in her eyes, "No, gentle is, well, special. If I had to pick just one way to be kissed, it would definitely be gentle." "Even more gentle than Lyonidas?" Julia looked at me with a strange expression in her eyes, as though seeing me for the first time, or in a new way. "Maybe," she admitted. We had been whispering to make sure that our conversation didn't draw Mother back in from the other room. As we talked I had moved closer to Julia so that we could be very quiet. When she looked at me in that new way I was close enough to touch her hair myself, as I had done that day in the woods. My hand drifted over almost of it's own accord and I let my fingers twine slowly through the fiery brightness. Her eyes drifted languidly closed, surrendering to the incredibly sensual feel. Her full lips were just inches from mine, deeply red, soft . . . Though a part of me knew that this was dangerous, that Julia was fully capable of killing me herself if she felt insulted, I had to kiss her. I let my hand caress the back of her neck to steady her, and brushed my lips lightly against hers even as my own eyes were pulled inexorably closed. If she had exploded from the water, I wouldn't have been more surprised. But instead of anger, I felt her own hand on the back of my neck pressing me tighter. I surrendered to her pressure even as I let an underwater hand lightly stroke her trim waist. She responded to this caress with an even stronger pull in my hair, catching a handful as a taut leash. Then I felt her lips open. And felt her tongue. It danced on my lips like a fairy sprite, demanding entrance without force but nonetheless insistent. I surrendered to that demand as well, letting my own lips part. Her tongue danced in to find my own tongue wondering what part to play in the tune she was defining. She taught me what I needed to know. My hand drifted higher, exploring a swell that revealed hidden firmness of ribs under smooth skin. Then that firmness gave way to even softer fullness. The complex curves that made her figure so fascinating when she slipped in and out of the bathing tub were even more intriguing to my sightless fingers. The texture was as smooth as sight predicted but more resilient, more vibrant. The weight of the swell my fingers explored was both greater and less than I expected. Fluid where I expected stiffness yet gently insistent on holding a wondrous shape. Then my body betrayed me, or revealed me. A stridently excited part of me brushed against her smooth leg and she jerked away from the touch. I jumped back in embarrassment, sloshing water from the tub. The return wave washed higher up on Julia than she expected and caught her full in the face. "Oh Julia, I'm so sorry!" I wailed. Now she was going to kill me for sure. Her sputtering could have been the prelude to an attack by her famously vicious tongue, now employed to cut where it had so recently caressed. Instead it transformed to giggles as she caught a look at my face. I don't know what my expression looked like but I felt like the worst fool God ever inflicted on the earth. If any of that showed, I deserved to be laughed at. She stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath and smile at me where I sat as far away as the tub allowed. Then her eyes softened. "Yes," she observed as though considering it analytically, "gentle can be quite . . . desirable." I still felt my cheeks flaming, but her smile had a gentleness of its own and I merely felt like I wanted the world to swallow me into oblivion rather than provide some more spectacular demise. The closest I could come was to slip beneath the water of the tub, which I did. Her hand grabbed the last of my blonde locks as they floated on the water and pulled me back up. "Oh, don't be that way. I enjoyed it! Didn't you?" she grinned. "I should think that would have been obvious," I mumbled. "Not too bad, actually," she giggled, an arched brow and an overdone glance indicating interest in seeing the response she had so briefly felt. Even though her glance was meant as a joke, I felt my hands reflexively hiding my underwater messenger. This made her laugh even louder just as Mother reentered the chamber. "What's so funny?" she asked lightly. "Oh, Cherysse and I were just reviewing the things that happened yesterday," Julia said airily. Somehow the word 'just' didn't belong in that sentence. Still, her claim had allowed me the time to get my flush under control, at least to the point that it looked like a result of the hot water, not internal energy. "Well, I found a lighter soap for your hair. Now that you're both wearing it unbound it will get a lot more sun. We need to keep it from getting dried out. The palace cosmetician promises that this will work better, without dimming the bright colors you both possess." With that, Mother was briskly business like as she continued with her morning duty. Still, Julia managed to catch my eye, and her lips moved in an almost-instantaneous pucker that offered a rematch. I don't know if her offer was real, but the effect on me was real, both above and below the water line. "Cherysse, you're getting flushed. Is that water too hot for you?" Mother asked. "No," I blurted, then wondered what excuse I should use. "I guess I was just remembering, uh, yesterday." "You'll both need to take it easy with Lyonidas today. We can't let things go too fast," Queen Selay instructed us. Then her eyes got harder than I had seen since Father died. "We need time to arrange some removals without blame falling on ourselves." Removals? She had not used that term before but I knew what she meant as soon as I considered it. Someone from High Canyon would begin to return the blood price we had paid for our peace. Thoughts about her plan filled my mind as we went through the rest of our preparation ritual. The maiden's lover, though not so cruel about my waist, was as unpleasant as ever in its most intimate duty. Julia and I were dressed in tailored black dresses that, while less sensual than evening gowns left no doubt about the curves under the material. Preparing our hair seemed to take longer than usual though, with false starts where a style was combed out and another set in its place. I had long ago learned with Mother that the appearance of disorder was likely an outward sign of deeper structure. The edict that Lyonidas had announced on the day of our surrender allowed some latitude in details of our hair arrangement. The court protocol experts had been working to define a new structure of hair ornamentation that resurrected the identification of my noble rank while allowing the main mass of golden honey to flow unrestricted. Today, it seemed, Mother was going to establish a new style for that main mass. Under her directions, the palace courtiers made my hair wonderfully thick, soft and wavy, alive with highlights. When I saw the results, I was more than pleased, though it had taken quite a long time. Julia was incredibly beautiful. Not for the first time, I felt a sharper ache under my constraining garment. Not for the first time I cherished her bright energy, her flamboyant joy, her ready wit. My thoughts were ambiguous as I hugged her before we sortied from our dressing chamber, but for the most part it was the warm embrace of sisters. At least, on her part. At least, I thought so. Maybe. Our preparations had made us very late for a scheduled meeting of the High Council of Achaiea, a gathering of nobles and key guild leaders. Just as apparent disorder was not proof of disorganization, tardiness on the part of Queen Selay could be expected to have a deeper purpose. A portion of that purpose became apparent when our Achaiean entourage detoured by way of my quarters on the way to the Council chamber. I gathered Wraith into the dark arms of my dress in counterpoint to Greyshadow in the arms of the Queen and we arrived in the Council chamber almost exactly one hour late. Not surprisingly, Lyonidas was in attendance. So was General Reynal, and Strane. Hugh of Sandars had packed in a much larger contingent of Achaieans than had been the practice in the past, including the recentlyelevated Spencer, Baron of North Vale. His was the first issue before the Council. As our official party took the remaining seats, excluding only the King's High Seat, I coincidentally found myself next to Reynal. Wraith took one look at him and hissed a most unladylike challenge, one which Reynal looked more than ready to answer. However Queen Selay had her own dark cat with her and none of the High Canyon representatives knew that this was not the usual case. I contrived to lean against the arm of the hard chair, allowing Wraith to peek out at Reynal over my elbow. She gave an occasional reminding hiss to make sure that Reynal was aware of her displeasure. "I'm so sorry we're late," Queen Selay claimed. "Since you have decreed new hairstyles for all the maidens, our preparations simply take longer." I knew it would somehow turn out to be Lyonidas' fault. Or at least someone from High Canyon. It was not a coincidence that the chairs of the Council chamber were uncomfortable, excepting only the King's High Seat, and the Queen's. Those who had been waiting so long were almost comically glad to see the meeting finally begin. It seemed that North Vale had been approached by various wood consumers, a shipyard and a furniture guild among others, for permission to remove trees from an untouched forest near the border of North Vale and its western neighbor. The neighbor, Clfton, under Baron Sutherland, was concerned that removal of the trees would allow the spring rains to flood his fields. Establishing this situation took an inordinate amount of time as experts in different woods make presentation on the quantity and suitability of North Vale's trees for various applications. This was followed by other experts who discussed expected rainfall, normal stream sizes, and anything else that Hugh had been able to invent as part of the discussion. The actual decision was obvious. North Vale would be allowed to remove the hardwoods suitable for the specific uses envisioned by the wood consumers while leaving other trees in place. Yet reaching this obvious conclusion took almost 3 hours of Council time. By this point Reynal was openly suffering. His eyes were red and watering in a way that looked too close to crying for his manly image. His nose was alternately dripping in a most ungenteel manner, or being wiped on an increasingly sodden sleeve. His breath rasped in and out like a blacksmith's bellows, each exercise deliberate, forced, and wheezy. Hugh had orchestrated things nearly as well on the next case. A farming baron wanted to change from wheat to oats but was unsure of adequate water supply. After further interminable testimony it was determined that an irrigation system that had already been planned, financed in part by the crown would resolve the issue. All that the baron needed to do was delay his change until the irrigation system was in place. This took only two hours to determine. In the end, another obvious decision followed monotonous, largely irrelevant pedantry. It wasn't even clear who made the obvious decisions. The presenter would seem to discover the solution in the course of his discourse and everyone would find themselves nodding their heads in concurrence. Hugh would state the decision for the record and motion for the next topic. At the calling of the third issue, which revealed at least a dozen men who obviously expected to speak, Lyonidas stood up. "Your Majesty, if you would consent to continue without us, General Reynal has always been a sparring partner of mine, and I feel the need to sharpen my skills with his aid. We had planned that after the Council session but it is taking a bit longer than we anticipated. "Of course, Milord Regent," Queen Selay nodded graciously. She had no chance to reinforce Reynal's willingness to leave, but his streaming eyes showed that no reinforcement was really required. The departure of the ranking High Canyonites provided sufficient excuse for the rest of their contingent to attend to other duties and the Council chamber soon held only Achaieans. "Very well, Hugh, let's get to the real business," Queen Selay ordered as soon as the door closed behind the last tan-garbed intruder. The real business consisted of more oaths of fealty to Achaiea, through my hands. These were repeated oaths from those who had held their positions before. However, most of them were in on my secret, both that I was really male and that I was already crowned King of Achaiea. They were prepared to repeat their oaths with full knowledge of the dual meaning. I gathered the power of the white-cold mind behind me as I prepared to accept the oath of the first Council noble. When I attempted to use it to forge a deeper link though, I felt resistance. This man, Baron Sutherland, was accustomed to power, accustomed to his duties to the realm and to the crown. But he was also aware of the crown's duties to him and wanted to see that commitment on my part just as I wanted to see his promise of fealty. No words were spoken, but I knew that I could not force his loyalty without recourse to the consuming fire of anger. I looked at Mother. Her face showed serenity except in a tightness in her eyes that showed she realized this was as much a test of me as of the assembled Achaiean nobles. I did not have the force of personality that my Father had enjoyed, nor even the martial respect of Bareth. I had even surrendered my outward manhood to a disguise unthinkable for a warrior of Achaiea. What made me think I was worthy to be monarch? Queen Selay's blue eyes held my gaze, calm and untroubled. She had confidence in me. They invited me to look within myself for the solution with a message that was almost audible. Invited. Look within myself. I remembered the time when she had impressed her personality on me and that the sensation I had experienced was not that of her mind coming to mine, but of mine going to hers. All this introspection took place within the space of two heartbeats. I looked back at Sutherland, took his gnarled, scarred hands in my soft ones, and offered him a look into my mind with a bridge formed of the white-cold power. His eyes widened in surprise. No other ruler of Achaiea had ever possessed the power that allowed me to merge my mind with his. It gave us each insights into the other, an enduring bridge not made of words. When the time came for the words, there was no resistance. "Baron Sutherland, do you swear fealty to Achaiea and to her Monarch? Do you swear to lay your fortune at her feet and if need be, to sacrifice your life on the altar of her protection?" "I do," he replied strongly. Strangely perhaps, almost like a marriage vow, but perhaps not so strangely at that. The loyalty we owed each other was no less sacred that that of husband and wife. The rest of the oaths proceeded normally until the time came for Hugh of Sandars, Chamberlain of the realm to swear his own fealty. I opened my mind to him while searching his and found a different sort of resistance. Hugh was so committed to the preservation of Achaiea that he could find no room in his heart for a separate loyalty, even to the one who wore the crown. It was not that he didn't want to serve me, but he was honestly concerned with the potential for a conflict between my best interests and those of the realm. It troubled him that he might be forced to choose and so be forsworn to one or the other. That conflict provided me with a lever into his mind. He wanted an honorable resolution to his internal conflict, and I could use that desire to impress compliance just as Mother had impressed femininity on me once given an inroad into my mind. I could feel the power forming about me as I readied a probe into Hugh's mind and I knew it would be successful. Then I drew my hands back from his. "No, I will not do this," I told Mother. No one else really knew what I was talking about. A few probably thought I was refusing Hugh's oath but I couldn't address their concern right at that moment. Mother knew Hugh from before I was born. She had selected him for my tutor though neither he nor I really enjoyed that relationship. I knew without proof that she knew exactly what was troubling me. Yet she said nothing. She just left me to determine how to proceed, the same small tightness in her eyes indicating another, perhaps even more important test. I turned back to Hugh. "Lord Chamberlain, will you step aside with me for a moment?" He nodded, of course, and we stepped into a small side room. "Hugh," I said in a familiarity I hadn't used for ten years, "do you trust me?" "Yes, Your Highness," he replied. "No, Hugh, not Highness. Do you trust ME?" "I don't even know who you are," he said softly. "Do you think the clothes I wear change who I am?" I asked. "It's not the clothes. You have been acting strangely ever since you decided to attempt this masquerade." "Do you know why?" "No, though it has given me more reason to believe that your Mother may truly be a witch," he admitted uncomfortably. "She is, of a sort," I admitted in my turn, which brought his breath to a long halt. "She has a power of mind that allowed her to teach me what I needed to know for this masquerade. I learned it all in a few moments when she opened her mind to mine. Do you believe it?" He nodded slowly, a light dawning in his eyes as he cast his memory back over their decades together, resolving conflicts within the context of this new reality. "I have that same power," I claimed bluntly. He nodded again, even more slowly. No fear, but some suspicion lurked in his eyes. "I could have used it to force you to be loyal to me," I claimed further. He nodded once again. "Do you know why I did not?" I asked. "Because you are your father's child as well as your mother's," he answered obliquely. He saw the confusion on my face and continued. "Your father, King Andros, was the most honorable man I have ever known. He listened to your mother's advice and followed it almost always. But I think if he had the power you describe, he would not have used it. He always remembered that he might make a mistake and required honesty from those he respected, even before obedience." I nodded, knowing that there was more unsaid. "I'm not sure your mother has that same humility," he concluded. "Perhaps not, but she has required all the nobles to swear fealty to me, not to herself," I reminded him. This brought a new look into his eyes, one of deeper examination of his memories. I offered him a resolution to his internal conflict. "I think Mother will do whatever it takes to restore Achaiean rule. She is harder than Father regardless of her outer feminine softness. Yet in her own way, she honors him as well by working to ensure Andros' blood retains the throne. It may not be humility which constrains her, perhaps the opposite. She may have the pride to believe she can accomplish any goal. It is just that her goal is focused on Andros' memory and on Achaiea, not on herself. "And your goal?" he asked, a sharper look in his eyes as he returned from his memories. "To restore Achaiea," I declared. "Just that?" he demanded further. "Do you think I would dress as I do if I were worried about my own future?" I asked in turn. "The circle of those who know Cherysse is expanding further and further. I will never be respected as Deacon, even if the High Canyon invaders leave. But they will leave!" The intensity of this final claim surprised even me, though not as much as Hugh's next action. He knelt before me and held out his hands to mine. I took them, and without my urging he swore the oath of fealty. Though I used no power to reinforce it, I saw in his eyes a commitment as great as in any whose mind I had touched. For the first time, I knew that I really would rule in Achaiea. Chapter 10 First Blood Even Queen Selay was surprised by the expressions of friendship that Hugh and I wore when we re-entered the Council chamber. I could see a question in her eyes, but also acceptance that if I was satisfied, she would accept whatever had happened. That was enormously satisfying, especially coming on the heels of Hugh's true acceptance of me as well. I smiled my gratitude to her then took my place back at the table. Though we had spent an inordinate amount of time on trivial issues and then had confirmed the fealty oaths as well, there were still real issues to discuss. We needed to decide how to meet Kragdle's demands for what amounted to tribute (couched in terms of mutual sharing of skills, though the sharing appeared to be all one way). Food and water were hardly worth transporting though specific delicacies would make the journey. Kragdle, to his credit, was more interested in our techniques with metal working, with medicine, and with book publishing. These were intellectual property that were at the same time easiest to transport and, to us, most valuable. We were not quite openly rebellious. If called to account for our decision, we had superficial justification that the plans for full transfer were scheduled so that artisans in High Canyon would be able to understand the steps. In actual fact, we held back the true secrets totally, showing activity without compromising our advantage. If you don't know what you don't know, you can't tell what you're not being told. It took all day. In fact, the meeting continued well past its appointed hour so supper was scheduled for after sunset rather than before. I suppose this was best since we somehow never got around to telling those from High Canyon and so Lyonidas must have been waiting to be summoned to dinner while I stood alone on my balcony, watching the sunset. It was a curiously grey sunset. The color just leeched out of the world as darkness fell. That must have been what made me feel so lonely. That must have been the reason my heart was so heavy when I finally turned to descend the stairs. Lyonidas did his best to lighten the mood at supper. He described his sparring with Reynal in terms that were mostly self-deprecating, but I noticed that Reynal was sporting a swollen eye while Lyonidas was unmarked. I had never really seen personal combat among the High Canyonites and wondered if it somehow reflected their amorphous campaign style. Drayson, the sole Achaiean warrior invited to the head table, took advantage of a break in Lyonidas' report to offer a suggestion to Reynal. "General Reynal, if you wore a more effective helm you could protect yourself from such injuries as you display." "A warrior does not protect, a warrior attacks," Reynal sneered. Drayson bristled, "A warrior exists to protect his nation and people!" "The people ARE the warriors!" Reynal declared, getting louder. About this time I was wondering if Lyonidas would step in but when I looked at him he was looking at me, of all people. I mean, it was nice to have his attention but did he expect me to do something? Perhaps he expected me to rein in the Achaiean knight as though it were his fault they were arguing. Well, I wasn't going to do it. Drayson and I had sworn fealty. Reynal was an interloper. Nonetheless, I interrupted them. In my (actually Mother's) sweetest voice, a real simper, I asked, "General Reynal, have you seen my kitten?" "Huh, what?" he replied, unwilling to be distracted from his potential foe. "My little kitten, Wraith. She was so attracted to you, today. I'm just sure that if I can't find her, she'll find her way to you." "A cat? Attracted to me?" he snorted. Then suspicion flared in his eyes as he realized I might use the cat to irritate him whether the cat wished it or not. I stood up, and nodded to Lyonidas. "Well, it's been a while since I've checked on her. I suppose I should go do that, and I have my evening studies. If Milord Regent will excuse me?" He nodded gravely, though the twinkle in his eyes gave away his appreciation for my sharp-edged tease. My pout sent him a message that he should have handled this himself, but since he didn't I would. I was not really happy about this. We were in a strange limbo relationship with our invaders. They had returned most of their horde to High Canyon and we could probably overwhelm those who were left. However, they had our promise not to reinitiate hostilities. Instead, we were in a sort of unwelcome guest situation where we had duties and they had claims. Nonetheless, guests had duties, too. I decided I'd make sure they remembered that. "General," I turned to Reynal, pure sweet honey dripping from my voice, overdone enough even he knew it was fake, "if I can't find my kitten, could I count on you for help in searching for her?" "Um, well, I have, uh, other duties this evening," he claimed. "Oh, that's too bad. Well, I guess that cuts your supper short as well, then," I offered false sympathy. I also made it clear that his claim that he wouldn't have time to help me meant he didn't have time to sit around arguing. He looked at Lyonidas, who nodded, his mouth showing continued gravity, his eyes sparkling even brighter. Without another word, Reynal left the table. As I turned to depart myself, Queen Selay took this moment to put her own mark on the evening. "Julia, please accompany her." Julia's face fell at the her lost opportunity to be alone with Lyonidas, though of course the room remained nearly full and Strane was her theoretical escort. Still, Mother was clearly working to keep both of us from our tall Regent for a while. Those few days set the tone for the next few weeks, and then months. Queen Selay, with the Chamberlain, really ran the kingdom while Lyonidas and Reynal tried to accelerate the transfer of knowledge from our craftsmen to their homeland. Perhaps once or twice a week, Lyonidas would join me on the balcony for the sunset. We just talked though, of inconsequential matters. Mostly I avoided his eyes so that he couldn't see the longing in mine. Mother never again left Julia and me alone in the bathing chamber. Yet, when I looked in Julia's eyes I dreamed I saw a longing there as well. I felt pulled in directions I didn't understand and withdrew into a quieter personality not so directly a copy of Mother. One morning as the seasons turned later into fall, when Julia and I moved from our baths into the dressing room we saw Mother dressed in a deep red gown instead of her constant black. Other gowns were laid out as well, the blue one I had worn the day I became Cherysse and a beautiful dark green one that was obviously intended for Julia. Julia ran to her dress with joyful exultation, giggling with her attendants as she caressed the soft, rich fabric. I just looked at Mother. "Is the period of mourning over so soon?" I asked. "It has been three months," she confirmed. I realized I had been in shock the first time I had worn the dress, too overcome with the situation and the fresh impression of Mother's personality to really understand the beauty of the gown she had selected for me. It was every bit as enticing as the sleek black gown I had worn the evening that Lyonidas kissed me. Perhaps more. It certainly fit as well. Without the constant control of my steel guardian it would never have closed about me. Yet, it had light-hearted touches in decorating accents that had been absent in the elegance of the darker dress. When I was fully dressed, I swept my flowing skirts back and forth before the mirror, relishing in the wide swirl. A twirl around revealed that the dress was cut full in the hem, allowing a surprising amount of petticoat to show when my motion provided the energy. It was a dress made for dancing. This brought me up short. Dancing? With whom? Flirting with Lyonidas to keep him off balance was one thing. That was duty. But looking forward to dancing just because I was in a beautiful dress? What justified that? I had still only been kissed twice, once by Lyonidas (well, all right, he kissed me more than once, but only on one occasion), and once by Julia (well, I had actually kissed her). Both had given rise to strong responses within me, but strongly different as well. I couldn't decide which one was wrong, but it didn't seem that both could be right. Julia, on the other hand, seemed to have no concerns at all. She had been dutifully somber at least on public occasions, but her internal energy could not be contained forever. "Oh, Your Majesty, could we have a party tonight? Please?" she begged. Even Mother was not immune to Julia's charms. I knew if she asked something of me that way, I would give her the keys to the kingdom itself. Mother merely smiled though, and nodded. The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the celebration. Formal, official mourning was over. For those maidens who had not lost loved ones in the war, all mourning was over and they were free to get on with their lives. I suspected our castle was not the only dwelling hosting a part that night. When we were finally ready Mother sent Amy to inform Lyonidas. Some little time later we heard a knock at the door, followed by Amy's entrance. Lyonidas followed her through the door with casual ease until he saw us. Then he froze in midstep, a look of wonder spreading over his face. Resuming his motion, he glided up to where Julia and I stood, stopped with his hands on his hips and let his gaze drift languidly from the floor to our carefully waved hair. Although his words were supposedly to Mother, it seemed as though he were talking to himself. "Fire and sunlight, green forests and deep blue sea. Your Majesty, it is only with greater self-control than I can believe I possess that I do not issue another decree. Maidens of such surpassing beauty should always wear colorful gowns. Not that even these gowns can match these maidens." His eyes had tried to take in both Julia and I simultaneously, in the end flickering back and forth between us. As he finished he was looking at me and for some reason I wanted his attention to remain with me. "Milord Regent, I seem to remember at least one black gown that seemed to meet your standards for a maiden's attire." He refused to be cowed, grinning instead, "Yes, but that was so long ago!" "Not so long that I have forgotten," I whispered. "Nor have . . ." he tried to reply, interrupted by Julia. "May we go eat?" she complained. "I'm hungry." Mother contained her own grin and looked to Lyonidas with an upraised brow. He nodded to her, bowed low to Julia and then to me before offering his arm to the Queen. Our escorts sorted out almost as before. However Drayson's fiancee, Yvina, had pleaded illness and Olrin, the High Canyonite had claimed duty of some sort or another. Our procession then was; Queen Selay with Lyonidas, Strane with me, and Drayson with Julia. We met General Reynal with Duchess Amity near the dining hall. She seemed to cling to him more and more lately, never standing straight and tall. At least, not when anyone from High Canyon was around. The meal itself was as much a harvest feast as an ordinary dinner. Though our nation had lost much in the war, still, there was enough for a sumptuous meal. We had introduced those from High Canyon to a wider variety of spices than they had been accustomed to, which required a correspondingly wide variety of dishes to take full advantage of their impacts to taste. It was almost a treasure hunt, finding the gems of delicate sensation among the fires of wildly-spiced concoctions. The first bite was always tentative, the next intake divided almost equally between another bite and a quick gulp of cooling liquid. Of course, Julia and I could only taste a few bites of each course, constrained by our garments to almost-fully-compressed stomachs. The men, on the other hand, ate hugely and imbibed even more hugely on the fine beers from the year's harvest. Finally though, even this great meal was done. At a nod from Queen Selay attendants cleared some of the lower tables. The musicians that had been providing gentle music during our meal now switched to lively dance tunes. Lyonidas was on his feet as soon as they started to play. "Your Majesty, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" he asked politely. "I think not," she smiled. "At least, not until the musicians burn off a little of their present energy." "Then, My Princess," he smiled to me. I wanted to say yes but dancing had never been a favorite activity for me. I was too slight to provide a suitable partner for most of the noblewomen in the palace and looked like a silly child whenever I tried. An automatic refusal sent a ripple through my hair before I even realized that I would now be expected to be the slimmer, shorter partner. "Won't someone dance with me?" Lyonidas appealed to the sky, or at least the ceiling. "I will!" Julia called, standing so quickly that Strane had no time to assist her. Lyonidas' grin widened as he offered his arm to my redheaded rival. They made a lovely couple. Julia's bright energy found a kindred soul in Lyonidas' easy humor. He knew our dances well. As I watched them, I settled ever more deeply into my seat. That could have been me, I realized. Should have been me, my heart shouted! They danced several quick, light airs before returning to their seats, breathless and laughing. Lyonidas took his seat next to me and looked at me in my ill humor. He leaned closer and whispered, "Do you remember what happened the last time I saw you pout like that?" I jerked upright in my chair and looked at him in horror. He wouldn't dare kiss me here! Would he? Maybe? He laughed at the complex emotions I knew must have been playing across my face then teased, "Perhaps you should have accepted my invitation to dance." "Perhaps," I replied, my response more reflex than clear decision. "I mean, uh, now that, um, my, uh, meal is settled." "Is it settled, then?" he asked. "Yes, I believe it is," I answered, letting my eyes meet his clearly for the first time in a very long time. He stood again, moving to assist me with my chair. I rose to my feet with shaking knees, still torn between desires that seemed to have no common ground. At that instant though, the compelling urge I had was to dance with my handsome escort. The musicians continued to play light-hearted tunes. It was amazing to me how expressive my gown was. As was proper, I gathered up the full skirts in one hand as Lyonidas took my other and placed his hand upon my waist. He was a strong lead, letting me know with sure pressures on hand and hip what motion he intended and intended for me. I surrendered to his guidance, responding as much to the music as when I played my own instruments. It was wonderfully cheerful. As we gained familiarity with each other he began to initiate even more adventurous motions, finally whirling me under his high arm as I lightly moved first away, then back to his touch. I had dropped my skirts with the motion and my twirl had lifted them high enough to cause a gasp from the crowd, followed by a instant of twittering laughter. But I didn't care, the music and my partner's enjoyment of it had released me from cares at least for the moment. I had long learned not to believe in coincidences when Mother was in the room, so I felt only an instant of surprise when the next tune the band selected was slower, and much more intimate. Lyonidas allowed me to once again gather my skirts into my free hand, then snaked his own hand farther around my back than before, bringing us almost into contact. "Please, Milord Regent, it is not proper," I whispered. But he didn't relent. At least, not without a price. "Only on one condition," he warned. "You must call me Lyonidas from now on." "Can there be no exceptions?" I smiled. He pulled me even tighter, now our bodies were touching, lightly it is true but the pressures felt warmer than summer sunshine. "What exceptions would you like?" he smiled. It was a most gentle smile, except deep within his dark eyes where lurked a message I wasn't sure I wanted to decipher. "Perhaps, my Prince, we can think of something." Now it was my turn to smile, my turn to let deeper thoughts show through the window of my blue eyes. "That's not a bad start," he grinned in acceptance. I let a smile linger on my own lips to make sure we could pretend to be speaking of inconsequential matters. "A start toward what destination?" "What destination would you like?" "Milord, um, my Lyonidas, you are master here." "I like that even better," he smiled even wider. "But my father's warriors provide no authority over a maiden's heart." "Is that the destination you desire?" "Is it within reach?" he asked gently, stopping in the middle of our dance. Reality crashed in on me with heartless power. In all my life, even on the day of our defeat, I don't believe I wanted anything more than to be able to tell him that my heart was within his reach. But that impulse died before birth, victim to a masquerade that was a greater sacrifice than even my worst nightmares could have imagined. Without further word I fled from the room, tears filling my eyes beyond capacity and spilling down my cheeks. My sorrow knew no limits that I could control and spilled into anger. Anger at Mother, who had forced emotions into my heart that had no true place there. Anger at Lyonidas, who represented the cause of our distress. Anger at myself, for weakness and for being a thousand kinds of fool. Yet my anger did nothing to stem the flow of tears. When I reached my room, I threw myself on my bed still fully gowned. My pillow worked to catch my tears, supplemented by the soft nose of Wraith who tried to comfort the inconsolable. Only a knock at my door shocked me enough to regain some small measure of my control. "Yes, who is it?" "It is Minah, Your Highness. I have come to help you undress." My beautiful gown was rumpled and tear stained and somehow that was too much to bear. I had no one I could cherish freely, nothing of true beauty when even my gowns were borrowed from Mother. But I had enough ugliness in my life, and didn't need to destroy what beauty was there. "Very well," I called, rising from my bed. Minah bustled into the room with emotionless efficiency, neither noticing nor condemning my loss of control. I was released from the beautiful blue dress without further damage and handed a dressing gown to ward off the autumn chill. "Your Highness," she said quietly, "I saw something I think should be reported, but I'm not sure just how or to whom." She knew who I really was, of course. Her manner told me this was really a matter of policy for the realm, properly handled only by myself, or Queen Selay, or possibly the Chamberlain. With a glance, I invited her to continue. "A few minutes before I came in here, I saw Yvina, Drayson's fiancee, heading for the balcony two levels below where you watch the sunset." "Yes, perhaps she wanted some fresh air," I said, not seeing any significance to her observation. "Yes, Highness, but as I reached this corridor I glanced back and saw Olrin, the man from High Canyon, ascending the same stairs." "Indeed. It was probably a coincidence." "Perhaps, Highness, but it is not the first time I've seen that coincidence. It seems to occur whenever Yvina feels ill." "I had not noticed," I mused. "Does anyone else know of this coincidence?" "Not that I know of. Only your apartments are down this hall now, among the Achaiean women. All the other lady's attendants use the other stairs." I stood up and started to pace about the room. A part of me wanted to ask Mother for guidance, or Hugh. But a bigger part of me just wanted to get back at the intruders from High Canyon. I had already known that Drayson was not a terribly bright person. It was unlikely that he knew of Yvina's actions. She, on the other hand, was quite sharp. Yet if she were betraying an Achaiean because she thought her prospects were better with someone from High Canyon, she was sadly mistaken. In some respects, correcting her betrayal was even more important to me than getting back at them for my own tribulation. "Minah," I said judiciously, providing a rationale for what might soon be a very important conflict, "it has been some time since Yvina has been checked on by her fiance. Would you go and tell Drayson I am concerned about her? If you know where she might be, you could tell him that, too." Minah's eyes had a shrewdness that made it clear she knew exactly what I intended to happen. With a nod at her orders, she left. I sat down to my studies, waiting patiently now that the wheels were in motion. It was perhaps a half an hour later when I heard the commotion in the hallway. Minah knocked on my door and entered breathlessly. "Sir Drayson has just killed Olrin of High Canyon! He found Olrin with Yvina, his intended, and killed him in a fit of rage! Milord Regent has imprisoned Sir Drayson and intends a trial tomorrow." "Imagine that," I said quietly. Chapter 11 Pulling Strings The mood was decidedly more sober the next morning. Queen Selay and I were in our accustomed places when Lyonidas entered the throne room. He walked directly to the King's throne and paused, looked at Queen Selay with a grimly determined expression, then turned and sat. Queen Selay stood immediately, but before she could speak, Lyonidas said, "Sit, Madame, or leave. But today I judge the life of a man. That is a solemn responsibility and you should consider it a sign of respect for this furniture that I choose to take on myself, at least for this trial, the full position of king. Tell my father if you will, but today I will sit." This time, Lyonidas had the power of personality. For one of the few times in her life, Queen Selay was overmatched. She sat again without a word, though her eyes showed more worry than before. As well they might. As did my own. My frustrated impulse of the night before had resulted in the death of one man and it was clear that Lyonidas considered the very life of another hung in today's balance. Reynal had entered with Lyonidas, almost lost in the power of the confrontation between the Regent and Queen. Now Lyonidas nodded to his own General instead of our Chamberlain. Reynal responded by waving at a High Canyon guard at a side door. In a moment, Drayson entered, surrounded by four High Canyon warriors for once moving in a structured formation. Drayson had not been harmed as far as we could tell. He was unarmed, including stripping off his armor, but no signs of abuse or even fighting showed on his face. He also walked with his accustomed long stride, not apparently favoring any hidden injuries. His guards marched him to stand before the thrones. Once again, Lyonidas spoke before Queen Selay had a chance. "Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you stand accused of murder. How do you plead?" Drayson didn't reply immediately. He looked at Queen Selay and then at me. She met his eyes with calm dignity but I knew my own eyes were showing horror and guilt. After a long enough pause to accept his statement of loyalty to her, not to the Regent, Queen Selay nodded at Drayson. "Not guilty!" he declared. "You were seen standing over the body, your sword red with Olrin's blood. Yvina testifies that you killed him," Reynal charged. Apparently he was going to serve as prosecutor. "Oh, I killed the coward," Drayson declared, "but it wasn't murder. He was attacking my fiancee." "She doesn't say that," Reynal denied. "She's afraid of what you honorless scum will do to her if she tells the truth," claimed Drayson. Reynal bristled at the insult but maintained his tone when he spoke, "Describe the situation you encountered that led you to believe Olrin was attacking the woman." "That 'woman' is my fiancee," Drayson growled. "Describe the situation," Reynal repeated, the very flatness of his tone promising no relief from his questions. "I went to look for Yvina, who had said she was feeling poorly. A servant told me she was on a balcony getting some fresh air, so I went there. When I got close, I heard that she was not alone. Her voice was muffled, as though she couldn't speak clearly, so I drew my sword and moved quietly to find the reason." Drayson's voice started to climb with rage and outrage and righteous anger as he continued, "He had her forced against the balcony ledge and was attacking her! As soon as I saw what was going on, I yelled at him. He turned, reached for his own sword, and I stuck him like the pig he was." This caused a flush to climb Reynal's neck and an angry stirring among Drayson's anonymously-cowled guards. My horror was growing as I realized how I had used my knight's arrogance against Olrin, just as surely as it worked against his own safety now. It had always seemed from their amorphous fighting style that the High Canyonites were undisciplined. Reynal proved the lie of that by waiting until his flush subsided before speaking again. When he did speak there was a sly softness to his voice. "Tell us, where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them." "What?" "Where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them?" "I don't know what you mean," Drayson replied, a suspicious look on his face. "Were they on Olrin's chest, pushing him away? Were they pinned behind her body? Were they pounding on his shoulders? Where were her hands?" "I don't know, I guess they were, uh, around his . . . neck," Drayson said. Even as he spoke, I could see realization seep into his body. It sagged from his previous proud carriage to one of helpless, betrayed shame. Reynal was now brusque efficiency. "Did Olrin draw his sword completely and attack you with it?" "No." Drayson's voice was almost too quiet to be heard. Reynal was through. He turned to Lyonidas and said, "Milord Regent, it is clear that while he may not have thought through things clearly, Drayson did indeed murder Olrin. The woman was not being attacked and did not need to be defended. Olrin had no chance to defend himself. I suggest that there was no treason on the part of this man, only misguided passion." No treason on Drayson's part, perhaps, but what of me? To whom did I owe my loyalty? Drayson was a weapon no less than the sword he had carried and I had turned a weapon of Achaiea against a man of High Canyon in defiance of our peace agreement. It had not been Queen Selay, nor any other, the responsibility was mine. As he intoned the words of doom, the face of Lyonidas was as sad, in a different way, at the demands of duty as we had been when our men were executed. "Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you are found guilty of murder. You will be hung outside the gates tomorrow at dawn." "NO!" Drayson roared, no longer slumped. "No!" all the Achaieans cried, horror stricken. "No," Queen Selay said quietly, her voice somehow cutting through all the others. Lyonidas looked at her with anger, ready to demand obedience. Instead of defiance though, he found calm determination. "A Knight of the realm cannot be executed like a common peasant," she explained. "He has the right to trial by combat. If you refuse this right, you refuse to abide by the peace agreement." Strangely, Lyonidas looked at me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe he thought my scholarly studies were relevant. In any event it was clear his question was for me. "What does a man's martial ability have to do with his guilt or innocence?" "Milord Regent," I replied formally, "Drayson is not just a man, he is of noble rank. The responsibilities of our nobility derive from the fundamental tenet that our positions are the result of God's will. Any judgment that offers conflict with God's will is blasphemous." "And what if an ungodly man just happens to be the best fighter around?" "God would not let it be so, at least, not enough to overcome our formal trial by combat." "'Formal' trial by combat. You people have ritual for everything." Now his exasperation started to show. "Perhaps, but it has served us well for generations," I replied. Lyonidas slumped back in the King's throne and muttered, "Very well, describe your 'formal' trial by combat." Instead of continuing, I nodded to the Chamberlain. Hugh stepped forward and repeated the formula. "The accused, being of noble rank, has the right to trial by combat. He can choose any personal weapons, but all must be on his person at the start of the combat. The King, uh, that is, I suppose, the Regent will pick a champion to face the accused. If the champion is vanquished, the, um, ruler will choose two champions. If they are vanquished, the ruler will choose four champions. If they are vanquished, the accused has demonstrated that God is on his side, and is exonerated." Lyonidas had perked up a bit as this ritual was explained. Clearly, we were not letting Drayson off easily. A gleam showed in his eyes and I remembered Reynal's claim that the people, at least of High Canyon, were the warriors and did not need protection. Our foes were a martial race, not afraid of fair combat, confident in their own abilities. A duel to the death was not uncommon among them, often for less lofty reasons. This was looking like something reasonably similar. "Who has been the King's champion in the past?" Lyonidas asked. "The King has been his own champion, since Andros ascended to the throne. He felt that the one who passes judgment should be prepared to answer to God for that judgment. There have been no capital cases against nobility since his death." "And before that?" Lyonidas asked further. Now Hugh was a bit embarrassed. "Well, in ancient times, only one champion faced the accused. Six generations ago, then King Alcon chose a champion, as he was himself aged. The accused dispatched the champion. King Alcon then declared that two would face the accused. They, too, were dispatched. The King declared that four would face the accused, who was then vanquished. In the time since, no accused has ever survived to face more than a pair of champions." "So the King was not above helping God out a little, huh?" Lyonidas mused. Hugh was shocked at the Regent's attitude, "The King is God's chosen ruler! It is only right that he should work on God's behalf." Lyonidas drawled his response out enough to show his disdain for our "civilized" rationalizations, "Riiight." The tall foreign prince stood up and walked to face Drayson. There was no languid ease in his carriage now, instead, he seemed to flow down the steps like a shadow, "Very well, Drayson, you shall have your combat." Before Lyonidas could proceed, Reynal called out, "Milord Regent, I demand to be your champion!" Never taking his eyes from Drayson, Lyonidas dismissed the claim, "You demand nothing, General. You heard their tradition, the one who makes the judgment defends it. That's just fine with me." Finally breaking eye contact with Drayson, Lyonidas turned back to me once again, "Is there an official time for this duel?" I just shook my head. "Very well, it shall be at noon, today, in the field where your heirs were executed," announced Lyonidas. Then he turned away and drew the rest of the High Canyon contingent with him, including even Drayson's guards. They left without a backward glance. Drayson stood there uncertainly. Then he drew himself up and bowed formally to the Queen before departing toward his chambers. The remaining Achaieans in the throne room started to stir as though to leave, but Queen Selay looked sharply at the Chamberlain, who just as sharply called everyone to order. "There is yet another trial to be conducted today," Hugh announced. Now Yvina was brought forward. Her escorts were Achaiean, but they were as clearly guards as those who had accompanied Drayson earlier. She was brought to stand before Queen Selay and though Yvina's face showed defiance, with chin high and shoulders back, her eyes showed real fear. Queen Selay began. "So, Yvina, what have you to say for yourself?" Mother was apparently going to function as her own prosecutor, though Yvina's specific crimes were unclear. "Nothing needs to be said," Yvina claimed. "Tell me, Yvina, where were your hands when Drayson found you and Olrin together?" "My hands?" Yvina said, looking down at them without comprehension. Yet the question worked as well on her as it had on Drayson. Light dawned behind those dark eyes as she realized that significance of her position. One does not embrace an attacker. Then Mother asked yet another telling question, one that I didn't think she would even know to ask, "Tell me, Yvina, how many other times had you met Olrin on that balcony?" Yvina looked at her Queen with real fright in her eyes now. Mother's question had showed she knew that Yvina's betrayal of her betrothed had not been a momentary passion, but a repeated decision. She had no response beyond a sagging of shoulders that made her look like she was shrinking somehow. "You have caused the death of Olrin, and shortly the death of Drayson. Perhaps after Drayson kills Lyonidas, which will certainly reignite the war. Now, what have you to say for yourself?" "Nothing," she replied, lowering her head in an unknowing parody of Drayson's earlier shame. Instead of further questions of Yvina, Mother now turned to me. "Princess Cherysse, what punishment do you think is fitting for one who betrays a betrothed, resulting in the death of two men?" Was she asking about Yvina, or about me? Had I betrayed my knight by sending him into a situation I knew would result in death? I felt the shame of my own part in this and I knew it showed. Yet there was a further message in her question and in her actions. It appeared Mother had been aware of Yvina's nocturnal excursions long before I was. I felt her hidden hand had been in my back that night, pushing me to actions she had foreseen. Was her question really an offer to judge herself, the Queen who had been a part of this too? The passions of the night before had burnt themselves out of my heart. I considered my actions of the night before and realized that I would do them again, if the situation presented itself. Do them with cold logic as a means to eliminate a High Canyon invader. I saw that message in Mother's eyes as well. We had used Drayson as though the sword in his hand had been wrapped in our own smaller grip. And we had broken that sword in the use, consumed it to our ends with ruthless determination. In that light, Yvina was no more than a tool herself. Since it seemed to be up to me I decided that I had had enough of breaking tools, though Yvina would certainly not be rewarded for her betrayal. "Your Majesty, there is a small village we passed on an inspection tour. A new blacksmith has moved to the village to replace one killed in the war. That blacksmith has no family. It seems to me that one who betrays a noble should not be given a chance to do so again. Perhaps she can make amends by providing a family to a hard-working craftsman." "Oh, no!" Yvina moaned softly. All her dreams of wealth and power were to be replaced by years of drudgery. Yet I thought it was just. It was clear that Mother had expected someone, somewhere to give her an opportunity like this, knowing that some girl would find a man of High Canyon exotically attractive, or perhaps just more suited to over-reaching ambition. Still, Yvina had been the one weak enough to provide the inevitable justification and her example must control the impulses of others. Queen Selay nodded her acceptance of my sentence, then nodded to the Chamberlain as well. Another quiet nod and Yvina was escorted from the throne room in eerie silence as though directed by some telepathic communication that did indeed arise from witchcraft rather than simple human understanding. Chapter 12 Pulling Heartstrings "You used me!" I accused Mother as soon as we reached her private quarters. "Yes, dear," she sighed, "just as I said I would do." Then she gently made the counteraccusation to which I was so vulnerable, "Just as you used Drayson." "How did you know what everyone would do?" I asked. "How did you know what Drayson would do?" she once again answered my question with a question of her own. This time, though, she answered it. "Actually, I didn't know for sure who would be involved. I just set the stage so that someone would be. I'm sorry it's Drayson but it was nearly inevitable that Yvina would be the one to betray an Achaiean." "And what about me?" She looked at me with soft, sad eyes, "I didn't set out to have you involved in this. I actually expected it would be Julia or Duchess Amity since you've been so withdrawn lately. But when I heard that Yvina and Olrin were meeting on that balcony, I expected you would be the one to arrange the confrontation." "Why didn't you do it yourself?" "Because this is not the only time someone from High Canyon will die. If I am clearly involved in each death, Kragdle will eliminate me on that basis. Even if, like this, there is no direct linkage." "Am I to be involved again?" I asked in sadness, yet resignation. "I honestly don't know. Yet, if the opportunity arises, I will expect you to do your part," then her voice softened, "as you have always done your part, and more." She moved to embrace me to offer comfort. In moments though, she was sobbing with her own guilt. For some reason, though I was much more closely involved, this relieved me of some of my emotional burden and I ended up comforting her. For only a few short moments. All too soon it was time to witness the will of God, as reflected in the trial by combat. It was too far for us to walk in our court dresses so Hugh had arranged for a carriage. He handed us up into the soft seats and we rode out like we were going to a picnic. At this picnic though, the only course was blood. Drayson was already there. He had arrayed himself in armor that I knew would have prevented me from even standing upright. His sword was only of medium length, but it was heavy and I didn't want to think of holding enough shield to stop it even if I didn't have to wear the other armor. He looked like a fantastic dragon, all scales and heavy mass. The High Canyon contingent had erected a pavilion tent nearby. As we waited