Queen Yavara: Chapter 25 free porn video

LEVERIA

“…three, two, one!” Elena grunted, and with a heave, we tossed Sir Fraldias’s corpse down the spiraling staircase. It clanked and boomed as it disappeared into the stone blackness, then ended with a distant splash.

“How are you going to explain it?” Elena asked, catching her breath.

“I’m the queen of the Highlands; I don’t need to explain anything.” I smiled, wiping the blood off on my already-ruined night gown, “No one will question me about a missing knight, but a dead one at my door would’ve raised some eyebrows.”

“It’s going to stink in here if you leave him down there.”

“The escape route leads to a drainage pipe that empties into the Bentius Bay. Sir Fraldias is likely halfway past the docks already.”

Elena snorted, and pulled the lever by the fireplace. “And so Sir Piss and Shit is flushed.” The secret passage closed, leaving only a brick wall. We turned around to look at the state of the room. A trail of blood led from the door, ruining a beige rug that had been woven by dawn-elf textiles, the very best in Tenvalia. The satin bedsheets were soaked in blood, sweat, and worse, and our clothing was a disaster of fluids.

“That’s a lot of evidence.” Elena muttered, “The servants will talk.”

“Hmm.” I mused, turning back around, “I am rather cold.”

A minute later, the evidence was the tinder for a roaring fire, the priceless rug and luxurious sheets turned to fuel to bathe our bodies in warmth. We stood side by side, naked and filthy from the night before. I dared to touch fingers with her, and she dared to clasp our hands. And when I rested my head on her shoulder, she did not flinch or move away. It was a delicate thing, whatever this was, and so we tended it like an ailing infant, cautious and gentle.

“Do you wanna fuck again?” I whispered.

“Yeah.” She whispered back.

Here, we were not cautious, nor gentle. Elena had me against the wall, driving as though to break me through it, forcing her cock so deep into me I thought she might pierce my womb. My legs splayed wide for her, my thighs jiggling with the ferocity of her thrusts, her fist entangled in my hair so that she could plunge her tongue into my mouth, tasting my surrender, my depthless need for her hatred, her lust, her… whatever this was. Then her foot was pressing my face into the cold stone floor, and my ass was perched high in the air so that she could fuck my sucking shithole, her girth stretching me enough that my rim clung to her with every retreat, my pelvic floor tenting about her pole, heinous pleasures singing through parts of me that were not meant to know such things. Then I was riding her, my hips rocking like they’d never rocked before, my thighs squeezing as though I bestrode a bucking bull, her filthy cock sullying my pussy with the sheen of my rectum, the dirtiness only heightening the primal rage of it all, her need to degrade me, to punish me, and my desperate desire for her to do so. And when we came, we did so with our eyes and lips locked, devouring each other’s mouths like lionesses in fervent combat, our bodies heaving to take all we could. Then the catharsis waned from us, and our breaths fell, and I crawled down Elena Straltaira to suck her clean, to taste the comingling of my pussy and ass, but mostly to savor her flavor, the heat of her, the pulsing rigidity. No; it was to see the look in her eyes when I did with my mouth what even Yavara, with all her succubus D.N.A and adventurous lechery, could not. Elena came a second time, her nectar flowing from her tip without pressure like lava from the throbbing head. I drank it all, then kissed her tip, then kissed her. When I made to nestle myself in her arms, she rolled away from me, but she did not protest when I outlined her body with mine.

“Do you like being the little spoon?” I whispered into her pointed ear.

“Sometimes.” She muttered.

“I’ve never been the big spoon before.” I mused, marveling at the feeling of her athletic back pressing against my soft curves, her plump buttocks molding against my pelvis. “I think I like it.” I ran

my fingers up her spine until I felt the flesh change texture between her shoulders. “What does this tattoo mean?”

“It means I saved the Terdini chieftain from a pack of succubi.”

“Did it hurt to get?”

“Are you thinking of getting one?” She looked inquisitively over her shoulder.

“Good god, no!” I giggled, “Could you imagine me marked like a common sailor?”

Elena rolled until she was facing me. “In the Great Forest, those with the most tattoos are those of the greatest standing.”

“Savages.” I smirked.

“One was a friend of mine, a woman named Sherok. She was the one who persuaded me to ink myself.”

“And then Adarian put an arrow through her eye.” My smile broadened.

“You think it’s funny?”

“It’s amusing.” I whispered, daring to put my arm around her. She did the same, and pressed her thumb into my shoulder, where a bruise had formed around the spot she’s stabbed me. I

gasped, the pain lancing up my arm, singing through the tips of my fingers.

“I guess I gave you an impromptu tattoo of my own.” Elena smirked, pressing her thumb harder, “This, Leveria, this is what I find amusing.”

“You sadist.” I whispered.

“An interesting accusation coming from you.”

“I never denied it.”

Her eyes sparkled with something akin to amusement, but darker. “If you could, would you put me back in chains and play with your knives?”

“Only if you asked me to.”

Elena snorted. “No one’s that much of a freak.”

“You’re only eighteen; give it time.” I laughed breathily, “You would be surprised at the way trauma seeps into lust.”

She touched our foreheads, our breaths lingering in each other’s mouths. “The only trauma you’ve known is self-inflicted. I won’t feel sorry for you.”

“I know.” I whispered back, laying my thigh over hers, pressing our pillowing breasts to feel her pert nipples stabbing pleasantly into my own. She eased her grip on my shoulder, and caressed the clotted wound with her thumb, an echo of the delicious pain sounding through my body with every motion. I placed my fingers against her lush lips, and she parted them to let me enter her. She sucked each one with a sensuality that melted me, then she took my hand, and used it as a pillow. Was I lost in her eyes was she gazed at me? I couldn’t say in the moment. They seemed to be depthless, and I wanted to drown in them.

“What now?” She asked quietly, tending the moment with caution.

“We have to address the Noble Court in a few hours.” I nestled myself closer to her.

“We?”

“It’s time to make your debut as ambassador. Are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

I traced the crease of her lips with my thumb. “I’ll protect you.”

Elena snorted. “Better than you protected yourself last night?”

I smiled. “Two years of being a ranger have dulled your mind with metal and muscle. You think strength is just the ability to fight?” I wrinkled my nose at her, “Words are sharper than any blade, and stouter than any shield. A naked expression of terror can protect better than an unyielding face of bravery.”

“Did Daddy teach you that?” Elena laughed.

“He did, and he taught well.” I smiled impishly, “You came to my chambers to kill me, and now you hold me like a lover.”

“You like to think you’re the master manipulator, don’t you?” She clasped my hand around my throat, “But if I were to squeeze, I would steal the words from your tongue, and then what weapon would you use to save yourself?”

“This.” I hissed, and sheathed myself with her cock once more. My nethers were raw and swollen, but the soft walls radiated and saturated with desire just to feel her grow hard in me once more. Her expression became hungry and wanton, her eyes burning. She rolled until she was atop, her weight suppressing me, her cock sliding all the way in.

“An effective strategy.” Elena smiled against my lips, “Though in battle, the goal is to not be stabbed by your enemy.”

“I do a very different kind of battle than you, Ranger.” I gasped, wrapping my legs around her waist, my heels pressing into her ass, “In my world, getting stabbed is par for course; getting stabbed in the front is a victory.”

“Mmm, but I know how much you like getting stabbed from behind.” Elena moaned, her other hand moving beneath us to penetrate my anus with one finger. She grinned as I whimpered. “I wonder what the nobles would think if they knew their queen was being invaded by the enemy every night?” She curled her invading finger until it pressed against her cock from within, and I mewled like a whore for her. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew how easily she surrendered to me.”

“Did I?” I gasped, “Or have I but lured you into a trap?”

Elena withdrew her finger with a pop, then brought it to my lips. Compliantly, and with submissive eyes, I sucked my ass from her. “You seem thoroughly conquered to me, Your Highness.” She whispered.

I unwrapped my legs from her waist, and eased her out of me. “And now?” I asked, my voice tremulous.

Elena’s smile faded. “You’re bluffing.”

“Perhaps.” I grinned puckishly, fixing the expression so that I didn’t betray the desperation churning in me, the vacancy between my legs aching like a hunger.

Elena withdrew from me, leaving the memory of her warmth on my flesh. “We should get some sleep.” She muttered, then walked away, and closed the door behind her. If she had but looked back, I would’ve broken and begged for her with all my soul, but she didn’t, and the sound of the door clicking shut echoed throughout the room, and in the annals of my mind. I sat up, my limbs a struggle of sexual lassitude, my abdomen a storm of unfulfilled need. There would be no sleep for me the rest of the short night. There would be nothing but the craving gnawing in my depths, and oh god, the remedy was right there! What was something as benign as pride to this starvation of desire?! I rushed to the door. It flung open. She was already there, the words poised on her lips: a reason, an excuse, a lie to bandage the wound of pride. We stared at each other in the doorway, then pounced on each other like animals. We did not sleep that night.

YAVARA

As dawn rose, I stared out at the silhouette of the Great Forest from atop the tower. The catharsis of vengeance had departed, and left me hollow. I had crossed a line I could not uncross, a line that others had held me back from even as my nature compelled me to step over it. But those others were gone now; Prestira and Elena, and when I’d been left to my own devices and desires, I’d done horrific things. And I’d liked doing them. As I thought on Elena’s fate, the anguish threatened to take me once more into the darkness where I’d stored my prisoners, and wallow in the worst of my compulsions. I needed Adarian to know my pain! I needed to see it in his eyes! I stopped myself with a shaky breath. Inflicting pain was like taking a drug, and once the high had diminished, the low would follow. I was in one of the lows now. I looked to the west, where hundreds of miles away, Elena was suffering in the darkness beneath Bentius at the hands of a woman who would never know the lows of her own cruelty. Though I’d taken Castle Thorum nearly singlehandedly, I had no delusions about rescuing Elena from Castle Bentius, and I could practically see Leveria’s merciless smile in the darkness of the dying night. I turned away.

A pair of eagles soared over the eastern horizon, gracefully flying just above the tree tops. They grew nearer, and I began to question my eyes. I hadn’t slept in three days. One of the creatures was certainly a great avian, but the other looked more humanoid the closer it got. Valkyries didn’t fly so far south from the Winged Mountains, but I didn’t know what else it could be. Then I saw the creature’s tail, the two sets of horns atop her head, and the color of her flesh, and I wondered at my sanity. But such wonderings were washed away when the great eagle descended to the tower, and morphed into the figure of Zander Fredeon. I held myself together for a bare moment before I broke into pieces and fell into his arms.

“I’m so, so sorry.” I whimpered for the final time, and pulled from him. His smile was kind, but his white eyes were dull and unfeeling, and I feared in what they saw in me. I wiped the tears from my cheek, and addressed the spectacular creature who had guided him here. “Thank you,” I said, “I am in your debt.”

“You are,” a familiar voice spoke from her mouth, “but I am afraid the sum is too great for you to ever pay, so do not think on it.”

I stared disbelievingly. “Arbor?”

“In the flesh once more.” She smiled a small smile, “Though this body suits me better than Tulip’s, or Crystal’s, as you know her. Where are my surviving daughters?”

“In the catacombs. They’re starving, Arbor. I don’t think they can go another day without you.” I twisted my lips, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your master in time.”

“Elena Straltaira holds no dominion over me.” Arbor said, stepping to the ramparts. She looked to the east, then to the south, “My sons will be here by noon, and your chieftain will be here by nightfall with a host at his back.”

“Your sons?” I asked.

She ignored me, instead turning her head to the northwest. “The deer and the elk run headlong into Pines, elven fletching sticking from their flanks. The vultures fly in opposition as though in migration. What compels them, do you think?” She turned to me.

“The Highland army.” I muttered, “They’re eleven days away from Glacier Lake.”

Arbor nodded, then dove from the ramparts, and caught the wind in her wings.

“Eleven days?!” Zander exclaimed, “We were supposed to have months!”

“Leveria ran a very deep misinformation campaign. It’s her specialty; I should’ve foreseen this.”

Zander grabbed me by the shoulder. “Yavara, how can you be sure?”

“Let me show you.”

ZANDER

Thomas Adarian meant nothing to me. He wasn’t the man who had killed Prestira; he was but the hand that dealt it, and Leveria was but the mouth that ordered it, but mine was the mind that set Prestira on the doomed path, and mine was the heart that made her walk it. To me, the high-elf chained to the wall was just a victim like Prestira. Even Yavara was a victim just the same.

“I have plans for him,” Yavara said quietly, “but if you wish, I would let you have vengeance.”

“Not justice?”

“There won’t be justice until Leveria rots in the earth.” Yavara muttered. A wail sounded from the adjacent cell, a desperate sound that was something between a canine’s whine and a woman’s moan. Adarian’s jaw worked, his fists clenched to white knuckles above his shackles. I’d seen April writhing on the floor, her hands chained in such a way that she could not relieve herself. I saw the dead look in her violet eyes, and I knew she’d been broken just as Prestira had been.

“It’s something Alkandi would’ve done, isn’t it?” Yavara whispered.

“Do you wish to emulate her?”

“I wish to be strong.”

I stared at Thomas Adarian, at his broken features and defeated face, at the rage that danced behind his eyes. “What did he tell you?”

Yavara handed me a blood-soaked notepad. “The Highland army is several times larger than we thought it was, and already marching. There are also several ranger patrols in the forest that could cause havoc if not neutralized.”

I read through the notes, searching for anything that would give us even the slightest bit of hope, but there was nothing in the pages that could negate eighty-thousand men. Even if I established a portal to get the chieftains out, I’d never get more through than their extended families before the army reached Glacier Lake. Eleven days. Eleven days to organize a mass evacuation to Castle Alkandra, and that was still under construction. It didn’t matter; eleven days wasn’t even enough time to get the supplies needed for the journey, much less the subsequent siege.

“How did she raise an army so fast?” Yavara asked.

“It’s amazing what fear will do to a nation.” I muttered, sifting through the pages, “Add a national sense of betrayal, and you’ll find no shortage of patriots. They adored you once.”

Yavara snorted. “They adored the idea of me.”

“We’re all just ideas to others.” I sighed, finishing the last sentence of Adarian’s notes. I put down the pages, then immediately picked them back up.

“What?” Yavara asked.

“Leveria nationalized the army; what do you mean by that?”

“It was a letter from Droughtius; he didn’t seem to happy.” Yavara said, “Some people high up were worried that the army was too politically segregated, so they reorganized the regiments. Now each one has a mix of all the noble houses.”

“Droughtius had reason to be angry.” I chewed on my lip, “Any kind of military reshuffling is complicated; it takes weeks for things to settle during peace time, but a complete reorganization while on the move? It would be an absolute clusterfuck. He’s fortunate to have them all moving in the same direction.”

“But they are moving, and it doesn’t really matter how disorganized they are when they outnumber each of the Ten eight to one.”

“Soldiers only move because their commanders tell them to. If a commander falls, then the next in rank takes his place, and the machine keeps cranking along. It’s easy when the regiments are organized by house, because each man knows his place in the machine. But you’ve been around officers, Yavara, you know how they are.”

“They’re an ambitious bunch, aren’t they?” Yavara raised a brow.

“The most enterprising, self-serving lot of bastards you’d ever know. If it weren’t for military rank-and-file, they’d be worse than the Noble Court, but because of the system, every officer keeps his eyes fixed on the position directly above his own. You can bet your perfect round ass that every officer in that army knew exactly who was directly above him, but now…?” I grinned back at Yavara, “Let’s say a captain of the fifth regiment dies. Who does the major replace him with? A lieutenant from House Shordian? A lieutenant from House Ternias? Maybe a lieutenant from House Xantian?” I shook my head, laughing, “He’d naturally be inclined to promote an officer from his house, but then the colonel in charge of him might have objection if he’s of a different house, and the general might have issue if he’s from a different house.”

Yavara’s eyes sparkled. “It would be a damn shame if a captain of the fifth regiment were to die.”

“Can you imagine the chaos if a general were to fall?”

Yavara’s grin turned diabolical. “Can you imagine the chaos if all of them did?”

“That’s a tall order.”

“And you’re such a tall man.” Yavara batted her lashes up at me.

I laughed and embraced her, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She broke into tears again, and I held her through it, letting her vent into my chest, wishing that I could do the same.

“You better come back to me, Zander.” She sniffled when we parted.

“I will.” I said, drying her cheek with my thumb. I looked at Adarian. His fair hair was stained crimson, his jaw was swollen, and his lip was split. I walked to him, and though he knew I was capable of tortures he couldn’t imagine, his face remained impassive, and his gaze never faltered. I dropped into a crouch before him until our eyes were level.

“We met once, do you remember?” I asked.

He nodded a fraction.

“It was what, twelve years ago?” I scratched at my beard, “Clartias Tiadoa had nominated you for head-ranger, and sent you to me for confirmation. Our conversation was brief, but you impressed me then, and I sent you back with my response.”

He nodded again.

“There were seven candidates before you, if I remember correctly, and I sent them all back with an envelope. I suspect they all thought they’d gotten the job, right up until the point Clartias read them my response, but not you; you thought you’d failed even before I wrote it.”

Adarian laughed bitterly. “The others were more qualified than me. I was sure the only reason I’d even been considered was to appease my father. When the king read the letter, he didn’t have to ask me to kneel, for I dropped to my knees and wept as he laid the sword on my shoulders. It was the greatest honor of my life, as it was for every head-ranger before me.” His lips curled into something like a snarl, “If only we’d known you were picking the weakest of us.”

“When King Vintian Ternias first asked me to confirm the head-ranger, Alkandi and all her kin had been extinct for centuries. Your duties were to police the Great Forest, not to hunt dark-elves anymore. I chose who I thought would best govern.” I touched his swollen jaw, “The seven before you were all very keen to detail how they’d suppress the tribes, neutralize threats, and ensure safe passage of caravans, but only you told me how you’d broker deals and form relations.”

“Weakness.” Adarian hissed.

“It’s very easy to see mercy as weakness.” I spoke the spell in my mind, and sent it surging into Adarian. He gasped, his body becoming rigid against the wall. “But it was your lack of mercy that put you here, Thomas Adarian. I don’t blame you for Sherok, nor Elena, nor even Prestira. No, I blame you for April.” I leaned in so that only he could hear me, “I blame you for her, because you loved her, and you couldn’t see that your love was her doom. We truly hate in others what we hate the most in ourselves, so for this, I hate you Adarian, but not as much as you do.” I released him. The healing spell had regrown his teeth, knit his split lip, and cured an infection that was beginning in his gums. I left him disheveled and bloody, but perfectly intact.

“Why?” Yavara asked.

“He’s a very useful man.” I said, “If you decide to throw him to the wolves, so be it, but a wise queen might put his skills to task.”

“You think I’ll help you?!” Adarian laughed behind me. Yavara looked at me like she agreed with him.

“It’s your choice.” I said to her, then clapped her shoulder, and made my way to the stairs.

“Wait.” She said, turning toward me, “Mercy isn’t a weakness, Prestira told me that. Did you tell that to her?”

“No, she taught it to me.”

ELENA

We were in Leveria’s preparation room, the mulling sound of the Noble Court filtering from the oak door I stared at. I’d faced down a pack of feral goblins with more poise than this. The stately dress Leveria had crammed me in was the antithesis of the utilitarian clothes I was used to. The coreset compressed my diaphragm to the point of asphyxiation, stabbed into my back, and pressed my tits together so tight I thought they’d burst, which seemed wholly unnecessary since the bodice covered every inch of my bosom. The skirt was structured so that it plumed from my waist like the wilting head off a mushroom, and long enough that it covered my feet, which were crammed into heels a size too small for me.

“Stop that!” Leveria hissed, slapping at my hand, “You’ll mess up the lacing and look like a common whore!”

“I’d eat every ass in that room just to loosen up this torture device you’ve force me into.” I hissed back, failing at finding a comfortable position within the garment.

“I know you’re used to being dressed like a homeless person, but this is the Noble Court, and there’s such a thing as etiquette.” Leveria scolded, fussing with me.

“An ambassador from Alkandra wouldn’t give a shit about etiquette. Give me one of your pencil skirts with the infinite neckline and let me be a comfortable slut.”

“So that everyone can ogle your bulge? How much do you want to explain at once today?”

“I could’ve worn a gown.”

“You really are hopeless, you know that? This is a gown, a bouffant gown, and this is what you wear to court. An evening gown, which is what you’re thinking of, is what you wear when you’re going to a ball.” She pulled hard on the lacings, stealing my breath, “Now, it might make sense for an ambassador from Alkandra to look like a slut, but you’re not just here to appease the Lowland diplomat, but to show the Noble Court that you’re my agent and will do as you’re told!”

“Oh, just let me have an inch of slack!”

“Relax your shoulders, arch your back, and tilt your pelvis forward. Legs together, Elena! There, better?”

“No!” I wheezed, “Holy shit, how can you wear this?!”

“With dignity! Come now, you were more composed when I was cutting pieces off you!”

“God, it’s hot!” I gasped, fanning myself with a white-gloved hand, “I need a glass of water!”

“Don’t mess up your hair!”

“I just need to wipe my forehead; I’m sweating like a pig.” I stumbled on my heels, and barely caught myself on the wall.

“Are you having a panic attack?” Leveria’s voice seemed to come from somewhere else.

“Don’t let her see me like this.” I muttered against the wall.

“Who? Your mother?”

I nodded.

Leveria’s cool hands were on the back of neck, an oasis for my molten flesh. She laid something smooth against the nape, and I felt its weight hang from me. My mother’s necklace. “I told you she gave it to me to give to you.” She said softly, “Your mother adores you, Elena.”

“You know it’s more complicated than that.” I laughed bitterly.

“It always is.” Leveria’s cheek pressed to mine, “Just remember, I can always kill her if you want.”

I snorted, some of the tension easing from me. “You’re such a good friend.”

“Is that what we are?” Leveria was absolutely beaming when I looked at her, “I never had a friend before.”

“Being a father-fucking psychopathic cunt didn’t make you popular?” I took her chin in my hand, “Sure Leveria, we’re friends. But the moment I get the chance, I’m going to shove a blade down your throat.”

“You’ve been shoving your blade down my throat every-”

“Enough with the euphuisms.” I sighed, letting my hand fall. I linked fingers with her, and squeezed tightly. “You’ll protect me in there?” I whispered.

“I promised I would.” Leveria whispered back, kissing my cheek. “Stick to the script, and you’ll be fine. You just have to prove to Fran Wentz that you’re Yavara’s ambassador, and then stand there while I declare war on you. There will be some booing, maybe a little jeering, but everyone in there thinks you’re on our side. It’s all just theatre.”

I took one breath, then another, and let them both out. “Alright, let’s go.”

ZANDER

My meeting with the Ten was terse and one-sided. I spent two hours making myself a portal from an old Alkandran ruin the Highlanders had repurposed as a marker stone, then I broke half of it off, and teleported to Glacier Lake. I sent ten ethereal owls out, and waited until noon for the chieftains to congregate at Gorlok’s steading. Gorlok was obviously already there, but of the other ten, only Balktar, Kanglar, Draifak and Vaklori showed up. It would have to be enough. Before any of them could open their mouths, I told them that Brock had conquered the Maples, Yavara had captured Castle Thorum, and oh yeah, there was a massive army only eleven days away ready to massacre the lot of them. I dropped the other half of the stone on the table, and informed them that the election for Froktora would be that night at Castle Thorum. Then I left the slack-jawed chieftains without a word, tossed my staff onto the ground, and transformed into a great eagle. Picking my staff up with my talons, I launched into the air.

After flying for half an hour, I came upon an old citadel, the only discernable piece left of it being the gothic arch that once vaulted the atrium. I landed upon the apex stone of that arch, and transported once more. I was atop a hill. It was further south than Glacier Lake, as evidenced by the trees, but not much further south, for the trees were squat conifers barely taller than a child. I peered over them, and my vision was filled with motion. The Highland army was like a river of color, the golden helms reflecting the afternoon sun, the myriad banners forming a flowing tapestry over them. I had seen armies like it before, but not since the days of the old empire. It was vast, and blanketed hills and valleys, kicking up a cloud of dust that drifted in its wake. I dropped to the earth, and transformed once again. This time, I was a high-elf man of middle years, scarred and balding, the picture of a disgruntled career military man. I cast an illusion of uniform over me, turned my staff into a pike, and strode down the hillside.

In my experience with military men, the worst were low-level officers. Being the bridge between enlisted footmen and high-ranking noblemen meant everyone hated them, and they hated everyone. So it didn’t surprise me that a red-faced captain came sprinting after me when I emerged from the brush.

“Oi, you having a wank in the shrubs? What is your outfit?” He demanded in a thick northern accent.

“Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company, first platoon.” I said with the amount of contempt the officer was used to, then added, “Sir.”

“Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company?” The man jabbed at my chest, “You’re wearing a fucking Jonias uniform, you incompetent twat.”

I gave the officer a hapless gesture, and he raised his hands like he’d lost all faith in elven kind.

“Oh, you fucking Jonias bastards can’t get anything right. Your own lady mixes the whole fucking army up, so of course it’s her own kinsmen who can’t tell a shithole from a soup bowl.” The officer reached into his pouch, and pulled out a scroll, “Seventh, fifth, third…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning, “now is that Xantian, or Huntiata, or Straltaira? Oh Good Mother, you figure it out!” He tossed me the scroll.

I looked over the scroll, which listed every outfit in the army organized by the new structure put into place by Lady Catherine Jonias. Within one scan of the page I could tell that Jonias had intentionally organized the army to suit her house agenda, then realized how obvious it was, then poorly attempted to hide it. The result was a clusterfuck of redundancy and nonsensical regimentation that only a diplomat trying to play general could manage. It would’ve been better if she’d shuffled everything randomly.

“I… uh…” I said dumbly.

“You can’t get it, of course.” The captain sighed, “All right, you can tag along with my company until muster, then you just head back to your sector.”

“My… sector…?”

The captain stared at me blankly, then shook his head, and walked away. I followed him into the river of men, passing the banners of the noble houses until I rested beneath one that belonged to Shordian house. There, the captain stepped to his bannerman, and gestured over his shoulder to me. The young man strode over, a private’s symbol on his shoulder.

“Heard you got lost in the woods!” He said cheerily, and stepped in time with me, “You Jonias fellas would lose your balls if they weren’t attached.”

“Look, I just-”

“Oh, you know I’m just giving you shit.” He grinned toothily, “The name’s Freytian by the way.”

“Donalsius.” I said, looking around, “You guys seem to be the only ones who know where you’re supposed to be.”

“Well no shit, we’re Shordian’s boys.” Freytian said it like it was a universal truth, “Best outfit in the army until your lady decided to water it down.”

“The good lady Jonias was just trying to redistribute the stupid.” Said a man beside us, “Every regiment needs someone to catch arrows.”

“Donalsius, this is Deklian; Deklian, Donalsius.” Freytian made the introductions, “Donalsius here was having a wank in the forest and lost track of his unit, so now he’s shadowing us to see what a real regiment looks like.”

“Jonias boy, eh?” Deklian eyed my uniform, “At least you’re not a Droughtius grunt. Those fuckers are dumb and proud of it; you fuckers are just dumb.”

“Oh, those Droughtius fellas are the worst!” Freytian spat, “All of ‘em walking around like they’re royalty because the big wig’s in charge of this shit show.”

“Fucking thing to be proud of.” Deklian grunted, “Jonias might’ve fucked it all up, but it was Droughtius who caved. The queen doesn’t actually care about how the job’s done, just that’s it done, get me? Droughtius could’a just given the whole thing the lip service it deserved, but the patsy went and fucking did it!”

“He’s thinking about that cushy seat on the Noble Court.” Freytian nodded.

“Fucking bureaucrats.” Deklian gave me a furtive look, “If it was Shordian in charge of things, he would’a taken that order and wiped his ass with it. Then when our beautiful queen asked about it, he’d’a dropped the heads of the Ten and her whore-sister on the palace steps, and see if she gave a shit then!”

“Her husband is the general’s nephew.” I said.

“But that’s what did him in.” Freytian sighed, “She can’t appear to be playing favorites, so she could never give old man Shordian the job.”

“Fair woman, she is, in every connotation of the word.” Deklian looked slyly at me, “You ever seen her in person, Donalsius?”

“No.”

“I have, and let me tell you-”

“Oh, here we go again!”

“It’s a true story!” Deklian barked at his friend, then turned to me, “So I was there for the hanging of that whore-bitch Trenaria Tiadoa, right? Front-row, right in front of the scaffolding. And Queen Tiadoa -she was still Princes Tiadoa then, but you get it- Queen Tiadoa was standing there like an angel, and the sun was shining through her hair, and I swear I could see a halo around her. And she’s real dignified you get, even though her whore-mother’s getting pelted with shit as she makes it through the crowd. So she’s standing there, Queen Tiadoa is, and as the magistrate is reading the sentence for her whore-mother, she glances down, and I shit you not, she looks right at me!”

“Lies, all lies!” Freytian interjected, “I was there! The queen looked at her mother the whole time, and it was with the sad expression, like she was disappointed for the whole country.”

“Nah mate, she looked right at me!” Deklian insisted, “She looked right at me, and smiled! And, -shut your fucking mouth Freytian- and, right after her whore-mother hits the end of her rope, -don’t fucking say it, Freytian!- right after Trenaria hits the end of her rope and snaps her neck, Queen Tiadoa fucking, -and I shit you not-, Queen Tiadoa looks right at me, and fucking winks! And, -I’m telling the fucking story!- I feel something hit my foot. And you know what it is?” Deklian quickly rummaged through his pouch, and produced a metal cone with a bejeweled end, “A fucking butt plug! I shit you not, it hit my foot right when no one was looking, but Queen Tiadoa was looking, and she was looking right at me.” Deklian raised his brows, “So, what’d’ya got to say about that, Donalsius?”

“Bullshit is what he’s got to say, but he won’t because we’re helping him!” Freytian snapped.

“Oh, fuck off Freytian, you virgin sack of-”

“Hey,” I cleared my throat, “what sector am I?”

“What’s that?” Deklian asked, “What sector are you? Mate, have you even eaten in the last two days?”

“Don’t you have your camp map?” Freytian eyed me.

“What?”

“Good Mother.” Deklian shook his head, reaching into his satchel.

“Wait.” Freytian held up his hand, “What unit are you from?”

“Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company, first platoon.”

Freytian narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve got a friend in Seven-Five-Three. That’s one of Feractian’s old companies.”

“That’s right,” Deklian eased his hand away from the satchel, “Ryana’s in that troop. Third platoon isn’t it?” His hand hovered over his pummel, “What were you doing in the bushes, Donalsius?”

“Spying for the Dark Queen.” I said simply. I reached into Deklian’s satchel, and rummaged through it until I found a rolled-up parchment tucked away in one of the pockets. The frozen high-elf stared at me from unseeing eyes, his expression fixed into one of suspicion. Freytian was looking over his shoulder, apparently ready to call to his captain. The army marched around the three of us, Shordian’s well-trained troops not stopping even for their bannerman.

“Ah, I see.” I muttered, looking over the map. The Highland army was essentially a mobile city that established itself every night when it made camp. Though the reshuffled regiments would become an amorphous flow of men while on the move, they were strictly sorted when the marching ceased. The camp was set up the same every night, each unit denoted a sector, each sector established by which units were adjacent to it. It made it so that the camp was the same regardless of terrain or position, which made communication and defense incredibly efficient. It also meant that the high command and general’s quarters were placed in the exact same spot every night.

“Thank you, Corporal Deklian for your service to Alkandra.” I said, tucking the parchment away, “You may have just singlehandedly turned the tide of this war.” I hit them with an amnesia spell, then dropped the paralysis incantation. As their eyes refocused, I gave them a smart salute and strolled away.

LEVERIA

When Elena walked into the room, it went silent. She paused at the threshold, staring out at the rows of nobles, the garish colors of courtly clothing like a flowerbed of insidious orchids. I could see the weight of their eyes on her by the rigidity of her shoulders, and I could see the way every motion she displayed was calculated and unsure. Still, she strode on without missing a step, giving my husband a nod of a bow, then walking purposefully to the dais that had been set up for her. Ambassador Wentz stood at his dais, as slack-jawed as most of the nobles around him. I glanced to where Lady Lydia Straltaira sat behind her platoon of lesser nobles. She watched her daughter with an implacable stare, her jaw fixed, her blue eyes hard and cold. It was a mask. Even from across the room, I could see the way her crow’s-feet deepened, how the lines on her forehead bunched before the embattled knit of her brow. Joy or grief? I could not say. I would’ve thought the latter before, but the old war-hawk had surprised me with her sentimentality.

“Where have you been keeping her?” Eric whispered in my ear, his eyes fixed on Elena.

“In the guest chambers, Darling; where else?”

“What an exotic creature she is. Savage, yes, but… I was always told dark-elves were hideous demonesses from the pits of hell, and this Elena… well, perhaps she is a demoness, but from the realm of temptation no doubt.”

“She is only half dark, as you can see.” I said, “The high-blood in her veins lends her grace and beauty.”

“I heard Yavara isn’t exactly a deformed monstrosity.”

“Yes, and you have the privilege of being well informed.” I smiled patronizingly at Eric, though I doubted he realized it, “The common man gets his information from the crown, and so we will not speak of the Dark Queen’s beauty. It’s best if he thinks he’s paying taxes to slay wart-swathed hags.”

“And her?” He nodded toward Elena.

“The common man will never see Elena Straltaira.”

Eric looked around. “But the noble man will feast his eyes upon her. Can you not see how they hunger? Her novelty and vulnerability are like sugar for the villainous palate. You brought a mouse into the den of snakes, Dearest; an innocent curiosity like her will not be left untainted.”

“Untainted? Innocent?” I laughed, “Darling, Elena was an undercover agent in the Dark Queen’s court; how do you think she proved her trust?” I turned my gaze back to her, “She is very far from innocent, and very far from helpless.”

Elena stood behind her dais, and looked to me. I gave her an imperceptible smile, then sat on my throne. Every nobleman and woman sat in unison, each of them now trying to catch my eyes, but I only cared for the eyes of Lord Ternias. Lord Ternias, who had watched me when everyone else was watching Elena, and who now watched Elena when everyone else was watching me. I had meticulously controlled the flow of information about Elena, for I knew the moment I told Lydia Straltaira the lie about her daughter, that she would use it to clear her family’s name of the rumors circulating Elena’s fate. But apparently, Lord Ternias had heard a different story.

“The Noble Court recognizes Ambassador Elena Straltaira of Alkandra.” The crier called. His voice reverberated about the room, its diminishing echoes seeming to sound louder with the drawn-out silence. Finally, Elena stepped forward.

“I am her.” Her voice was small and tremulous.

I cleared my throat. “As ambassador of Alkandra, you have been invested with the powers of state by Queen Yavara Alkandi, ruler of Alkandra.” I said, my voice hard and stately, “Your attendance in this court is a recognition of your queen’s sovereignty over the Midland region, including the Great Forest and the Tundra.” I turned to Ambassador Wentz, “Does the ambassador from Ardeni acknowledge the ambassador from Alkandra?”

Wentz gawked at me. “You are formally recognizing the Alkandran nation, Your Highness?”

“I am.”

Wentz looked around the room, undoubtedly searching for the outrage he thought must be there. But there was none; Ternias had done his job well. Wentz looked to Elena. “You are Elena of House Straltaira?”

“I was.” Elena wringed her fingers, “I have disavowed my family to be in the service of the Dark Queen.”

Wentz chewed on his lip. “You are… a… a half-breed?”

“She’s not a dog, Ambassador.” I chuckled, “She is a hybrid of high-blood and dark, and so she was the perfect ambassadorial candidate to the Highlands. Queen Alkandi sent her here a fortnight ago, and she arrived just yesterday.”

“And why wasn’t I informed of this?!”

“Security measures.” I said coolly, “We feared that certain… aggravators would benefit from Ambassador Straltaira’s death on Highland soil.”

Wentz’s jaw twitched. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Your Highness.”

“Only that there are opportunists who would seek to drive a wedge between our nations, Ambassador.” I smiled, “Those who would like to frame the Highlands as bad actors so that the Lowlands -unbeknownst to them, of course-, would levy sanctions unjustly upon their oldest and closest friend.” I tilted my head, “But as you see, Ambassador, the Highlands do not assassinate diplomats. We protect them; even those of our enemy.”

Wentz looked back to Elena. “And how can I be sure this Ambassador Straltaira isn’t being coerced?”

“I am here of my own volition, Ambassador.” Elena attempted to tilt her head imperiously, but she failed to give the proper effect.

Wentz narrowed his eyes at her. “And where are you staying then? The Alkandran embassy?” He scoffed.

“I am under the protection of Queen Tiadoa herself.”

“Under her protection?” Wentz gave me a critical eye, “Forgive me Ambassador Straltaira, but it would be easy to assume that you are in fact, under the imprisonment of Queen Tiadoa, and that you are acting as her puppet here in the court. How can I possibly verify otherwise?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Elena spoke first. “The good queen has provided a communication mirror between me and my sovereign in Castle Thorum.” Elena said, glancing side-eyed at me, “If you so desire, you may accompany me back to the royal office tomorrow afternoon, and speak with Queen Alkandi herself.” Then Elena looked directly at me, “I am sure the good queen would allow you to do so.”

My mouth hung open for a moment, but I managed to recover it into a congenial smile. “Of course,” I said, watching Elena’s lips curl into a small smirk. I turned to Wentz, “but only if it so pleases the good man from Ardeni.”

“Forgive me Your Highness, but I must insist on this point.” Elena’s smirk turned into a smile nearly as disingenuous as my own, “I wouldn’t want the ambassador from Ardeni to have any doubts as to your intentions.”

“No, we wouldn’t, would we?” I said through clenched teeth as Elena’s façade of anxiety flowed from her shoulders like a discarded disguise. ‘A naked expression of terror can protect better than an unyielding face of bravery.’ My own words were reflected back at me in that devilish smile. “Now,” I said with effort, “we have convened today to discuss the unprovoked attack on Castle-”

“Unprovoked?” Elena laughed. The nobles murmured amongst themselves, confusion on their faces.

“Yes unprovoked, Ambassador.” I said, “You, as an ex-ranger, undoubtedly know that the Highlands and the nymphs had no quarrel before this.”

“You recognize Queen Alkandi’s claim from the Tropics to the Tundra, do you not?” Elena asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement, “That would make the nymphs of the Spruces kinsmen with the orc tribes of the Pines and the Maples. As you told the good man from Ardeni just now, I’ve been your ambassador for a fortnight. You’ve recognized Alkandran sovereignty weeks in advance of the retaliatory attack on Castle Thorum. It was the Highlands who struck the first blow when they raided the Terdini camp, and assassinated the chieftain’s wife.”

A louder murmur from the nobles this time. I held up my hand for silence, and the court slowly dwindled. “The raids against the Terdini were only meant to limit their capacity for war. The rangers did not take ground from the tribe, unlike Queen Alkandi, who holds Castle Thorum as we speak. There is an important difference between an attack and an invasion.”

“Castle Thorum was an offensive staging point-”

“Castle Thorum was a guardhouse against the savage tribes of the Pines and Maples, and until your queen brings them firmly to heel, the Highlands will do what it must to defend itself!” I snapped.

“Defend itself, Your Highness?” Elena grinned broadly, “Are eighty regiments marching to the Tundra border just to reinforce North Fort?”

There were no murmurs from the nobles this time, just a silence that seemed deafening. Their eyes were wide and uncomprehending, looking from Elena to me. I didn’t dare catch Ternias’s gaze.

“Your Highness?” Ambassador Wentz said cautiously, “Is this true?”

I leveled my gaze on him, my wrath barely contained on my tongue. “Yes.” The word echoed through the room.

Wentz blinked once, then shook his head. “Eighty regiments.” He said with a hushed voice, “Your Highness, it is clear to me now that your recognition of Alkandra is in bad faith, and that in fact, it is nothing but a stalling method to placate my king before you betray his trust.” He shuffled his papers, “Such deception is tantamount to war on the Lowlands itself. I will have no choice but to level sanctions on every import and cease all exports, this action is-”

“And why would you do that?” I asked, calming my voice.

He stared at me like I was insane. “You are invading Alkandra.”

“I am lending aid to my sister in her time of need, Ambassador.” I said. I could practically hear the jaws clicking open all over the room. I glanced at Elena, whose knitted brows and agape mouth almost gave her an expression of awe. Now it was my time to smirk.

“Excuse me?” Wentz said.

“The other day, Lord Ternias informed you that the Ten rejected Queen Alkandi’s claim. Have you confirmed that?”

Wentz nodded.

“We anticipated this would happen the moment Yavara announced herself.” I sighed for effect, “My dearest sister is well-intentioned, but she is, much like her ambassador,” I caught Elena’s eye, “a novice at statecraft. The return of the Dark Queen threatened the Ten’s power, and so they denied her right to the Tundra. A right we all here recognize, is that not so, ambassadors?”

“It is.” Wentz said.

Elena just nodded, speechless.

“And so by rejecting her sovereignty, the Ten are rebels of Alkandra.” Now I looked right at Wentz, “And we all deal with rebels the same. The Ten are the single greatest threat to Alkandra’s dominion, one that even Queen Alkandi, as powerful as she is, cannot surmount. She needs aid, whether she wants it or not.”

Wentz opened his mouth, then shut it. Finally, he said, “You expect anyone to believe that?”

“The Lowlands refused to provide my sister the soldiers she needed to claim her kingdom. King Dreus gave her a paltry high-interest loan, then sent her on her way with a band of predatory mercenaries.” I shook my head at the little man, “It’s like he was setting her up to fail. If we truly want the dream of Alkandra to succeed, we must sacrifice more than money; we must sacrifice blood. It is unfortunate that the Lowlands have instead sought to take advantage of a state in its vulnerable infancy.”

“My king-”

“Your king demanded access to Alkandra’s silver mines, then ceased all exports of silver to the Highlands.” I snapped at him, “King Dreus has used my sister as a puppet against me, and indeed, may well be the hand that guided her to attack Castle Thorum.” I looked at Elena once again, “Because we all know that our beloved Yavara would never attack her own people.”

“Now listen here-”

“That is enough, Ambassador Wentz.” I said, easing myself back into my chair, “In retaliation for the ludicrous accusations leveled against us regarding Prestira Rasloraca, as well as the unjust sanctions, the Highlands will tax all Lowland imports at two percent.” I sneered at him, “It is a small compensation for the sacrifice our soldiers will be making to secure the new Midlands kingdom. If King Dreus wishes to discuss this further, he may meet with me personally.” I stood up then, and the whole room rushed to stand with me. “Ambassador Straltaira of Alkandra, if you so please, I have some documents I would like you to formalize as soon as possible.”

Ten minutes later, I was riding Elena’s face, my fists balled in her hair, my pubis grinding across her consuming mouth to smear my lust across her lush lips, to feel the frantic invasion of her tongue as she wallowed in the depths of her defeat. “You thought you could beat me at my own game, you bitch?!” I sneered at her, my dress torn to shreds with the fervency of our passion, the corset in tatters, the bodice plastered wetly to my flailing breasts by the sweat of my exertion, showing clearly the stiffness of my nipples as they bounced with the jiggling domes they centered. Elena moaned something below me, writhing with her legs pressing together, her pussy leaking between her grinding thighs, her cock pulsing rigidly, unattended. She gripped my ass with both hands, two of her digging fingers penetrating my anus, sliding vulgarly through my vile hole to please me how I desired. “The nobles all thought you put on a fantastic performance.” I gasped, feeling her nose pressing between my folds, upending the bottom of my erect clit as her tongue compliantly licked that spot inside me. “Lord Ternias especially.” I hissed, pulling her hair until I knew it hurt her. Her tongue writhed in response, pressing so hard I could feel the texture of it flat against my insides. A spasm rippled up my pelvis, and I cried out, grinding atop her face with even greater passion, looking into those azure eyes of hers, big and vulnerable. I’d never seen this side of her, not even when I was torturing her. It was submissive and compliant, a masochist of both emotional and physical pain, something that wanted to be defiled. I gasped and heaved atop her, my belly forming shadows with each undulation, my breath catching with exertion. Elena’s eyes rolled back, her expression becoming mindless as she ascended without even having to be touched. As I succumbed to the gift of her tongue, I looked over my shoulder to see her cock spurting on its own accord, her pussy blushing and flowing thick nectar down her saturated tan thighs. My own thighs quivered with the aftershocks of my orgasm, my soaked bodice ballooning with my decelerating breaths. When I gained control of myself, I smiled down at her. “What were you thinking challenging me like that?”

Elena guided me to sit on her breasts, a glaze of my lust sheening her lips and cheeks. “I was thinking I could catch you off guard.”

“You did, but it didn’t matter.” I took a dollop of cum from the pool that had formed in her navel, and brought it to her lips, “You’re very talented with your tongue, Ambassador Straltaira,” she compliantly sucked my finger, “but I’m the best there is.”

“Are we dealing with euphemisms again?”

“It’s true in both connotations.” I grinned at her, tracing her lips with my thumb, then bringing my mouth to hers. Oh, how she kissed me; how she made me melt on her tongue like butter, sliding so viscously through the heat and wetness of her. I lost myself in it like I always did, and Elena regained the power of our joined bodies, rolling us on the couch until she was atop.

“I’ll be expecting that mirror in the morning.” She whispered, “I earned that at least.”

“Ambassador Wentz will be so worried about the new sanctions that he won’t care to check. The answer is no.”

“The last chance of stopping that army went out the window when you pulled your stunt. What can I tell Yavara that would change a damn thing?”

“Nothing.” I grinned against her lips, “You fought well today, Elena, but you lost, and I’m not in the habit of giving out participation trophies.”

Elena gently clasped her hand about my throat. “I’m not asking.” She said softly, “Yavara needs to know I’m alive.”

“Perhaps I should send her your fingers then?” I hissed, “You’ve served your purpose.”

Elena smiled. “The idea of her agonizing over my unknown fate must be a great pleasure for you.” Her grip on my neck tightened, “Yavara has a dark mind, and it’s undoubtedly gone to some dark places when she’s lying in bed, thinking of what’s happening to me.” Her fingers pressed into my flesh, bowing the tendons in my throat, “But I know your darkness intimately, Leveria, and it casts a shadow over Yavara’s.” She squeezed until my throat closed, my windpipe compressing, the air stolen from my chest. My thighs rubbed together beneath her, my blurring gaze filled with the azure flame of her eyes. “You’ve shown me who you really are, which is why I know you’re bluffing. Mother is waiting for me not two-hundred feet from here, but who is waiting for you, Leveria? You’ve adjourned court, and your husband doesn’t even sleep in your bed. How long will it take for them to come looking? I could grab my mother and be half way across Tenvalia by the time they found you.” She licked my gasping lips, “But you don’t struggle in my grasp, because you know that though I choke the life from you, I won’t squeeze the last drop. It’s the same reason you won’t put me back in chains.” She brought our brows together, my vision filled with nothing but hers, “Does it scare you?” She whispered, releasing her grip.

I nodded. “I don’t want you to see her, Elena! I don’t want to lose-”

“Don’t say it.” She put her finger to my lips, “If you say it, then it’s real. I don’t want it to be real. I want to live in make-believe for a little longer, how about you?”

I nodded again, blinking the tears from my eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Elena asked. I bit my lip, and nodded.

THOMAS ADARIAN

Tribal drums sounded throughout the courtyard of Castle Thorum, the thundering rhythm fixing the cadence of dancing flames and the hellish shadows it cast upon the stone walls. The orange bonfire illuminated the dark corners of the courtyard, where the nymphs moved in piles of smooth flesh, brothers and sisters losing their innocence beneath the heathen night. They shone like demons in the firelight, their forms bathed orange and red, their eyes glimmering with animalistic avarice, all the pretense of civility gone from them. Arbor was in the middle of it all, her great wings stretched with her limbs, her body encased in her sons and daughters. They sucked the nectar from her swollen nipples, penetrated every one of her holes, and swayed with her in a sinuous dance of perversion, hands squeezing supple flesh. The vampires watched from the ramparts, only their red eyes showing in the flickering light, bored amusement shining from them. In the mall beyond the gate, thousands of orcs congregated to witness something that hadn’t happened in over a millennium. Brock Terdini stood tall and proud before the bowing chieftains of the Ten, his silhouette a display of brute strength and savagery, his flesh steaming. An old shaman recanted some verse in a lost tongue, and the Ten echoed it. With every chant, a new iron was pressed to one of Brock’s limbs, burning the symbol of that clan into his flesh. Then the leader who had pledged fealty would rise, grasp Brock’s forearm, and diminish into the shadows.

I was naked and chained to a chair. Before me was April. She was wrapped in a mesh bodysuit that showed everything beneath the netting, her throat collared, Yavara holding the leash. The Dark Queen was encased in leather from sole to chin, her bodacious curves nearly bursting from the lustrous fabric. She watched the ceremony that took place at the center of the courtyard, absentmindedly petting my beloved like a dog. I wasn’t sure if April was anything more. She was on her haunches beside Yavara, her tail swishing behind her, her ears perked up in intense canine interest as she watched Brock Terdini.

“April!” I hissed for the fifth time, my throat nearly closed with anguish. For the fifth time, she stared back at me, her head cocked in confusion, her eyes unrecognizing. No… not unrecognizing. They were no longer the violet tinge of succubus poison, but amber as they’d always been, that beautiful shade like maple sap in an autumn morning. And they knew me, they knew every memory, and they didn’t care. Yavara glanced down at her dog, then followed her gaze back to me. She smiled just like her sister, her orange irises filled with cruel laughter, her purple-sheened lips quirked to show her teeth. She scratched April behind one canine ear, and April turned her attention from me without a second thought, and leaned into the touch of her torturer.

The last iron was burned into Brock’s calf, and the last chieftain rose to grasp the Froktora’s arm. The drumming stopped, the shaman went silent, and Brock stood alone before the bonfire.

“All hail Brock Terdini, Froktora of Alkandra!” Yavara announced.

“All hail!” Came thousands of voices in response.

Yavara dropped April’s leash and sauntered to her Froktora. Brock knelt before his queen, and she rested her hands atop his head, looking purposefully at the Ten. One by one, they got on their knees, and put their brows to the stone.

“You once questioned my strength.” Yavara said softly, but her voice carried for all to hear, “Now I stand before you in the castle that broke Alkandi and her armies like waves upon a rock. What she could not do with a hundred-thousand men, I did with a few hundred women. Do you question me now?”

“No, my queen.” They said in unison.

“A harder queen might have your heads right here and now.” Yavara said, stepping away from Brock to pace before the prostrating chieftains, “A crueler queen might put you on the rack so that your screams would be a warning for others, but I do not see these things as strength. A wise woman once told me that mercy is a strength, and so I will let your heads stay on your shoulders.” She turned on her heel, and looked right at me, “A merciful queen I am, but a just one as well. See here, everyone,