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She sighs again, and she lays her head on my chest. My arms come around her as she talks.
“I was just a little girl,” Pellia begins. “Barely had seen my eighth summer when I first met Yorian. The old king was ailing with no heir and two Houses were vying to be the next king: House Howser and House Strand. My father finagled it so that I would see both the heir candidates during the Council season. He commanded me to play with them, get close to them. He was always strategizing, even then, when I was so young. Now I can see he was trying to make me the next queen. But as a child, I just wanted to play. The two boys that they sent me to befriend were Yorian of House Howser and Antony of House Strand. They were both a little older than me and maybe saw what I didn’t: that these were not play dates, but potential future matches. They both became rather possessive of me.”
She pauses, burrowing further in my chest. Obligingly, I tighten my arms until she is practically fused with my skin. When she is settled to her satisfaction, she says, “I don’t think it was about me, truly. Having the backing of House Santir would strengthen either Houses’ bid to the throne and so engaging their respective heirs to me would be advantageous. I’m sure Yorian and Antony were instructed to get close to me as well.”
I think Pellia is underestimating her charms. I can imagine the puppy love of two human boys as they met the warm and radiant Pellia. I’m sure they wanted her because of their own attraction towards her, but I don’t interrupt her tale.
She continues, “The two of them hated each other, the ancient rivalry of their Houses poisoning their minds against one another. Though, of course, they were genial, even friendly, to each other’s faces. As we grew, I felt I was in a tugging match between the two of them. If one had some of my time, the other would then demand the same, but more and better. On and on. Then Yorian was named the heir and our engagement was set. I was seventeen.”
Pellia lays her head down over my heart. I feel the firmthump, thumpof my own chest with her ear pressed against it. More and more it is beating for her. I was right to be wary, but it is too late now. I am already falling into the precipice, the edge long behind me. Pellia doesn’t notice the wayward nature of my thoughts, or the heaviness of my cock as it readies itself to take her again. She keeps talking. “Everything was working out according to my father’s plan when whispers of a fairy-blessed beauty began flitting through the countryside. They soon made their way to the ears of the court and Yorian himself. Rumor said that Antony, thwarted from taking me, was going to go on a quest to find the beauty and take her for himself. But their young rivalry had never fully rested and Yorian, twenty-two to my nineteen, found her first. Taking one look at the child, he could see the woman that she would grow to be and how she would be the ultimate trophy. He announced that he would marry her when she came of age. But he couldn’t let me go either. When I turned twenty, I was informed that I would be Yorian’s mistress, and he tucked me away in Garden Manor, thwarting Antony once again.”
“Was your father angry that you were not the queen?”
“Oh, he was furious, but he kept it to himself. He still tried to use my position to bring more power to House Santir right up until he was killed in the war. He was one of the first sent to thefront with our troops, so I suppose he didn’t hide his resentment well enough if Yorian punished him like that.”
“And you? Were you disappointed?”
She shakes her head. “I never wanted to be queen. I certainly did not want Yorian. Or Antony, for that matter. I was just trapped. I could not do or say anything without it being reported to Yorian. He was extremely possessive. Once he decided I was his, he would be damned if he let anyone else have me.”
Pellia looks up and then to her left and right, as if remembering that she should be more careful with her words. Agents of the Cabal could be listening, even now. Her voice drops to the barest whisper when she admits, “I considered leaving him a time or two, but I always saw something in his eyes that gave me pause and made me reconsider. Some sort of dark madness. It wasn’t until later that I found out that he was part of the Cabal that serves Lord Grazrath.”
That startles me. I whisper back, “The Cabal seeks to serve the Demon of Pain?”
Pellia holds up her head again, looking into my eyes, still murmuring quietly. “Did no one tell you? The Cabal does all their dark and horrendous deeds in the name of Grazrath. They offer all the pain and suffering they cause as an offering to him. I suppose it makes them feel protected, having the blessing of a terrible demon on their side.”
“It did not save them from discovery, nor from the retribution of your queen.”
My lover snorts, an endearing sound, and replies in her quiet way, “Well, who's to say if demons are real, anyway? No one has claimed to see one for centuries and those that did were usually quite mad. And if they are real, maybe the fairy magic in Adalind’s blood counteracts their dark blessing. Who can tell? But I am glad that they are being hunted down like the vermin they are. None of us can be safe until they are gone.”
“Maybe. Or maybe something worse will take their place.”
Pellia laughs at me, a merry sound, her voice back to itsregular volume. “Such a dour fatalist! Do you see nothing good in the world?”
I smile at the jibe, the expression feeling a little stilted and unpracticed on my lips, but she brings it out in me. “I’m seeing something good in the world right now,” I say, looking directly at her.
She smiles again, bright like the sun, and moves to kiss me again.
And then there is no more talking.
Chapter 16
Agony
Traveling the secret path in the Dense Wood, my party and I make excellent time. We should be in Grimblton long before the orc’s caravan, giving us plenty of time to reach the secret ritual chamber before our plot.
I look forward to taking the orc and breaking him, hearing his screams as the runes of the forbidden ritual are carved into his flesh. From upstart regent to perfect, writhing sacrifice.
The baying of werewolves in the distances causes my horse to startle slightly beneath me, but I am too experienced a rider to let him throw me. Instead, I take my riding crop to his flank and push him onward. The wretched animal fights me for a moment and the riding crop flashes out from my hand more viciously than before, finally bringing the mount in hand. Nothing will bother us on this path. A powerful witch carved it with dark magic and it is permeated with death. No creature crosses this path if they can help it.
That distraction dealt with, I let my thoughts slide in a more pleasant . . . lascivious direction.
Pellia is still sweet and innocent, no matter her years with Yorian. The more I see her, the more I want her. Want to devour her sweetness and corrupt her innocence. I understand well why Yorian kept her locked away in Garden Manor, away from prying eyes; she is too precious a possession to lose.
But I think Yorian underestimated her as well. She is serving the Cabal with zeal, leading the orc right to his doom. She could have been an ally this whole time, but instead, he kept her in the dark, separate and away from our machinations.Fool.
When Pellia is mine, she will be my equal, the shadow queen to my king. We will bathe in the blood of innocents and garner the blessing of Lord Grazrath upon our union. With the power of the ritual behind us, we will turn Adrik into the empire it was meant to be and the world will bow or burn at our feet.
I urge my horse into a gallop, and the party does the same. We must make haste. It would not do to be unprepared for our guests.
