Conquering the Queen (7 page)

“I understand,” he said, and stepped back, sadness on his handsome features. “In another time it could have been so. But the fracture is too deep now for either of our people to accept that.”

She nodded. Since Xander had reclaimed her, Avin had done nothing but reflect on all that had happened. The unfreezing of her heart had also opened her mind, and Avin, who was intelligent, realized there was more than superstition behind her former subjects’ animosity. Yes, she had tried to do what was right, but from the perspective of her people she’d seemed remote and detached. She wished now she’d not shut herself off. Perhaps some warmth would have encouraged camaraderie during their harsh winter. Instead she’d focused on protection above all else, an extension of her self-preservation. She considered what she now had to do as penance necessary to heal her people. Even if she was no longer queen, she could still make a queenly sacrifice.

The hall fell silent as the new king entered with his slave, the former queen. Xander had attached a gold chain to her collar, and she followed him, expressionless, to his seat.

“Are you sure you want her here?” asked Lord Reginald when he saw his son pull out a chair beside his. The first course hadn’t even been served, and Avin could see he was already in his cups. “I see more fit company for her over there!”

Some of the lords and ladies at the table laughed as Xander’s father gestured toward the large fireplace, where a number of wolfhounds were patiently waiting to be tossed bones from the table.

Avin eyed the knife sticking from a joint of beef and imagined plunging it into Lord Reginald’s heart.

“You dare smile?” The old lord had noticed the smirk she’d been unable to hide.

“She smiles to be at the side of her master.” Xander tugged the leash and, unseen, gripped Avin’s hand reassuringly. “She is in training, Father, and will sit by my side and be fed by my hand.”

He took his seat. The room was silent now, and feeling so many eyes on her was harder even than walking through the streets. The villagers had been but her subjects; these people had once been her peers.

“I’ll try to save you some scraps,” Lord Reginald said. “As a gesture of good will.”

The room erupted into laughter once more, and Avin looked up to see Xander’s face a mask of anger. His father, sitting further down the table, did not seem to notice. He was holding his wine cup out for another refill as he began to talk loudly about the state of the castle when they overtook it.

“Filth,” he said. “Unbelievable filth. Only the queen’s chamber was decent, but that was where she took lavish meals and counted her gold as her own people starved outside.”

Avin felt her face grow red with anger. None of it was true. She looked up at Xander, whose expression matched hers.

“Father!” Xander’s voice boomed throughout the hall. The older man stopped talking and looked at his son.

“You are embellishing,” Xander said quietly. “The courtyard walls were in disrepair, but that had much to do with the battle. The inside of the castle was cold but clean. And we found no more food here than was outside.”

“Bah!” Lord Reginald waved his son away dismissively. “You weren’t the first here. You don’t know.”

“And how is the former queen adjusting to her new station?” The wife of a visiting lord leaned forward, inclining her head to better look at Avin, who returned her gaze so coolly that the older woman instantly looked away.

“With grace,” Xander said, turning to look at his father. “Grace befitting nobility, and some would be wise to follow her lead in the presence of the king.”

Avin almost gasped. Xander’s words were an obvious criticism of his father, spoken in her defense. From over his cup, Lord Reginald’s shocked eyes moved from his son’s to Avin, who returned his stare as she took an offered morsel of bread from the king’s hand. A crumb clung to her mouth, and Xander gave her a small, reassuring smile as he carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. When Avin looked back at Lord Reginald, his expression was grim. He did not speak further during the meal.

Avin enjoyed her hand-fed offerings of roast swan, stewed mussels, beets, cheese, bread, and honeyed cakes. Focusing on Xander not only made it easier, just as he’d promised, it also projected the image he desired—a benevolent king who’d rendered his rival queen an obedient slave.

It was easier than she thought it would be, both because nearness to Xander made her feel safe, but also because his kind treatment seemed to enrage Lord Reginald, who’d obviously been hoping the day’s entertainment would include public debasement of King Leon’s daughter.

Even as the dining continued, Xander rose to announce he had other commitments and would be returning his slave to her quarters. In her simple but elegant gown, Avin knew she still cut a regal silhouette, and could feel the admiring eyes of men and the wistful eyes of women on her as she followed her master king.

In the hallway outside the room, a man intercepted them.

“Avin,” Xander said. “This is my advisor, Cynric.”

“I know who he is,” she said quietly. “I once had spies, too.”

Cynric bowed his head. “It is a pleasure to meet the former queen.”

“There is no need to mock me,” Avin said.

“I am not mocking you,” Cynric said. “But I do have a warning. For both of you.”

This comment surprised her. Was she mistaken, or was this man addressing them collectively?

“Be mindful of what you reveal, especially to Lord Reginald. He has much invested, and will not abide threats.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Avin. “Not even leashed ones.”

“He was out of line, Cynric,” Xander said.

“Yes, he was.” The advisor’s eyes darted back and forth. “But that changes nothing. You are king, but make no mistake; your father still holds enormous power, and has great influence. He loves you, sire, but he loves power more.” He looked at Avin. “And you, my proud beauty, he hates. Beware of what he baits you to reveal. In such an unstable situation, a glance, a gesture—anything hinting at an unwanted alliance—can be enough to invoke consequences neither of you desire.”

Others were emerging from the hall, and as Cynric drifted away, Avin marveled at how his face morphed from intensity to indifference as soon as he noticed people approaching. He was a chameleon, and although she realized Cynric had likely played architect to her ruin, she also realized he was just the type of man a king needed on his side.

“He’s right, you know,” she said to Xander once they were back in her room. “It would have been better if you’d been cold to me. I think we made a mistake.”

“He’ll get over it,” Xander said.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “Your advisor suggested your father was baiting us.” She sighed, sinking down on a chair. “You should heed his advice.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “You saw what you did as standing up to your father. But your father saw you siding with a despised enemy.”

Xander shook his head. “He was in the wrong, Avin. And it would not have mattered if it had been you or a squire he berated. I’d not have stood for it in my hall.”

“That’s all well and good,” she said. “But he does not seem the type of man who simply lets things go.”

Xander walked over, took her hands, and lifted Avin to her feet.

“Then perhaps we should practice how to make you appear more submissive.”

Avin smiled and seductively lowered herself to kneeling, her hands gliding down the king’s slim hips and sturdy thighs as she went. She looked up at him almost reverently as she moved her hands to the bulge under his tunic. In her eyes was an unspoken request:
May I?
Her master and king nodded, swallowing hard as her slim fingers danced over the fabric of his breeches, freeing his cock.

It was still as impressive as she remembered. He’d been her only lover, but she’d not needed to be with any other man to know that Xander was exceptionally well-endowed. Now one slim hand cupped his heavy balls while the other grasped the top of the huge cock that jutted from a nest of dark curls. She pushed the foreskin back, exposing the flared, ruddy head crowned with a drop of pre-cum. Avin leaned forward, her tongue snaking out to lap away the fluid pearl. She swallowed and looked up at him through hooded eyes before turning back to the focus of her pleasure, and his.

Xander had taught her well back in those early days at Ravenscroft, had instructed her on how to fondle his balls while sliding the foreskin up and down his shaft with just the right amount of exquisite pressure. She’d not forgotten, and the king groaned, as helpless now as any slave in her warm hands. His groan grew deeper when her mouth joined her hands, the wet warmth gliding up and down. Avin relaxed her throat, feeling the sides of his huge cock sliding over her tongue that mapped the ridges, feeling the head bump the back of her throat.

She was still in tune with him, even now. She bobbed her blond head along with his slow thrusts as his balls tightened in her hands. She could feel his cock swelling with each oral stroke. He moaned when she moved back to run her tongue around the head before teasing the sensitive glans. She kissed him there, sweetly, and then took him in her mouth almost greedily, working him faster and faster, her hands reaching around to grasp his hard, muscular bottom as his huge hands fisted themselves in her hair. He held her, but did not direct her head. She was controlling the action now, and he was letting her.
Allowing it.
Avin loved the feeling of knowing that Xander could retake control, could turn the tables, but was choosing to remain lost in the pleasure she was giving him.

She could feel him about to spend, and relaxed her throat to receive his tribute. When it came, she swallowed the salty spurts rhythmically and then lapped him clean.

“Avin…” There was an ache in his voice, and when she looked up she saw a man satisfied but also pained, and felt the same agony he did. They should be enjoying this moment as man and wife. They should not have to hide their love. Pride and anger on both their parts had separated them, and he could not bring her back without fracturing a kingdom just starting to heal.

He lifted Avin to her feet, carried her to the bed. He sat down on the edge and held her. She put her ear against his broad chest, listening to the reassuring pump of his heart.

He could not stay; it would not do for the king to spend the night with the woman he’d made his slave.

Xander turned, placing her on the bed.

Neither said a word as he tucked his cock back into his pants. Before he left, he leaned down, tipped up her chin, and kissed her on the forehead. Avin waited until he left the room to cry.

Chapter Ten

On a particularly beautiful morning, Avin began her training by kneeling on the floor, her back to the king, her hands on the collar behind her neck, her elbows out to the side. She’d been like that for nearly an hour. It was part of the king’s punishment for her particularly disagreeable mood. The other part was visible on her bright red bottom. Xander had used the strap, and the angry red stripes it left had yet to fade.

The coronation was just days away now, and Xander had sent his father to escort the procession to Windbourne with the primary motive of getting him out of the castle and away from Avin.

They’d had a week together, and Xander knew the root cause of her disobedience was the frustration of knowing that this was their last day together before Lord Reginald returned with the visiting nobility from Ravenscroft. The guests would keep the king too occupied to see her.

He did not tell her that he dreaded his father’s homecoming as much as she did.

As he suspected, the old lord had not taken Avin’s improved circumstances well, and his animosity against the former queen had only increased after Xander had defended her in the dining hall. Tension between father and son had heightened when Lord Reginald sought to force his son’s hand where Avin was concerned.

“I want her banished as soon as the coronation is over!” he’d railed at Xander, pacing angrily back and forth before his son’s throne. “Once she appears at your feet at your official crowning, I’m having her sent away to a family in the south where she can be put to proper use. Perhaps she could empty the chamber pots for Lord Umbry, or serve as a governess for Lady Halston?” He chuckled. “That would be fitting for that haughty little bitch, caring for the children of others as her womb shrivels inside of her. Refuse to marry my son, will she? I’ll see it that she marries no man, not while I draw breath.”

“Avin’s future is not yours to decide.” Xander’s thunderous expression had gone ignored by his father, but his tone could not be so easily dismissed.

Cynric had interrupted before tensions could escalate further. The matter of Avin, he said, could be discussed after the coronation. It would bring no comfort to the nobility of Ravenscroft to see father and son at odds when both had worked to secure the alliance.

Later, Cynric had been the one to suggest that Lord Reginald serve as the king’s representative to bring the Ravenscroft lords back to Windbourne. To the relief of both men, Xander’s father had agreed without a fight. But any suspicion Xander may have had with his father’s compliance vanished in the satisfaction of knowing he had Avin to himself until his father’s return. Now, that time was coming to an end.

Avin sniffled, and Xander felt a stab of pity he could not show. Her disappointment did not excuse her disrespect, after all. And he knew deep down she’d have been disappointed in him if he’d borne her rudeness without consequence.

Walking over, he hooked his finger in her collar and lifted Avin to her feet.

“I am your king,” he said. “And you belong to me. I’ll not tolerate disobedience. Understand?”

She dropped her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

“How sore is your bottom?” He reached behind her, palming a cheek. She flinched.

“Very.”

“Too sore to sit on a horse?”

She looked up at him, surprised. “A horse?”

“I thought we’d end the time we’ve had together on a good note. I’m not familiar with the kingswood around Windbourne. Could you show it to me?”