Prince of Wrath (39 page)

“Yes. We’re to be married – unless of course you don’t want to.”

“Oh, Demtro! Of course I do!”

Sannia tutted softly. Jorqel looked at her. “What?”

“Terrible timing, terrible proposal. He’s no romantic.”

Jorqel grunted. “She seems pleased enough.”

“Oh, men! Let’s get out of this room; I don’t want to be in it any longer! I want to breathe in fresh air.”

Jorqel nodded and led Sannia out towards daylight. She stopped at the entrance and sucked in a deep lungful of air, sighing in relief and pleasure. After all those days in captivity and being treated like an animal, it was beyond words how wonderful she felt. Added to that her future husband had his arms around her which made it so much more special. She turned round and held his hands, looking into his tired face. Yes, he was tired and emotionally worn down; he would have been worrying about her terribly, and the strain within him would have been too much. She smiled at him. “Everything is going to be fine now, Jorqel, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his face still serious. Lombert Soul may be no more and his army shattered, but there were still the Duras to deal with, and he was not going to rest until they, too, had been seen to. “We will set off to Slenna shortly. I will find an equine for you to ride. You will ride alongside me, Sannia, for I shall not allow anyone to take you from me ever again.”

“I know that, Jorqel. I must return to my family’s estate though until we are wed; what would they say? The scandal would be incredible! The Duras would use that against us.”

Jorqel was going to argue, then realised she was talking sense. “Yes, Sannia, in that you are so right! Very well, but please allow me to post a small group of my retainers on your family’s estate. I can’t take any more chances!”

Sannia nodded and allowed Jorqel to take her across the wide open space of the camp towards the waiting group of men and equines.

Back in the room Demtro got to his feet with a long suffering sigh and pulled Clora up with him. His brother would be taken back to Niake and buried with full honours as befitted a general of the empire; no matter the Fokis and their cronies had discredited him in the past, those lies would now be revealed for what they were and all the brave men who had fought in the losing war would be remembered once more. Clora was weeping, it was too much for her to take in all at once, what with the rescue, Zonis’ death and the fact Demtro had proposed to her. No matter it had been a clumsy and round-the-houses type of proposal, there it was. She was torn between being ecstatic, sorrowful at the death of Zonis, and relief beyond words that her time with these horrible people was at an end.

“Let’s go; I’ll take care of things here. We must return to Niake and bring Zonis to my house, then we can bury him. I’ll get that fraud Burnas to do the honours.”

“The High Priest? He wouldn’t do it, surely!” Clora said though her tears.

“Why wouldn’t he? Any chance of showing off in front of a crowd, he’s your man. It’s a general in the army so it’s got rank and position, and high profile, so again, he’ll jump at the chance. Of course, there’s also the point that I’ll pay well and don’t go telling me there’s a priest in the whole of the empire who wouldn’t take up the offer of money! You think whores have a bad reputation for doing anything for money – you’re beginners when it comes to the clergy, I can tell you.”

Clora punched him lightly on his velveted shoulder. “Oh, don’t you go saying such bad things about the priests! The gods will hear you and punish you.”

“They already have, Clora – they gave me my sense of humour.”

She giggled and snuggled closer against him. “I’m never going to leave your side, Demtro.”

“Oh, don’t think you and I are going to be joined at the hip! I’ve still got my jobs to do and you’re going to be at home making sure it’s the cleanest neatest place in the west, and you’re going to have children to bring up.”

“Oh! Children! Oh, yes, Demtro!” The two made their way out into the weak sunlight as it fought to break through the grey clouds, Demtro carrying with some difficulty the body of his brother. He placed him gently on the ground and looked for a wagon to place him in, and a beast to pull it. Jorqel was busy organising everyone, shouting commands here and there. He caught sight of Demtro and Clora.

“Hurry up, I’m sending a messenger back to Niake with the news here, so if you want an escort, now’s the time! We’re off to Slenna. I’ve ordered the governor to send men here to clean the place up. What of your brother?”

Demtro informed the prince that everything was planned and that he wanted something to transport the body of Zonis. Both a wagon and, to Clora’s delight, Dullard were found fairly promptly, and Demtro’s equine was led to the rear of the wagon and tied to it. The couple mounted up onto the wagon, with Zonis resting under a blanket behind them. She could now leave behind her that life of selling her body to men, and now live a life she had only dreamed of. The pain of happiness was almost too much to bear.

Sannia came up to them and took one of Clora’s hands. “Now, Clora, both you and I have weddings. Remember our promise?”

“Oh, yes! You’re still serious about that?”

“Of course! I don’t joke about things as serious as yours and my weddings! Ours is the mid-summer’s day. Let me know when yours is, and I’ll make sure I’m there. Make it afterwards, as I’ll be so busy with everything up to the day!”

Clora nodded, her eyes red and puffy. “I will, thank you.”

“No Clora, thank you. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

“What of him, sire?” Gavan asked Jorqel, pointing at the confused looking Kimel, looking lost amongst the purposeful group of men preparing to depart.

“He can go where he chooses. I’m finished with him.” Jorqel had already dismissed the long-haired peasant.

Gavan shrugged and waved at the man. “You may go; find yourself a new home. We’re done with you.”

“Fair do’s,” Kimel said. He put Zonis’ pipe in his mouth and then looked dismayed. The bowl was empty. “Ah, nightmare scenario. Don’t need it,” he muttered.

The equines were pulled about and as one, the Kastanians rode off, leaving a solitary Kimel to ponder on what to do next.

Amne felt frustrated. She’d erroneously thought that perhaps the swiftness of the love-making on her wedding night was down to Elas having nerves, but it was the same the following two nights, too. In between, he hardly acknowledged her, being merely polite and correct at breakfast time and when the day’s forthcoming agenda was discussed immediately afterwards. The fact he had spent a few moments making love to her and then, having finished, rolled off and proceeded to fall asleep, left her feeling unfulfilled and wondering whether that was it. It was no good, she would just have to find out.

She had spoken to Elas about how she was feeling the second morning after her father, step-mother and the others of the entourage had gone about their duties. She had approached him, a little nervously, about why he should be so dismissive of her after he had, well, performed his function.

“Why shouldn’t I, Amne?” he had responded, looking a little mystified. “You have to produce me an heir, and I will do my part. All that remains is for you to become pregnant and we have done our duty.”

“Duty?” Amne had retorted, her cheeks staining red. “Duty? Is that what you see it as? What about the love between a man and a woman? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Elas had looked even more confused. “What has love got to do with it? We will love our children, yes, and our parents and naturally the gods. But loving someone that you have been contracted to marry, that is not an important part of it, Amne. Don’t you understand?”

“No I don’t!” she had shouted and had gone running out of her dining room sobbing. Elas had remained seated alone for a few moments, then had shook his head in exasperation and gone to his office to continue administering the province of Frasia, an exacting task, but one he was keen to get to grips with. This was a much more fascinating function than working out the female mind, something he had no idea about, and one he moreover had no interest in. Amne was purely the vessel to continue the royal dynasty, nothing more than that. He found her rude, loud, barbaric and quite embarrassing. The sooner she got pregnant and produced a son, the better. It would serve both to quieten her down and end the necessity of having her in his bed.

Now, on her third day of being married to Elas, Amne was suddenly aware of a feeling of being lonely. She needed something – or someone – to ease the growing awareness that soon her father, step-mother, Vosgaris and many of those who had been around her for so long were leaving. Vosgaris. Suddenly she knew she had to see him. Now Elas had taken her little administrative area from her, she had her days free. There was only so many times she could comb her hair and look wistfully out of her window. To the underworld with that! She was a Koros and nobody was going to change that fact.

A couple of enquiries to the guards soon had him tracked down. He was giving Lalaas a guide to the guard roster as Amne approached. She smiled at the two men who bowed. “Lalaas, I’m sure you won’t mind if I take the good Captain here away for a while. There are a few things I need to discuss with him.” She grasped Vosgaris by the arm who, surprised, looked at Lalaas helplessly and allowed himself to be pulled along the passage.

“Anything I need to be of help with, ma’am?” Lalaas asked.

“Of course not, Lalaas,” Amne called back airily. “I shall speak with you later on a different subject.”

Vosgaris cleared his throat as he was marched vigorously along the passage towards the huge hall where the staircases were. “Uh, ma’am, may I be allowed to ask what it is you wish to speak to me of? I do have a lot to cover with Lalaas in the two days before I depart.”

“In a moment. What I have to discuss with you is between you and me and for nobody else.” They went up the stairs and along the guarded corridors to her chambers. Vosgaris wondered what it was the princess needed to say. She certainly was in a hurry. She breezed in and waved the two surprised chambermaids out. “I have some very secret matters of state to discuss with the Captain here. Come back after the next watch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two girls bowed and left.

“So, it must be important, ma’am,” Vosgaris said, still unsure as to what this was all about.

Amne smiled and beckoned him to follow her into the bed chamber. There, she shut the door and leaned against it, surveying the man before her. He was beginning to fill out and was not such the slim youthful man he had been. He was in his mid-twenties now and starting to look like a mature man. She liked that, especially the triangular shape his shoulders and chest muscles formed. “Vosgaris, I want your agreement that what I’m about to say and so on will never, ever go beyond these doors.”

“Yes, of course,” Vosgaris said. He was feeling apprehensive; Amne could be mercurial and unpredictable, and he had no idea what was going through her head. “I swear by all I am that I shall tell no-one of what will take place here.”

“Good,” she said in relief, and pushed herself off and came up to him very closely. “I need you to make love to me.”

Vosgaris’ heart skipped a beat, then he opened his mouth, shut it, stared at her, then found the strength to speak. “I-I’m sorry? Did I hear you…?”

“Yes you did, Vosgaris. Make love to me. Do you want me to say it again? I-want-you-to-make-love-to-me.”

Vosgaris went bright red and did an admirable impression of a floundering piscine, opening and closing his mouth. “But-but I could hang for doing that! Are you mad, beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, and you’re certainly are not, are you? So who’ll find out?” She gently took hold of his hands. “Don’t pretend you don’t fancy me, I know you do. You’re itching to get your hands on me, I can read it in your face each time we meet.”

“But ma’am….”

“Amne, when we’re alone like this,” she smiled, giving him the benefit of her eyes close up. “Amne,” she breathed, opening her lips.

“Ohh….. A-Amne…..”

“Mmmm,” she responded and placed her lips on his, kissing him long and hard, her tongue seeking his. Vosgaris’ head was spinning, he knew it was madness but his desire was winning over any sense. He felt his hands being guided to her breasts and pushed firmly onto them. He couldn’t help himself, and her hands let go, leaving him to caress them through her clothes. Amne groaned and pushed herself against him, her hands seeking out his growing excitement and she gasped in pleasure. “Ohh, that’s more like it!” she exclaimed, feeling him slowly.

Vosgaris was sweating mightily. “Why-why, ma’am?”

“Elas is nothing like this,” she said. “I hear you’re something of a success when it comes to women, and I need to know what it is to be loved by someone who is good!” she pulled him over to the bed and began running her hands over his bottom. It was firm and muscular. “Oh, the gods have blessed you, Vosgaris. I need you, now, before you leave for Bragal.”

Vosgaris slipped her dress straps off her shoulders and the dress slid off her body. Her undergarments followed and there she was, completely undressed. “And the gods have blessed you, Amne,” he said, his eyes feasting on her. “Very much!”

Amne smiled, her tongue between her teeth, and she unfastened his breeches. What was revealed was a shock and a delight. Elas was so much smaller. How could it be that two men were so different in size? She impatiently pulled him down onto her. “Now, Vosgaris, now!” she urged.

He obliged, and she hissed in pleasure as he filled her. “Oh, yes, yes!” she breathed and curled her arms round his back.

“It helps if you wrap your legs around me too,” he said, finding it hard to breathe. She did and then he was hard at work and she pushed her head back in ecstasy. This was more like it! Vosgaris pleasured her for much, much longer than Elas had done these past three nights, and suddenly her body heated up and a building feeling of pleasure enveloped her, and her eyes went wide and she began to cry out each time he thrust into her. “Vos-Vos-gar-isssss….” And then she was raking his back, oblivious of what she was doing, and a wave of utter delight rushed over her. She did not know she cried out as it happened.

Later as she lay there, humming softly to herself, playing with her hair, she reflected on the fact that she had been given a bad roll of the die by the gods as far as her husband went. Vosgaris was a much better love maker and made her feel fulfilled. He was better looking and had a sense of humour, too, which was more than could be said of Elas Pelgion. What did Elas have going for him as opposed to any other man? He had presence, yes, a stern, authoritative manner that went well with someone in his position of power, but to Amne there was much more to a man than just fulfilling a popular perception of what – or who – he was. He had to be a person as well as a figurehead. Elas, sadly, did not appear to be anything of the sort. She sighed, idly looking up at the beautifully decorated fabric ‘roof’ of her bed. It was a depiction of a man and woman naked, intertwined in a beautiful and mythical forest. Beasts sat or stood about, seemingly not intimidated by the two lovers. If only she had a husband who showed her half the love the male figure was showing his companion.

Vogaris had been apologetic after his excitement had abated, but Amne had cut him short. “I don’t want you worrying about what will happen to you, Vosgaris,” she had said firmly. “I enjoyed it immensely, and I want more. It’s a shame you’re off to Zofela so soon. I might even have to find an excuse to visit there in the future, and we can repeat what we have done today.”

“I doubt we’ll have the space, ma’am,” Vosgaris had said ruefully, slowly dressing. His back was scratched and stung. He had ignored the pain. It was nothing. “Zofela isn’t that big a place.”

“Then we’ll have to go out on equines and – ah – ride together,” she had said with a wicked smile. “I can be quite inventive.”

Vosgaris had smiled briefly. “Then we shall see if you can visit. I have to take my leave, ma’am. I think I could get into deep trouble if we’re seen together like this! What will you say if anyone asks what I was doing here?”

“Oh, Vosgaris, you do worry so! I shall merely say you and I discussed the role Lalaas will take once you leave. After all, I do have a say in palace functions. Elas isn’t the only aquatic in the pond, is he? I have a role to play here, even if my darling husband thinks a woman’s role is to conceive and await her husband’s pleasure. That may work with Pelgion women but it won’t work with a Koros!”

Vosgaris had chuckled. “No, ma’am, I don’t think that would.” He had got up, hesitated, then leaned over and, with great daring, had kissed her full on the lips. Amne had responded hungrily, holding him there for a long time, then had pushed him away. “Go, you naughty man! Or I may want a repeat performance.”

Vosgaris had winked and gone, leaving Amne reflectively looking up at her bed decorations. Now she thought more on her situation. Now she knew what a man could do to her she was determined all the more to make up for Elas’ lack of ability in bed. So what if it was adultery? There were worse things someone could do. A little dallying with the occasional male added a bit of spice to her life. A smile slowly grew over her face. She was desirable, both physically and because of who she was. No man could possibly turn her down if she wanted him. Except Lalaas.

The smile disappeared. Damn that man! She could well exhaust herself on him if he only said yes to her advances. Just because she was a princess and he a non-noble, and now she was married. He was so…..she struggled for a word. Morally correct. Morals. She rolled over and slid off the bed. She would take a bath and get rid of Vosgaris’ scent. She didn’t want to make people aware of what she had been doing. The two handmaidens would be returning soon so she would bathe once they had filled her tub with water.

At the same time as Amne was in her room, Astiras was finalising the logistics of moving to Bragal. There seemed to be no end of equipment and belongings that needed to be taken. Isbel in particular seemed to have a palace full of clothes, and he had queried it, and got an earful back in response. He had left her to organise that, hiring more pack animals and wagons. Letters had gone out to Turslenka and Zofela, both to warn them of what was going to happen, and to make sure the roads were patrolled in both regions. Astiras did not want any brigands chancing upon the long supply wagon train that would travel in their wake.

Luckily the most dangerous part of the journey, the route up through the Bakran Mountains, was not going to be a problem, thanks to his smoothing of relations with those wild mountain people. He leaned over the map in the council chamber, staring at the route he was to take. The road from Kastan City to Makenia was paved and would provide little in the way of a problem. The roads in Makenia were reasonable, even though they were un-paved, and his recent journey along them had revealed no bad places. They would be travelling in the early summer, too, so the weather ought to be fine. No sudden landslides caused by excessive rainfall would blight their journey.

The Storma Valley was slightly more problematical. The river there was prone to flooding and there had been some wear on the road along the valley, but a quick repair here and there by the squad of engineers he was taking should take care of that. Then, once over the pass into Bragal, they would have to take their chances with the poor roads there. However, Argan would not be travelling along that route until he was well enough. Isbel would make sure of that, and she would remain with Argan in Turslenka until the boy was fit.

His face showed worry; Argan had to survive. His son. He was concerned about both him and Istan, for different reasons. Neither had turned out the way he had hoped, like Jorqel had. Jorqel was a fine man, and a fit and suitable successor to him and the throne. But what if something happened to Jorqel? Then the succession would have to fall to either Argan or Istan, at least in the short term. Argan was sickly and far too sensitive to be a proper warrior-emperor, and Istan had a really nasty and vicious streak in him that could be a huge problem is he were to get absolute power. The history of the empire was littered with tyrants who had a bloodthirsty appetite. It had always ended in murder.