QueensQuest (12 page)

I bathed and lay on a couch with a tired sigh, drained of
all energy. At the foot of the couch, Maia shaved between my widespread legs
with perhaps a shade more than her usual care and concern, while Storne,
kneeling near my head, massaged my temples with tender fingers, occasionally
dotting kisses on my cheeks, my lips, stroking away my tears.

I was sad, yes, but also doubts gnawed. Had Frayn
deliberately tempted me to eat the unripe berries so I’d not sail with my
family on Catura? Had he relied upon our long friendship to conspire with his
father to place me on the throne and then seek marriage?

If I couldn’t trust Frayn, my first lover and childhood
friend, who could I trust? Storne? Despite the urges of my body and heart, he
was really a stranger to me.

Kloutt’s betrayal bit deeply. Had he helped my father rescue
others, the boatman would have seen him, I reasoned. Had my uncle plotted with
my cousin to kill his sister, the queen, and his brother-in-law, the king?
Beryla had also been close to Kloutt—closer than I had been, for he, as well as
the King, had instructed her on matters of statecraft. Why had Kloutt failed to
save Beryla? Why had he failed even to try?

And what should I do? With my travel plans set, I could not
with any diplomacy cancel the visit to Lightside in order to bring Frayn and
Kloutt to trial.

But justice to my family’s memory demanded no less.

When Maia finished, I felt the swipe of a damp cloth over my
pussy and mound before her warm mouth latched onto my clitoris. I sighed into
Storne’s open lips and relaxed into their combined tenderness.

Maia’s tongue lengthened, snaking into my open slit until
its tip caressed the sweetest spot, deep inside my channel. Shivers ran through
my body as my mood transmuted from sorrow into a burgeoning sexual heat.
Storne’s lips slid along my neck, then dropped to my breasts, raising a renewed
shudder of desire. He nibbled and sucked my nipples while I stroked his head and
played with his hair, enjoying its silky drift through my fingers.

Maia’s upper lip wrapped completely around my clit,
caressing its entirety. Storne pressed my breasts together and rubbed his face
over the mounds, then sucked my nipples into hard, aching points that sent me
racing toward completion.

He lifted himself onto one elbow and I tensed. If he turned
his head, he’d see Maia’s face flowing like wax as she transformed into another
kind of entity, solely for my pleasure. An orgasm was not worth the risk of her
exposure.

I poked Maia in her side with my foot. She drew away from
me, her final hard suck shoving fierce darts of pleasure through my clit. The
beginnings of my climax wrenched me, and Storne flung himself atop me, pressing
his lips to mine to capture my cries in his open mouth.

He thrust in his tongue and, moaning, I quivered beneath the
delicious weight of his body. We were naked together and his slick flesh slid
along mine, his male aroma rising to my nostrils. His cock pushed against my cleft,
pulsing against my clit. Blood pounded through my veins, urging me on toward
our inevitable joining.

’Twould be easy, so easy and sweet just to lift my hips a
trifle and take his lovely length inside me…but was it right?

It would feel so very right and true. Need seized my limbs
as I imagined Storne’s thickness inside me, opening me, pleasuring me, then
flooding me with his seed…

I tensed and pulled away.

He rose above me. I was afraid to meet his gaze but did so
nevertheless.

His eyes were calm, gray, serene, yet a spark of intense
need lit their depths. “I want you, Audryn, and I’ll have you.” He thrust two
long fingers into my pussy and I gasped. He ran slippery fingers over my clit
and rubbed until I twisted from side to side, groaning, desperate to come
again.

He stood. “Later, beloved.” Smiling, he tugged on his tights
and tunic, then left.

But I could not rest. “Maia, bring me a messenger.” I wrote
orders directed to Lord Geoman, who had remained at Castle Remarck. He would
see to the confinement of Lords Frayn and Kloutt pending trial.

* * * * *

Kaldir had not been idle while I had been involved with the
mystery of my family’s passing. When we set forth from Windrush Manor toward
the WestMarch, his procession took pride of place with mine, their steeds
mingling with our horses. Appropriate, since our mounts had been bred from
Lightsider stock.

We descended from the mountains rather more quickly than
we’d climbed, not only influenced by gravity but my need for swiftness.
Windrush had become unpleasant to me and I wished to shake off my moodiness as
easily as my palomino shook her mane.

As we approached the WestMarch, the terrain itself provided
distractions. Though the land was flat, it held other treacheries. In the hills
we saw, below the mountains’ feet, a green so vividly bright that it seemed
somehow unnatural, sickening. I halted my horse beside Kaldir’s to stare.

Maia reined in her mount behind me. “Marshes,” she said
quietly. “Quagmires.”

“Only the most desperate of creatures dwell in the fetid
swamps,” Kaldir said. “The fluid isn’t pure water, but foul and undrinkable.
The marshes are infested with allicrocs, fierce insects and other vermin.”

I glanced at Maia, whose gaze caught mine.

“Poisonous snakes inhabit the mire and the desert beyond,”
Kaldir continued. I tolerated his lecture, for the information was of value.
But by the three moons, the man was pedantic. He concluded, “Have a care, Queen
Audryn.”

The lowland air was warmer and humid. The mire’s stench rose
to fill our nostrils with a noxious humour. Worse, the marshes did not provide
sure footing for the mounts. The DarkDwellers’ taqqa especially suffered. One
seemed to have been lost to the swamp, having been caught by quicksand. Storne
did not want to leave the beast, and said to me, “Abandoning this taqqa would
be a betrayal of all we believe in.”

I placed my hand on my breastbone, where a pitying ache
burgeoned. “But what can be done? The poor creature is well and truly stuck.”

The taqqa bellowed and thrashed, beating its great limbs in
frustration and fear. Its shoulders heaved, lifting the ochre mud even higher
on its hump. Tendrils of swamp grass and algae coated its brown pelt. Weighted
with cargo—tent rolls, I believed—it was going down fast.

Storne spoke with effort. “There must be something I can do.
To leave an animal to suffer a terrible death…” He shook his head somberly.

“You feel a kinship with the animals and plants, don’t you?”
Kaldir’s tone was edged with contempt.

Storne bent his head. “Yes.” He spoke without resentment,
glancing at me. “As I have said, life in Darkside is hard. Reverence for life—all
life, no matter how trivial—is a foundation of our culture and belief.”

“But I have heard that your people are savage in battle.”
Now Kaldir sounded argumentative.

“We do not deprive our enemies of an honorable death.”
Storne’s voice was silken, belying the hardness in his eyes.

I sucked in a breath, wondering if violence would follow.

“But I cannot abandon this taqqa to suffer and die.
Maersan!” Storne called his brother.

The youth dashed to Storne’s side, then kneeled. “My lord?”

“Bring ropes, two taqqa, and our strongest men.” He stripped
off his doublet, exposing a thin linen tunic. He unlaced the ties that held it
to his lean, muscular form and dropped his clothing onto the ground.

I grabbed his arm. “Storne, no!”

He smiled at me. “Worry not, my queen. I do not plan to die
today.”

“What about the allicrocs?”

“A valid concern, but if there were allicrocs in this pit
they would have already attacked the taqqa. May I?” Storne took a coil of rope
from the back of Maia’s saddle.

I nodded and she said, “Of course.”

Rope in hand, he took a run at the bog and leaped clear
across it to land, sprawling, atop the thrashing taqqa’s hump.

He lay there, gasping, grabbing handfuls of the taqqa’s
shaggy mane. “He’s hurt,” I breathed, my heart clenching in my chest.

Maersan appeared at my side with two brawny Darkside
warriors who led a brace of taqqa. “Worry not, my queen,” he said stoutly, his
words a weird echo of his elder brother’s. “Prince Storne is a tough one.”

Now steadied, Storne wrapped and twisted the rope so that
the trapped taqqa was bundled and entwined from its hump, along its neck, over
its horns and even unto its head. He tossed the loose end of the rope back to
shore. The warriors fastened the rope to the hoist and then to the traces of
the shorebound beasts before mounting them. They shouted, kicked, spurred and
whipped the brace of taqqa until they had pulled their fellow, now choking in
protest, out of the quagmire.

The creature emerged with a great sucking sound, evidence of
the quicksand’s unwillingness to release its victim. Finding its footing, it
staggered a few steps onto the shore and collapsed. Storne, who had ridden in
on its hump, leaped onto firm ground as it rolled over with an exhausted belch.

He was covered with ochre mud and green algae. He stank of
taqqa and swamp. His hair hung in filthy wisps over his grubby face. He’d lost
his tunic in the mire, and his naked torso bore scrapes and bruises and, I
feared, more than one broken rib.

The Prince of Darkness had risked everything for a cargo
beast. Was this courage, foolishness or compassion?

Whatever it was, I loved him for it.

* * * * *

Despite Storne’s heroism, our situation was difficult. There
were few firm trails through the marshes, and even fewer places to safely camp.
We pitched our tents or laid out bedrolls at the foot of the few trees that
survived the violent storms, for their root systems held soil securely.

That night, raising our tents was impossible due to
stormwind and mud, so Parron and Rall tied ropes to the meager trees to suspend
hammocks where they could. I eschewed my usual night garb for Lightsider-style
robes, in case my hammock was overturned by a cyclone.

Even after all three moons had set, the night was not dark
or even shadowed, for the brightness of nearby Lightside provided a constant
glow. Marsh-gases weirdly lit the twilight with a greenish, stinking glimmer. I
was not used to the peculiar light and the warmth, so my sleep was fitful and
my dreams troubled. I could hear others, suspended in their hammocks among the
trees, snoring and sighing or, if they were lovemaking, moaning with delight.

I raised myself with an elbow and looked around, with one
hand caressing my pussy. Unfortunately no one else was close enough for me to
watch. I dropped back into my hammock with a frustrated sigh.

Storne slipped into my hammock as I tossed and turned. He
had found some water in which to wash, for when he lifted my tunic, his body felt
cool and pleasant against my heated, sultry skin.

I sighed into his neck. “I fear I will not survive this
foray into Light.”

“Ah. Does this mean…” He slid smooth fingers beneath my
trousers to find my pussy and played with the humid flesh.

I purred with pleasure. “No decision yet, at least not
officially.”

“Which means no decision.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Perhaps I can persuade you.” Taking my wrists, he pinned
them above my head and pushed them into the hammock’s rope mesh, trapping me.

I tensed. Although I believed I could trust Storne, I
couldn’t stop the nervous flutters in my belly. I occasionally allowed myself
to be dominated by Rall and Parron as a change from the norm and because their
loyalty was absolute. Each would give his life for me…and neither had ever
dared to bind me.

And Storne wanted the throne, wanted his blood and bone to
rule even after our deaths, or so I surmised. He did not hesitate to kill in
order to win. What stopped him from taking me against my will?

For my will was strong. Learning that people I trusted, most
likely Frayn and Kloutt, had plotted to kill my family—and had succeeded—had
strengthened my resolve to carefully consider my choice.

Impregnating me would assure Storne of the throne, but I did
not wish to share power. And I had become unsure of my ability to judge
character. I had been wrong about Frayn and Kloutt. My parents had also been
misled. Why should I be able to make the correct choice?

And the correct choice was crucial to the fate of the
Shadowlands and all of Janus.

My worries must have showed, for Storne asked, “What’s
wrong, Audryn?” He slid his fingers out of my pussy and laid his hand on my
belly. His gray eyes were steady, his gaze fixed on my face.

I breathed deeply. “I want you, but—”

“I won’t take advantage of the situation.”

I sighed. “I hope you are not insulted.”

His brows rose. “Your decision is momentous and final. I can
afford to wait.” Smug, his voice oozed confidence.

“You are sure you are the best candidate.”

“Yes.” He leaned closer and purred against my ear, “I’m
bigger, stronger, tougher and I don’t look like your great-grandpa.”

I giggled.

He chuckled, a deep, sexy growl, and bit my lobe. His
fingers again busied themselves inside my pussy.

I tested my bonds, curling my fingers around the hammock’s
cords. They held my wrists fast. “I, uh, er…”

“Parron told me you might like this.” His voice was low and
seductive. If he had been any man other than Darkness’ Prince, I would have believed
that he cared for nothing other than having me.

But this was Storne.

I bridled. “You and Parron have gossiped about me?”

He rolled off the hammock, which rocked back and forth, then
spread my legs and shoved my bare feet into the mesh. “Who else would we talk
about?” He returned to the hammock, lying on top of me. The hammock swayed, and
he nuzzled my neck.