by Eve Bradley
“It’s all the same original bloodline. Just different political stances,” he shrugged, and as his massive shoulders moved, she watched the muscle on his back ripple.
“Isn’t your father disgraced by you spreading your legs for a white bear?” he asked without even an ounce of worry for offending her.
“Mind your tongue,” she warned him. “I’m the Prince’s chief courtesan.”
“No forgetting that.”
He sounded a bit sarcastic, and she frowned. She bit down on her lip, willing her teeth to bring blood.
“The damn fool won’t let me forget.”
Margaret wanted him to be silent. Why couldn’t they just walk without speaking? Was that so difficult? He would bring her so much more pain and suffering if anyone saw her speaking with him openly and told Luc, either that or if Lucarian deciphered any of her expressions as being even slightly interested, she’d be in danger. Her skin prickled with the urgency to simply get there and to be away from Zothar. But why was he even a threat? She noticed a few servant girls eyeing him as they walked, and then was reminded that he was outlandish, rough, and large. His features were brutish but good enough to be appealing. He was nothing like the northern men, who were slim and fit as ancient elves.
Looking at him reminded her of Catharsa. She fancied he even smelled like the great fir trees that pierced the skies. He even had the strength of the giant oaks that burst up through the ground. Catharsa was verdant and prosperous in its nature, with endless amounts of wildlife and freshwater rivers keeping the Kingdom satiated. Her father had taken their family away because of his own foolish choices. Once he’d lost his foothold as a raiser of courtesans there, he’d promptly taken his business where he knew it would be appreciated. Mother appreciated his knack for business...even if it did involve promoting his daughters to positions as nothing more than a paid slave.
Looking at Zothar’s broad shoulders brought back these memories, and crippled her so that she grew nearly despondent. She loved her family. That was certain, but now...now she was alone. She could have gold and nice things, all for what? For a deepening abuse? And now she had no way of escape. Who’d say no to the soon to be King? She was forever invested.
Until he wanted her no more.
“He values your opinion,” Zothar shot back over his shoulder in Catharsan. “You must have a good mind.”
“Don’t speak to me in that language,” she berated him.
He didn’t acknowledge her again until they’d reached the audience hall. As they entered, she saw Lucarian and Councilor Peltyre, along with a few other elites she’d yet to meet. Margaret’s eyes were suctioned to the floor. She didn’t dare look up unless he spoke to her. Her heels clamored sharply on the copper floor in such a large space. The gathering grew quiet as they approached, lending further horror to her already flushed body.
“My sweet,” Lucarian pulled her to him and kissed her quite ravenously before them all. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Your mother and sisters were so kind as to invite me to their springtime dressing party.”
Her voice was ash and hollow.
“Alas, now you’re here. Oh well. This will be much better, I assure you,” he smiled wolfishly.
Margaret fiddled with her nails.
“It’s been confirmed that our forces will set out to destroy the very vault from which the gods and goddesses ordain the peacekings. The time of the gods is finally closing. And we are going to be the leaders of the new age,” Lucarian raised his fist in the air dramatically. There was a round of approval and agreeing mutters.
“When we are finished with this task, we will set our sights upon our true enemy. The Peacequeen and her convoy,” he revealed.
“Too long have the gods had their say in what we do. They’re no better than us,” Zothar proclaimed, beating a hand upon his leather-clad chest.
“Preparations are being made as we speak. But forgive me, you probably wonder why I brought you here. I have a job for you. A specific task that I trust only you with,” he smiled as warmly as his icy face would allow him.
She raised her brows, utterly bewildered. She looked from man to man before settling back upon Lucarian, whose features maintained his still jovial composition.
“As soon as I’m crowned and set off to accomplish this great feat, I’ll need someone here whom I trust completely to keep control over my mother and sisters. To keep control of the people, exactly as I say. It is you I place this burden upon, my dear. It is you I choose...to be my queen.”
Suddenly the Prince was on one knee before her, and fluttering up from his pocket was a solid moonstone ring. It was set into an ornate gathering of copper strands, and she didn’t know how the band itself could support the girth of the stone. Unavoidably she for the briefest moment met Zothar’s eyes. They were bulbous with shock.
All of her senses slowed. She didn’t know what to think or say. Maybe she was a mouse. Trapped, ever cornered in a small space before a lion who’d rip her apart at any second. She realized that she hadn’t been breathing and gasped, feeling as white as a sheet. Her head surged with blood, and her hand flew to her forehead.
“Margaret,” Lucarian’s voice was edging stern.
“My Lord. I am so surprised...forgive me...I only pray that I can be everything you wish me to be,” she murmured. It took everything within her not to drop to her knees then and there. Her hands shook violently as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He pushed her back towards the marble pillar and began to kiss her, his mouth exploring hers. His taste was so familiar and cold, like metal and snow. Their entourage seemed put off by this, and they all began to filter out of the chamber.
Lucarian’s arms wrapped around her back, and he shoved himself between her legs. He kissed her neck and bit her hard, completely entranced.
“You look fucking good in green,” his voice was a growl of carnal lust.
“Thank you,” she squeezed the words from her chest as he mauled her.
She could hardly fathom what had just happened. As he kissed her, leaving nicks and bruises where he bit and sucked, the pain flooded her body with excitement. She exhaled hard as he drew his hand up between her thighs and stroked her.
“Oh gods,” he said, and then hurriedly unleashed his cock.
He speared her, and as he did so, she moved up the marble pillar. She let out a moan. Feeling the pressure of his thickness without much preparation was not ever going to be easy. But she pretended that she enjoyed it. His hands cupped the base of her skull, and he bucked up into her, loud with every single move he made. She joined him in this blissful union, making sure that he knew he was everything she wanted. The only thing she wanted. And now, she’d have him for life.
Tears crept like little drops of inescapable truth from her eyes.
She’d be queen. Not because he loved her, but because he knew he could control her.
They both knew that this was wholly correct.
He wanted her to do as he asked while he was away? To be his pawn while he did something that had never been done before? She swallowed back the lump in her throat and leaned to kiss him as he violently penetrated her. It was easier if she pretended he was someone else. Suddenly he was Zothar, thick and strong, wild black hair falling around her. The smell of trees and the safety of his wild heart surrounded her. She gave herself over to the sex, admitting herself the darkest of desires.
And just for a moment, she could forget.
Catryn
The Desert
Catryn and Maru had been traveling for days on end through the bone dry desert, hampered by the sand laced wind. The map they’d followed had lead them towards a grouping of giant red rock cliffs. She was determined not to fail. She led Maru and didn’t stop, knowing that this was all upon her shoulders. Gods forbid she hurt Maru in the process too.
She tried to think of anything other than the three men that taunted her soul from miles away.
“This should be it...” she sighe
d as they came face to face with a doorless red rockface. “I swear if General Kalif gave me the wrong...”
“Look,” Maru pointed a bit further down the way, where a strange rock was shoved up against the cliff wall. It was engraved with ancient Yamarian language, that Cat could tell. But it was just conspicuous enough to be apparent.
Using her Faerus, she shoved the rock aside. A few scorpions scuttled out and raced for cover. The sun beamed furiously overhead, and Catryn sighed, exhausted by the endless walking in the hot sun. Maru’s draught had long lost its effects. Behind the giant rock was a craterous gap that led into darkness.
She glanced at Maru, who gave her a dry wince.
Both of them were haggard, their hair limp and coated with sand. Her eyes felt gritty. Catryn looked down at the map she held loosely before her. It was correct. As she stared into the black void that tunneled into the earth, she felt the hovering traces of magic. It was beckoning her, and she hated that even the sense of it was horrifying. She wanted to turn back. She wanted to smack Maru over the head and flee so she never had to face any of it again.
But she couldn’t. Her body stung with the reality that this was hers to bear.
“Maru...” she rolled up the map and shoved it away. It was time to face reality. “I want you to promise me something.”
Maru’s brows rose, and she came closer, challenged by this promise that Catryn knew she’d fight hard to discard.
“What’s that, Peacequeen?” she smirked broadly, a lazy hand coming to rest on her hip.
“If anything happens in there...if you think you’re in danger at any point, just run,” Catryn gazed firmly into her eyes. “Never under any circumstances attempt to act heroically. Because I can handle myself, what I can’t handle is someone distracting me and proving themselves a liability. I will always try my best to protect you...but,” Cat looked down at the cracked earth beneath her feet, despising herself for saying it, yet haunted by the memories burned in her mind. The flashes of panic when she realized that she had no control. The realization that the three men who were most important to her, that felt like a serendipitous family, could have died, and she could do nothing about it.
“Just think of your boys...if the worst happens.”
Maru’s expression flickered towards anger. Her lip drew up, and as she thought about what had been said, Cat reached out and gripped her shoulders.
“Don’t argue. Please. Just promise me. I can’t do this if one of the people I care about die...”
The obstinance crept out of Maru’s narrowed eyes. She nodded briefly, enough for Cat to feel mild relief.
Cat hurried to release her, feeling awkward with the closeness. They withdrew the torches from their packs and lit them quickly. Catryn imagined flames coming through her fingers, or light. Astra would have been perfect for this situation as they tread into darkness. But the magic she’d felt when the block had been removed was unreachable.
The crunch of their boots was all they could hear as they walked down the oval tunnel deeper into the earth. With each step, Cat felt more compressed. Why would the Peaceking have been buried here? There was not much signifying his resting place.
She was excited to meet the dead King. To be near to someone who’d bore the things that she was supposed to bear. Who’d done what he had to, and exceptionally.
But the end of the tunnel appeared.
“What?” Cat frowned and went to touch the earth. Her fingers slid over rough dirt and stone.
“Maybe this isn’t the place,” Maru said.
But there was a familiar otherworldly taste in the air, and Catryn was able to shield them with a burst of Faerus just as the pathway was blasted out in front of them. Her power orbed around them in a translucent green light, and put distance between the shockwave of magic hurtling towards them.
The path had been blown out, and what stood in the doorway made Cat’s head spin. They were Djinn but colored differently. Their skins weren’t crumbling and flaming, nor were their eyes hollow black, but rather bright gems of color in their heads with black pupils. They looked practically human, yet the shrill depth of their souls is what she recognized. It was animal, chaotic, outside of the uniform way that human souls were made. But these creatures, although they resembled the Djinn she’d fought before, were different. They were a mix of human and Djinn. One man’s hair blew like a wreath around his skull, a gem blue color, and the other was red with flames for hair.
“Go!” Catryn bellowed.
Maru stood firm, and when she looked at her, those eyes pierced her through. At that moment, she knew Maru had no intention of leaving. She unsheathed her double swords and readied her stance. But the creatures made no more moves in advance. They stared at the two women with the bright light around them, and Catryn recognized a shrivel of surprise on the male’s face.
Cat shoved Maru behind her and raised the will of the gods in her mind. It flashed like a river through her head, but there was nothing dangerous in their unspoken words. No mark of danger or plead to survive.
“What are you?” she demanded.
Both the being's magic retracted into their skin. Without their attack stances and the wide intensity of their eyes, Cat felt that they looked even more human than before.
“It can’t be...” the male said, fists clenching at his side.
“Can’t be what?” Maru demanded crazily from behind Catryn’s back.
“We haven’t seen that sort of magic in centuries,” the red-haired vixen said. The blue-haired male sauntered forth.
His body was idealistically shaped. His naked chest was ribbed with muscles, and his waist was pleasantly trim, giving him the inverted triangle shape. Broad shoulders were rounded with firm muscle. His lower half was clad with loose dark cloth pants and his feet with plain boots. There was a gold clasp around his upper arm, and indigo tattoos written in an unknown dialect spanned all across his neck. His jawline twitched when he noticed both the women staring.
“A Peacequeen,” he inclined his head, challenging eyes peering down into hers. “Interesting.”
The red female came forward too. She was ethereal, constructed athletically with high round breasts and an overall pleasing face. Her hair had calmed a bit and now swayed around her neck.
“If you don’t tell me who you are, I’ll kill you both,” Catryn warned them.
“No need,” the male spoke with a sly tone. “We are the Djinn, and you’ve just entered our home. Uninvited.”
Catryn wasn’t surprised, but she could sense Maru tensing.
“You’re nothing like the Djinn I’ve seen,” she countered, standing firm in her defense.
“We are true Djinn,” the male explained, and the way he looked at her sent tingles into her stomach. “What have you come here for?”
“For answers,” Catryn responded readily. “I was sent here by a General. He said this was the tomb of an ancient Peaceking.”
The two exchanged looks, and he smiled. They didn’t feel human to her, and it was a strange disconcerting feeling. She could sense the magic in them as if they were simmering with it. It was an enjoyable scent, one that she wanted to soak in.
“Well, you found it,” he said. “I am Sarth, and this is Mela.”
Cat glanced at Maru, utterly confused. Maru shrugged, and Cat shut her eyes in irritation.
“Do you have a leader? I’ve come for assistance. You must know that the Djinn are working towards overtaking Jurdu? I need guidance from the Peaceking that was before. If you know where the tomb is, I’d appreciate access. I must read about him. I need to know how to defeat the...other Djinn. The dark Djinn. Everyone I love and care for is counting on me. If I don’t succeed and reach the rest of my power, every human will die. This rests upon me. And I cannot fail. So, please...Sarth and Mela, if you’d be so kind...”
Both seemed to take in her words without movement or emotion. But when she was finished, Sarth came to her and reached out his hand.
“How do
we know we can trust them?” Maru moved to stop Cat, her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Because I can take you to the answers you seek...” he said smugly.
Catryn didn’t know what more to do. This was the only option. She took his hand firmly.
“My promise still stands,” Cat gripped his warm blue-gray flesh. “I will not be toyed with. Consider this my last warning.”
“Sure, sure,” he smirked.
Everything they knew was a lie. At least, that’s how seeing the massive interwoven labyrinth of Djinni society made her feel. Magic, outside of her, still existed.
Their entire world was submerged beneath the ground. Cat had a feeling they knew more than she could have ever wanted to know. As they entered, they were filtered through a hall and then spat out in a ginormous dome. This, she assumed, was the hub. There were hundreds of Djinn, the humanoid version of them, in this metropolis. They’d grown beautiful trees with white orb lights. The pathways were laid into the earth in patterns that resembled faces and other depictions of nature. Everything was lit softly by the orb lights, and Cat raised her palm to one in passing. She felt a mixture of Astra and Vermora: light and earth combined into a dazzlingly creative way to brighten the darkness.
The hub had homes set up in tiers, small buildings crafted from the same clay bricks, and on top of each building was a garden of lush greens and fragrant flowers. Child Djinn flit about the walkways as their parents carried items towards what reminded Cat of a market. But it seemed that everyone there took what they needed and nothing more, and no sort of currency passed through their hands.
Maru bobbed and weaved, increasingly fascinated by the plant life. Catryn could tell that she was itching to ask questions and learn more about their horticulture. At one stand, there was even a layout of fish, and she felt her face tilt towards bewilderment.
“Underground rivers,” Mela explained to her as they walked.
Set into the back wall of the dome were six pillars wrapped in moss and tiny spiked flowers. This entrance marked that posterior space as important. Yet other doors and archways led elsewhere, and there was no way of knowing where anything went or the depth of their underground city. Sarth led them through the paths and over bridges. The detail they put into every single item was impressive, and she settled on trying to remember the exact way they’d come in order to remember the exit.
