Rising Queen

by Crawford, C. N.

  Aenor remained standing before us, looking up at me from beneath her eyelashes. She was swaying a little from side to side, still clearly enjoying herself.

  Eyes on Richelle. My lips curled in a charming smile, and I draped my arms over the armrests. “This throne feels right to me.”

  Murmurs rippled over the hall. With everyone in the shadows, I hadn’t realized how many people were lurking in the alcoves.

  Richelle licked her lips. “You recently lit a clan of witches on fire.”

  Now, silence pressed down over the hall, heavy as wet soil. The guard hadn’t liked the ice witches, but maybe Richelle felt a kinship with them. Maybe she wanted vengeance. Only a narrow, low table stood between our thrones, and I wondered if she’d be crawling over it soon, trying to kill me.

  I let nothing show on my face. Instead, I looked at my fingernails, like I was already bored. “I did light them on fire. Let’s not dwell on that unpleasantness.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t see it as unpleasant. They were my rivals, Salem. Mag Mell is in chaos, and everyone wants the throne. Some of the witches thought they might get it for themselves. Except they didn’t have a real claim, did they?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “And you have one?”

  Her gaze was sharp on me. “You’ve come here for a favor, haven’t you?”

  She snapped her fingers, and after a few moments, a servant rushed out from one of the alcoves. The young woman held a tray of fruit and wine, blond hair trailing behind her as she hurried up the stairs, blushing. She slid the tray onto the stone table between the two thrones.

  Richelle gestured at the fruit. “We don’t grow much here anymore, but for a special guest, we will bring out what we have. Please. Enjoy yourself.”

  I shrugged slowly, then snatched a glass of wine, taking a sip. I rolled the fruity taste over my tongue, wishing I could give a sip to Aenor. Was she still thirsty?

  “Salem,” said Lady Richelle. “What exactly brings you back to the Court of Silk?”

  I gave her a wicked smile. “Lady Richelle, before I ask for what I want, why don’t you tell me what you desire? I know there is something you want from me.”

  “I want a new ruler of Mag Mell.”

  And there it was. We were beginning the negotiations—the ones where she would ask to be my queen. “And who did you have in mind, Richelle, as king of Mag Mell?”

  “You, of course. Which is why you’ve been granted entrance here.”

  I twirled the stem of my wineglass between my fingertips. “Of course. This is my kingdom, and it seems we’re all in agreement. I do look forward to igniting King Tethra’s body in the public square.”

  Did they really think I wanted to be king here? A god ruling a crumbling little island kingdom. A shabby backwater full of idiots. I belonged reigning in the skies as the sun bled into the clouds.

  But Richelle’s eyes were locked on Aenor, her expression a mixture of anger and fascination. “I want to know who this delight you brought with you is.”

  My hackles rose. Whatever happened next, I’d have to play it very, very carefully.

  Lady Richelle was already sensing a threat in Aenor.

  19

  Salem

  “We no longer have swans in our Court of Silks.” Richelle’s voice was quiet, but it trembled, like she was choking down a powerful emotion.

  Aenor was stroking her own hair, lost in the pleasure of the love spell. I wanted to get her somewhere alone.

  “Well, perhaps you should. What harm is a stupid little swan?” I beckoned Aenor closer. “Aenor, pet, you may sit at the foot of my throne.”

  My words actually managed to cut through the haze of her love potion sharply enough that she shot me a brief, angry look. But quickly enough, she schooled her expression into calm. Then she smiled sweetly and stepped up the dais toward the throne. Just as I’d instructed, she sat on the steps by my feet. It seemed she trusted me enough to play along.

  I took another sip of the wine. “You may have rid your court of the swans, but I’ve done nothing of the sort. Aenor is my captive, one who crossed me long ago. She was once a powerful princess. Now, she’s a servant who obeys my every command. It is the ultimate conquest.”

  “And why have you brought her here?” There it was again, that anger.

  “She is ailing. The idiot got herself hexed, trying to free herself from me.”

  “You must care for her very much to bring her all the way back into the Court of Silks, after you’ve been gone so long.” Her voice had taken on a dangerous edge.

  “Care for her? My prisoner? I use her to amuse myself, and I don’t want my toy broken.”

  Richelle was gripping the arms of her throne as she stared down at Aenor. “Oh? Is that all she is?”

  Change the topic. “Of course. I have always enjoyed my conquests. You must remember. Tell me—why the change, Lady Richelle? Why rid the court of all the swans and the parties and the dancing?”

  “We’ll get to that.” She licked her lips again, still staring at Aenor. “But I am curious what you do with her. Specifically.”

  “Are you? Perhaps I will explain it in detail, once we become better acquainted.”

  “Maybe someday this court will be one of pleasure again.” Richelle’s face was flushed, eyes glowing. “When you are king. But there is no pleasure in this court now. Not when King Tethra forces us to give all of our riches over to him. Not when we’re starving. The king’s taxes have become as insane as he is. But I have taught the people in this court that we have a wealth of magic. And like me, they understand that magic is stronger when you deny the base desires of your body. My perpetual virginity is my strength.” She gestured at some of the courtiers. “And now it is their strength, too. We grow strong through abstinence. It is their sacrifice to me. A leader grows strong through the sacrifices of her people.”

  How absolutely dreadful. What was the point of having a body if you couldn’t enjoy it?

  Sweat beaded on Richelle’s forehead. “Only once we have a new king can anyone enjoy the pleasures of the Court of Silks. Understand?”

  Oh, yes, Richelle, I understand. No one here was fucking anyone unless I agreed to be king. “Quite the hardship.” I sipped my wine. “You have done a truly amazing job preserving your court. If I were to rule as king of Mag Mell again, I would need someone powerful by my side. A queen who knew how to rule as my equal.”

  Richelle’s lips curled. “What you need is someone who has demonstrated the art of restraint over the years, as I have. A counterbalance to your indulgence. We would make a formidable pair. I could teach you temperance. Self-control.”

  I would rather disembowel myself. “It’s just what I had in mind, Lady Richelle.”

  Her eyes darted between Aenor and me. “Then you don’t plan to wed this prisoner of yours?”

  “Wed?” My voice dripped with disdain. “She drowned my sister. I slaughtered her mother. Of course not.”

  Richelle’s hands were on her thighs, and they moved up and down. “If you were king, would you keep her?”

  “Well, Richelle, that would depend what my queen wanted. You seem rather fascinated with the concept of her servitude.”

  Richelle’s pupils dilated, and her chest rose and fell fast. She loved the idea of a captive princess, didn’t she?

  I beckoned Aenor up from the floor. “Aenor, pet, come closer.”

  Obeying my command, Aenor rose and sat in my lap. I breathed in the scent of wildflowers, wanting to nestle and kiss her neck. I pulled her close to me—one hand on one of her thighs, the other around her ribs, just under breast. When I stroked her ribs lightly, I could hear her breath quicken.

  “What do I do with her?” I said. “Whatever I want.”

  Richelle looked enraptured, eyes wide, gleaming. They locked on my fingertips where I was stroking Aenor’s ribs. She leaned closer to us. “Do you make her walk around your palace naked?”

  “She rarely wears clothes in my palace,” I
said. “I like her to remember her purpose.”

  “Do you touch her wherever you want? Do you claim her whenever it suits you?” asked Richelle. “And tell her she belongs to you?”

  I lifted my wineglass. “It’s like you can read my thoughts.”

  And here, without even realizing what she was doing, Richelle was divulging her fantasies to me.

  Aenor shifted in my lap, and I suddenly found it very hard to concentrate.

  Richelle was practically crawling over the throne to get in my lap, too. “Does she like the humiliation?”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Mmm… she does now. She despised me at first, but she came to lust for me over time. She hates herself for it, but she can’t help but beg for me.”

  Aenor draped an arm around my neck, and I felt strangely grateful that those wretches had given us the love potion. In her normal state of mind, she might have punched someone by now.

  Slowly, I stroked my hand over Aenor’s breast, and her back arched. She was nestling in closer to me, head leaning against mine. I slid one of my hands slowly up her thigh, and she gasped. With that little sound, it was as if the rest of the world faded away around us.

  Richelle cleared her throat. “Do you tie her up?”

  I smiled at her. “Yes. And if you are able to prove your power to me, I’ll introduce you to a world of pleasure you have never known before. We will enjoy ourselves, and I will teach you how, Richelle.”

  The Court of Silks had been denying themselves any sort of release for years. This place was like a volcano of sexual frustration, ready to erupt, and Lady Richelle hadn’t had a moment’s fun.

  Her fingertips were now gripping her knees, and her eyes shone with the wildfire of a fanatic. “Do you make her pleasure herself in front of you? Do you deny her release until she begs and pleads?”

  Lady Richelle, even as horrible as she was, had turned out to be full of wonderful ideas.

  I brushed my hand over Aenor’s breast, imagining that I had her tied up, spread out before me. That I was tracing my hand up and down her thighs and listening to her breathing. My heart raced, skin heating. “Yes, Richelle. She was once my enemy, so now my favorite is when she begs me. The sound of her utter desperation lets me know I’ve truly won.”

  I looked up at Aenor as I spoke, transfixed by her beauty. Her cheeks were pink, skin dewy. When she turned to look at me, her eyes bright, the world fell away. It was just Aenor and me, the beginning and the end.

  “Salem!” Lady Richelle’s voice was like a crow’s screech.

  I kept my eyes on the Maid of Night as she strained over the edge of the throne. “Yes, my lady?” I asked quietly.

  “What is it you want from me, exactly? I’m ready to make a bargain.”

  I couldn’t just come right out and ask for her to heal Aenor, or it would be obvious that I cared for her. I’d need to start with something else. Something she actually wanted, deep down. “If we marry, I will expect my new bride to submit to me sexually. You will be available whenever I want you. I will have ownership of your body for my pleasure, and I sometimes have depraved tastes.”

  It was exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Her cheeks went pink, and she started to fan herself. “That is quite the sacrifice,” she said. “I suppose, for the good of my people…”

  “But are you really as powerful as you claim? I do wonder.”

  Her lips tightened. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve had a hard time keeping your court fed and happy. It doesn’t speak well of your magic, does it?”

  “I’ve done better than anyone else could, given what I’ve had to deal with. The Mad King’s influence.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps,” I said. “But I think I’ll need you to prove it.”

  Her eyes brightened. “How?”

  I lifted one of Aenor’s arms, displaying the dark magic that snaked under her skin. “We could use this as a test. Try to heal this prisoner. This divine hex. Are you powerful enough to do that, to contend with the magic of a sea god?”

  Richelle’s mouth twitched. “I could certainly try. I could try to prove my power to you. That I’m worthy of being queen.”

  Hope ignited in my chest, but I wouldn’t let myself show it. Instead, I wore a mask of boredom and shrugged. “If you can.”

  “Hmmm.” Richelle leaned back in her throne, apparently considering this.

  I reached out for the wineglass, twirling it again and watching the torchlight glint off it, as though none of this really mattered—and yet every nerve in my body was sparking as I burned to hear the answer I wanted.

  My heart hammered hard in my chest as I awaited the verdict.

  20

  Aenor

  With the love potion swirling through my blood, I had to work hard to focus.

  Salem put his wineglass down, and his hands on my body pulled my attention away from Richelle. Heat pulsed from his fingertips as he brushed them over my ribs, skimming just under my breast. It was like a light, excruciating sexual torture.

  I wanted to turn to straddle him. I probably would have, too, if there weren’t all these other people in the room.

  With another look down at my wrists—at the death winding beneath my skin—I let the dread snap me out of my haze.

  Richelle smoothed out her dress, her eyes looking feverish. Her jaw was clenched tight as she stared at me, lip curled in a little snarl. “Whore,” she said in a shaking, furious whisper.

  I stared at her, trying not to laugh in her face. I realized she was insulting me, but she was so pathetic that it was hard to even get worked up about it. She was what Gina would call thirsty as fuck, and it was driving the poor woman mad.

  She leaned back in her throne, trying to smooth out her dress again, like she was struggling for composure. “Before I try to heal your prisoner, I want to know what my role would be in this new kingdom.”

  Salem’s smile was pure seduction. “Well, that all depends on you, Richelle. As I said, I need a queen who is powerful. Demonstrate your power for me by healing this prisoner. And then we will discuss your role as queen.”

  Delight danced in Richelle’s eyes. She grinned broadly, probably imagining all the things Salem would do to her. Then she steepled her fingers, turning her attention to me again. “I need to know more before I begin. How did she become sick? I want to hear it in her own words.”

  Ah. Finally, I was being allowed to speak. There was every chance Richelle would be able to spot the subtle signs of deception, so I’d go with the truth as much as I could. “I made a bargain with the sea god. A sacrifice for power. And as it turned out, it was not a good bargain. The sea god wanted my life.”

  Lady Richelle narrowed her eyes. “Foolish. And now you have less power than you started with, am I right?”

  Under the haze of the love potion, anger simmered. “Yes, I have less power now.”

  “A divine hex is not easy to undo. Not easy at all. And why did you want power? You wanted to free yourself from Salem?”

  I forced myself to smile sweetly. “It was a silly idea.” Kill me.

  Richelle looked very pleased with this response, and she met Salem’s gaze again. “But you have a curse of your own, Salem.”

  Now, she had my interest.

  “I’m not worried about that anymore,” said Salem. “I’m in control of it.”

  Richelle lifted a finger to her lips. “But I can see the curse around you now. It’s still strong, ready to consume you. It’s growing stronger day by day, isn’t it? I’d heard that you’d overcome it. But I can see that that’s not the case at all. Did something happen to inflame it?”

  Salem shrugged slowly, but I could read the cold fury in his eyes. “As I said, I’ve learned to control it.” His voice had an edge that suggested—to the contrary—he was about to lose control.

  “It would be hard for you to rule as king with that curse. I remember what a monster it made you. A devil in a cave, burning, killing, taking whatever y
ou wanted from anyone you wanted. And it’s burning you up again, isn’t it? You wouldn’t make a very good king with that driving you mad, would you? Even before the curse, you had a hard time trying to control yourself.”

  I stole a glance at him and saw the fire rising behind his eyes. I was starting to get the sense that this didn’t seem to be going the way he wanted.

  “That was a long time ago, Lady Richelle,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet.

  “But a monarch is tied to his land. If you’re strong, the kingdom will grow strong. If you’re cursed, the kingdom will remain cursed. Now, Mag Mell withers because of Tethra’s illness. But what would happen with a cursed king? We could all burn. I can’t allow that to happen.” She tapped her fingernails on the arm of her throne, still leaning over toward him. “Once, you fell to Earth, a god crashing through the rocks, bereft of his soul. And then you fell a second time, becoming the worst sort of beast. That happened when you were banished from this kingdom.”

  Salem lifted his wineglass and twirled it in the torchlight, a hypnotic gesture. “As I said, Richelle”—his seductive voice cut through the air—“that was all a long time ago.”

  She cocked her head. “I will remove it, if the higher powers allow it. I will consult with them first, of course.”

  He let out a long sigh, and I sensed his body relaxing a little. Then he gave an easy shrug. “If it would make you feel better, Lady Richelle. I certainly don’t need it anymore.”

  “You once came to me, desperate to get rid of it. You didn’t want to be a beast anymore. You wanted to stop burning and killing.”

  I felt Salem’s muscles tense beneath me again. One of his hands was curled possessively around me. “I remember, yes.”

  “But at the time, you did not like my terms. You did not think me a fitting queen.”