Tales of Enchantment 2: The Quest

by Kai Andersen

  Giselda was so startled, she stopped and stared at him. “You don’t trust Frederick?”

  Rodin laughed. “Keep walking. I meant that I don’t trust your prince. He looks a bit oily to me.”

  Giselda’s breath caught at the sound of his laughter. It vibrated through her body, tingling her in places she never knew existed. How could it happen now, when she was never affected before? She saw Rodin look at her expectantly and scrambled to think of a suitable reply.

  “Good thing you’re not marrying him, then,” she managed to say with a snap to her voice. “My mother is certainly pleased with the match.”

  Rodin grunted, but didn’t say anything. He plodded on ahead.

  “I suppose I should be glad that Frederick cared enough,” she reflected, compelled to say something into the silence. It wasn’t that the atmosphere was uncomfortable, but that she had always been unable to stand silence.

  “He has always cared for you as a sister,” Rodin said in a gentle voice. “But you haven’t actually made it easy for him.”

  Remembering all the troubles she’d caused in the past and the laughingstock she’d made of herself by going after her stepbrother, Giselda hung her head in shame. “I have been beastly to him, haven’t I?”

  “Makes for good character-building,” Rodin said cheerfully. “His, anyway. But that’s all in the past now. At any rate, we always knew that you were no angel.”

  She sent him a grin of her own. “Just think how boring your life would have been if not for me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, please spare me the excitement on this last job. If you would just keep to your room day and night until the wedding, I would be grateful.”

  Giselda noted the forced nonchalance in his tone, but it was forgotten as her attention was caught by one thing he had said. “You’re leaving?”

  “Why? Can’t wait to see the back of me?” His mouth thinned. “Not until your wedding ceremony is over, I assure you.”

  Giselda couldn’t make out the turbulent emotions within her. “I, uh, I guess I, uh, I just always thought that you would be with Frederick all your life.”

  “Things change. Even you will be leaving a few weeks after your wedding ceremony,” he pointed out. “But what I meant was that it is my last job as a security person for the royal family. I’ll be doing something else after this.”

  “Like what?”

  He glanced her way. “Really interested to know?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Just thought you couldn’t be bothered with servants.”

  She stopped and stared at him.

  He tugged her arm to get her to continue walking.

  “But you -- I -- you’re Frederick’s friend.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound repentant, though. “The wires must have crossed.”

  “So, what are you going to be doing?”

  “I’m going to breed horses.”

  Giselda clapped her hands. “Oh, how exciting!”

  Rodin shot her an amused glance. “You’ve always loved horses.”

  “Maybe I can visit you someday. Where are you going to breed them?”

  “Frederick is going to convert that thousand-acre tract he received from his mother into a horse ranch.”

  “Big place.”

  “Yes. I plan to get it up and working first, and then maybe ... I will settle down. Hopefully in five years’ time.”

  “You have someone in mind?” This was a day for surprises. She had never heard rumors of Rodin getting serious with a girl. And for some reason, the idea of Rodin married bothered her.

  “Yes.”

  “What does she think?”

  “She doesn’t know yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have never found the courage to ask her. I was afraid she’d laugh and turn me down.”

  Giselda felt a flash of anger at the unknown girl. “Why would she do that?”

  “Our backgrounds are too different, and I wouldn’t be able to give her all the things she’s accustomed to.”

  “But these are all your suppositions. How would you know for sure if you haven’t asked her? Tell you what. Who is she? Maybe I can ask her for you.” The words had popped out without going through her brain.

  “She ...” He hesitated and then sighed. “Never mind, Princess. It’s nice of you to offer, though.”

  “I’ll be subtle, I promise.”

  He laughed, a hearty laugh that was consistent with his big frame. “Forgive me for saying this, Princess, but you have all the subtleness of a rampaging bull.”

  “You are so poetic,” she said sarcastically, but a smile hovered about her lips. “But do I know her?” As she saw his hesitation, she waved a hand negligently in the air. “All right, never mind. Can you describe her, at least?”

  “She’s beautiful, but anyone can tell you that.” His tone turned reflective. “What I like about her is her tenacity, her perseverance, and her never-give-up attitude in the face of challenges and adversity. Whenever she faces obstacles in the path of her chosen goal, she just pushes through them, goes around them, whatever, to reach her goal. She knows what she wants, and her enormous self-confidence ensures that she’ll get it or die trying.”

  “Wow, I don’t think I know anyone like her.” Hearing him talk about this girl made her feel so small and insignificant and inadequate. “But your problem now is that she doesn’t know that she wants you yet.”

  Rodin threw back his head and laughed. “That’s about it.”

  “I don’t see how you can be so cheerful about this.”

  “Can anything be done by being gloomy? No. Right? So why not be cheerful? At least I’m happy.”

  She considered for a moment and then nodded. “Good philosophy. I shall try that.” She placed a hand on Rodin’s arm and gave him a small squeeze. “Don’t worry, Rodin. After I’m married, I will help you look for suitable prospects in Ermont.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” He stopped and presented her with a mocking little bow. “But we should hurry because you don’t want to be out in this heat for too long, and we still have some ways to go before we reach the nearest village.”

  Giselda tried to keep up with his fast strides, aware of the milling emotions in her breast. One thought kept reverberating through her head.

  He had turned stiff and formal, and she didn’t know why.

  Chapter Five

  “I am sending Prince Michael on a quest.”

  The king of Mithirien made the announcement at the impromptu family meeting he had called two days after the end of the tournament.

  Giselda, being uninformed as to the reason for the meeting, was startled at the pronouncement. “But, Father, why?”

  “Frederick and I have discussed this, and we have decided that one more test of valor is needed to ascertain young Michael’s suitability.” His stern eyes softened as they rested on his adoptive daughter. “I know you are looking forward to the wedding, but this is for your own good. I don’t want you to have regrets the rest of your life.”

  All five of them were seated together at one end of the long conference table. The king presided over the meeting, his eyes and mind still alert at sixty years of age. He didn’t look like he was going to give up the throne anytime soon.

  “I will not regret this, Father!”

  “Maybe you won’t. But humor an old man who happens to be your father, can you?”

  “You are not old, Father,” Giselda said loyally, loving this man who had taken her in thirteen years ago.

  “You know what I mean, girl.”

  Her stepfather’s voice was so kind that she nodded, although every cell in her being howled a protest.

  “It would only be for a few days, Giselda,” her mother, the queen, assured her.

  Giselda swallowed her tears. “What is the quest, Father?”

  “It has been made known to me word of a golden bird whose saliva has wonderful medicinal properties.”

&nb
sp; “Saliva! Yeck!” Giselda grimaced. Even Serena made a face. “Are you sure, Father?”

  “Yes, I am sure,” the king replied with the patience of a father who knew his children. “There is a story of a man who has been lucky enough to have a drop of its saliva fall into his mouth. Immediately, his aches and pains disappeared.”

  “Sounds too good to be true. What if it is nothing but a wild goose chase?”

  “Then he had better bring home the goose instead,” a younger male voice replied.

  “Frederick!”

  He grinned, unrepentant.

  “Father?”

  “I have verified it with the wise ones, Giselda. The story is true and legitimate.” The king shot a scolding look at Frederick. “Now, the bird has been sighted about two days’ hard ride east of here. Approximately five days to and fro should be a short time, Giselda.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Of course, we will allow Michael some basic provisions. He can also bring some of his bodyguards. Two should be enough. This quest may have some level of difficulty, but I don’t think it is impossible.” The king’s eyes glazed for a moment, and then he sighed. “More arduous quests have been undertaken by a man for his lady fair.”

  “That’s a direct quote from somewhere, isn’t it?” the queen asked.

  “Past and Present Days of Chivalry, chapter ten.” Serena uttered her own sigh, but hers was one of longing. “I love that book. I used to dream over those daring tales of knights and kings, and the princesses they loved and won.”

  “You have your own prince right here.” Frederick leaned over and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

  “Oh, break that up, you two.” Giselda scowled.

  Frederick and Serena broke apart, laughing.

  The king banged his hand on the table. “So it is settled. This is my decree: To the man who completes this quest, I shall give my daughter.”

  Chapter Six

  Giselda sat morosely in the garden, a multi-colored pile of petals at her feet. She was surrounded by tall shrubs and trees that towered, providing a perfect shade for the bench she was sitting on. A fair breeze played with her hair, lifting the brown strands, which she had left to fall in a thick, loose mass at her back. Sometimes the wind shifted and swirled through the petals, reorganizing their arrangement. The sweet scent of different flowers mingled and wafted through the air. In her hand, a pink rose was quietly breathing its last. She stripped the flower methodically of its petals, letting them fall to the top of the pile.

  “Cheer up, Princess.” Rodin sat a few feet away on another bench. “There’s nothing you can do but wait.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” She grabbed a handful of petals and threw them into the air. “It’s been three days!”

  “And two to three more before he gets back.”

  “Oh, shut up!” She didn’t want to be reminded that she was behaving out of turn. “Go guard somebody else; Michael isn’t here anyway.”

  He had the gall to look bored. “I can’t. Frederick ordered me to stick by your side.”

  “Then I un-order you.” Giselda knew she was being childish and petulant, but she didn’t care. When Rodin remained silent, she threw up her hands in impatience. “Oh, never mind! Just sit there and be bored, then.”

  “You’re really missing that prince?”

  “What’s it to you if I do?”

  “Maybe you’re just worried about losing the chance to be queen someday.” His voice was quiet, only a little above a whisper.

  But she heard it, as she knew he meant her to.

  Giselda gasped in outrage because it was the truth. But it was a truth that no one but she and her mother knew. “You don’t know anything! You are just a bodyguard, a servant!”

  Rodin stiffened. “Forgive me for my presumptions, Your Highness.”

  An awkward silence descended between them. Giselda continued plucking the petals from the flowers; a neverending supply rested beside her in a large basket. She was angry at his accusation because hearing it from his lips made it sound terrible and ugly. It wasn’t as if she were taking advantage of Michael. She was a princess of one of the mightiest and richest kingdoms in the world; she had a lot to offer the man she chose to be her husband. All she wanted was power, riches, and a bloody title in exchange.

  Her conscience nagged at her. Rodin spoke the way he did because he didn’t understand her. He didn’t know what drove her to have those dreams, those hopes. Whatever he did, she was still a princess, higher in rank and status than him. She shouldn’t have spoken the way she did.

  “I’m sorry, Rodin. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, Your Highness. We servants learn to take these things in stride.”

  Uh-oh. She wished he would go back to calling her Princess, anything but that insufferable Your Highness.

  “Look, Rodin, you know I don’t apologize easily. Won’t you be gracious and accept it?” She looked at his stiff profile beseechingly.

  He saw her expression and chuckled. “All right.”

  Relief flooded over her. She hadn’t been aware of how much she treasured Rodin’s friendship until that moment.

  “Thanks.” Her head bent, but the flower was blurred. “It’s just the pressure of the past few days, I guess, and then Michael’s sent off on a quest, and I miss him, and everything was just too much -- Ow!”

  She had pricked her finger on a thorn, and a blurred red dot was blossoming. She dropped the rose and dashed her tears away with the other hand.

  Rodin was beside her in a flash, petals flying everywhere as he waded through them. “Let me see that.” He grasped her hand, tipping her fingers toward himself. He wiped the blood away gently and probed for a thorn. With relief in his voice, he said, “You just broke the skin. You’re lucky a splinter didn’t embed itself in your --”

  Giselda knew why he suddenly stopped. He had looked up and seen how his nearness was affecting her, how she couldn’t stop the rush of desire rippling through her at his touch. She had always been so transparent.

  In that instant, rank fell away. She was just a woman, and he a man.

  His green eyes holding hers, he lifted her hand and sucked on the wounded finger. She gasped as molten heat ran through her veins. He sucked alternately on each digit of her hand, feeding the fire burning in her and inciting a strange yearning to have those lips on her lips, on her breasts. His mouth was hot, pulling deeply as he sucked. The raw look of lust on his face and the sight of him sucking on her fingers built her excitement and increased her desire.

  Holding her fingers away from his mouth, he sat on the bench and bent toward her. The desire in his eyes slammed into her, making it hard for her to breathe. One hand cupped her cheek as he murmured, “Perhaps this is what you miss,” and then his lips covered hers, dry and firm and intent. The kiss wasn’t gentle, but wild and passionate, turbulent and freeing. His tongue stroked across her lips, strong and vibrant and seeking.

  At first she was overwhelmed, but then she responded, just as wildly and passionately. Her arms went around his neck, and her mouth opened and invited his tongue to taste her honeyed depths, meeting him boldly and stroking back eagerly.

  “So passionate,” he murmured when they came up for air. “Just as I dreamed.”

  Before she could even think, his lips had swooped down to reclaim hers for another heated kiss. With his hand supporting her back, she reclined slowly on the bench, pulling him down with her. Their exploration of each other’s mouths continued, savoring, lingering, memorizing.

  She made a slight sound of protest when he lifted his head to say, “And maybe you missed this.”

  His heated mouth captured a painfully tight nipple, sucking strongly, pulling her breast into his mouth. She moaned, not knowing when he had unbuttoned her bodice, knowing only that he mustn’t stop. He nuzzled against her bare skin, his hair falling softly and grazing the sensitive skin of her breast. His fingers rolled and rubb
ed the neglected nipple, twitching it until it was as tight and hard as its twin.

  “I will make you forget him.”

  She moaned again, both excited by his words and caught in the turbulent sensations coursing through her. He transferred to the other breast, enveloping her nipple with his mouth. He teased the hard nub with stabbing motions of his tongue, causing her to cry out at the intensity, desire pooling between her thighs.

  His fingers worked nimbly and dispensed with the buttons all the way down her dress in record time. It was a new fashion created by Madame Beauvoir, and Giselda had worn it that day in an effort to lift her spirits. She’d never imagined that it would pave an easy way for him to access her bare skin, for his lips to dance down her ribs, across her abdomen, teasing at her navel, before burying themselves in the black curls between her thighs, his hot breath toying with her pussy.

  She felt ... she didn’t know ...

  She whimpered.

  Cool air feathered across her breasts, and she missed the touch of his lips on them. She brought her hands up and played with her nipples as he had a while ago, pinching hard, intensely aware of another fire kindling in her lower body. His hands lifted her buttocks, and she arched into his mouth, willing him to continue the tormenting pleasure. His tongue reached out and licked her. Her breath hitched. He stabbed against her moist recesses, lapping at her juices. Her whimpering cries echoed in her ears. She was aware of something building within her, a strange and tight tension, pressure ...

  His tongue curled around a hard nub, a place she soon discovered was the center of all her pleasure. He sucked repeatedly, strongly, holding her hips immobile as he continued his ministrations, and splinters of pleasure pierced through her. Her pussy spasmed, and she bucked and arched and writhed in frantic movements against his mouth. She screamed as the sensations overtook her. “Oh, gods!”

  Finally, she lay still, complete lethargy invading her muscles. His face was still buried in her pussy, his tongue making soothing swipes among her folds, at her clitoris. She shuddered, a mini-orgasm rippling through her.

  Now she knew. She couldn’t begin to describe the things she had felt -- it was that good -- but she now knew what it was that drove men to seek their pleasure between a woman’s thighs. Er, but why did he not ...?