Triple Major

by Lana Hartley

  “I can usually get people to tell me what I want to know,” I say.

  Nathan quickly summons Theresa to the Royal Chambers. She looks even smaller than I remember. Perhaps it’s the lack of high heels and the fluffy pink robe that looks like it’s going to swallow her.

  “Good evening, your highnesses,” she says giving us both a small bow.

  “Theresa”—Nathan begins—“we need your help.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  “Where is the queen?” Nathan asks.

  “Right now?” Theresa says, shifting from foot to foot, looking from Nathan to me.

  I fold my arms across my chest and give her a stern look. She looks away from me and back to Nathan.

  “I'm not sure. It's late, maybe she's in bed.” This girl is a terrible liar.

  “Theresa,” I say in my most intimidating voice, the one that makes battle-hardened generals cower, and “you’re a terrible liar. I’m going to ask you again. I know you know the answer. Where is the queen?” Theresa doesn’t flinch, hell she doesn’t even blink.

  “My apologies, lying isn’t one of my strengths. I shouldn’t have tried it.”

  “Answer the question, Theresa?” I say, stepping into her personal space and looking her right in the eyes. She doesn’t step back as she meets my gaze with an equally determined look of her own.

  “Princess Isadora told me not to tell either of you where she is, and telling you the queen’s location would do that. So I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. It doesn’t look like good prince bad prince is going to work. Clearly, Theresa is tougher than she looks, and I suspect that’s by design.

  “Isadora's life might depend on you telling us,” Nathan says.

  “Your lives may depend on me keeping me silent,” she says.

  “Surely we aren't worth more to you than Isadora,” I chide.

  Theresa is polite enough not to agree, but I can see in her eyes she’s torn. I know that she and Isadora have been friends since childhood, and I don’t think she wants to see Isadora torn any more than we do.

  “With all due respect, you’re right. Princess Isadora means more to me than either of you do. I’m sorry, I won’t betray the trust of the princess for anyone, not even the two of you.”

  “You would let her die?” I ask.

  “I don't think she'll be the one to die,” Theresa challenges, folding her arms across her chest. She glances up at the antique clock on the wall, it’s seconds from striking midnight.

  “She's not going to tell us anything,” Nathan says.

  Theresa glances at the clock again. “Of course not, I think she’s stalling for time.”

  The clock strikes twelve.

  “She asked me to, as a friend. Isadora said to give her a half hour and then give you this.” She reaches into the pocket of her robe and pulls out a piece of Isadora’s stationery.

  Nathan take sit from her and dismisses her. We read the note together.

  My darling husbands,

  I know that you love and want to protect me from my mother, but you can't. No one can. I have to deal with my mother alone. Know that I love you both with all my heart, and you've made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. Please understand this is something that I have to do alone, not just for myself but for my father. I love you always.

  Yours,

  Isadora.

  Nathan throws the note down into the fireplace and growls. We both know immediately where Isadora’s gone. I see my own worry reflected in his eyes at the thought of Isadora confronting someone as dangerous and treacherous as Ileana alone. Nathan and I race to pool house as quickly as we can hoping we’re not too late.

  Isadora

  My blue dress drags across the white marble tiles of the corridor leading to the pool room. The hallway seems shorter now, though I know it hasn’t changed. I haven't been here since the night my father died. I had to come here tonight. I have to face my mother. I can't let Nathan and Vincent fight a battle that's mine. I'm not going to stand idly by while my mother has them killed so she can have more power.

  Over the years I've tried to convince myself that it wasn't true. That I was a child half-awake from my nightmare, and what I’d seen was my imagination. I didn’t want to believe that the mother, who dried my tears at my father's funeral, could have been the cause of his death. For twenty long years I tried to lie to myself. What else could I do? I had no proof; I was a child, but I'm not a child now. I step into the pool room, the white marble glowing blue illuminated only by the underwater light of the pool.

  “Isadora,” my mother says, smiling as she steps out of the pool, dripping water on the white tiles. It may as well be blood. “I'm surprised to see you here. I'd think two husbands would keep you more than busy,” she laughs. I just walk toward her until we’re standing face to face.

  "I needed to be alone," I say

  “Oh they're not fighting, are they?” she asks, turning to pick up a towel and dry her hair. “I’d hoped that marrying you would help them get along,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder.

  The lie, the false concern in her voice, causes something in me to snap. “You'd like that wouldn't you?

  “What?” my mother questions, feigning innocence. “I'd like what?”

  “For my husbands to be fighting, of course.” I let the bitterness I feel creep into my voice.

  “What are you talking about, Isadora?” she asks with exasperation.

  I can’t believe the audacity, as if I’m not sick of her lies, her schemes, her betrayals; as if I’m not sick to death of her. “You know exactly what I'm talking about,” I say. “I’m sure you hope they're fighting each other right now. I know you hope they're killing each other.”

  “Isadora, don't be childish. Why would I want that?”

  “It would save you the cost of Alex Richter, if one of them killed the other. I do believe Alex is quite expensive.” I watch my mother's eyes grow cold and her mask of sweetness fall, replaced in an instant by the face I saw twenty years ago.

  She steps toward me. “How did you find out about that?”

  “That's not important,” I say, “but it's true isn't it?”

  “Yes,” she admits. At least she doesn't try to lie. “Isadora, this entire region could be ours. Think what we could do. You're smarter and more compassionate as ruler than the two of them could ever be. A schemer and a warmonger, they’ll tear the nations apart. I only want what's best for everyone.”

  “You only want what's best for you!” I spit back. “You and I both know you'd never let me rule.”

  “You're not fit to rule, Isadora. To be a ruler takes strength, takes cunning. It takes a killer instinct that you'll never have. You're a silly child, and if you get in my a you'll end up-”

  “Like my father,” I interject. I watch as her eyes go wide and fill with a level of hatred I’ve never seen. I wonder if my own eyes look the same way. “Oh, I know.” I feel twenty years of rage unfold. “I remember the way you held him under the water. He was your husband! He was my father! Didn’t you love him?” I’m screaming now, all my anger pouring out of me. “How could you?”

  My mother looks at me calmly, coldly. “I didn't marry your father for love. I married him for power, and when we got in the way of that I decided he was disposable.” My mother steps toward me “Just like you.”

  My mother’s hands are around my throat in an instant. She squeezes tightly, her nails digging into my neck. I struggle, but her grip is like irons. I can feel my vision going dark. I throw my weight backward, and we both plunge into the pool. My mother’s grip loosens as the cool blue water rushes up around us. I pull away from her and propel myself upward, gasping for air as I break through the surface. I try to pull myself up on the edge but my mother is grabbing my legs, pulling me under again.

  I kick free, and this time I manage to grab the ladder and climb up, heaving myself onto the floor
my chest collapsing as I gasp for air. I turn to look for my mother and see her head rising just above the edge of the pool, and I struggle to stand.

  “Isadora.” She says my name like it’s poison on her tongue, as if she hates the taste of it as much as she hates me. “You're an obstacle just like your father, and you’re going to end up exactly like him.”

  She lunges forward, trying to get her hands around my throat again. I push her away with all of my strength, and suddenly everything around me seems to happen in slow motion as she loses her balance and falls back. The base of her skull hits the steel of the ladder with a sickening crack. I watch open mouthed as her lifeless body slips into the pool. I fall to my knees, sobbing with a mixture of relief and regret. It’s over.

  “Isadora! Isadora!” I hear, and I look up and see Nathan and Vincent standing in the doorway staring down at me.

  Nathan

  Vincent and I enter the pool room calling Isadora's name. We both stop short when we see Ileana's lifeless body floating in the blue water of the pool. We rush to Isadora's side and help her to her feet. We hold her close. I don't ask how it happened because it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that Isadora is safe and that I can trust her and Vincent with my life. Over Isadora's head I can see that Vincent looks as relieved as I feel.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask, noticing the bruises on her throat.

  “I'll be fine,” she says, “but we do have to explain . . .” She gestures to the pool.

  “Don't worry,” I say.

  “Let's get you back to our rooms,” Vincent says, taking her hand and leading her out of the room.

  I call one of my most trusted staffers and station him outside the pool house. I'm incredibly grateful for lack of surveillance equipment. The three of us walk quietly back to our chambers.

  “So what are we going to do about my mother?” Isadora asks, her voice remarkably steady as she sits down on the bed.

  “Are you certain you don’t need a doctor?” Vincent asks. I can tell he’s thinking what I am, that perhaps she's in shock.

  “Yes,” she says. “I didn't want to kill her, but I can't be sorry she's gone, not when she tried to hurt both of you.”

  “And I thought we were supposed to be protecting you,” I say.

  “Nathan, this isn't a fairy-tale,” Isadora says, a hint of smile on her lips.

  “But of course it is,” I say “and the three of us are going to have a very happy ending.”

  “Not if people think that I-”

  “Who would think such a thing?” Vincent asks, cutting her off.

  “You spent all evening with the two us,” I say. “Trust me, Isadora, my PR secretary is a magician, and she's tougher than Theresa.

  Isadora smiles. “So she didn't tell you where I was?”

  “No,” Vincent says, “and I've seen grown men give up state secrets under less intimidation. I think maybe we should consider changing Theresa's position to something more in line with her talents.”

  “Maybe,” Isadora says.

  Ileana's funeral is a huge state affair, and Isadora plays the role of the grief-stricken daughter perfectly. I suspect some of it is genuine; as terrible as she was Ileana was still her mother, and Isadora has a compassionate heart. Everyone seems to accept the story that the queen slipped and fell at a tragically bad angle, and it's not entirely a lie.

  A few reporters dare to question the official story. Vincent handles them and they only require an interview with him once to never mention the matter again.

  Soon the death of the queen is behind us and without anyone to pay him Richter disappears like a ghost. I doubt we'll have need of him ever. Isadora's coronation will be soon, and with the three of us united and Isadora as queen no other nation would dare to try our combined power. That's best for them. Isadora is finally at peace. After her mother's funeral she went alone to visit her father's crypt. She returned and seemed peaceful. She hasn't had an unhappy day since the funeral, and if it's up to Vincent and I she never will.

  Isadora

  I sit at the head of the table in the grand dining room. Vincent is seated to my right and Nathan to my left. This dinner is the final event in my week-long coronation. I’m officially queen. I’ve shaken hands with a seemingly endless stream of diplomats and well-wishers. I’ve smiled politely and said all the proper things. This the last of the public events and then I’ll actually be able to get to work.

  I want to do so much for my country, and with Nathan and Vincent by side I feel like I can do anything. I feel like the luckiest woman alive. I never thought I’d fine one man who was perfect for me let alone two. Finally the dessert is arriving. One more course and then this will be over, and I can drag the two of them off to the gardens or the conservatory, or anywhere, just so long as I can have them. I would even let them take me right here on the table in front of all of our guests. I feel myself start to get wet at the thought and shift in my seat.

  "You look a little flushed, Isadora?" Nathan says in a tone that only Vincent and I can hear. “Are you okay?”

  "Well, coronations aren't the most exciting thing," Vincent says “Her mind must be wandering.”

  "I agree, Vincent, weddings are much more entertaining. Maybe we should have added a bedding ceremony to the coronation.”

  Vincent laughs. “People still haven't stopped talking about the last one.”

  “Quiet, both of you,” I say. “I certainly don’t need to be thinking about bedding ceremonies.”

  “Well, what were you thinking about before, Isadora?” Nathan asks

  “Yes, do tell us,” Vincent says, leaning over and brushing his fingers against my thigh. A shiver runs up my spine.

  “I was thinking about all the wicked things I’m going to do to the two of you when this ceremonial dinner is over.”

  “Oh,” says Vincent, “I can make everyone leave right now.”

  “Oh, come now, Vincent, you know she'd prefer it if they all stayed to watch.”

  They laugh, and I can’t help but smile. Perhaps this is a fairy tale after all.

  Isadora

  We are on the terrace of the drawing room and I can’t stop thinking of black lilies and gloriosas. I feel so much closer to Nathan and Vincent. And I wish this feeling of maybe having to choose between them would stop. It makes my stomach hurt, and I’m betrothed to them both. Still, I recall their vehemence toward each other at the betrothal ceremony. But don’t we have everything now? I should feel calmer, but I know that in truth wanting more than anything to be with them is making me restless.

  “What…” I hear Nathan’s would-sentence stop dead when he sees what I’m wearing. Which isn’t much, mind you. Just a crown and my kitten heels. I mean why bother with anything else – I know where this is going to lead? And it feels so good to roam around naked. Clothes are so restricting. I should do this more often! And what it would be like to see Nathan walk around naked? That would be so adorable.

  I just want the smell of them on me, that’s all I want to wear.

  Nathan approaches me, pressing his hard body against my back and wrapping his strong, protective arms around me.

  He starts kissing me on the neck, as I look out at the garden.

  I see Vincent there, walking up. He has a cute little strut as he comes towards the mansion. I watch him as Nathan takes me from behind and his cock plummets into me. I’m very wet, and soft from a shower.

  “Oh…” he moans. He is touching my breasts, his arms wrapped around me. Then he pulls out and turns me around.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  He gently runs his hand along my face and we gaze into each other’s eyes.

  “Good.” He picks me up and sets me down on the balcony. Behind me is a 40 foot drop onto the garden – the pathway made of cobblestones. If he lets me go, I could fall to my death.

  “I gotcha, sweet Isadora,” he assures me.

  His hands stay stationed to my hips and
he glides himself up inside of me and every inch brings immense pleasure. My bottom is against the granite surface of the balcony, and it’s surprisingly smooth. I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his around my back and thrusts up some more.

  He kisses my neck and my shoulder and keeps pushing himself into me. I’m close to my first orgasm of many as Vincent walks out to the terrace and studies us. Behind us, night has lit up with the many lights around the castle’s property, and lightning bugs, and a few paper lanterns along the garden.

  “Ahhh!” I cry out loudly because Nathan is delivering himself to me in a way he never has before. And Vincent is looking around, probably wondering where my clothes are.

  I place my face on Nathan’s shoulder. My cheek feels like a rotting vegetable. I feel so soft and free. Who knew walking around in just a crown and shoes could feel so good. When Nathan is done, I jump off the balcony and walk around on the terrace. I prance about for them in my heels and my crown, my blonde hair falling over my shoulders.

  “You look amazing,” Vincent says. Nathan fixes himself back in his trousers, tucking in his shirt too and zips himself up, stands against the balcony and lights a smoke. Everything he does is sexy; his body language is so dominant.

  “I do?” I say, giggling and prancing around in front of both of them. Vincent eyes me in a way he never has before. I stand next to Nathan, my legs crossed at the ankles, my body exposed for them to see everything. Vincent comes over and kisses me softly as a breeze brings the sweet smell of his favorite flowers, gloriosas, over to us.

  “You do,” Vincent says.

  We hear the voices of diplomats nearby. It’s late in the day but it’s not that late, everyone is still up and still active.

  Vincent starts kissing me and as he does, I reach over and touch Nathan on the leg, running my hand over the crotch of his pants. I play with him and he turns and starts kissing me really hard and scratching up my soft face with his stubble. I kiss Nathan and then I go back to kissing Vincent while Nathan unzips his trousers and takes it back out. He just can’t keep it in his pants. He sighs against my neck as he plays with himself and it’s incredibly hot. I feel his cock against my hip and move my hand so I’m touching him. He grabs me and pushes me against the terrace and Vincent is right behind me too. One of them is touching me so the side of their hand is against my pussy. He takes a finger and touches me with excellent precision. Nathan. I know that’s his touch.