Matthew wasted no time in preparing for Cassandra’s funeral. Everything was ready within a day. Yet for four of them, he refused to perform the ceremony or lay her to rest. Instead, he stood in the candle-lit chapel, the glow of the flames the only light, running his fingers along the wood of the casket. Even in death, she is beautiful. He touched her cheek, which was still soft to the touch, however, cold.
There was no sign of injury on Cassandra—she had died performing the spell that had freed him from Gorgon. Matthew treasured her even more, knowing that her love for him caused her to give her life. And his love for her kept him from burying her, from putting her in the ground and away from him forever.
Matthew stared at Cassandra’s perfect peace with hollow eyes, long emptied of tears from hours of sobbing. Not even his father's death had caused him so much pain.
However, Matthew was still puzzled over Malicar's reaction to his granddaughter's death. The sorcerer, upon his visit with Cassandra, had touched her forehead gently, closing his eyes. After a moment, he had smiled before breezing contentedly from the church. He had never returned for a last goodbye. Matthew rubbed his brow to dispel the scene from his mind as he heard Joseph rise from the pew behind him.
“Matthew, we need to perform the funeral,” Joseph chided.
Matthew did not answer him. Joseph's words welled tears in his eyes, even after he thought he had none left to cry.
“Matthew,” Joseph continued, “it has been four days. Decay will soon set in.”
“I will decide when it is time,” Matthew growled under his breath.
“Matthew,” Otto softly spoke, “Put her to rest. Give her final peace. Let her earthly trials end.”
Matthew spun on his heel. “I am king. I will bury her when I am ready.” He blew out the candles, leaving them all in darkness…never noticing the prism glow that rippled from Cassandra's gown.
Matthew returned to his chamber for bed, yet sleep eluded him as it had so many nights before.
Morning arrived too soon. As the sunlight pierced the sky, he rose from bed and dressed.
Matthew stepped out of his bedchamber, slipping his dress coat on as he crossed the balcony to the stairs. The gnawing of hunger in his stomach could not overpower the ache in the heart. His feet led him to the chapel to continue his vigil beside Cassandra.
Matthew slowed his approach as he noticed the throng of soldiers and commanders near the front of the church. Otto and Joseph stood at the center of the group, analyzing the ornate wooden box in the center of the room. The soldiers and commanders dropped to their knees at the sight of Matthew. He looked solemnly at Otto and Joseph, “What is the matter?”
Otto looked at Joseph then stepped away. Matthew searched the vacant casket for any signs of its expected occupant.
“What happened?” Matthew demanded. “Where was the guard?”
“He said he was fully awake when he felt like he was being smothered. After he awoke, it was day and Cassandra's body was gone,” Otto responded.
Matthew's face flushed with rage. “Send soldiers out and have them question if anyone has seen anything. Have my horse readied. I will go out also. I want her body returned to me. And imprison the guard from last night. If she cannot be found in three days, have him executed.”
“Matthew, that is extreme. Do you really think that is wise?” Otto protested.
Matthew spun around, glaring at him. “You have your orders.”
The next morning, sun poured into the royal bedchamber as Matthew pulled on his boots. He closed his eyes, sighing. Yesterday had proven fruitless in finding any clues about the disappearance of Cassandra's body.
Standing, he shuffled across the room to the balcony. He stepped out into the autumn air, watching the breeze rustle the multicolored leaves. He turned his attention to the sudden coo of a snow-white dove nestled on the stone railing, clucking contentedly.
Matthew reached out his hand, gently cupping it around the bird's fragile frame. The dove nuzzled his hand affectionately. He swallowed hard as he stroked its feathers, fighting to overcome his tears.
“I miss her,” Matthew confessed to the creature. “I know I am being selfish in not burying her, but I cannot let her go. She is my world, and now someone has stolen her from me.”
Matthew’s voice trembled as he continued, “My fondest memory is of our dance lesson—seeing her in my mother's beautiful gown, holding her body close to mine, the touch of her fingers against mine. For a little while, I fantasized about her being my wife, and I imagined her holding me to her bosom as she was lying close to me. I did not want to let her go then, and I do not want to let her go now. I love her with all my heart. She possesses me. I wish I could have possessed her.”
Words floated from the door, “Your majesty, the scouts are ready to depart.”
The bird rose as it brushed off Matthew's hand. He smiled. “You must go also, I see, little one. If you meet the most beautiful, most gentle spirit in your flight, please tell her I love her and beg her to wait for me.”
The dove stepped off the rail and glided away in the breeze. Matthew sighed, watching it go before turning to leave.
Matthew descended the steps to meet Otto and walked with his commander to the village of Sebrone. They wasted no time in their search. Matthew and Otto scanned the dusty streets of Sebrone, searching for any small clues that would lead them to Cassandra's body. Otto exhaled in obvious frustration, “I see nothing new. What now?”
“We should check the well again,” Matthew suggested.
They strode across the dusty roads to the center of town. It was here that life buzzed—where bartering took place between businessmen, where vendors sold their wares, where women visited and children played. Life thrived around a clear pool of water contained by a stone ledge that was continually fed by a spring beneath the town. Otto and Matthew watched as women dipped their buckets into the pool and then set the buckets on their shoulders.
Otto pointed to the south side of the well. “There are different women over there. We should question them.”
The two men approached the first few women and received the same negative answer, which they had come to expect. Matthew jogged to a new arrival, studying her as she bent over the edge to fill her bucket. Her entire figure was cloaked in a dark burgundy robe, exposing only two small hands clenching her pail. A hood covered her face from Matthew's eyes.
“My lady,” Matthew began, “Have you seen anyone carrying a body—”
He stopped quickly as the woman fell to her knees before him. “Your majesty.”
The voice rang in his ears as if appearing from a dream. His breath escaped him as the woman raised her head and pushed back her hood to reveal a pair of mischievous, hazel eyes.
“Cassa,” he breathed, his body frozen in surprise. She smiled as she rose to her feet and swept away through the streets. He shook free from the shock and raced after her.
“Cassandra!” he cried in a half sob, half laugh. He searched through the crowd of villagers vainly, finding her gone.
* * * *
The starry autumn night spread across the countryside, bringing cool breezes across the harvested fields of Savon. The soft wind slipped through the open windows of the palace, licking the flames that illuminated the rooms, giving them an amber glow.
A butterfly, intently gliding on a mission, rode the draft into the royal bedchamber. She flickered around the mantle of the roaring fire before drifting off to the tongues of flames crowning the candles.
Fanning her wings to Matthew's sleeping figure, she skipped across his bare, muscular back, fluttering across his cheek, and startling him awake. Under his gaze, she brushed against his fingers. Matthew propped himself on his elbow as the butterfly continued her journey across the room, landing on the tapestries, the chairs, his crown. Finally, she came to rest on the lush crimson rug in the center of the room. A moment later, Cassandra rose to her feet before him. “I do not wish to alarm you. I have come to explain. A
nd confess,” she began.
“You were dead,” Matthew stated simply.
“Regeneration. Yes, my body died. But my mind and my magic were very much alive. My magic healed my body and brought me back to life.” Hesitantly, Cassandra took a step closer.
“You said you wanted to confess.” Matthew sat up, motioning for her to sit on the bed.
“Yes. You see, my fondest memory was not of our dance lesson with Tutor. I was excited when he wanted me to be your partner, and I felt like a princess in the gown he let me wear. When I walked into the great room, I was so enamored by the way you looked. I was thrilled to be in your arms, and I lost my breath when you looked into my eyes. Somehow, I thought—I at least wished—I could accompany you to the ball.
“But when our lesson was over, Tutor sent me to change back into my own gown. That night, I sat in my room in Grandfather's castle, wondering who was in your arms.”
“The dove,” Matthew breathed.
Cassandra blushed as she continued, “My fondest memories have always been of our cloud watching, because so many times, as we were lying under the oak tree watching them, I would wrap my arms around you and lay my head on your chest. I would listen to you breathe…listen to your heartbeat. For those few moments, it felt to me as if we were in love.”
Matthew stared at her. “How do I know you are not a demon?”
Cassandra lowered her head, the pain of his doubt swelling in her heart. “I do not know.”
“I do.” Matthew reached his hand across Cassandra’s face, cupping her chin in his palm and drawing her to him. His lips parted hers, his tongue diving, searching for the honeyed sweetness he craved. He drew her closer as she met his wet embrace with her own. As they parted he whispered, “Yes, you are my sweet Cassa.”
Matthew kissed her again, tasting her, breathing her in. He gripped her gown in his hands, his sudden repossession of her driving his frenzied actions. He slid his hands across her shoulders to the clasps. His fingers struggled with the bronze locks until she stilled his hands with her own. He looked up into her eyes.
“They are difficult.” Cassandra slid the clasps through, releasing their hold. Matthew pulled the garment over her head in silence. He feverishly unlaced her dressing gown, removing it as swiftly as its predecessor. He skimmed her hips with his fingers as he tugged her undergarments off, leaving her kneeling naked before him.
Cassandra lowered her head as she felt Matthew’s hands draw away from her. He does not find me beautiful. Miserably, she closed her eyes as her heart slowly shattered to pieces. When she opened them again, his undergarments slid from beneath the sheets onto the floor.
Cassandra glanced up in amazement, finding Matthew glaring at her with animalistic desire. His hands reached out to caress her buttocks, drawing her to him. He buried his face against her abdomen. The feel of his mouth on her skin sent searing flames ripping through her thighs. She clenched her fists in ecstasy as Matthew continued his lazy trail across her stomach, against each rib, ascending to her face.
Cassandra looked down as Matthew stopped at the cleft of her breasts. A wicked glimmer shone in his smoldering eyes as he caught the rose bud of her nipple against his tongue, circling it as he nipped at the nub with his teeth. She shuddered.
He emitted a deep groan before drawing her hardened bud into his mouth, sucking fiercely as her fingers knotted in his raven black locks. She threw her head back in pleasure, gasping in ecstasy.
“My sweet lord, what are you doing to me?” Cassandra murmured.
A low laugh erupted from Matthew’s throat as he captured the other bud in his teeth, pressing it between his lips. He sucked hard, making her writhe in his arms, before resuming his journey to the hollow of her throat and up her neck to her chin bone.
“My lord, is this wise?” she whispered.
“Oh yes, my love,” he answered, his voice deep with anticipation. His nose nestled against hers as his lips brushed her mouth. “Besides, I cannot resist the goddess in my arms.”
Cassandra closed her eyes as Matthew’s lips conquered hers, demanding nothing less than all of her. She felt him pressed against her, silken soft but hard as steel. She slid her fingers timidly down his sculpted chest and across his stomach until she brushed his throbbing shaft. He clutched her closer, clearly electrified by her touch.
Matthew pulled her down onto the bed with him, intertwining his legs with hers. “I have never done this before,” he whispered as he gently nipped her earlobe.
“Touch. Taste. Explore,” Cassandra murmured, catching his mouth with hers and softly sucking on his bottom lip.
He rose above her, slowly descending to the cradle of her hips. She wrapped her legs around his thighs instinctively, open and ready for him to fill her, to possess her. Her mouth released his with a groan as he filled her, first with a shallow thrust then immersing deeper in her warmth and wetness.
Cassandra arched her back, feeling Matthew’s hands slide against her spine. Her hips rose to meet his, joining in the rhythmic dance as she felt her senses soar beyond her comprehension. “Matthew,” she breathed against his neck. He knotted her silken hair in his fingers as he groaned his response into her ear.
Cassandra felt a knot of desire grow deep in her groin, burning hot and stoked alive each time he pushed farther inside her. She opened her eyes, meeting his stare as her body arched, writhed, and shuddered beneath his. She clung to him as the knot unwound, blossoming into an inferno, launching her into a whirlwind that ripped her from the linen sheets and sent her soaring into the heavens.
Matthew clamped his mouth against hers, muffling her cries. Her whimpers triggered his release. He tore away from her lips, throwing his head back in a moan as he throbbed inside her, trembling from the newborn sensations exploding inside him. He settled back down against the softness of her skin as she peppered his face in gentle kisses.
After a moment, Matthew pulled away and lay on his back, his eyes searching the gold drapes of his bed. Cassandra rolled to her side facing him, watching him.
“I have never felt anything like that before,” Matthew said softly.
“Neither have I,” Cassandra whispered in response as she caressed the pillow on which her head rested.
She could see anger boil up inside Matthew. “You were with Victor. He told me,” Matthew accused.
“But it was not like this. It was not soft and warm and sweet and wonderful like this was.” She let truth and love twinkle in her hazel eyes.
He moved towards her, gathering her naked figure against him, molding her body to his. “Stay with me. Forever,” he begged.
“I will for tonight. Only this I can promise.” Cassandra gazed above her to the canopy. “I remember listening to the stories your father read to us in this bed.”
Matthew grabbed her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “My father would bless this.”
“He would not.”
“Yes, he would. He loved you. He wanted you as his daughter.”
“This moment and this place in your bed are meant for your bride.”
Matthew pushed a lock of hair from Cassandra’s face, lovingly stroking her brow. He paused before continuing, “Maybe she is lying here with me now.”
Cassandra smiled hesitantly. “No. I have no royal blood. I am not a princess.”
“Does it matter? It does not to me.”
“You are the king.”
“And you are the woman I love. Why should I bind myself to another?”
Cassandra blushed. “You are talking crazy.”
Matthew drew her closer. “Do you not love me? Do you not want me for your husband?”
Cassandra gently pressed her lips against his. “Yes, I love you with all that I am. But please do not offer me something you cannot deliver.”
Matthew rubbed his finger against her cheek. “Let us not talk anymore.” He devoured her mouth, holding her face to his. He slid his hands down to cup her breasts, stroking her nipples with his thumbs, awak
ening the beast deep in her groin.
As his kisses grew frantic with desire, she felt him throb hard against her stomach. She pressed herself against him, urging him with whispers to take her. He grasped her thighs, pulling them apart, obviously more than willing to obey.
A short time later, Cassandra lay cushioned against the pillows of down, staring up at the drapes of gold that cascaded from the canopy of the large bed. She sighed, unable to sleep, as she gently brushed Matthew's hair with her fingers. He slumbered soundly against her breasts, clearly exhausted from their lovemaking and from countless nights of no sleep.
He sighed contentedly as he held her tight in his arms. Her heart nearly exploded. She loved this man with all her heart and soul. She wanted to believe his offer, to be his wife and lay with him in this bed every night. But I am not a princess. I love him, but I am not worthy of him. And my vows to the crown forbid it.
Running her fingers down his back, she traced the hardened scars he had received in battle. She buried a kiss in his raven locks, her soul tearing apart over the wounds— — wounds that rushed him into manhood much faster than he was ready, wounds that marred the skin of a boy turned king.
Finally, her forefinger came to rest on a long, dark blemish on his shoulder. Each member of his bloodline bore one, marking his right to the crown. She pressed her lips to her fingertip then pressed it against the birthmark.
Cassandra glanced back up to the golden canopy, suddenly remembering the duty that lay before her. She would have to leave him, to force him to forget what had happened this night. She could only return when his passion for her had cooled, and he was prepared to take another as his bride.
She would have to suppress her love and her desire as she listened to his every trouble, whether it was governmental or marital. She could not have him. She had no royal blood, and even if the law of Savon did not necessarily forbid it, tradition did. She would have to spurn him as soon as the sun rose, even though her deepest wish was to remain in his arms. This is the only way for him to marry the woman he deserves, a woman of royal blood.
Queen of Savon Page 10
