Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  "Worse, much worse than I thought," muttered Teacher; a wave of the hand, the mirror returned to parchment, and the book closed with a grim thud.

  "I must thank you again for finding her, Hildin," Fredrik slurred, emptying the wine pitcher into his goblet.

  "You've thanked me at least a thousand times already, brother King, and tomorrow you thank me with the gift of your daughter," said the bored Hildin.

  "I'll thank you a thousand times more for marrying her. She's all I have, especially now. I've set my wife aside, I think I said? I let her live, but the men in her family have all seen the executioner's axe. Missing for two spokes, and no one thinks it worth mentioning!"

  "Most trying," said Hildin.

  "I tried to get a son, mind. Sacrificed every flawless white bullock born in the kingdom to Pagg and gave the meat to Amma, for twenty years. Nothing. Only the one girl, even among my mistresses. I finally consulted the Traveler Queen," he confessed. "She took my money and told me nothing could be done. Can you imagine it!"

  "A treacherous female, I've always said it," remarked Hildin, rolling his eyes when Fredrik turned away. Eventually, Fredrik stumbled off to bed, crossing paths at the door with Hildin's golden-haired page, who bowed him out of the room and shut the door.

  Gian gave his master an appraising glance. "At least your father-in-law will be in Leute," he said. He upended the wine pitcher only to find it empty, and sat at Hildin's feet.

  "I don't think he'll be anywhere," said his master.

  "Where will he be, then?"

  "Harla's Hill. Warin is coming, don't you think?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "He hasn't come through any of the mirrors I've returned to the Keep. They're traps, of course, but Warin never was stupid. That's what I expected, and that's what I want. I want him to confront me at the wedding, or at my coronation when our father has finally died. Somewhere in public."

  "What will that accomplish, my lord? Everyone thinks he's dead already. Wouldn't it be better to kill him in private?"

  "In public, everyone will see a pretender attack me without provocation. The people will side with their king--me--and even if they don't, I imagine there will be a great deal of confusion. People might get killed."

  "Warin, certainly."

  "Oh, not just Warin." Hildin took a long drink. "I want Leute. I want it sooner than later. I'd have taken it by conquest if it weren't for our lucky discovery of Her Highness. Once we're married, I'll have no use for her father. If he were to die in a fight between Warin and my Guards, Leute would be mine, as well as my son's. And at that point, it won't matter whether I'm a husband or a grieving widower."

  Gian looked up, stricken. "You would kill Emmae?"

  "Would you have that slut to wife? With the enchantment on her, I'd never know if my children were mine or the wine steward's."

  "Teacher would know! We could lock her away--it's been done before. Remember Temmin the Great and Elees of Whitehorse! Please, master, please don't!" said Gian.

  Hildin paused, his cup in midair. "You care so very much, boy? You surprise me. We shall see. Have you taken care of the...other matter?"

  Gian steadied his quivering voice, and answered, "Yes," before he gave up and buried his head in the folds of his master's robes.

  "Don't cry, Gian," said Hildin, his hand on the young man's head. "We had to do it. I didn't want it any more than you did. She was like a mother to me. But she was old, old and stupid. Already she'd said things that might have given away the girl's presence at the Keep before her 'rescue.' If we'd let her live--Oh, Meg, why were you so foolish!" wept Hildin.

  The brief betrothal gave Emmae some consolation; Hildin and Gian stayed away from her, for appearance's sake. She might move through the Keep, but stayed in her rooms instead, avoiding the casual desire that eddied whenever a man passed his eye over her.

  But now, the hated day had arrived. Fredrik presented his daughter before Pagg at the temporary altar in the Keep's great hall, and tried to ascribe her violent trembling to excitement. They repeated their vows, Emmae sullen and dull, Hildin ringing and proud, almost insolent. The Little Father knotted the marriage cord three times around Emmae's left wrist: "Obedience, humility, fidelity." He gave the free end to Hildin, who pulled her to their marriage bed through hallways deserted by custom as the two kingdoms' nobles cheered in the great hall.

  Gian met them in the wedding chamber. "What are you doing here?" snapped Emmae.

  "Gian is always with me," said Hildin. "Even now. Perhaps especially now. I need...assistance." His excitement coursed through her, familiar and horrifying, but she stayed still before the fire. "You've stopped fighting? How disappointing, little wife, I've enjoyed your struggles against the spell. Don't stop for my sake." He undid the laces of her cloth-of-gold overdress and let it fall in stiff folds around her feet.

  "I will never do anything for your sake," she said, closing her eyes.

  "It doesn't matter," he whispered in her ear. "Fear or need? No, it doesn't matter." The purple silk underdress followed the cloth-of-gold, as did her chemise, until she stood in nothing but her purple-gartered stockings and gold slippers.

  Hildin drew her by the cord to the bed, fastening it tightly to a ring in the center of its headboard; he left a good deal of slack. "I do love tradition, don't you?" he drawled. He sat beside her, ran a hand down her side, and gestured to Gian; the page sat at the foot of the bed and stripped off her shoes and stockings. He kept her foot in his hand, running his fingertips up and down her sole until she wriggled in spite of herself. He took her toes one by one into his mouth, nibbling gently; the spell crushed her down into the bed and up again, stronger than ever.

  Hildin slipped a hand between her legs, forcing a sob from her. "Oh, she's very wet for us, Gian, aren't you, poor wife? Wet and pulling at my fingers." The moisture trickled from her; she wanted their hands on her, she wanted them sliding into her, and silently swore she would see them both dead.

  The two men rose from the bed. Gian reverently removed the Prince's own purple and gold wedding garb, dropping to his knees to undo the leggings and free the hard length within. He took it into his mouth. Hildin watched intently, shifting his gaze to Emmae. His lust clawed at her insides, tearing at her and softening her at the same time. "I've been saving your mouth for when I'm bored with the rest of you. Besides, Gian is so much better at this than any woman--" his hand fisted in Gian's blonde hair, and the young man groaned. Hildin pulled out. "But you'll teach her, won't you, boy?"

  "Yes," gasped Gian. "Yes, please!"

  The idea disgusted her, and yet her lips felt swollen and eager; the men wanted it, and their will bore down on her. "I'll bite it off, I swear!" she cried.

  "No, you won't," laughed Hildin as Gian stripped off his clothes. "You'll love it. But tonight I have something else in mind. You first, boy, I'm in a mood to watch you and my lady." Gian slithered up the bed, and wrapped her free hand around his cock.

  "That's not for me," she said. "It's for him."

  "Not for you? And here you're in such a state. If it's not my desire, it must be your own." He ran tracing fingers over her breasts, teasing the nipples and then returning to soft circles. "If the spell isn't raising my desire in you, then you must want me yourself. Is that it, Emmae? Have we won you?"

  "You will never win me!" she said, though her words ended in a breathy moan.

  Gian molded her breasts and rolled the nipples roughly between his fingers. "Yes?" he smiled.

  She stumbled out, "It will always be the spell!" A chilling, reminding wave broke over her, and she undulated in his arms. Gian suckled at her, kneading her soft breast until she let out another groan.

  "Your dilemma, my dear, is that we just don't care," came Hildin's amused voice. Gian released the nipple with a wet pop and moved to the other side. Hildin stretched out beside her tethered arm and stroked Gian's hair. "We have your body, and that's enough for our pleasure, and my ambition. You're already having trouble telling
the difference between your own desires and ours. In time the spell will simply wear you out."

  Gian slipped two fingers inside her; she heard her own wetness with each thrust. He took the nipple between his teeth, and bit harder as the pleasure spiraled up and up, until her free hand beat at his back all on its own, and she let out a long, agonized cry that left her hoarse and shuddering, clenching so tightly inside that Gian laughed. "She nearly broke my fingers, my lord." He moved over her, sliding against her sweat-covered skin.

  Gian circled her in his arms; she spread her legs, shamefully eager. But then, the sooner she satisfied Gian and Hildin, the sooner her anguish would end, at least for the night. He pushed hard against her belly, but to her surprise, he flipped them over. He pulled her down and kissed her, running his tongue across the roof of her mouth until she straddled him, ready.

  A hand came to rest on her flank. "Hold her tight," said Hildin behind her. Gian pinned her to his chest, though she struggled and tried to push away from him. Hildin's hands painted circles on her bottom, and she relaxed--he'd taken her from behind before, it would be over soon--until something cool and slippery dripped onto her, slicking her crevice. A thumb slowly pushed inside her ass. Emmae took in a ragged breath, realizing what he meant to do. "I beg you, I beg you, don't do this to me!"

  "Beg all you want, wife, but a virginity is called for on a wedding night, and this is the one I will take." The thumb retreated. Relief and disappointment vanished as two fingers replaced the one, stretching and twisting inside her. She tensed every muscle in her body against pain.

  "Hush, sweetheart," whispered Gian as she struggled and wept in his arms. "The more you fight it, the worse it will be. You must relax--the spell will work to give you pleasure whether you want it or not, but it won't guard against pain!"

  "More to the point, you will hurt yourself," growled Hildin. "Give me entrance, Emmae, or I will take it."

  Emmae sank into Gian's mouth, despairing. She lost herself in kisses as she willed her body to loosen. Hildin's desire unfurled and grew within her, building at the base of her belly to join Gian's. Beneath her, Gian's hardness slid just outside her opening; behind her, Hildin seized her hips. He placed his cock against her ass and slowly pushed inside. Gian sucked her scream into his mouth.

  It hurt, a burning ring until the head was well inside her. Hildin advanced and retreated, advanced a little further and retreated, again and again, and she found herself pushing back, opening herself; the pain receded, and a horrifying ecstasy crawled over her. He worked his way inside her to the root until his belly pressed against her buttocks. Every hair on her body stood on end, every inch of skin achingly aware. "Oh, Emmae, I possess you completely," he rasped. "He never had you this way, only I have, you're mine now." His hands gripped her, flexing and squeezing as if to gain control over himself, his breathing deep and guttural; Emmae ground helplessly against Gian, the spell urging her to find release. "You like Gian beneath you, eh?" said Hildin. "Shall we both take you, then?"

  Gian slid closer to her opening, his tip pushing against her. "Please, no!" she cried and struggled, until both men laughed.

  "Not tonight," said Hildin. "Perhaps some day, when you've grown used to this, oh yes, you will have us both at once. You will beg us for it."

  Gian slithered a hand between his body and hers, finding its way to her clitoris. "Give way, let it happen," he said. Bright lights gathered at the edges of her vision, her eyes bulging; her throat tightened. She breathed in harsh wails, keeping time with Hildin's thrusts and Gian's circling fingers.

  Confusing, overwhelming pleasure rolled up her spine, fighting against her revulsion, one long orgasm that went on and on; she rocked back against the penetration, wanting more, her rough breathing turning to screams until Hildin went rigid against her and came, pulsing inside her. He dug his long fingers into her hips, steadying himself as she shuddered and twitched; he withdrew and rolled to one side. "Take her, take your pleasure, Gian."

  Gian put her unresisting on her back and plunged into her dripping folds. Boneless beneath him, spread wide, no strength remaining to fight, she shook, lightly at first, and then harder. "It's all right," soothed Gian, kissing her flushed face, "I shake afterwards when he takes me. It passes. Emmae, you are so very beautiful, never more so! Oh, I could love you!" He looked almost drowsy, lips parted, but the eyes under their casual, drooped lids glittered, sharp, broken shards of green glass. Gian clutched at her breast, twisting the nipple, and his release came tumbling inside her, working its way up her body. She curved into him, crying as she came.

  Emmae floated, every nerve suspended in bliss, until the spell played out; the men were sated. She sank back into despair. Gian already slept, his smooth young face slack and innocent. A wipe between her legs, and a pricking of her finger; she jerked her eyes open. Hildin squeezed blood from her finger onto a square of silk, wet from her sex. "That's enough," he said. "Some virgins don't bleed at all, you know. I wonder if you did." He pulled his shirt down over his head, then took up the silk. "This will satisfy them. Oh, didn't you know? The Little Father, King Fredrik and my highest lords are waiting for proof of our consummation. It is our custom."

  She feigned sleep on Hildin's return; she felt his gaze as he settled down next to her. "Mine," she heard him whisper. "Mine, Warin, she's mine, until she's Harla's." He gave a faint chuckle, closed his eyes, and was asleep in moments.

  Hildin's dagger lay somewhere in the room. If Emmae could reach it, she could kill at least one of them and then herself. But the marriage cord still tethered her wrist to the bed, and the men draped themselves over her; every time she moved, they stirred. She wept silently, cursing the knife for its tantalizing nearness. Harla would come to this house--if not tonight, soon--and somehow, she would be the one to bring Her.

  * * * * *

  Temmin withdrew from the book. He brimmed with desire, outrage, disgust and a deep need to see Emmae revenged, every hand on her, every one of Hildin's infuriating strokes imprinted on his body. That such a personal violation could bring on such ecstasy--it had to be the spell.

  "You're shaking, Your Highness," said Teacher. "Take a moment."

  Temmin closed his eyes, marshalling his emotions. "I want him dead, I so want to see him die," he muttered.

  "You will."

  Temmin concentrated on the velvet upholstery under his fingers, and the soft dry heat from the low fire. He closed his eyes; the insides of his eyelids shone coral in the sunlight falling across his face, until a shadow crossed him; Teacher blocked the light from the window. "Every time the book tells her part of the story, it takes me a bit to feel myself again--especially to feel fully male again. You think that's funny?" Temmin added in irritation.

  "Oh, not exactly," said Teacher, lips twitching. "Go on."

  "I just thank Farr I'm not a woman. I haven't even had sex yet, not really, and here my head's filled with her experiences. I'm just glad I was made for--ehm--doing...not...being done to?" he trailed off, wincing.

  The twitch turned into a smile. "What do you think goes on between Mentors and Students, between lovers of men?"

  "Isn't it like what Hildin and Gian...or what Gian does to Hildin...isn't it just mouths? And hands?" said Temmin, thinking of the men in the petitioning rooms, and of Alvo.

  "It depends on the lovers involved," said Teacher. "Remember what Gian said to Emmae. Hildin took him in that way, too. More shall be revealed at the Temple, I am sure."

  "I should hope not."

  "I should bet on it, were I you, sir."

  "Let's not talk about it," he said, waving his hand to dispel the thought. "Why didn't Emmae's father stop the marriage? He knew something was wrong, he had to have known."

  "Think about it as her father would have. Whoever held her, probably had her--at least, everyone assumed so, including Fredrik. Royal women especially must come to the marriage bed virgins. Emmae's captivity damaged her, destroyed her reputation. The only way Fredrik could get her decentl
y married was to swear his kingdom would pass to her husband. If she had had a brother, even another sister, Emmae would have been sent to a Temple and forgotten." Temmin couldn't read Teacher's face, shadowed from the sunlight, but the cool voice retained a pragmatic tone. "Hildin seemed genuinely pleased to have her, even though she was broken."

  "But she wasn't broken," said Temmin.

  "She was not a virgin."

  "No..." Marriage required a girl's virginity; if the groom's family wouldn't look the other way at an unfortunate Sister's Temple evaluation, the wedding would be canceled, but Temmin had never heard of it happening. Though how would he know, he admitted.

  He thought of the sentimental songs Nurse liked to sing sometimes in the evenings, especially if she'd had a bit too much barisha. Ellika would play the nursery spinet, Sedra would roll her eyes and retire to read in the furthest corner; his mother would tut-tut as Nurse crooned about naughty boys who didn't obey their mothers and fell down wells, sad young men dying on a battlefield, a lost love's name on their lips, and ruined girls, ravished and abandoned by noblemen, throwing themselves over bridges, their drowned bodies floating past the battlements of their evil seducers. For such a cheerful, busy woman, Nurse loved her maudlin tragicals, reflected Temmin.

  "Imagine were one of your sisters somehow compromised like this," said Teacher. "What would happen to her? What do you think your father would do?"

  "You'd have a far better notion than I would."

  "Even so, cast your mind on it. You are king. You have two daughters. One of them has been shamed, everyone knowing she is likely no longer a virgin, though no one would dare say anything."

  Temmin thought of Ellika's bright, golden smile and Sedra's dark, amused eyes as they sat before the fire the night before. "I'd think anyone would marry either of 'em," he answered. "Sure, they're annoying, but they're both pretty, especially Elly, and Seddy is very good company when she cares to be. And they're the King's daughters. I can't see where virginity would make a difference."