by R. J. Price
“That is a silly thing to say,” he said to her.
Aren spun on him. “You!”
Av closed the distance between them and kissed her, hands finding the lacing on her dress as he pushed her back, further into the room. Loosening the lacing, Av pushed and pulled until the dress hit the floor.
“What are you—” Aren pulled away from him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
He picked Aren up. She weighed very little without the dress, and carried her to the bed where he dropped her. The drop gave him just enough time to get off the restricting vest. He stripped off the linen shirt as he climbed onto the bed and atop her. Pressing against Aren, Av kissed her lips, then her jaw and her neck. With each kiss he stroked her sides, her legs, worked her slip up until he could caress her stomach and thighs.
Aren moved under him, squirmed, and writhed. She whimpered only once as he thrust into her. The second thrust was met with a sound that was not quite a whimper but Aren had latched onto him, legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulders. Av was spurred on, releasing his pent up frustration and aggravation on the body that caused it. When that was burned through, he slowed, rocking into her as she cried desperately for release.
Av gripped at the bedspread, growling his own frustration as he finally spilled himself. He thrust several more times and then stilled, breathing hard. Aren, trembling beneath him, moaned as he withdrew.
“You are mine,” he said, dragging in a long breath, “and I will do that to you as often as I please, when I please.” He paused to breathe again. “Maybe if you behave yourself, I'll do it as often as you please as well.”
“I was a virgin. You...” Aren hesitated before she snarled, “moron.”
“You didn't move like a virgin,” Av said pointedly, almost chuckling.
Her anger filled the room so quickly that the chuckle died in his throat. Av pinned Aren to the bed, his hand sliding between her legs. He knew he had found his mark when the anger disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“I suppose if it's your first time, I shouldn't leave you wanting, now should I?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Aren awoke, her mind foggy as if she'd had a good, long sleep. Only Av had kept her up most the night. The man was gone, only a note left for her, ordering her to attend training like usual. Sore all over, Aren seriously doubted that training was going to do any good, or that she could even keep up with others given the state of her body.
She collected her dress, pulled it on, and returned to Mar's rooms where she washed and dressed in her training clothing. Mar was not there, having spent the night in Perlon's rooms. Aren would have to speak to someone about where she would sleep. Mar's rooms were in the same area where the queen's family would live, had Em's family wanted to be around the woman.
Walking to the training yard, Aren witnessed servants running past, heads down, trying very hard not to see her. Aren frowned at them but made no attempt to ask questions. In the yard, Av stood with Jer. The moment the two spotted her, Jer walked away. Av motioned Aren over.
“Training?”
“Yes, maybe if you train harder, you'll find you have more stamina,” Av said with a growl.
Aren stared blankly at Av, “Are you insulting me?”
“I am.” Av looked over the yard, breathing in deeply. “Did it appear that the servants were acting oddly to you?”
“Yes,” Aren nodded. “Not one of them would look at me. Did you notice that as well?”
“No, they greeted me in the morning as they usually do, but Em has been prowling the training yard,” Av looked to one side and Aren followed the look, to where the queen was talking to several guards, a practise sword in her hands. “Which is highly abnormal. She has always refused to be trained.”
Em looked up as Aren focused on her. The two made eye contact, and Em handed the sword to the guard she had been speaking to. Aren walked to Em as the queen walked to her, meeting halfway.
“I should have known,” Em said, looking Aren up and down. “Mar hadn't the balls to stand against me, of course someone else was forcing her hand, making her usurp the throne.”
“Whatever thoughts you have, Lady, are only thoughts, nothing more,” Aren said assuredly.
Av approached them from behind. “Lady Em, I know for a fact that my brother informed you of Lady Aren's state.”
“That she's your whore?” Em asked idly. “You really think that will save her? You can't watch her at all times, Av, at some point you're going to leave your country trollop alone, and then I will put a knife in her eye or cut her throat.” Em met Aren's eyes and smiled viciously. “Maybe I'll just cut off that nose and return her to you for whatever use you might find for her. At least then her face will match her spirit.”
“Em, are you feeling well?” Av asked.
“I'm not a whore,” Aren said, shaking her head. “Don't you dare call me such a thing.”
“But you are his bought-and-paid for woman,” Em said to Aren.
“I have not been bought, no one has paid for me,” Aren said. “Which reminds me, no one has paid me for services rendered.”
“If you want payment for your services,” Em sneered, motioning to Av. “There he is, ask him for your payment.”
“I meant the payment for watching your daughter, while you did whatever it is you found more important than raising your own child,” Aren said.
“I'm not paying you.”
“I did my duty according to our agreement,” Aren said, raising her voice.
“You disobeyed my direct order. She was out here training every day.”
“I want my payment!”
“You'll not get your payment as long as I am not on a funeral pyre!”
“Pay me!”
“No!”
Aren clenched her hands, nails digging into the palms. “You, Lady Em, have no honour. Your word means only slightly more than your worth as a queen!”
Em let out a sound like a hissing kettle. For a moment Aren thought Em would lash out at her with magic. The moment passed and Em was launching herself through the air at Aren. There was little to the queen, but that didn't stop her from getting in several good hits before Aren managed to defend herself against the blows. Not wanting to strike Em, for it hadn't occurred to Aren how fragile the other woman really was until the small frame was brought down atop her, Aren rolled and tried to get Em's hands pinned.
The world moved, and Aren was yanked away by the back of her shirt as Em shouted at her. “You're a whore, a whore. No wonder your father abandoned you!”
Aren twisted out of the grasping hands and launched herself on Em, scratching and slapping as Em rolled, trying to get the upper hand. The two rolled across the ground, beating on one another as hands tried to grab and separate them. A hand came near Aren's face and she bit it, thinking it Em's only to be rewarded by a male voice swearing loudly. Fingers dug into her shoulders and pulled her away. Em came with her, pulled from the ground by the hand Em had wrapped around Aren's neck. Another body pulled at Em, breaking the grip the queen had on the young woman.
“That's enough,” Av shouted at them, in Aren's ear. “Enough I say! What is wrong with you two?”
Em stilled suddenly, madness clouding her eyes as she shook a finger at Aren. “You're a queen. A queen. Guards! Take her, take this woman. I want her to hang with Worl, let her feet dangle in the air!”
“No one is taking her,” Av shouted back. “You need to calm down. Everyone just needs to calm down.”
Aren huffed out a breath and forced her body to relax. “I'm calm.”
“No attacking?” Av asked quietly.
“No, she attacked me,” Aren said.
Jer loosened his hold on Em, but only barely. “Av, this needs to be seen to.”
“That it does,” Av responded, thrusting Aren behind him. “I agree that a decision need be made.”
“This is a matter for the master to decide,” Jer said sternly.
�
�It is, yes. Call your men, I'll call mine.”
“When?” Jer asked.
“Tonight, we'll go to the gathering place and figure this out,” Av said. “Settle it once and for all. But the decision stands as the decision is made.”
“I agree to bow to the master's commands, as I did when I begged him permission to live on his land,” Jer said.
“Good, take your woman home, Jer, she's not well,” Av said. “I will do the same with mine.”
Aren tried asking what was going on, but Av did not answer. He simply pulled her towards his home. Into the house Aren was all but dragged, then pushed into the main room just as she had been the night before.
The home consisted of the main room, which had a sleeping area with a humble-looking bed covered with a patchwork quilt, and a cooking area by the hearth. Two rooms led off of the main room. Given the apparent size of the little rooms, and their positions, Aren assumed one was a pantry and the other a bathing room. A third door, on the back wall of the home, led to the yard in the back. The door stood open, allowing the cool air of early fall into the main room.
It was not a fancy home, not built for royalty, nobility, or even what Aren imagined the master would want. Instead, the home looked to be the humble abode of a common tradesman. From the leather working tools hanging by the hearth, to the worn rug on the floor, its colours obscured by dust, Aren could not help but feel as though she had been thrust into the wrong home.
Turning to Av, Aren held her arms away from her sides, and gave him a questioning look.
“You just challenged the queen who sits the throne. Not only that, she now knows that you're a queen. As master, it is my duty to keep the peace on palace grounds,” Av said, leaning his back against the door. “Which means there will be a gathering tonight for us to figure out what to do with you. What to do with Em, even, because that has to be discussed. Do you realize what this means? What you've done?”
Aren had meant the look to be more about the home, for that was what she was keenly interested in. The events that had happened in the training yard hardly interested her. She felt she had done nothing wrong. How could she be held accountable when Em had attacked her, and not the other way around?
“I'm sorry, she attacked me,” Aren said, then after a moment of thought added. “I didn't mean for her to see what I was, it just keeps slipping out.”
“More and more, it seems,” Av said. “Don't you have control over your magic?”
“I've never tried to control my magic, just hide it from others,” Aren responded. “The only times it's come out was in the kitchen. Potatoes hovering above the floor, threatening to give me away.”
“Sweet buns, which would have given you away, had we thought to question you about the incident,” Av said. “You were swept up by that steward so neatly, and presented to Em, that we never thought it could be you. She's never missed magic before.”
“I just wanted to serve my time and buy a cottage,” Aren said, pacing angrily. “You're the one who shoved your nose into my business. If it weren't for you, I'd have bought a piece of land and been fine.”
“If it weren't for me, you would have gone out there with Worl, without my chasing after you, and ended up dead like the rest of them,” Av said sternly, running his hands through his hair. “What did you say before that?”
“I just wanted to serve my time and buy a cottage. Someplace far away from the palace, preferably,” Aren said, watching as Av considered this information. A smile came over the man's lips slowly. “Why does that make you smile?”
“There may be a way out of this without all the trouble,” Av said. “Simple really. You might just get your cottage. Though it depends on what everyone else says. It's not just me. If to keep the peace you need to hang, you've got to understand. You'll hang.
“But you said I was yours.”
“That is a very unlikely scenario. I am simply making certain that you know it is a possibility.”
“That's horrible!” Aren said.
Av shrugged. “There is a much, much worse scenario that is very likely to play out unless I can align everything without upsetting anyone, and if I can't convince a good majority that Em on the throne is a good thing for the land.”
“How is there anything worse than me hanging?” Aren asked. “Are you even thinking clearly?”
“I am thinking clearly, and I told you that scenario is highly, most likely entirely, unlikely,” Av said loudly to stop another protest. “What I'm concerned about is worse.” He lowered his voice, sighed and dropped his head. “We might have to see my father.”
“How is that worse?” Aren asked.
“He swore that if we brought a queen to his land, he'd kill her. And he meant it. You, Em—any queen—he'll kill her,” Av said. “If he doesn't kill you, it might just kill Jer. There's no winning in that situation.”
“You are such a child,” Aren said.
“Would you want to go have a conversation with your father concerning Em, yourself, myself and Jer?” Av asked her. “Because I highly doubt that you would want such a thing.”
“The relationship between my father and I is very different than the one you have, let me assure you of that,” Aren said, refusing to think of the man for more than a fleeting moment.
“What's that mean?” Av asked, his tone turning to a dangerous one as Aren continued to pace.
“Nothing that I will speak of with you,” Aren said.
“One day you'll have to.”
“One day you'll have to speak to your father.”
“We speak often, meet at the tavern in the village near his home, but you don't bring a woman home to my father,” Av said. “That's a good way to get someone stabbed.”
“Jer told me to go to your father, said that his axe is dull and is only good in breaking bone, and then he said something about your how father is doing things that endanger himself, which gives Jer the right to talk about him with some amount of disdain,” Aren said quickly.
“Did Jer know you were a queen when he said that?”
“No, he thought me capable of magic use, and that was all.”
“Exactly my point.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Av had locked Aren into the cottage, aware that the woman would be spitting mad by the time he returned. He had left the back unlocked, the cottage backed right against the walls that separated the palace from the lands surrounding it. No one was coming over the walls for Aren, and she could not escape that way. He would have allowed her free rein but with Em raging, still, over the morning incident, he felt it safer for everyone if Aren stayed in his cottage, out of sight.
No one would dare trespass on Av's land, he had made his point abundantly clear when the younger men had attempted to use the yard as a type of rite of passage.
Leaving the palace grounds through the merchant gate, Av walked into the woods and followed what appeared to the untrained eye to be a game trail. He was in full darkness for part of his walk, no light from the moon to guide him. Av did not need the light; he had taken the trail many times. A light appeared in the distance and Av heard the drums, fiddle, and a voice rising in song. He was too far away to hear the words, but the fast beat made Av's heart soar.
He relaxed, not realizing how tense he had been, wound up and waiting for the next attack. One thing after another, that was all the palace seemed to be, and the increasing instability of the queen did not help matters.
Av broke though the underbrush, stepping into a dip in the land that was devoid of trees. Around the hollow there were trees, growing tall and strong as any other in the forest, but the hollow was kept clear, allowing nothing but grass to grow, if the grass could take hold between their meets. Others like Av and Jer filled the area, talking and laughing with one another, drinking ale and telling tales.
These were his people, where he felt most comfortable. Av moved from one to another, accepting a mug of ale with one hand and a piece of barely cooked meat on a stick wit
h the other. He ate and drank and listened to bawdy stories, letting his defences slowly slip away.
Among the crowd he could feel those who were troubled. Av went to them once he had his fill of foodstuffs, once his ale had been refilled. He listened to their worries and helped them where he could, directed them to others who knew better about the situation they were in, and how it should be handled. Av eased their hearts and their burdens, weights the world placed on his kind without a second thought. No matter one's rank, these burdens were still just as heavy, just as painful to carry.
He caught Jer's face among the crowd, but avoided the man to speak with another who was worried. As the one was moved to laugh, Av felt Jer's frustration, not with him, but with needing him, needing the attention of the master. Av saw to another poor spirit, a new face in the crowd who was hesitant to join in because he didn't understand what was happening.
When everyone was satisfied, when their worries had melted away and Av's felt lighter, then, and only then, did he approach his brother. Av sneaked up behind Jer, as he had so many times when they had been children, and wrapped his arms around his brother, drawing him close.
“Remember when you would become morose?” Av asked Jer. “And mother would chase you around the yard until you let her hug you?”
“Yes,” Jer said, pressing against Av for comfort but not relaxing.
“What bothers you, brother? Hm? Your worries far outweigh those of everyone else here.”
“You've always said the mate to the throne must carry the greater burden.”
“These are not the burdens of one who is mated to the throne,” Av released Jer and walked around the man, setting his hands on Jer's shoulders. “These are the types of concerns I would expect of a father who has lost a child.”
Jer's head lowered, his shoulders slumped.
“The aunts came to see me,” he said quietly.
Av leaned in, to ensure that he did not mishear anything. “Those three who talk in circles, or the two who mock you for being a warrior?”
