by Kami Bryant
“Not really,” said Emberlyn draining her goblet of wine. “Actually, I feel nothing.”
“We could have a ball tomorrow night; would that amuse you? A masquerade ball, hmm? Maybe find you a new pet? You like that don’t you?”
“I guess,” answered Emberlyn sounding bored. “Maybe.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“This is going to work, right?” Beau asked the tiny mage that stood beside him as they both gazed at the castle in the distance.
“Of course,” replied Juniper. “Well, maybe.”
“Fantastic,” said Beau sarcastically. “That is encouraging.”
“The casting will obscure your true form from their gaze,” continued Juniper in her odd otherworldly voice.
“What will they see?”
“That which they expect to see. Nothing will seem out of place to their eyes.”
“Okay then, so I am on the guest list. How do I look?”
The tiny mage turned her black eyes to the tall man beside her with a critical gaze. His long black suit coat fell to the back of his knees. He wore black pants and high black boots that came up to rest at his knees. His black brocade vest matched the jacket he wore. Red stitching traveled from the suit collar to the tails trailing at his back. The vest also had the same intricate red stitching as the jacket. His black top hat’s band also matched the jacket and vest as well as the red and black tie. His shirt was black silk and the pants were tailored black cotton, tiny red buttons adorned the jacket’s cuffs. Juniper handed Beau the gold masquerade mask covered in gears and Beau tied it around his head, handing Juniper the top hat to hold. The gold half mask covered the top of his face from his nose to forehead. The scar that marred the left side of his face from cheekbone to jaw was visible.
“He may recognize the scar,” said Juniper in her quiet eerie voice. “Maybe we should have gotten a full mask.”
“He thinks I died long ago and you said the casting would obscure my features.”
“It won’t work on him. He will see you as you are. I can feel his evil power from here.”
“Can he feel you?” asked Beau with concern.
“Doubtful. He will consider me weak, small and unworthy of his attention.”
“Then he has severely underestimated us both.” Beau bent down and checked the tiny dagger in his boot. He checked the hidden sword in the chrome and mahogany walking stick. He then pulled out the tiny Tesla coil stunner and looked at the power gage on the weapon. He slipped the stunner back into the inner pocket of his jacket. He reached into another inner pocket and pulled out a piece of black ribbon. Beau pulled his long dirty blond hair to the nape of his neck and twisted his hair into a messy bun, tying it in place with the black ribbon. He then retrieved the top hat from Juniper and placed it on his head.
“Okay let’s go,” said Beau.
Juniper turned away from Beau and jumped to the first step of the hovering metal conveyance and climbed up the ladder to the deck. Beau reached up to grasp the top step of the skiff and pulled himself to the deck. The hovering ship was made of chrome, brass and shiny abalone shell embellished port holes. The holes were completely decorative as there wasn’t any hold below deck. It wasn’t a very large skiff, only 15 feet from stern to nose. The wings at the tail spread out like the fins of an exotic fish and the large brass propellers protruded from the underbelly. Steam rose from the small stovepipes that were only slightly taller than Juniper. The machine floated two feet off the ground and gave off a gentle, pleasant to the ear, isochronic toned hum.
Juniper reached her long six jointed fingers to the chrome box that sat at the hovership’s bow. Beau watched as her silver fingernails grew in length and continued to grow until silver and black shadowy strands thrust out of the tips of her fingers. The tendrils grew longer and longer circling, wrapping around and plunging into the metal box. Beau attempted to suppress his involuntary shudder as he watched the unnatural sight. A slight silver glow rose from Juniper’s small form that was, as always, wrapped in her black cloak. A hint of a shadowy corona surrounded her. Beau couldn’t see Juniper’s eyes as they were obscured by the hood, but he imagined that her black irises had expanded until there weren’t any whites showing in her eyes. With a lurch, the hovering conveyance rose higher into the air and then slowly moved forward. Beau stood and watched as the hovership moved closer and closer to the castle. I hope this works, he thought to himself.
Juniper’s magic pulled the hovership to a halt at the castle entrance. The hovership gently lowered to the ground until it hovered less than a foot off of the ground. Beau jumped off the hovership and landed with a flourish on one knee on the grass. He walked jauntily toward the guards that waited at the castle gate entrance. He walked closer toward them, twirling his walking stick and both uniformed guards gave him a courtly bow. Beau walked between them and to the large open doors. He couldn’t help but take a fleeting quick look back over his shoulder, but the hovership skiff and Juniper were long gone. With a sigh, Beau walked through the double doors and to the ballroom where the Masquerade was in full swing. He could hear the music of the string quartet and the excited voices of the royal guests. Beau looked past the dancing royals and saw Queen Emberlyn gracefully seated in her opulent golden throne.
Beau stood at the entrance beside the brightly colored uniformed Herald. The man stood beside Beau for a few seconds blinking his eyes confusedly as if he was trying to figure out who Beau was and then Juniper’s spell took effect and the Herald with a loud cry announced Beau.
“Mr. Beauregard Bartholomew Kitchingham,” rang out the Herald’s booming voice, echoing off the large expansive walls of the ballroom.
Beau gave a courtly bow to Em sitting on her throne, removing his top hat with a flourish and using his walking stick for balance as he dropped to one knee. Beau stood up and continued to examine the beautiful queen. Em’s thick dark brown curls fell in ringlets past her bare caramel-colored shoulders. She wore a heavy satin sleeveless black velvet and red silk gown. The corseted gown tightly bound her thin waist and lifted her heavy breasts. A black diamond and ruby collar adorned her neck. In her dainty hand she held the stick of her large golden brass, tangled, clockwork masquerade mask to her face. Her brown eyes stared out of the metal clockwork. The filigree brass formed patterns of flowers, delicate butterflies, stems and leaves within the clockwork gears of the handheld masquerade mask. Beau’s heart skipped a beat and he gasped softly as he saw her sitting there. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. After ten years of imagining this moment, he could hardly believe it was happening. And then he saw Mormorant standing beside Em, his small hand possessively resting on Em’s shoulder, and Beau’s blood boiled with his rage. Beau took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and continued walking down the stairs to the sunken floor of the lavish ballroom.
Soon, he told himself. But not tonight. Soon, Mormorant will suffer for his cruelty, but for now it was time to move to step two of the plan.
Beau joined the group of royals after passing his walking stick and top hat to a second waiting Herald.
CHAPTER NINE
Queen Emberlyn of Mirovia was not amused. She sat in her throne, strapped in to her satin and velvet gown and looked at the crowd of visiting royals from all over her kingdom prancing around looking like complete velvet, feathered, glittering idiots. Emberlyn motioned to the shiny brass automaton standing beside her to pour more wine into her empty goblet.
The automaton was outfitted in a black and red server’s uniform and Em treated it like a piece of moving furniture.
“Are you enjoying yourself, my queen?” asked Mormorant as he slithered around behind her throne. The Vizier was decked out in a black shirt covered in ruffles with large diamond buttons. He wore black brocade tightly fitting trousers and a red velvet coat. The bright lights from a huge crystal chandelier reflected off his bald, brown head.
“Not at all, my dear Vizier,” answered Emberlyn.
“What can I do to amuse you
, Your Majesty?”
“Stage a duel to death with all these fluttering fools?” asked Emberlyn as she drained her goblet and motioned to the automaton with her empty goblet. Tired of holding the masquerade mask she dropped it into her lap and haughtily observed the flamboyantly dressed people fawning over each other. A tall man with a half mask and scar on his left cheek, wearing black and red walked past her throne.
“Who is that?” she asked Mormorant pointing at the tall man.
“I am not sure,” answered Mormorant. “The man with the scar across his cheekbone?”
“Yeah, that one,” said Em draining another goblet of wine.
“I can find out. Would dancing amuse you?” asked Mormorant.
“Hmm?” asked Em as she stared at the man’s tight ass as he walked past her dais again. He was bowing to some visiting tramp and taking the woman by the waist and gracefully swinging her around the dance floor. The tramp wore a black dress, white wig covered in peacock feathers and a small black mask. The visiting tramp, giggled with delight, her tanned breasts bouncing wildly with her mirth. “Can I kill that woman? Or is she important?” Em asked Mormorant.
“Which woman?” purred Mormorant.
“The slutty one with feathers coming out of her head and dancing with the scarred man.”
“Oh, she is Princess Adrianna Hermione Prioleau of Estington.”
“So, I can or cannot kill her?” asked the bored queen.
“Well, it would incite a war if you did, my queen. I can ask that the man is brought to you if you would like companionship, Your Majesty.”
“Maybe. He might be amusing. Is he important or can I torture him to death?”
“Since I am not sure who he is, I am guessing he is not that important. Would you like him as a pet or just a slave?”
“Are you asking if I intend to fuck him?” growled Emberlyn, her temper building.
“Of course not, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t dare to.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah shut the fuck up. I am not fucking anyone now or ever. He could be an amusing pet, maybe. Have him brought up here.”
“At once, Your Majesty,” and Mormorant slithered away.
Emberlyn had lost count of how many goblets of wine she had, and she was irritated. She was about to throw her heavy goblet at the head of the Princess Adrianna Hermione Prioleau Estington, when Mormorant returned with the tall man in black.
The man in black knelt down at her feet, his golden-haired head bowed. Then the man had the nerve to look up at her before she had acknowledged him, so she threw the goblet at him and he ducked his left shoulder so that the goblet flew across the room and landed with a bang on the marble floor. The crowd of royals froze in shock and yet still the impertinent man looked up at her with his bright blue eyes behind his half mask. She could almost see a grin starting on his lips. His perfect jaw marred by the scar seemed to make him look even more sexy and dangerous.
“I did not say that you could look at me,” screeched Emberlyn and she kicked out at the man with her dainty slipper. The man caught her foot and DARED to kiss the side of her shoe. “You overstep, sir,” growled Emberlyn.
“Would you like to dance, Your Majesty?” asked the man.
Emberlyn kicked her foot but he had her caught fast. “Let go of me!” she howled and six plasma protorifles were immediately aimed at the man’s head as if by magic. Emberlyn waved away the guards and the hovering Mormorant.
“I don’t believe that I got your name, dear sir?” hissed Mormorant.
“I don’t believe that I was speaking to you, my dear sir,” answered the man obnoxiously. The entire crowd of royals gasped in shock and Mormorant began turning an extremely unnaturally bright purple.
Emberlyn grinned at the man’s antics and said with sweetly dripping venom, “Let go of my foot.”
The man released her foot and rose from his knees then offered his white-gloved hand to Emberlyn. The queen sighed and rested her hand in his palm and allowed him to lead her down the dais stairs and to the floor of the ballroom. Regaining their composure, the royals quickly took their place in line and the band started playing a smooth waltz. The tall man wrapped his arms around her waist and held her a little too tightly for propriety and easily swung Emberlyn around the dance floor.
“I think I shall tie you up in my chambers and flay all the skin off your back, my dear sir,” said the queen.
“That doesn’t sound very pleasant,” answered the mystery man as he continued grinning at her cheekily. “I can think of more fun things to do to me while tied up in your chambers, my queen,” he said his voice dropping an octave.
Emberlyn’s brows raised in shock and she asked, “Who are you?” His smell was very intoxicating and his strong arms in which he clutched her tightly was extremely distracting.
“Beauregard Bartholomew Kitchingham,” said the man clutching her much too closely to his chest.
“I find you extremely annoying Mr. Beauregard Bartholomew Kitchingham.
“But do you also find me charming? And sexy,” he whispered into her ear. His nose buried into the crook of her shoulder and he deeply breathed her in. “Shall I tell you of all the fun things that you could do to me, while I am tied up in your bedchambers?”
“Sir!” shouted Em struggling in his grasp. The man easily swung her around and led her across the ball room where he finally let her go.
“Are you going to show me your chambers?” he asked with his voice dropping deeply.
“Take off your mask,” demanded Emberlyn, her voice embarrassingly breathy. Because she was so annoyed, she slapped the man upside the head with the flat of her hand. The man just laughed and untied his mask. Emberlyn stared at the man’s handsome face, his chiseled cheekbones, his strong jaw and the scar marring his face from under his left eye, across his left cheekbone to the edge of his jaw.
“Who did that to you?” asked an intrigued Em as she traced the old scar with the tip of her finger.
“Does it matter?” he asked her. “Do you like it? Does it give me an air of roguishness and danger? Hmm?” And then he wrapped his arm around her and half carried, half led her down the corridor.
“What are you doing?” asked the shocked queen. “Get your hands off me!!” she screamed.
“If you won’t take me to your chambers for fun time, I guess I will have to take matters into hand,” he answered.
CHAPTER TEN
Beau grasped Em around her waist and dragged her away from the ballroom. She had shown no sign of recognition when he took off his mask or even when he told her his name. Something was wrong with her, and he suspected that Mormorant had something to do with it.
“Get your hands off me!!” screamed Em. “I will boil you in oil. I will cut your dick off and feed it to the dogs!!”
“I am sorry about this. I am enjoying our conversation, but you are making a little too much noise,” said Beau and he pulled the tiny plasma stunner from his boot. He pushed the weapon against Em’s corseted waist and pulled the trigger. Em dropped unconscious into Beau’s arms. Beau easily lifted Em to his shoulder and quietly backed out of the room. He quickly looked down the corridor and didn’t see anyone, so he ran down the hall and to the stairs at the end of the corridor. With the unconscious queen on his shoulder and his plasma protoblaster in his hand, Beau rushed up the stairs taking them two and three at a time with his long legs. Then Beau heard a shout and a plasma blast shot over his shoulder, hitting the wall. Beau was sorry to leave the top hat and his walking stick behind, but it didn’t look like it could be helped.
“Careful,” grunted a voice. “You will hit the queen!”
“You idiot,” replied another deep voice.
Beau ran faster up the stairs until he stood on the roof. He could hear several voices moving closer and heavy boots racing after him. Beau stood on the roof and faced the dozens of soldiers armed with plasma protorifles aimed at him. Mormorant pranced to the front of the soldiers.
“You have nowhere to g
o, my friend,” said Mormorant with a sneer, showing his sharp teeth.
“I am not your friend!” shouted Beau and then holding Em tightly to his shoulder, he jumped backwards off the roof. The soldiers and the Vizier shouted and rushed to the edge of the roof. Beau stood on the hoverskiff and carefully placed the unconscious queen on the deck.
Beau turned to Mormorant and said, “Fuck YOU!!!” And with that Juniper piloted the hoverskiff quickly away from the castle.
Once Beau and Juniper had made it back to camp, Beau gently put the queen on top of the bed in the empty hut that they had prepared for her. Beau looked down at Emberlyn’s unconscious form. She looked so quiet and peaceful as she slept on the down-filled blanket. Her body still tightly compressed into the black and red satin and velvet gown from the masquerade. Beau thought about how exactly he was going to get Emberlyn out of the gown. She couldn’t possibly get out of it without someone’s help. Someone would need to undo the lacings on her back. He found himself staring at her ample bosom spilling out of the strapless gown. She was so beautiful, and he uncontrollably reached out his fingertips to gently stroke her bare shoulder.
Beau heard Juniper as she entered the room and quickly backed away from Emberlyn. He turned to the mage, her face obscured in the hood of her cloak. Juniper’s pale hands reached out and pulled the hood away from her face, exposing her violet hair. “I sense a lot of dark magic clinging to her,” Juniper said in her quiet voice.
“What?” asked Beau.
Juniper walked up to the tall bed and the sleeping queen. She reached out her long fingers and closed her black eyes. Her pale long six jointed fingers hovered over Em’s sleeping body. I am not even freaked out by the extra joints in her hands any more, thought Beau.
“Here,” said Juniper, and Beau watched as a glowing form rose out of Emberlyn’s chest.
“What is that?” asked Beau in a shocked voice. He stepped closer to the bed and the sleeping queen till he was standing closer to the mage. Juniper barely came to his elbow as they stood side by side. Beau examined the glowing floating three-dimensional shape. The shape pulsed and moved as it hovered above Em’s chest. It was a black and purplish red pulsating shape. It looks like a human heart, he thought. But it is covered in clockwork gears.
