by Ella Ardent
The wine wasn’t the only thing that was my birthright.
That afternoon, I discovered that power was a stronger aphrodisiac than anything I had ever known before.
It was also one that left me both insatiable and hungry for more.
I was not so foolish as to let my appetites make me late to the evening meal. My father had warned me, and I had no inclination to vex him.
By the time I’d had each of the twins, I was hungry for another pleasure. I could smell the roast meat being prepared, even in my chamber, and when dusk touched the sky, I left the women and went in search of the meal.
A footman guided me to the great hall and I tried to avoid staring at its splendors as I entered the vaulted chamber. It seemed there were more people gathered for the meal than lived in all the village, and I wondered how many labored for the king in the palace. There was also a visiting party, the one I’d seen on the road that very morning, for I noticed their differing livery. The dark knight with the pearl hanging from his ear stood behind the high table, his gaze bright and his hand upon the hilt of his blade. In front of him sat a woman dressed in finery and clearly he was her defender.
I had glimpsed a woman in the carriage that morning, and realized this was the same one. She sat at the place that would be on my father’s right hand, her dark gaze roving over the assembly and her lips curved in a smile.
It was then that I stared, for I had never seen a woman like her. She had golden skin, like that of fresh honey, and her eyes were darker yet. They tipped upward at the outer corners, giving her an exotic air, and her dark hair was elaborately arranged and studded with pearls. She was buxom, her breasts almost pouring forth from the front of her gown of deepest gold, and strands of rubies and pearls gleamed against her flesh.
Her smile broadened when I was guided toward the high table. Those gathered in the hall fell silent, watching me and my father’s guest. I bowed before her, assuming I should do as much. The knight watched me warily.
The lady offered her hand, dripping with rings. “I am Lascivia, the daughter of the Emperor,” she said, and her voice reminded me of dark honey, too. “You must be Regis’ newly found heir.”
“I am, my lady.”
“And have you a name?” she asked as I kissed her fingertips.
“Royce, my lady.”
She patted the seat to her right. “Sit with me, Royce, and tell me a little of yourself.”
The dark knight nodded slightly, giving his approval to this scheme. I sat down. “There is very little to tell,” I confessed, feeling a little of my usual confidence return. “I lived in the village, unaware of my legacy, until this very day.”
“How remarkable,” she purred, indicating that the chalice before me should be filled with wine. I watched the red liquid swirl as it filled the cup and felt a lust to taste it again.
“It is a great stroke of good fortune,” I said, but Lascivia laughed.
“Poor men speak of fortune, Royce, but kings make their own luck.” She placed her hand upon my thigh, her gaze so steady that I knew it was no accident. Her hand slid higher with a boldness unexpected. “My father desires an alliance with Euphoria,” she said, almost as blunt as my mother. “Perhaps you and I should become friends.”
And she squeezed my thigh so that I knew precisely the manner of friends she meant.
She leaned closer, engulfing me in a cloud of perfume so exotic that my blood simmered. I sipped of the wine, looked at her, and desired more than I knew should be mine to take.
“Are you surprised that I speak so plainly?” she asked softly, a glint in those eyes.
“I am surprised that you are not intended for a dynastic alliance,” I replied, and she laughed merrily.
“Oh, Royce, there is much I have to teach you, it is clear. A woman can find her pleasure without being spoiled for her marriage bed.” She laughed, her eyes dancing. “I would have expected you to have learned as much in a village, especially a village of Euphoria.”
“I would not dare to touch whatsoever belonged to the king.”
She leaned closer, her ripe breasts crushed against my arm and her soft lips against my ear. “I do not yet belong to any man,” she breathed, and I shivered, with the fan of her breath and the inflammation of my desire. She looked up at me, her gaze beguiling at such proximity. “Perhaps you might show me the palace after the meal,” she said, her voice husky.
“I fear I would disappoint you, for I have seen little of it as yet.”
Lascivia smiled. “There is only one part of it that interests me, and I’m sure you know the location of your own chambers well.”
My uncertainty must have shown, for her smile turned sly. Her fingers walked up my chausses toward my cock, which responded to her attention in a predictable way. “Let me teach you of the games that give great pleasure yet leave a woman’s maidenhead intact for her wedding night. You might find them useful in the years before you become king.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that, but simply stared into her eyes.
“And so you have met our guest,” my father said heartily, his proximity making me jump. I stood up and bowed to him, noting how intently he studied me. “How were your gifts?”
“Most entertaining, your majesty.” I felt my color rise and wondered whether Lascivia knew what he meant. “I thank you again.”
“Imperium is a great ally to Euphoria, and we are honored to have Lascivia visit our humble abode.” My father kissed Lascivia’s hand then gave me a hard look. “We must all ensure that her visit is a pleasurable one.” I heard the warning in his tone and knew I should grant her whatever she desired. He gestured and I sat down again at his command. Lascivia put her hand on my thigh once more, not disguising her gesture.
My father smiled his approval.
The glint in her eyes told me what she coveted most.
The weight of her hand left no doubt.
And so that night, my sensual education under the tutelage of lusty Lascivia began, with the dark knight waiting always outside my door. I had no doubt that a cry from her would have him crashing through the portal, no matter how many locks secured it. I came to doubt that she would ever cry out in distress, for she always controlled the game.
And when she finally abandoned me to sleep that night, the twins securely locked in their gilded cage, my nightmares began.
Chapter 2
Eleanor
They killed the pig.
I knew they would. That was the whole reason we had a pig, after all, so it could be fed on kitchen scraps all summer then slaughtered for the Yule. Still, I had dreaded the inevitable because the pig was my only ally in that house.
The pig was my friend.
Each pig, each year, is my friend. I chose not to name this one in an effort to brace myself for the inevitable, but it didn’t work. I was still devastated.
I shouldn’t have been startled. I shouldn’t have cried. But I was and I did when I carried the laundry back to find the sty behind the house empty and the gate swinging open.
Of course, my stepmother, Bella, was watching for my return. Gleeful. That was routine as well. She bade me fetch the liver from the butcher and fry it the way she liked it for dinner. There was a sly malice in her smile, which didn’t surprise me.
“I suppose you’ll be complaining about the cold at night now, without a pig to keep you warm,” she sneered. “Maybe you should start sleeping in the ashes of the fire.”
It would be a winter like every other winter since my father had brought her home, and in that moment, my future stretched before me, so bleak that the prospect nearly broke my heart. There was no escape from the horror my family home had become. There was no one to defend me or save me or even help me. There was no chance of my being married, unless it was to be sold to another of my stepmother’s ilk, to serve him until I died. Had I not been my mother’s daughter, raised on a steady diet of love, my very heart might have turned to ice.
Or stone.
/> Like that of my stepmother. She was a beauty and few had questioned my father’s choice—save me, who knew how barren her heart was. I found it hard to believe that my beloved insightful father had failed to read her nature correctly.
But the alternative, that he didn’t care about the truth of her nature, was even more chilling.
He was away from home, but that wasn’t unusual. As a merchant, he traveled widely and often. When he returned, he always looked careworn, but he was greeted with glee by my stepmother and her spawn. Surely he didn’t believe their joy at his homecoming was born of love? Surely he knew they wanted only to raid his acquisitions and take the best for themselves?
I wondered if he had been a kinder person because of my mother’s influence, and that with her demise, he’d reverted to his own nature. I didn’t know. He’d barely acknowledged me since my mother’s death.
Still, it was no accident that the pig had been sent to be killed while my father was away. Bella might appear to rule him, but I had to believe that deep in her heart, she knew she was beholden to him.
I sighed, hung the laundry to delay the inevitable, then left for the butcher’s shop. There was bile in my throat.
For the second time in a day, I saw Royce, but this time he was far ahead of me. He was striding out of the village with purpose, whistling joyously. He carried a small pack and looked for all the world like a man leaving forever. The possibility made my future seem even more barren.
I could never aspire to wed such a man. Even speaking to him was a forbidden pleasure. But I liked the cheerful joy of Royce and the periodic glimpses of him bolstered my own strength. I admired that he had chosen Helena as his lover, for it was clear his company made her merry and there was no risk to either of them in their lovemaking. Other young men of Royce’s age tempted the wrath of the king, touching the maidens, stealing kisses and more and putting their very lives in peril. I respected that Royce made the responsible choice.
Even though I would have liked to have had his gaze linger upon me. When he’d lifted me to the cart, his grip had been so sure, his face so close. I’d been reminded of that one kiss, so long ago, and tempted to reciprocate. He’d kissed me then, and I thought of kissing him back.
But he’d been revolted by the smell of me and turned away. Even though that was my intention and the reason I cultivated such filth, I ached that Royce hadn’t looked past the surface.
Once I had been sure I loved him.
Once I had hoped we might be more than friends.
And now, he looked to be departing.
His mother, Marta, leaned on the gate that protected her garden and stared after him, her lips drawn to a taut line. I greeted her and she spared me the barest glance.
“Is Royce leaving the village?” I dared to ask. “Does he seek his fortune?”
“He has found it,” she said, a thrum of anger beneath her words. “Or more accurately, it has found him.”
“I don’t understand.”
Marta sighed and rubbed her brow. “You will.” Then she looked me up and down. “They sent the pig to the butcher today?” she asked and I was startled that she could divine both my mood and the reason for it so easily.
I nodded.
“Come here, then, Ellie. Let me show you something that will prompt your smile.”
Marta has always been kind to me, in her way. I don’t understand her any better than anyone else in the village, and I am cautious to never offend her, for she is said to be a witch of great power. But I like her, too, for she tends to speak bluntly and with honesty. I believe her heart is kind.
She labored to save my mother’s life, and though she failed, I admire that she tried.
She led the way to her cottage, which I hadn’t entered in many years. When she invited me inside with a gesture, I shook my head. “I smell.”
Marta smiled. “I won’t be injured by that. Come along.”
She gestured again, but it was the marvelous sound from within the hut that urged me onward. Was it a bird? Could any bird truly sing like that?
There were two birds, as yellow as sunshine, each with a brilliant red mark upon the breast. They were in a golden cage, one that hung from a hook on the ceiling, and sharing a perch. They sang together, apparently for the joy of it alone, and the sound did make me smile. It was sweet enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“How beautiful,” I whispered.
“But all beauty fades,” Marta said.
I was surprised that she would be so grim and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“These are lovebirds, bred for the king’s pleasure. He sent them to Royce, as a gift.”
I stared at the birds, awed to even know anyone who had attracted the king’s attention. If any person in the village should draw the royal gaze, it should be Royce, though. So handsome, so tall, so gracious—he could be said to be regal himself.
I halted my thoughts, wondering.
“Yes,” Marta mused, her gaze upon me. “I thought you might see it. The king has invited Royce to the palace, to celebrate his birthday on the Yule. Royce doesn’t discern why, not yet, but his father will surely tell him.” She took a breath. “He will enjoy that.”
“But how can that be?” I had to ask.
“I was Marked, Ellie.”
“But you have no Mark,” I protested, referring to the dark imprint of a kiss that scarred the brow forever of any maiden claimed to serve Euphoria’s royalty.
“I conceal it,” Marta acknowledged, to my astonishment. “The king took me as his prize at the Marking. I wasn’t a maiden, because he had claimed me before that, at the celebration for his coming of age. He believed that he was first to claim me and that I belonged to him as a result.”
Something about the way she chose her words made me wonder. “Was he first?” I asked, and marveled at my own daring.
She fixed me with a look, one that made me shiver with dread. “My father was first,” she admitted quietly. “My brothers, second and third.”
“But you have no kin here.”
“I was not born in Euphoria, Ellie. I fled here, to evade a situation I couldn’t endure any longer.” Marta grimaced. “And I saw Regis, then the crown prince, the first day that I arrived. It could be said that I leaped from the fat to the fire. By the Marking, he was king, and he Marked me before everyone. By the spring, when I was returned to the village and my husband chosen for me, I knew I carried his son, but I lied.”
My thoughts flew. Lars, the man who was Argenta’s father, must have been the husband chosen by the king. I didn’t remember him but I knew his name.
But why did no one in the village know that Marta had been Marked?
And how could the king have been unaware that Royce was his son? A monarch had to be able to count nine months by himself.
“Even if you hid the Mark, people should have remembered.”
She smiled a little. “Some think they do, but cannot prove it so long as the Mark is concealed. My capabilities are not so feeble as that. I have sown doubt, Ellie, and I did it for Royce.”
“But how is it that no one knows of his parentage?” I asked. Even as I spoke, I realized that the revelation was hardly a surprise. There was something about Royce that put me in mind of the king, something that seemed to indicate that he was fated for a greater destiny than any that could be found in our little village.
“Because I lied,” Marta said. “I lied before I left the palace, then I hid the truth for as long as I could. Lars helped me.” She watched the birds and they ceased their song, rubbing bills with each other and cooing instead.
I watched her, thinking of her reputation for witchery. Had Marta beguiled us all to defend her son? It wasn’t hard to believe. I knew she loved him dearly and was protective of him. Indeed, his departure for the palace was obviously at the root of her sour mood.
She feared to lose him forever.
It was not in Royce’s nature to be forgetful of those he loved, at least I did
not think so, but who would not be distracted by the pleasures of the palace?
“Was the king deceived?”
“For a while. Then he chose to be indulgent when he first learned the truth,” she said with some harshness. “The Dark Prince had just arrived and been named his heir. I erred in revealing my ruse then. It was an accident, words spoken in anger, but I reassured myself that Lothair would be king and Royce would be safe.” She made a dismissive gesture. “But now that the king has no heir, he is indulgent no more.”
Prince Lothair had returned to his father’s kingdom, with Argenta by his side. I knew that Euphoria had no crown prince any longer.
Marta shook her head. “Regis does not see far, though, even as king. This gift he sent is a portent of doom.”
I was shocked that she called the king by his given name, but I supposed it was not so bold of her to do as much if they had a son together. “How can that be so? They’re lovely!”
“What do you know of Golden Lovebirds, Ellie?”
“Nothing. Only that I have seen them today and am dazzled.” They twittered and sang, their song and their antics filling me with welcome joy. The world can’t be all bad when such beauty is to be found.
“They will die here,” Marta said to my shock and dismay. “I hope he doesn’t realize that he’s sent them to their doom, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”
“But...”
“There is much bitterness between us, Ellie. Regis would enjoy the notion of giving me grief. And I will grieve when these lovely creatures die.”
“But surely they don’t have to.”
“They will die in my home, and die before the Yule.”
“Why? Surely you will feed them and care for them...”
“And it will not matter. They will die when he has seduced Royce and awakened his own echo within his son.”
The notion of Royce being changed was as horrifying to me as her conviction that the birds would die. “You could send them back.”
“I will not insult the king, not when Royce’s future is completely in his hands.”
