by Asia Marquis
“Ooh,” she purred. “You're so warm.”
“It'll be even warmer when I do this,” he grinned a wicked grin, pushing the head of his manhood inside of her. She moaned, her arms tensing around his neck as her sunk deep into her.
He pulled out of her, almost completely, before pushing himself back in. She gasped with each stroke, kissing his neck with little nibbles in between. She couldn't give him a bruise, though she desperately wanted to mark her territory.
Her orgasm is intense, and the afterglow is like a long stretch after not moving for a day. It felt good, and natural. He was still inside of her when they heard footsteps.
“Edward?”
It was Anoud. “Shit,” Helina said. She crouched onto the floor, spotting a space beneath the cupboard where she could hide. She slid under there, motioning for Edward to go deal with her adoptive father.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Edward said, his gravelly voice becoming very professional. Helina stifled a giggle at seeing her lover become so serious.
“There will be a dinner tomorrow, and I need you to prepare the entire kitchen. It must be the finest food you know how to cook. Food from all over the world would be best, I think. Find the oldest wine we have in the cellar, too, and for Hecate's sake, clean your team up. You all look like a mess.”
“Yes, sir. Is there a special occasion I should be aware of?”
“Helina will be getting married.”
Her heart stopped.
Edward's eyebrows raised higher than she'd ever seen them, but only for a second. He tried to make his face neutral again. “Are you certain? Has she already agreed?”
“No, but I think the girl will see that this is the only way to regain the crown.”
“I see. One more question, Your Grace. How will I know who will still be in my kitchen if you may fire us all tonight?”
Anoud cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “Oh, that mess. One of the serving girls came forward and admitted she allowed a child into the kitchen, some horrid thing off the street. We've sent her to the dungeons, and she will be hanged tomorrow.”
Helina felt sick and relieved all at once. They found the traitor, which was good. That they would kill her disturbed Helina, however. That was a policy she was not sure she would keep as queen.
Anoud cleared his throat again, then steps out of the kitchen. “So, just clean up.” With that, he was gone.
Waiting just a beat before she came out, Helina faced Edward. He looked grim, as grim as she was shocked. “You're to be wed, apparently.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I suppose so.”
Awkward. So very awkward. Helina reached out and squeezed Edwards hand, then turned away. She had to go fix herself before she could go down to the ball, which would be starting very soon.
Edward sighed loudly, leaning his hole body against the counter.
The night was going by so fast. Helina wasn't sure if she should reveal the surprise to her friends, but decided against it. If Anoud found out she knew, he might have been able to figure out why she knew.
She couldn't put herself or Edward in danger. Technically, she was expected to stay a virgin until she was married, though that had long since been a laughable idea to her. There was no law, no rule. It was just an expectation, one she had no problem breaking.
She did have a problem endangering Edward's life with their affair. She couldn't bear the thought of him dying for her. This was especially problematic because she knew there was really no chance of them being together. She couldn't have an affair with a cook. She couldn't make him an official lover.
The castle was packed. There were men and women from across Mindren, and the entirety of the Witch Country. Mindren was only one city, the capitol city, of the Witch Country. In reality, the country was many disparate nations, which exist between the borders of other countries. Though they don't connect, they're all ruled by the queen.
One day, Helina was going to rule those people. Maybe that was why she felt so small when she was surrounded by them. It was like they expected her to be a great queen before she was even on the throne.
Every question from them dripped with expectation and disappointment that Helina was not yet ready to discuss foreign policy, or that she didn't have an answer for werewolves attacking Hel Mountain.
Thankfully, no one ever asked her the worst question of them all: how she intended to deal with the vampires.
Another man, this one a knight from one of the American cities, stood before her. “May I have a dance?” His voice was too high pitched for his handsome face.
Remiel and Anais were already on the floor, being wooed by their own handsome annoyance. She stifled a sigh and allowed the man to take her hand. One of many dances of the night, but all Helina could think of was the handsome stranger from the portal. Who had a witch powerful enough to create a portal?
As they danced, though, she felt as if she was being watched. Whenever she could do so without seeming rude to the knight, she glanced around the room, trying to find the source of the disturbance. She saw a shadow slipping through the crowd, but could never see it well enough to make it out. She wondered if it was just a trick of the lighting.
“My good sir, I was wondering if I may step in.”
The knight stopped. He was glaring at the very handsome man who had stepped out of the portal. Possibly the man who intended to marry her. He looked even paler, lit as he was by the magical lights above. His jaw was set, as if he was ready for a fight, but hoped to avoid one with a delicious smile.
Helina wondered what his soft lips might feel like against hers. Blushing, she pulled away from the knight, who continued to glare at the man who had stolen the future queen from his arms.
The music paused for only a second to switch songs. The man held out his hand. It was slightly cold to the touch.
Pulled into his arms and forced to move by his movements, she took in his face. Though he was pale, he had light freckles dotting his nose. His blond hair had a tint of red to it, too, and his eyes were a dazzling mix of yellows, browns, and greens. A beautiful hazel color.
She wanted to ask who he was, but didn't want to ruin the moment. She wasn't sure she could move her lips either way. Moving with the man, she let him lead her through a waltz, pressed close to him. She was burning up, feeling faint. He pressed her forward, his arm tight against her back. There was something strange being pressed against her abdomen. Something hard.
Her breath came faster, harder as she realized it was his manhood. Gripping his coat as he moved her, her lips parted. She was so hot. She felt like she was burning up.
And then he was gone, with a bow and a wink and a wicked smile. Wobbling, Helina only watched him leave, trying to catch her breath.
There was someone behind her. She turned and found Anoud, and felt herself sober up fast. “My dear, I have something to tell you. A man has asked for your hand, and I think you will just love him. He's a prince.”
Taken aback, Helina tilted her head. “But… there are no more witch princes, and I can't think of a human prince who might be available for marriage.”
“True,” Anoud said, nodding with a wide grin. “This one is neither witch, nor human.”
Neither one? What else did that leave? Sure, there were other beings in the world, but none with enough numbers to have a prince, a country, land.
Anoud chuckled, patting her hand. “It is a vampire prince, my dear. One from the French court. A very powerful man.”
Her thoughts flick back to the man she danced with, his pale skin and dazzling eyes. The effect he had on her. “I can't marry a vampire.”
Another man approached then, this one in the robes of The High Court. “I think you will find, child, that you can. If you want the throne, you will find it in your heart to wed this vampire, for if you refuse you will never wear the crown.”
Helina gasped, then furrowed her eyebrows. Her hand itched. She wanted to slap the man from The High Court, and then slap Anoud.
To dare to challenge her position! Her birthright!
A scream halted her indignation, another shrill, terrified shout. All heads turn towards the sound. Anoud rushed to it, Helina close behind him.
One of the wealthy women from the crowd was on the floor, covering her face, sobbing. She shouted again, her hands shaking, and finally they saw.
They saw.
Her face was bubbling, festering, her mouth turning green. There was a wine cup on the floor, broken with wine pooling around it.
Another woman was poisoned.
Chapter Five
Ten faces watched the old peasant woman gulp, holding a piece of bread to her mouth. It had been cut off of the same plate as Helina's food.
The woman was the daughter of an old factory worker, one that once made beautiful wands for the middle class. Her father made the mistake of selling a wand to a dark witch from Japan, and with that mistake he doomed generations of his family to squalor.
Helina hated it. She hated the class systems surrounding her. She wanted to tell the woman not to worry about it, that there were countless witches who could tell simply by waving their hand over a food whether or not it was poisoned.
The other nine faces around the table stopped her, however. If it had been Anoud in the room with her, she would have saved the peasant the fright of being her taster, but she was surrounded by eight members of The High Court, plus Remiel. She was there to learn.
“Before the food cools, if you please,” a woman said. Her face was lined with wrinkles. The High Court was forbidden from using glamour on themselves. Vanity was frowned upon.
Finally, the peasant woman bit into the bread and chewed. With a swallow, she looked around the table, tears welling into her eyes.
She did not die. She did not even choke. Helina let out a great sigh of relief.
“That will be all, dear. You may go. Anoud will give you your payment on your way out.” The peasant stood and all but ran out of the huge doors behind them.
Isaem cleared his throat. He was a rare witch, in that his mother had been a fairy. Fairy blood was one of the few ways to secure powerful magic for your child. It came at a price, however, because any half-fairy child had a terrible immune system. More died than lived.
Such children were called Faelings, though often their very existence was hidden. Fairies were known for taking mixed children back to their lands, especially fairies from Atlantis.
Thinking of Atlantis made Helina's lips curl up in disgust. What a horrible land, full of thieves and blasphemers. She saw that the others at the table noticed her sudden change in mood, and put her face back into a neutral expression.
Helina took her fork and picked at her food. The potatoes were lovely, but everything tasted bland. Her tastebuds were being overwhelmed by her fear. Being watched by members of The High Court put a heavy weight on Helina's shoulders.
“Your Grace, if you'll pardon my rush, we do need to discuss this.” Isaem looked around the table, hoping he hadn't offended any of his colleagues.
Helina chewed her potatoes, then crossed her arms. “Fine, we'll talk. I refuse to marry a vampire.”
“Helina, the fact is you have very little choice. We need to unite France's Fortean groups with the witches, for war is upon us. We don't have long before our people start dying, and we won't be able to keep it out of the press.”
Sighing loudly, she flips up her hand in a shrug. “But why must is be a vampire? Why not someone from another Fortean group? Could we not gain strong armies to protect ourselves by marrying into the fairies or the werewolves? Perhaps the Drakes in Iran? I hear they're growing stronger by the day.”
Givael slammed her hand onto the table. “Your stubborn nature will kill us all! You and your sister both need to learn respect, but your disrespect could destroy the entire kingdom! Prince Roman not only wants to help us, but he has had his eye on you for years.” Her eyes closed into tight, angry slits are she spoke, her gnarled finger poking in Helina's direction.
“It's not as if that makes me more confident about him. I'm only just an adult. You're telling me an ageless prince has been eying me since before I came of age?” She shivered, mostly for effect. It wasn't unusual to marry young if you were royalty. Truthfully, Helina would have said anything to avoid marrying a vampire.
Old woman Givael rolled her eyes. “Prince Roman is the perfect choice, child. He respects our culture, and respects you. He does not hate witches. He wants to help Mindren, and all witches, heal from the wounds caused by his own people.”
“Perhaps, but don't you think that sullying two pure blood lines might lead us right into war anyway? I think that an heir that is half witch, half vampire might have trouble securing the throne. Don't you?” Helina gave up on her food, pushing the plate forward. She looked to Remiel, who was watching with wide eyes. Her hands were shaking.
The door opened again, and all heads turn to see who entered. Prince Roman stepped into the room, and all but Helina stood to bow. He was radiant. The sun from the window glinted off of his golden armor. On his head, he wore a golden diadem inset with an onyx stone.
He was looking handsome, even more handsome than before. His pale skin shined, opalescent in the artificial light. Helina wondered how she ever didn't realize he was a vampire.
She hated him. She hated him for deceiving her. She hated him for being beautiful. She hated him because she wanted to trust him, for having such an innocent face.
Prince Roman came to her chair, where she sat still with her back straight, glaring up at him. Giving her a goofy smile, he held out his hand. “Princess Helina, may I have a private word with you?”
“Absolutely not,” she sniffed, turning her head away. Givael's eyes nearly popped out of her skull, her face turning bright red. “I barely know you. I will not be alone with you.”
Chuckling, he pulled his hand back. “I assure you, you will be safe. Your guards are outside, and I think you will want to hear what I have to tell you.”
His voice seemed grave, serious. It made Helina curious. She sighed, then stood. “Fine.”
Roman led her out of the room and into the hallway. Her guards watched them, but from afar. The prince leaned in close, pushing her hair behind her ears and then whispering.
“Your High Court is trying to kill you.” His tone was deadly serious, but he kept a flirtatious smile on his face.
She stepped back, surprised and angry. “How dare you!”
“Shh, come back here. It is either a few of them, or all of them, but I can guarantee that this is true. After the woman was poisoned, I had my men search your manor. We found a servant with a deadly poison on her, one that I have never seen before. We sent it back to France to be analyzed.”
“Oh, good,” she quipped. “A new poison for the vampires.”
He shot her a withering glare. “There is evidence that more servants are working for someone, trying to kill you. Most worryingly, the evidence comes from this letter,” He handed her a slip of paper. On it was a seal. “Is this not the seal of The High Court?”
She looked at it, hard. It certainly matched all of the imperfections and details in the official seal. “It would seem so.” She touched her finger to the moon on the seal. It sent a magical confirmation through her. It was real.
“If it is, then this is proof of someone on The High Court trying to poison you. Inside you'll find instructions. That your servants are making mistakes is a blessing, a very strange one. If they were more intelligent, you would not still be alive.” He paused. “I also don't think that The High Court is at the top of this chain. They serve someone, too.”
Her face screwed up, irritated at him insulting her staff, but then realizing they were the same people trying to kill her. She sighed. “Why are you even telling me this. Don't your people want me dead?”
Roman looked into her eyes, and she saw that she was trying his patience. The look made her blood run cold. “We have sent countless letters. We have sent countless messen
gers. We have tried to tell your people, including your father, Anoud.” She wanted to correct him, but kept her mouth shut.
He took her by the shoulders, then, shaking her and forcing her to look into his eyes. “We are not your enemy. We are not trying to kill you. The vampires you are fighting are our enemies, too, and we need your help as much as you need ours.”
He let go of her, then stepped away. “You know,” he said. “I loved you when I first saw you. That was two years ago. I know, you were still young, but I saw your potential. I saw your love for life, and more importantly, your love of politics. Your strength. Your intelligence. I saw all of that from afar, not wanting to sully your good time. It was your birthday party, and I spent the night watching you dance with random men, and I seethed with jealousy. I wanted to pull you from their arms and into mine, but I gave you room.”
She watched him, her heart beating faster as he spoke.
“I gave you room to grow and learn more. And now I need your help, and you need mine. Both France and the witches are under attack. I am sure you see the political necessity of our marriage, and I hope you will come, in time, to see me as a friend, if nothing else. An ally.” His eyes betrayed his hope for something much more. The look he was giving her made her feel very warm.
“I can't just decide this right now,” she pleaded.
He held up his hand. “I'm not asking you to. Just give me a chance. One night. Meet me tonight, and we will have a picnic under the stars, surrounded by your roses.” He watched her, waiting for a reply. Helina could only manage a nod and a gulp. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt drawn to this strange man. This vampire.
“Good. I will see you then.” He leaned down, pushing her chin up with one hand and pressing his lips to her cheek. His touch was electric, sending a pulse of sensation through Helina's whole body. She felt faint.
Handing her the letter, Roman turned and left, joined by his own guards as he rounded a corner. Helina pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her fluttering heart and stop breathing so hard. Folding the paper, she slid it into her corset.
