by Bonnie Dee
“You came.” He’d forgotten how musical and sweet her voice sounded.
“Of course.” Ragnorak bowed. “What do you need from me, my lady?”
She gazed fiercely into his eyes as if willing him to understand her as she proposed the terms of another contest. “My lord Svartan, I’m not pleased you’ve had to sacrifice your kingdom’s resources in order to preserve my freedom. I’ve suggested to King Midas he wager what you’ve promised him against the possibility of an even greater boon.”
Ragnorak frowned and looked toward Midas, certain he’d put her up to this. “I’m satisfied with the terms we set.”
“I’m not.” Gwyneth said forcefully and took a step toward him. “I want my freedom free and clear or not at all.”
“What do you propose, madam?”
“You will respond to three questions, the answers to which are in the sealed box which Wallace now holds.” She indicated the steward. “If you answer correctly, Midas will release you from your debt, sign a permanent peace treaty between the upper and lower worlds, and write a binding promise that Brea and I will be forever free.”
“And if I should answer incorrectly?” Ragnorak was already rejecting the plan in his mind. “What does he demand then?”
Descending the steps from the dais on which his throne stood, the king spoke at last. “Three times the yearly allotment you’ve promised and Gwyneth will return to the castle.”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I stand by the previous bargain we struck. The answer is no.”
“Svartan,” Gwyneth spoke his name sharply, instantly drawing his attention back to her light. “You must make this deal. I have full confidence in your ability to answer the questions correctly. I’m staking my life on it.”
“It’s too dangerous. I would not put you at risk,” he argued.
“It’s my risk to take. In fact,” she narrowed her eyes and spoke slowly, “I will make this bet. You promised once I could request any of the riches of your kingdom. Now I demand you fulfill that promise, but only if you lose the bet—which you won’t.”
“Gwyneth, you’re being unreasonable.” He strode toward her and stopped short of grasping her arms and shaking her. “There is no point to this bet. I’m satisfied to give Midas a little gold each year to keep you safe.”
“There is a point.” Her voice was quiet now, meant for his ears alone. “To prove how well you know me, like no other person ever has. We’re meant to be together, Ragnorak, and after you answer these very easy questions, we’ll find a way to arrange it. Both of us together. No more protestations that you’re pushing me away for my own good as if I was some child.”
Her eyes blazed the bright blue of lapis lazuli as she gazed into his. “Equals. Man and woman, husband and wife. We will find common ground and have our happily ever after. I insist on it.”
At that moment, Ragnorak realized Gwyneth was a much more powerful being than he with all his rock shifting, air bending abilities. She was a goddess and he, her humble servant. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.
He scowled. “Very well. Pose your questions.”
Midas clapped his hands together. “Excellent. The bargain is struck. Begin.”
Gwyneth folded her hands over her skirt, modestly covering the junction of her thighs as she asked a most immodest question. “What brings me to climax most quickly?”
A plethora of images flashed in Ragnorak’s mind: Gwyneth with her head thrown back and her tender throat exposed, her face contorted in ecstasy, her pussy flushed and glistening before him, her hips thrusting, body rising and her cries as she achieved her goal. She was absolutely right. This was an easy question. He was surprised Midas had allowed it.
The king snorted. “I give you this one, Ragnorak. The answer is so obvious.”
Ragnorak spoke over him, offering his answer. “My tongue on your clit.” In case her answer was more general, he amended, “Oral sex.”
“Wrong!” Midas crowed with delight. “Every man knows women want only one thing in bed. Cock. That was so easy. I can’t believe you missed it. Read the answer aloud, Wallace.”
“Yes,” Gwyneth agreed. “Break the seal and read the answer after each question rather than waiting until the end. Let there be no misunderstanding or reinterpretation of what was said here today.”
Wallace swallowed hard as he opened the box and drew out the paper inside. From the grimness of his expression, Ragnorak guessed the man already knew the answer was correct—which said a little something about Wallace’s prowess in the bedroom.
The steward cleared his throat before stammering, “The answer given is…oral s-sex.”
“What? Let me see that?” Midas charged across the floor and snatched the paper from Wallace’s hand. As he read, he frowned. “Ridiculous!’
“Your Highness, return the paper to Wallace,” Gwyneth demanded boldly. “This is a fair contest. No lying or cheating on either side. To break the bargain would bring doom on the head of the person who dared interfere with the code of honor.”
Midas’s scowl deepened, but he thrust the paper back at the steward.
“My next question is this,” Gwyneth continued. “What is the most precious thing between a man and a woman?”
“Hah! Not so easy now, is it, my would-be brother?” the king gloated. “Who knows what a woman imagines is important? It could be anything, their thoughts are so irrational.”
Ragnorak considered. Midas was correct in that the question was a bit more challenging this time. Then he remembered lying quietly with Gwyneth after sex and simply breathing as they gazed into each other’s eyes. He remembered the long talks and arguments they’d had, their shared laughter and their common worry over Brea’s health when the baby had struggled for each breath. Remembering those moments made the answer quite obvious.
“Intimacy.”
Absolute silence followed his pronouncement. The expressions on Midas and Wallace’s faces—as well as the guards loitering near the door—were comical in their incredulity. Ragnorak nearly smiled, especially when he saw the twinkle in Gwyneth’s eyes that let him know he’d answered correctly.
The nervous fear that had constricted his throat and made his heart pound began to alleviate as Ragnorak realized for the first time he had nothing to fear. He couldn’t lose this bet. Gwyneth might as well have rigged it for she asked questions he couldn’t get wrong—not with the way he knew the inner workings of her mind.
And also for the first time, he began to believe there was hope for a future for them together. She was right. They could find common ground, a way to make their worlds accommodate each of them.
When Wallace read the answer, “Intimacy,” Midas stomped his foot on the floor.
“A lucky guess! But there’s no way you’ll know the answer to the last question. Even if she’d mentioned it before, you wouldn’t remember such a foolish detail. No man would.” The king didn’t sound at all certain this time, and he made eye contact with the guards by the door.
Seeing the possibility of a double cross, Ragnorak casually moved closer to Gwyneth so he could grab her hand and take her with him if things went badly. The guards couldn’t touch Ragnorak, but Midas might have instructed them to seize Gwyneth and use her as a tool to control him.
“My last question is silly yet simple.” His lady smiled, and he knew he was home free. “What is my favorite kind of bird?”
Her laughter as she’d described her ongoing battle with the birds that lived under the eaves of her father’s house rang in his head. He could hear her laughing, but couldn’t for the life of him remember the type of bird. Mourning doves? Sparrows? Robins? Woodpeckers? His palms began to sweat and he clenched his fists by his sides. She should know he had little experience with birds, having lived his life underground.
But he looked into her eyes and Gwyneth’s smile never faltered. She trusted him to remember. She believed he’d saved and stored every detail of their time together, every moment
of conversation as well as every kiss. And, once more, of course she was right. Ragnorak delved deeper into his memory. He closed his eyes and relived the conversation they’d had as they strode the pathways of the Purple Caverns.
“One thing I miss down here—and I can’t believe I’d ever miss them,” she’d said, “is the horrible birds that used to leave their droppings on the floor of the porch back home. I don’t know how many hours of my life I’ve spent, scrubbing those floorboards clean.” She’d laughed. “Even so, I miss those wrens with their pretty red breasts and their annoying ‘beeps’—such an unmusical bird call. But they were tiny and adorable and they had a nest of hatchlings every spring, which were amusing to watch.”
“Wrens,” Ragnorak nearly shouted. “Red breasted wrens are your favorite bird.”
Gwyneth beamed while Wallace read in a faint voice, “Wrens is the correct answer, sire.”
Midas howled in fury. His face went bright red and twisted into a horrible mask of rage. He stomped his feet like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum and screamed, “It’s not fair. He knew the answers already.”
“You agreed to the questions,” Gwyneth answered calmly. “The bet was fair and the results are binding. No more underworld riches for you to squander and no further contact between us.”
“Guards!” the king yelled and the uniformed men moved forward.
Ragnorak reached for Gwyneth’s hand, ready to whisk them both away, but he hesitated. A man who would break a deal, a man with a temper like Midas’s, would never let the matter go. Gwyneth and Brea would be hunted. Elohim would be threatened. The people of the upper world would continue to suffer as long as Midas reigned. It was time to eliminate the problem.
Ragnorak strode toward his half-brother, took him by the hand and shook it firmly. “The deal is done. The bargain sealed. Truth and justice are revealed.”
It was a simple incantation, but extremely effective. As Midas continued to stomp his feet against the floor, Ragnorak clung to his hand and pushed the power out of himself and into the very stones of the castle floor. In a mindless fury and seemingly unaware of the change in the air around him, Midas ranted and pounded his heels on the flagstones, which began to crackle and shift.
A glance at the guards told Ragnorak they’d fallen back, prudent self-preservation triumphing over obedience. The guards and the rat-faced steward remained in the room, silent witnesses to the king’s destruction, but they looked ready to run out the door if necessary.
Ragnorak turned his concentration back to Midas. Neither judge nor executioner, he was merely a conduit for allowing the balancing power of the universe to bring Midas to his appropriate fate. He released the man’s hand and watched as the evil king cursed and screamed at the guards to do his bidding, while continuing to jump up and down like a madman. With every stomp, the stones beneath his feet crumbled further, and suddenly they disintegrated completely. A pit opened. Deep within glowed orange flames which Ragnorak recognized as the molten lava of the earth’s core, but knew the topsiders would perceive the fires of hell. It certainly didn’t hurt to have humans fear the underworld in this way.
Awakening from his frenzy of fury, Midas stumbled backward, but it was too late. The vortex pulled at him with the suction of a tornado. He met Ragnorak’s gaze for a fraction of a second. “Demon!” he shrieked and the word trailed away in a long, thin wail as he tumbled into the earth.
Epilogue
Gwyneth stepped out into the sunshine, Brea in her arms. Strolling across the terrace, she gazed out over the formal palace gardens to the woods spreading over the hills and into the distance. The trees were already changing to their warm, autumn colors, flashing red and gold in the morning sun. The breeze stirred her hair, tickled her cheeks. Everything reminded her of the joy of fresh air and sunlight.
Something landed with a splash beside her feet. A tiny bird dropping. Brea laughed with delight. Gwyneth turned her gaze upward to see a pair of wrens flying away from the palace roof.
“Even here,” she murmured. But she smiled as she said it. Her heart was singing, because today at last he was coming for her.
And there were still some things to be done before she left. “Come, my little queen,” she said into Brea’s hair. “Time for you to get ready for Daddy while I do my final duty.”
It wasn’t final, of course. Just the last of this half-year. Going back inside, she saw the maid sweeping out the parlor corners.
“You won’t forget to sweep and scrub the terrace, will you?” Gwyneth said a shade anxiously.
The maid ginned. “No, my lady. Have those little varmints been at it again?”
Gwyneth laughed. “Just one little varmint. But I know they’ll be back. Thanks, Maria. I know I’ll return to find everything just as we agreed.”
“We’ll miss you, my lady,” the maid mumbled, bending back to her work.
Gwyneth smiled with just a hint of sadness. She’d miss this life, too. In the last few months, she’d made a real difference here. And not just in the palace, where everything now seemed so much brighter with heavy curtains thrown back, doors and windows open wide wherever possible, giving access to Brea’s subjects as well as making the palace a far less oppressive place to live than in the bad old days of King Midas. The whole country seemed to have brightened with it. Trade had begun to flourish again. The harvest had been good. And unemployment was falling. No one now went hungry. Even the sick and destitute were cared for thanks to the sale of some of Midas’s excessive treasure. And a little extra wealth from Elohim.
Gwyneth was proud of what they’d achieved here. She and Elohim’s king, in the name of Queen Brea.
Giving her daughter into the willing care of her nurse, Gwyneth hurried to the council chamber. One more meeting, one more hour, and then he would be here. Excitement rose, as it still did whenever she thought of Ragnorak. She missed his embrace, his powerful, demanding loving. She missed his very presence. He’d been gone too long. Although this was, officially, their half-year above the ground, he’d had to spend the last week in Elohim attending to matters there and the parting had been hard on her.
The council were already gathered in the chamber and stood as she entered.
“Please, sit,” she said at once, and as they did, she looked round at all of the familiar faces with something approaching affection. Even for Wallace, who, now that he had left his constant fear behind, had proven to be an able administrator. These were the men chosen by the Parliament—Brea’s kingdom had taken the idea from Ragnorak’s—as a sort of conduit between itself and the monarch. Which meant, until Brea came of age, herself and Ragnorak. They were also, largely, the men who had first come to her in the aftermath of Midas’s death to offer Brea the crown, despite her gender, and Gwyneth the regency. The law was changed now to cover that, and the government was more stable than she could ever have dreamed of six months ago.
Against all the odds, she now trusted these men to run the kingdom well in her absence. With a satisfied nod, she sat and got down to business.
Less than an hour later, they had concluded everything they needed to discuss and agree upon. Slightly at a loss, Gwyneth rose to her feet.
“It seems there’s nothing left to say except thank you—for your hard work and for your loyalty to my daughter. It does my heart good to see this kingdom begin to thrive at last. As it must lift yours to know you played so large a part in it.”
Grandon, who bore the title of Prime Minister, stood, too, and bowed.
“It does,” he acknowledged. “And to know that we were right to ask you to lead us. I won’t deny we took a chance six months ago, that you, my lady, were the right person to guide us out of the chaos caused as much by the late king’s rule as by his death, as we are now free to acknowledge. We remembered the good you managed to do in secret as queen, and came to you because of it. But I don’t mind admitting now that our optimism was a shade desperate.”
He gave a lopsided smile. “Or that our actions also
had something to do with placating your formidable husband. Yet little more than half a year later, Parliament has asked me to convey to King Svartan its most sincere thanks for his considerable help in stabilizing and developing our country. We are aware—and grateful—that your regency is shared with him.”
Oh, yes, they had come a long way from their fear of the demon king. It hadn’t vanished, but it was masked by reluctant respect and admiration.
“I will pass on your kind words to the king,” she said gravely. “And now…”
A sharp crack interrupted her, a rushing smell of smoke and faint sulphur assailed her nostrils and her heart jumped and soared.
Ragnorak, dressed in black as she’d first seen him, though without the mask, stepped out of the smoke.
Without thought, Gwyneth ran to him. They were to have met informally in their private chambers, but seeing him here, now, there was no way she could restrain her welcome to a languid offering of her hand to kiss. Somewhere, she was aware of the scraping of chairs as the council stood and bowed, but their politeness didn’t receive the attention it deserved. Ragnorak’s arms held her hard against his body, and she knew a secret thrill as the hard bulge of his erect cock pressed into her stomach.
“I missed you,” he breathed into her mouth. But his kiss was quick and hard before he released her and turned to face the council. Almost with surprise, Gwyneth saw the bright figure of Karnak by his side. And yet they had discussed this, too.
“Gentlemen, you are already acquainted with my minister, Lord Karnak. As discussed, he is here to help you in any way he can, and to bring to us any matters you deem urgent. He can reach us immediately, so when the Lady Gwyneth and I depart with the queen, you are not deserted. We can return at any time we’re needed.”
His words were as much warning as comfort, and the council was aware of it. No matter how much trust had evolved between them, it was too early for Brea’s position to be entirely safe, especially during a long absence. But Gwyneth could see no shuffling of feet or dropping of guilty eyes. She believed the council and the parliament would do their very best to make this work.
