by Serena Rose
“You do dance fairly well for someone of such low beginnings. Whoever would have taught you that?” he asked in a probing tone. Perhaps he was hoping to get her to name Zorion’s allies, but this question would give him no information.
“Itzal,” she said bluntly. “He’s very talented.”
The King sniffed. “My cousin has always given much more freedom to his servants than I would allow. But this… Itzal has always been quite bright. I might have hired him, but he has a surprising amount of loyalty considering his less than savory skill set.”
“Zorion cares for his people and treats them well. It’s not surprising that they remain loyal to him,” she said, fighting to keep her tone remotely civil.
“And what about you, my dear? The prince appears to care for you a great deal. Surely, he showers you with jewels and beautiful things.” The king smiled poisonously. “But no, he wouldn’t, would he? He’s always been frugal, but I would give you everything that you deserve. After all, your children are so young. Who’s to say who the father is?” He leaned into her, a lascivious glint in his eyes.
She pulled away from him in shock and disgust. “I didn’t marry Zorion for… jewels. I married him because I love him.”
The king did not seem offended. He laughed as though she’d just told a hilarious joke. “Well, we’ll just have to see how far that takes you. Have a pleasant evening.” He backed away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her shaking with rage. Zorion was at her side in a moment.
“Alaia, are you all right?” he said, leading her away from the dancers and into a quiet corner.
“I… the things he said… I just… need a moment.”
He breathed a sharp breath out his nose, clearly fighting to control his anger. “Come on, let’s go out into the garden,” he said, guiding her out a set of double doors and into the cool night air. It was like a balm to her senses; she hadn’t realized how the perfumed air of the ballroom had grated on her until they had escaped it.
They went into a shadowed alcove a little way down the path, and Zorion pulled her close, stroking her hair. “Everything is all right. Did he threaten you?”
“No,” she said, clutching his jacket with the force of her emotions. “I would have expected that. He… he propositioned me!” Zorion put his finger against her lips, though he was scowling. She took a deep breath and began again more quietly. “He actually suggested I could just… pretend the children were his.”
Zorion’s free hand flexed against her back, crumpling her dress in his fist. “I will never let that happen. If he were any other man, I would make him answer for that,” he growled.
“I, especially, would never let that happen, which I think I made clear before we parted ways,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. The feeling of his skin under her fingers was just as soothing to her as it was to him. “I just don’t know what he hoped to gain in that conversation.”
“Maybe he truly thought you were the sort of woman who would be attracted to the idea,” he said, his eyes still gleaming with anger. “Probably he only wanted to upset you. Everything he’s done tonight has been calculated to provoke us.” He leaned his head on her shoulder, and she stroked the back of his neck with her fingers. She could feel him shaking with emotion.
“It’s over now. You didn’t let him win,” she murmured, but when he looked up at her, his expression was haunted.
“I did… I did let him win. I was furious, that he dared to touch you, and I was helpless to protect you. He knew. He grinned at me every time you passed.” His fists were clenched, and his breath was loud and harsh in the enclosed space.
“Zorion, you’re allowed to be upset,” she said, kissing his brow. “But nothing happened. He said some awful things, but he didn’t actually hurt me, and even if you were angry, I don’t see how that helps Imanol. It’s not as if you lost your temper and scandalized the whole court.”
He sighed against her neck, but then he looked up with a smile. “This court could use a scandal or two to shake them out of their comfort zone. The last time I was here, Itzal and I pretended to be drunk and staged a brawl with some of the other young nobles. Imanol was furious that I’d ruined his party.”
“Oh gods, you didn’t,” she said, laughing softly.
“I did. I mean, it wasn’t just for fun. While the guards were busy corralling me and my ‘opponents’, guards that we were allied with helped some political prisoners escape the dungeon. Plus, I was banned from social events for a couple of years, which I did not mind in the least.”
“So, what changed?” she asked. He blinked at her, obviously confused. “You didn’t used to care what the nobility thought. Now you’re trying to impress them.”
He huffed out a breath. “I suppose I thought it was time to grow up. The king can’t be getting into fistfights, after all. I thought I should reassure the nobles that I could play their game.”
“Do you really want to, though? I mean, the people love you, and it seems like all of the decent lords in the court are already behind you. Will any amount of fake politeness really sway the others?” It wasn’t as if she intended to change his way of doing things; she had mostly been thinking aloud. But Zorion looked at her like he’d been hit in the head with a brick, and then he laughed.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her hard on the mouth. “Of course, you’re right. Some of them are never going to like us, no matter how nicely we dress.” He grinned at her with mischief in his eyes. “Would you like to help me create a scandal?”
She tilted her head quizzically. “What kind of scandal?” He pulled her deeper into the alcove, where a bench was concealed by a vine-covered arbor.
“There are little hideaways like this all over the garden, for privacy,” he said in a low voice, his fingers brushing over the side of her neck.
“Oh really?” she murmured, not quite believing he was serious.
“Mmhhhmmm,” he hummed against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver. “But I’ve never used one for its intended purpose. Let’s try it out.” She laughed; it was a ridiculous idea. But at the same time, the thought of making love to him right under the noses of the court made her feel hot all over. What better way, she thought, to wash away even the memory of her encounter with Imanol?
“Only because you asked me so nicely,” she purred, and he laughed, low and secretive. His lips brushed the edge of her ear before he pulled back to meet her lips with his own. She slid her hands under his jacket and kissed him fervently, nipping at his lower lip. He moaned softly and pulled her down into his lap, one of his hands sliding up under her voluminous skirts, leaving trails of heat up the outside of her thigh.
His mouth moved down the line of her throat, and she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. The need to feel his skin under her fingers had become all-consuming, and her hands glided under the collar of his silk shirt. One of the tiny golden buttons popped off with a snap, disappearing in the darkness.
“Sorry,” she gasped, but his hand was inside her smallclothes now, massaging her rear, and his teeth grazed the side of her neck. She could barely speak.
“I could care less about my clothes,” he said hoarsely, pulling at the string that tied her bodice. He brought his hand up from under her skirt to push her dress over her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides a bit but freeing her breasts. He kissed each one as he cupped them gently in his hands, then bent lower and traced his tongue slowly around a nipple.
“Zorion,” she said his name breathlessly, arching her back and pressing him into the wall. Her nails skated over his chest and shoulders under his half-open shirt. She was straddling his lap now, her skirts hitched up to her waist, and the sensation of his manhood straining again his breeches through the thin fabric of her underclothes made her ache.
So close but too far. She unlaced his pants like her life depended on it, and pushed them down to his knees. Her smallclothes were flung to the ground, she didn�
�t know where, but it hardly mattered when she sank down on him, moaning as he filled her completely.
Their movement was like the sea, a rolling ebb and flow, and all sense fled. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, tangling in his hair, and she bit her lip to stifle her moaning. “No,” he whispered. “Let them hear you,” and she briefly thought of all the courtiers in the palace above, hiding their whispers behind their hands, and she wanted to laugh. Again and again they came together, and the pressure was building; her head fell back and his mouth fastened on her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin where it flowed into her shoulder.
Their moans echoed off the stone as all her muscles contracted, and pleasure rushed through her, flooding all her senses. Zorion followed her over the peak, letting out a strangled groan and thrusting wildly as he exploded inside her.
She panted and shuddered against his chest for a long moment, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m feeling much more charitable to the nobility now,” he said.
Alaia chuckled. “Do you really think they heard us? I would have thought someone would have come looking.” Zorion pulled her sleeves to their proper position and laced her bodice with deft fingers.
“Oh no, the proper thing to do in such a situation is pretend you don’t hear anything,” he replied with a playful grin. “But we won’t know until we go inside. Of course, when they see my artfully rumpled attire, there will be no question.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, but she kissed him again, and disentangled herself so that she could pick up her underthings while he pulled his pants back on. When they were both mostly decent, she sat back down on the bench, and he wrapped his arms around her again.
“Do we have to go back in? I think I’d rather stay in here with you,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“I don’t disagree, but then we won’t get to observe the shock and outrage of the court, which I thought was the whole point.”
“It was mostly that I wanted to make love to you and stuff it right in Imanol’s face,” he said sheepishly. “I never realized that I was such a jealous person. I’m sorry.” Alaia had a strange thought regarding dragons and their hoards, but she didn’t have a chance to voice it.
“Zorion, is that you in there?” Itzal called, his shadow falling into the alcove. “What are you doing?”
“Drat,” he muttered, releasing her from his arms. “I’m trysting in the garden with my wife,” he said grumpily, getting to his feet and picking up his jacket from the ground. “As is my prerogative.”
Itzal stepped into the alcove, and, beholding their disarranged clothing, put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “That was you? I was coming to find you to tell you how half the court is having the vapors because some couple was having a little too much fun in the garden.” He almost doubled over, wheezing. Alaia walked by him as regally as she could muster, considering.
“So, I take it they enjoyed the show?” Zorion said, shrugging back into his jacket but leaving it unbuttoned.
“Not as much as they’re going to enjoy the sight of your missing buttons and the bite mark on Alaia’s neck,” Itzal said, barely able to rein in his laughter.
Alaia could tell her cheeks had turned bright red, and Zorion winced, touching the spot on her neck. “Sorry about that, love.”
She drew herself up and smiled. “If we’re already giving them a show, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alaia was so exhausted that she didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep on Zorion’s shoulder until his thumb caressed her cheek. “We’re home,” he said quietly, and she blinked, stretching her arms above her head. The rest of the Gala had been mostly boring.
Just as she’d predicted, the nobles already allied with Zorion found their little stunt hilarious, some of the unaffiliated thought it was terribly romantic, and the ones who had always been with Imanol were outraged. The king himself had unfortunately not been present, as he had retired very shortly after her distressing dance with him.
Now, they were home, and the Gala was over. It was like casting off a heavy cloak. Itzal opened the carriage door, but as soon as she saw his expression, she knew something was wrong.
“The house is dark,” Itzal said in a low voice. Zorion sat straight up. “Let’s not rush into anything. I’ve got weapons under the seat.” A moment later, Zorion had a sword in his hands and Itzal was wearing a brace of daggers. “When this is all over, remind me to teach you how to fight,” Itzal said as he handed Alaia a lantern. She felt like telling him she had no desire to fight, but now was hardly the time to argue. Her heart was hammering, and her only thought was were the children safe?
Itzal went first, sinking into a crouch and creeping to the front door, which opened at a touch of his hand. A chill went down her spine. Maude would have never left the door unlatched. The parlor was dark, and the only sound was the creak and groan of the house settling in the wind. It was all Alaia could do not to push past the two men and run up the stairs.
Her muscles were vibrating with tension as they made it to the second floor and rounded the corner. Zorion cried out and ran ahead before Alaia could even see what was going on, but it only took a moment for her to realize. The door to the children’s bedroom was open, and the guards that should’ve been there were gone. She ran into the room to find Zorion crouched on the floor next to a body.
“Markel! What happened?” he shouted as Alaia held up the lantern. The head guard was badly wounded, and his face was drawn with pain. The air was heavy with the scent of blood. A wave of dizziness swept over her.
“I’m sorry. The King’s men… took the little ones,” he groaned out. “We fought as hard as we could.” Panic started crawling up Alaia’s throat; she barely heard Zorion’s next words.
“What about Lorea and the others?”
“She and the nursemaids… convinced the men to take them too, to keep the babies happy and fed. They… didn’t recognize her…” Markel replied, his voice growing more and more faint. Alaia’s knees felt weak, and she grabbed onto the wall for support.
“He’s gone,” Zorion said, getting to his feet. His face was ablaze with anger and he strode purposefully to the door, only to be stopped in his tracks by Itzal, who placed his hand on the prince’s chest and shoved him firmly backwards.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone deceptively cool.
“To get my children back, obviously,” Zorion growled. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Don’t be an idiot. If the King’s lackeys brought a bunch of nursemaids with them, they’re obviously planning on keeping the children alive. They are a bargaining chip, and as far as Imanol is concerned, you are expendable now that he has three new potential heirs who are at a much more malleable stage of life.”
“Are you saying we should just let him have them?” Zorion asked, with a note of desperation in his voice. A little cry of despair escaped Alaia’s mouth.
“Of course not. But we’re not going to let him goad us into rash action. I will use my contacts in the palace to check on the triplets and find out where they’re being kept. Tomorrow we’ll make a plan to get them back. Tonight, you’re going to stay here and comfort your wife.” Zorion looked to her suddenly, shaking his head like he was coming out of a daze.
“Alaia,” he said, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m sorry. The thought that he would dare… They’re only children, innocent in all of this.” She clung to his chest, and the sob she’d been holding in exploded from her mouth.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that… If I’d only thought to trick him instead of making him angry,” she choked out past her tears. Surely, she could have pretended to like him long enough for Zorion or Itzal to take care of him once and for all. Now her babies were gone, taken by that monster.
“No, no, this isn’t your fault,” he said, gathering her up in his arms. “He had to have planned this from the start. That�
��s probably why we were invited. We’ll get them back, I swear.” His tears were falling on her face, mingling with her own, and she couldn’t even think past her sorrow.
Maude burst in through the door. “Oh, I’m so glad you two are all right at least,” she said, tears running down her face. “When the King’s men came, I feared the worst.” She embraced them both like long-lost children, and Alaia could do nothing but weep. Maude wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Alaia, come on and I’ll help you get out of these clothes and make you some tea. Let Zorion and Alain take care of the dead.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” he said, setting her on her feet with a kiss on her cheek, and Maude led her shaking up to the third floor.
**********************************
Zorion watched Maude lead Alaia upstairs, fists clenched. The anger he had felt when the king had danced with Alaia was nothing compared to the rage boiling within him now. He could barely think straight, and he knew this was a side effect of awakening the dragon blood. Osane had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t known what she meant. He kicked the nearest object out of frustration, which turned out to be the bedpost. “Damn it all!” He wasn’t sure if he was cursing the king, the bed, or himself.
A hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Alain was standing next to him, fierce and weary. “Come on, my prince. Let’s take these men into the crypts for now. At least they can rest there without being disturbed, and we can make this room fit for when the children return.”
Of course, he couldn’t lose his temper now. He had a job to do. It was ugly, tiring work, and the beautiful clothes the seamstress had made for him were completely ruined, but all Zorion could think about was the waste of it all.
These were good men who died doing their best to protect his children. He couldn’t let their sacrifice be in vain. The past few months he’d been trying to make things perfect, to depose Imanol as bloodlessly as possible. Now he felt he’d waited too long.
