Conquests and Crowns

by S E Meliers

  ‘As are you,’ he smiled. ‘Beautiful; all fire and silk.’

  ‘Fire and silk,’ she murmured, pleased, and nipped his nipple between her teeth. He grunted in surprised pleasure. She soothed with her tongue before pulling away and standing to wriggle out of her trousers.

  ‘I like this view,’ he grinned widely, all tooth.

  ‘Wicked dragon,’ she retorted before straddling him again, so his hardness was trapped flat between them. She rolled her hips forward so he slipped through her folds and pressed his hardness up against her clitoris. He moaned, so she did it again, enjoying the silken feel of his intimate flesh against hers without the penetration of sex, and the way the press of him sent seeds of fire up her belly.

  His hands drifted down from above his head to her hips and stroked up her back and down again. She felt his fingers tense against her hips as she settled into a rhythm of rock and pressure, stroking him against her and her against him, and knew he resisted rolling her in order to take over and delve into her depths. She leaned over and kissed him, but could not kiss him for long, breathless with effort and building pressure.

  ‘Praise,’ he groaned, fingers tightening again.

  ‘Ember,’ she whispered, but succumbed and lifted her hips in order to guide him into place. She sank slowly onto him, enjoying the sensation of stretch and fill, until he was seated fully within her. ‘Oh,’ she tilted her head back and rolled her hips in a circle so she could feel him move within. ‘It is good.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ he took her hips and lifted her to his tip, before releasing her and letting her settle back down at her own pace. ‘Too slow,’ he complained.

  She laughed, and rolled off of him. He cried out in dismay. ‘You do it then,’ she said. He rolled to his knees, and pulled her to hers, entering her from behind. She braced herself on her elbows as he curled over her, kissing her neck, before taking her hips firmly in his hands and straightening. He set an almost supernatural pace, driving into her until she was lost in sensation and teetered on the edge of orgasm. ‘Ember,’ she moaned in warning.

  He leaned forward. ‘Mine,’ he said into her ear.

  ‘Yes,’ and she came, losing balance and almost falling forward onto her face, except he held her up, an arm across her belly, pulling her back onto his lap, and groaning out his own orgasm. Her head lolled back against his shoulder. ‘Mine also,’ she whispered with her eyes closed.

  ‘Yes,’ he nuzzled her cheek. ‘Definitely yours.’

  He held her there for a long moment, before lifting her free of him and laying her down amongst her pillows. ‘I am all sticky,’ she complained. ‘I will get it all over them.’

  ‘So?’ he replied, lying on his side, pressed up against her. ‘Throw them away and take some more.’

  She laughed, then sobered. ‘Are we going to Lyendar?’ she turned to face him and drew a line from the middle of his bottom lip over his chin, down his neck, to the centre of his chest.

  ‘Yes,’ he watched her through half closed eyes. His hair was a terrible mess, tangled around him like the spilt threads of a blood hued tapestry.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow, it will not take long to fly there, and we are needed swiftly,’ he stretched lazily.

  ‘There will be fighting,’ she said, not meeting his gaze.

  ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘You could get hurt,’ she looked up at see his reaction.

  He was amused. ‘Unlikely,’ he said with confidence.

  ‘How unlikely?’ she insisted.

  ‘Very unlikely,’ he stroked a finger from the middle of her bottom lip, down her throat, to the centre of her chest, as she had done to him, but continued to her belly button, making her suck in her breath as his fingertip tickled her flesh. ‘Our scales are almost impenetrable so swords, arrows and axes cannot purchase; fire and boiling liquids do not concern us; most projectiles from the mangonels and their like move too slowly and we are so agile that they are easily avoided.’

  ‘Magic?’ she asked.

  ‘We have our own,’ he said soothing with words and touch. ‘I will not be harmed, and if you ride on me, I will keep you safe.’

  ‘I ride on you into battle?’ she shivered as his fingers drifted through her pubic hair.

  ‘Some do, some do not,’ he was more focussed on his fingers then the conversation. ‘Some shoot arrows, some just keep company.’

  ‘I can shoot a bow and arrow,’ she said, trying not to be distracted by his fingers which delved deeper and circled her entrance. ‘But I would be afraid I would hit a dragon by mistake if one flew into my arrow path.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he slipped a finger into her just slightly, the heel of his palm pressed up against her clitoris.

  ‘But I would like to fly with you,’ she tried not to moan and succeeded only a little.

  ‘Good, I would like you to fly with me,’ he lifted himself up and nudged his way between her legs. ‘You are very wet,’ he moaned with approval as he sank into her.

  ‘Well,’ she said lifting her hips to meet him. ‘We have just done this.’

  He laughed; his lips against hers so she shared his laughter. ‘True,’ he said and nibbled her lip. ‘But, I find I wish to do it again.’ He withdrew slowly and smoothly before entering her again; smooth and slow.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her, locking her ankles around his hips. ‘I find I wish to do it again, too. You naughty dragon, I was trying to have a conversation with you,’ she smiled against his skin.

  ‘So talk,’ he replied amused. ‘I am not preventing you.’

  ‘I am,’ she gasped as he pushed up against her, ‘a little distracted.’

  ‘Should I stop?’ he stilled; his eyes wicked.

  ‘Noooo,’ she complained pushing up against him. ‘I have finished talking.’

  ‘Good,’ he grinned, ‘because I am just starting.’

  Shade

  ‘… They have control of our drinking water,’ Honesty paced before the gathered council. All the Lords in their heavy noble robes, gold and gems on their necks and fingers, were attentive. Shade dozed. ‘Since we discovered this, we have secreted barrels of water in the castle holds. It is not a huge supply, but if we are conservative about its usage it will last longer.’

  ‘Are you telling us to be prepared to stink?’ Shade opened one eye.

  ‘I guess so,’ Honesty was not amused. ‘The water should only be for consumption, and that will need to be rationed. I am guessing, as they will be using the same water supply, they will use magic to contaminate it – it will be easy for them to remove their own spell so they can freely use the water, not so, my wizards tell me, for us. You would know more of that than I, Shade.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Shade reclined on his chair, eyes closed again. ‘Yes, the eternal rule of magic: what one wizard does is always difficult for another to undo.’

  ‘So, not knowing what they have done to the water, we cannot risk using it to bathe or clean,’ Honesty concluded with an annoyed look at the indolent necromancer. ‘They have made it abundantly clear that the Prince is displeased by our declination of his offer-’

  ‘Yes, slowly and excruciatingly hacking your peasants into small gory pieces within sight and hearing of the walls, then using a mangonel to hurl the bloody chunks of meat into the city is certainly an effective method of expressing displeasure,’ Shade commented, amused by Honesty’s understatement.

  Honesty shot him another annoyed look. The council grumbled. ‘As I was saying,’ Honesty turned back to the council. ‘They have focussed their attack on the city walls. We have already had breaches. We cannot hold the city for much longer, and my scryers indicate that the forces at Guarn are still not on the move. We have no choice. We must sacrifice the city.’

  There was no dissent. The council members had their own interests at heart, and as long as their loved ones were inside the castle walls, they were prepared to sacrifice the city to save their own skins. �
�It will need to be handled swiftly and with discretion,’ Industry, Lord Judication of Lyendar spoke up. ‘Or there will be mass panic.’

  ‘How does one move an army from the city walls, into the castle, without making it blatantly obvious to the people that there is no intention for that army to continue to defend those walls?’ Shade enquired dryly.

  ‘In small portions,’ Industry snapped. ‘And some will have to be lost.’

  ‘Make it happen, and make it happen swiftly and discretely. Assign a guard to the castle entrance to prevent unauthorised entry. They should also be prepared to defend if a mob tries to enter the castle before we are fully withdrawn from the city. Get your families inside.’ Honesty dug his fingers into his scalp, dislodging his circlet. An apt augur of the Lord’s actions, Shade thought, amused – a crooked crown. ‘Shade, will you bring your skeletons into the castle, or leave them in the city?’

  ‘I suspect that I shall shortly be in good supply of replacement bone,’ Shade waved a hand nonchalantly, ‘’tween battle, starvation, and the disease that accompanies filth, so I shall leave them where they are. The withdrawal of your men may not be so obvious if they remain in place.’

  ‘You are crude,’ Magnanimity growled, ‘to speak so light of the death of so many.’

  ‘And yet, here you are planning those deaths,’ Shade responded indifferent to the Lord’s distaste. ‘And why is it crude to speak realistically of death? Dying is the final act of life; that is fact. We shit, we fornicate, and we die. Why are we all so coy about these subjects?’

  ‘Enough, Shade,’ Honesty’s tone was sharper than he intended, surprising himself. ‘Enough,’ he said it without the edge. ‘I think we are all clear on what needs to be done, and our roles in doing it. Let us get it done, then, gentlemen. As long as Lyendar Castle stands, Lyendar is not lost.’

  ‘Why are you so deliberately provoking?’ Honesty swung on Shade as soon as the door closed behind the last council member. ‘It was you who suggested this plan, and yet now you take the lofty position of moral, leaving the rest of us wading through your dirt.’

  ‘It is not my dirt,’ Shade shrugged. ‘I am a guest in your castle; I have no real investment in its filth and cobwebby corners. I suggested shutting the city off from the castle, yes, because it needs to be done. But I will not dress it up in false nobility, polish its corners, and crown you with it, Honesty. I am a necromancer: I am despicable by nature, therefore its natural for me to present you with despicable acts. You are a Lord; you should be noble, therefore these acts should be repulsive to you.’

  ‘I do not understand you,’ Honesty groaned. ‘And I do not care to. Just, do your job, necromancer. Hold the castle.’

  ‘I am not a god,’ Shade strode to the door. ‘I cannot achieve the impossible.’ He strode through the castle and up the stair wells towards his tower chambers in ire, but as he reached his chamber door, his rage changed into something more primal. He threw the doors open. ‘Where are you, my inamorata?’ he demanded. Song was not there. He was about to explode with thwarted frustration, when she entered the chamber behind him.

  He seized her, startling a gasp from her, and thrust her up against the wall, searching frantically through her skirts and petticoats to the flesh encased within, clumsy with his urgency. He lifted her, hands kneading the naked flesh of her buttocks, and impaled her against the wall with a moan of satisfaction as he drove deep into her. Song put her arms around his neck, resting her elbows on his shoulders and dug her fingers through his hair, pulling it loose from its club, and forcing his face to her own so she could seize control of his mouth. She kissed him savagely, mastering his mouth, biting his tongue, plunging herself into him in a mimicry of his own entrance into her depths.

  He growled, and pounded himself into her until he lost himself to the wildness and came with ferocity. He panted, holding her firm against the wall. ‘I am sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I did not take care of you.’ She took his face between her hands and kissed him tenderly. He slipped a hand down between them and found her clitoris, and stroked her to shuddering orgasm. He buried his face into her neck, breathing her precious scent, until her heart beat evened, then slowly released her.

  It was only as he put himself to rights that he turned and locked eyes with the terrified woman chained to the wall besides them. ‘Interesting,’ he said, surprised, and looked to Song for explanation. She shrugged, smoothing her rose coloured skirts over ruffled petticoats. The skeletons must have brought the woman. ‘Interesting,’ he looked back at her. She was young, and not unattractive, though she showed signs of the hunger and filth of siege, and recent ill usage in a split lip and bruised eye – though she may have fought the skeletons, resulting in those injuries.

  He leant over her, sniffed her. ‘Mmmm,’ he closed his eyes savouring.

  ‘Are you going to rape me too?’ she whispered, trembling.

  His eyes popped open and he pulled himself away from her. ‘I am not a rapist,’ he said angrily. ‘Song is a consenting collaborator. Just because you cannot hear her speak, does not mean she does not communicate. And, I assure you, she participated very willingly. Is that not so, Song?’ he turned to his companion who was settling herself on the bed, against the headboard, her skirts a puff around her and her silk stockinged ankles delectably on display. Song smiled and licked her lips. ‘Naughty, naughty,’ he reproved with a smirk. ‘You are insatiable, my lovely.’

  The woman on the wall whimpered.

  ‘Though,’ he added pouring himself a wine from the decanter. ‘Why should we defend ourselves to a baby killer such as your repulsive self?’ he demanded of the woman on the wall.

  Her eyes glowed with fury. ‘Yes,’ she snarled. ‘I killed my child. I put my baby to breast and as he suckled to sleep, pressed him tight so he could not breathe. He slept and died, with the scent of my milk in his nose. Better that than brutalised by Shoethalian barbarians, and any fool can see it is only a matter of time until the city falls. You saw what they did to those people who went to work the fields! I could not let that happen to my child,’ she was weeping, bitterly.

  ‘Interesting,’ he studied her. ‘I do not know if she is suitable,’ he said finally, with puzzlement, looking to Song for guidance. She pulled a face, indicating her bafflement. He sat and watched the weeping woman intrigued. ‘On one hand, what she would give… it would be,’ he breathed in deeply, ‘magnificent. On the other hand… am I walking too fine a line with this one?’

  Song wriggled off the bed and came to stand behind his chair. She rubbed his shoulders; he all but purred beneath her touch, sighing and letting his head fall back against her breasts. ‘A quandary,’ he murmured. ‘I want her, very much,’ he pouted. ‘Does a purgatory clause apply? I could… I never have before…’ he leaned forward and steepled his fingers. ‘You could use her, after all Song. I would be much happier to know you would not be alone, and are safe, the skeleton minions aside.’

  Song bit her little finger and eyed the woman with increased interest, inclined her head in agreement.

  ‘Oh, good,’ he smiled. ‘Well, this will be… a change.’

  ‘Oh, by the Goddess,’ the woman sobbed as he rose from his chair and approached her.

  ‘Shhhhh,’ he said soothingly, stroking her face. ‘We are going to give you a chance you would not otherwise have. A chance to repent your spirit clean of this sin. Just close your eyes. It will not hurt… for long…’ he took her throat between his hands and squeezed. She struggled, chains rattling, and eyes popping and straining. Her mouth opened with fishlike gasps, tongue forced forwards. He panted, ecstatically, sharing the moment that she died with a bone rattling shudder that left him jelly kneed. ‘Oh,’ he panted, using the wall for support. ‘That was extraordinary.’ His pants were wet, and he realised he had come like a young boy. ‘And humiliating,’ he added wryly. ‘But, to continue,’ he put a hand on either side of the corpse’s head and touched his brow to hers. He closed his eyes. After a moment, his lips c
urled. ‘Yes,’ he purred. ‘Come back now.’

  With a rattling gasp and a spasm, the corpse’s muscles contracted, pulling in then shooting out, throwing head back, so for a moment her lips met Shade’s. Eyes opened, and she gasped, coughing and retching. He stepped back, smiling. ‘There we go,’ he said to Song. ‘Now, you cannot say I never give you anything. Oh, come now,’ he added in irritation to the woman who still coughed and gasped. ‘Give it up. It is not like you need to breathe.’

  ‘You… you strangled me!’ she cried out on sobbing gasps.

  ‘Well, it was the best way – less disfiguring then, say, a cut throat; and you have to admit, it was appropriate, considering,’ he explained.

  ‘Why did you stop?’ she asked, crying again. ‘I deserve to die.’

  ‘I am glad you think so,’ he said, ‘it makes telling you this much easier. You are dead.’

  She gaped; a fish out of water.

  ‘I killed you,’ he prompted, then elaborated when she still did not respond: ‘Much as you did your baby; I prevented you from breathing until you died. Then I went into Death, found your spirit… or soul… or trueself, whatever fancy name you wish to call it, and I forced it back into your body. It is a particular talent of mine,’ he preened.

  ‘So,’ she struggled to understand. ‘I am not dead?’

  ‘Oh, you are definitely dead,’ he assured her. ‘I am confusing her,’ he said to Song. ‘I am confusing you, am I not?’ he said to the woman. ‘Let me explain. When most people die, they separate into two elements: that bit of themselves that is meat, and that bit which is not. When the bit that is not meat leaves the meat, the meat quickly rots away, and that is what you know as death. However, what I have done is re-attach the bit which is not meat to the meat, after the death has occurred. It does not restore life, exactly, but it is a fairly good simulacrum.’

  ‘So… I am going to rot away?’ she looked horrified.

  ‘Oh, no,’ he corrected hastily. ‘Gracious, no. That would be repulsive. I would not have Song endure that. No. The meat will not rot, because the bit which is not meat remains to preserve it.’