by Grace Draven
They would be too young to remember me. Much better for them, as they shouldn’t be warped by my presence, seeing a man like me as some sort of father figure. A bitter comfort.
Still, I’d thought Ami enjoyed the sneaking about, finding places to be together where we wouldn’t be discovered. Especially when I put my hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure, and sternly ordered her not to move. All for discretion’s sake—but also a game that excited us both. The memories of those stolen moments sent a shudder of need through me, and I wanted her with as much helpless lust as ever. The thought of never touching her again…
“Ash,” she whispered, her eyes dark on my face before she determinedly averted them. “Don’t look at me that way. I … can’t.”
I nodded stiffly and tried to think of what I should say.
“Would you—” She held up a hand alongside her face, as if shielding her eyes from the sun. “Would you please just go away?”
I nodded again, even though she wouldn’t see it, and rode into the wind to tell Graves of the decision.
~ 4 ~
“Your Highness, Queen Amelia—welcome to Lianore!” The duchess swept a deep curtsey to Ami, her elaborate brocaded skirts glittering with crystals.
“Lady Veronica.” Ami brushed self-consciously at her skirts, then held out her hands to raise up the older woman. I knew Ami felt underdressed in her traveling gown and cloak. Never mind that she outshone everyone, even dressed in peasant rags. Another aspect of how she lacked the confidence others assumed she possessed—she liked to be polished or she felt vulnerable. “It’s so good of you to welcome us with no notice.”
“Not good of me at all, Your Highness,” Lady Veronica assured her. “This manse is enormous and benefits from having people stay. And, I’ve a number of parties planned for the Feast of Moranu—your blessing on the preparations will guarantee that I’m the most popular hostess of the season! Also, I’ll be able to make everyone jealous that I’ve seen the precious prince and princess.” She peeked ostentatiously around Ami to Willy and Nilly—thankfully in human form, but hiding behind their mother’s full skirts—then curtseyed again. “Welcome to Lianore, Your Highnesses. Princess Stella, Prince Astar—do you like pastries and sugared fruits?”
Wonderful. No way the twins would pass up that offer and impossible that they’d sleep any time soon. Ami glanced over her shoulder at me, gaze opaque, a set to her mouth that dared me to comment. I kept quiet. She’d told me it wasn’t my problem.
Astar hung back still, but Stella pushed forward—small fingers in her mouth, but beaming—and nodded emphatically. Following her lead, and not one to miss out on a treat of any sort, Astar stepped out, threw back his head and howled, but fortunately retained human shape.
The duchess gestured the children toward the feast hall—an invitation they accepted by taking off at top speed—and Ami looped her arm through Lady Veronica’s, her bright head tilted toward the darker one.
Servants stepped up to show us men the way to the barracks, though Graves knew the way. I followed along, habitually checking the security of the premises. The Duchess of Lianore had been widowed a number of years and had preserved her lands and manse intact despite several internecine conflicts. She was no fool—and the alertness of her guards reflected that.
“Lord Ash!” the duchess called.
I looked back to see her hastening after me. “Come and join us.” She smiled warmly and I automatically took the hands she held out, her fingers thin and festooned with rings. Large earrings with cascades of crystals matching those on her gown sparkled with the chagrined shake of her head. “So rude of me,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “not to make sure you knew to come with us, not go with the men at arms.” She looped her arm through mine, giving me a choice between going with her or fighting her off. “But you’ll forgive me, won’t you? I’m sure you know better than most how dazzling your lady can be.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” I tried, “but I am no lord and—”
“Nonsense. I’ll make you a lord of one of my little properties if I must. It’s hardly a secret, the amour you share with our lovely queen.” She winked at me. “You make her happy, so you at least deserve a small farm and cottage. I shall dub you Lord Sousbois. It’s a small place, but I doubt you’ll spend any time there.”
Though a bright star of a headache formed behind the bridge of my nose, I could no more argue with her and still be polite than I could resist her elegantly dragging me into the feast hall. The long table for dining guests was set as if a party might commence at any moment—and grander than anything I’d ever seen, even at Castle Avonlidgh. Old King Erich, Hugh’s father, had been an ancient warhorse of a soldier, a relic of the Great War, and treated the capital of Avonlidgh more as a fortress than anything. I understood why Ami found the place gloomy in its austerity. And Castle Ordnung, despite best efforts to restore it to something of its former glory, still couldn’t match this—even if Her Majesty had been the sort to have the patience for it.
My parents had celebrated the Feast of Moranu when I was young, but had never possessed the wherewithal for anything on this scale. Still, I recognized many of the elements. The impoverished boy in me soaked it in with delighted wonder—and a bite of jealousy at what he’d missed. That same poisonous envy that had plagued me watching all those men dance with Ami.
In keeping with the goddess’s rule over shadows and the dark of night, the table had been draped entirely in black silk, but with silver threads woven in that caught the candlelight. Crystal plates and goblets sparkled with fire, and the cutlery looked to be entirely silver. White gems of all shapes and sizes were scattered over the cloth, like thousands of stars, and a garland of white moonflowers gleamed like sweetly scented, living pearls all down the center.
A golden light radiated from black candles set in elaborate crystal candelabras, both on the table and suspended from the high ceiling by silver wires. Moonflower garlands dripping with flashing crystals—and possibly diamonds—festooned the walls, windows, mantels, and every other possible surface. It reminded me of Annfwn, in all her tropical beauty, but rendered in the colors of winter.
“It’s extravagant, I know,” Veronica said, squeezing my arm and giving a happy sigh, “but the Feast of Moranu has always been my favorite, since I was a little girl. I’m happy to have the little prince and princess see it.”
Ami and the children had gathered at one end of the hall, beneath a living tree blooming with more moonflowers. Blown glass and crystal ornaments dangled from the branches. Astar eyed them with feline interest. He’d recently discovered a black cat form and liked it entirely too much for climbing to satisfy his curiosity. Ami sat on the black fur mounded around the base of the tree, her skirts spread around her and a plate of goodies on her lap. Stella had her own plate and had already smeared her face with something bright pink. Ami held out another, similar tidbit, trying to tempt Astar back.
“Astar, darling,” she cooed, though I clearly heard the edge of aggravation beneath her dulcet tone. “Look at this, Astar.”
He twitched, eyes fixed on a chain of glass balls. I knew the moment he decided to go for it—maybe by the flexing of his chubby knees or simply knowing the boy well—and he leapt into the air, flashing into the black kitten form in the same movement. Forewarned, I’d already slipped the duchess’s arm and used shapeshifter speed to nab him in midair. He hissed and spit, but fortunately his claws in that form weren’t nearly as formidable as the bear cub.
“Bad Willy cat,” I told him, tapping him on the tender nose. “No.”
“Aww, give him here.” The duchess held out her arms.
“He scratches,” I warned her.
“I have cats,” she replied, capturing him securely. “Real ones,” she added, “but I know how to handle an ornery kitty. They all think they’re royalty, shapeshifting prince or no. C’mon love, how about some fresh cream? Or I have kippers.”
He mewled, rubbing his
whiskers on her chin, the traitorous brat. Stella tumbled her plate off her lap—and onto her mother—became a kitten, too, and chased after both of them. With a groan of exasperation, Ami began plucking up the spilled sweetmeats—to the horror of a maidservant who ran over, crying that Her Highness mustn’t and then tying herself up trying to curtsey, intervene, and apologize all at the same time.
“Your Highness,” I said to Ami and held out a hand, “allow me to assist you and we can make room for the maids to do their job.”
She let me help her up, though she hardly needed it with her lithe dancer’s grace, and she scowled at the bright pink whatever-it-was now smeared down the bodice of her travelling gown.
“Oh, Your Highness!” exclaimed another maid, as horrified as if Ami were bleeding from a mortal wound. “I’m so sorry!” She cast anxious glances at the duchess, who happily entertained the two kitties with what looked like a basket of yarn. Despite the lady’s affection for felines, judging by the clockwork perfection of her house, the duchess likely did not tolerate poor performance by her staff.
“Your Highness wanted to change after a long day of travel, didn’t you?” I inserted. “I’ll escort you to your rooms. The duchess has the prince and princess well in hand and I’m sure your trunks have arrived by now.” I bowed to Ami, and gestured for her to precede me. I’d thought to spare her—or myself—the moment that she’d refuse my arm, but she gave me such a furiously injured glare that I realized it had been a miscalculation.
Nevertheless, she swept past me, leaving simmering scorn and the scent of roses in her wake. A footman fortunately appeared to guide her, and I followed behind at a respectful distance. I would have discreetly lost myself along the way, but I needed to check her chambers to be sure all was safe before I turned over that responsibility to the Lianore guards. Once inside, a group of ladies—Ami’s personal maid and some from Lianore—enveloped her, whisking her off. I made a circuit of the richly appointed chambers, checking the windows where thick snow swirled outside in the night, and returned to the drawing room via a side entrance, thinking to slip out the door.
Only to find Ami standing in front of it, still in her stained dress, alone, spine rigid and chin regally lifted. All the maids and other ladies had been sent away. She folded her arms, which deepened her creamy cleavage, and I forced my gaze to the door behind her, staring at it instead. Longingly.
“Did Your Highness need something else?” I inquired when she didn’t say anything.
“Oh, stop it!” she snapped, her cheeks high with color.
“Stop what?” I asked cautiously. Probably a good thing my Ami couldn’t shift into anything with claws. By the look of her, I’d have been eviscerated long since.
“Stop ‘your highnessing’ me to death. Being all polite. You’re not fooling anyone. And if you think you’re escaping, you’re not. You might as well stay because Veronica thinks we’re happy lovers, a cozy little family, and figured on all four of us sharing these rooms tonight.” She pointed her slim nose at me, daring me to complain.
“I thought you said that—”
“I know what I said. And I’ve changed my mind. The Tala nurses took off to shift and sleep outside—you know how they are. I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. You can stay up with Willy and Nilly, since you’re so determined to be done with us.”
I regarded her cautiously, trying to parse her logic. “That makes no sense.”
She firmed her lips and looked away, her rigidity collapsing. “I don’t care. And I don’t want to fight with you again. Can we just… not?” The wretched expression in her eyes undid me and I stepped toward her before I came to my senses and remembered I was the one who put the misery there. Instead, I put my hands inside the flowing sleeves of my coat, grasping the opposite wrists, an old habit from wearing monk’s robes.
“I’m sorry, Ami,” I said quietly, which seemed to be the only thing I could think of to say to her.
“Me too.” Her voice came out small and she hiccoughed a little. “I really hate this, you know?”
“I know. Me too.” I offered her a lopsided smile and she returned it, tremulously. “Go to bed,” I told her. “Get some rest. I’ll round up Willy and Nilly and keep them out of trouble.”
“Are you sure?” She looked both hopeful and terribly sad. “They’re not your responsibility. They never have been and you’ve always been so good about it. Good to them and me. And I’m just horrible.”
“You’re not horrible, Ami.” I bit back telling her I loved her. She knew that and it didn’t help any of this. “And I’m sure. Get some sleep and things will look better in the morning. I’ve got this handled.”
“You always do.” I couldn’t interpret the twist she put on that. She bit her lip, as if wishing she could take it back, then burst out, “But don’t let them fall asleep in cat form. It’s not good for them and—”
“Ami,” I interrupted, “I know.”
“They’re so young,” she explained, eyes filling with tears again. “And I can’t stop crying.”
“It’s been a long day. A hard one after a long night. You need to sleep.”
She wiped her nose and nodded, then turned and held up her shoulder-length hair from her high collar. “Would you undo my laces? I can’t deal with the maids right now.”
“Of course,” I said, though I had to clear my throat to get it out. How many times had I performed this simple service for her? Hundreds, in just the short time we’d known each other. The cloth parted, revealing her sugary skin, the sweet curve of her spine all the way down to the most perfect ass created by Glorianna. My fingers burned to caress those lines. So many times we’d initiated sex this way—me loosening the laces and revealing her glorious body as I stripped her naked. If I’d realized, the last time I did this, that I’d never again have the privilege, I might have lingered over it. Instead we’d gone at it in a furious rush, both of us too impatient to savor.
As we’d done everything between us.
My hands shook, so I tucked them in my sleeves again. “There.” My voice grated over gravel, barely audible. She glanced over her shoulder at me, clutching the loosened dress to her bosom, eyes wide and full of emotion. The same thoughts had occurred to her, I felt sure, and I wondered if she felt the same regret.
“Ash…” she said, but didn’t finish.
“Go to bed, Ami,” I told her again. “I’ll handle things.”
She dipped her chin, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, then turned away and went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.
~ 5 ~
The next morning dawned bright and clear, fortunately. I was gritty-eyed enough from lack of sleep that I wouldn’t have wanted to face talking Ami out of traveling through a blizzard. I’d played with the kittens awhile, then coaxed them into playing I Eat You, a game the shapeshifter kids in Annfwn loved to play. That had them trying several different forms, which—along with a well-timed sugar crash—wore them out enough to fall asleep sometime before dawn.
At least they’d be easy to load up, as they were still fast asleep. The Tala nurses reappeared at daybreak and bundled up the kids, laughing merrily when I grumped at them for their defection the night before. Tala are notoriously difficult to intimidate. We might as well have cats as nurses.
Ami, looking as fresh and gorgeous as the sunrise in a white gown decorated with gold stars, chatted happily with the duchess, saying her farewells, while I conferred with Graves on our route. The duchess had loaned Ami several white and gold open sleighs in lieu of our carriages, which would not only enable us to travel much faster over the freshly fallen snow, but also to cut across the countryside and make directly for Windroven, rather than sticking to the more roundabout roads. When the twins awoke, they should at least be entertained enough by the novelty of the transportation to stay out of trouble.
What we’d find when we reached Windroven was another story.
“But, Your Highness, it can’t be safe,” t
he duchess was saying to Ami, who smiled indulgently. “The stories I’ve been hearing… And some of them from my own people, who I trust implicitly. Stay here for the Feast of Moranu. There’s plenty of room and I’m delighted to have you.”
“If only because it will make you the most envied hostess in the Thirteen,” Ami teased with a brilliant smile.
Lady Veronica toyed with one of her earrings, assuming a demure expression. “Well, a girl can’t avoid such consequences.” Then she sobered. “But I’m very serious, Your Highness. Stay here. Don’t go to Windroven. Not with the volcano making those noises and a succession of Mornai storms predicted.” She spotted me and beckoned me over peremptorily. “Ash, tell her. Her Highness will listen to you.”
Ami gazed at me expectantly, blue eyes clear as the sky framed by the sunrise of her hair, full mouth curved in regal serenity. She’d recovered all her poise—and had once again erected a wall of impermeable ice between us. I bowed to her formally, largely to acknowledge the distance she’d reestablished. Better this way.
“I have advised Her Highness as much, Your Grace, but she is determined.”
“I am,” Ami inserted, smiling at the duchess to soften the declaration. “Hugh’s people have told me that volcano has rumbled off and on for generations. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be alive to keep us warm through the winter.”
“Well, and indeed that’s true, Your Highness, but never like this. And with the magic returned to the world, well, you know what they say.” She glanced about and leaned in. “The dragon,” she whispered loudly.