empress of storms (16 page)

Another finger slid into her, filling her more and causing her inner muscles to stretch a bit. She keened at the sensation, grinding on his fingers. “Please, love,” she gasped. “Please.”

He tutted at her. “Please what? Tell me exactly what you need.”

“I need you inside me.”

“But I am inside you.” He did something with his fingers that sent stars across her vision. “Is there something else you want from me?”

His hand was amazing, but it still wasn’t enough. The sheer naughtiness of what he was making her say made her face flame, even as she could feel more wetness trickling around his busy fingers. But she didn’t care anymore, didn’t care that she was a queen and he a king. Right now she wanted to be mounted by her man and fucked into glorious oblivion. 

“I want your cock inside me,” she panted. “Like one of your stallions. Ride me hard, fuck me, fill me with your seed.”

She heard him groan, and the wet sound as his fingers slid out of her. “Gods, Danaë. What you do to me,” he muttered thickly. The mattress dipped as he knelt between her legs, urging her thighs wider. She let him tug her up until her ass was in the air, only her lower legs and forearms on the bed now, forehead resting on one arm.

One hand gripped her hip, holding her immobile as the large, rounded head of his cock slipped between her legs, pressing against the entrance to her body. She was so wet he slipped past it, cursing softly as he repositioned himself. And then she was invaded, his thick shaft stretching her open inch by slow inch, giving her time to adjust to the sweet burn. She felt free and possessed by him at the same time, and mewled when she felt the head of his cock kiss the mouth of her womb.

“So tight,” he growled. “So perfect. Like you were made for me, my love.”

Her eyes flew open at that. He’d called her dear, little bird, and a handful of other sweet endearments, but never ‘my love.’ “I’m yours,” she murmured, rocking her hips back onto him. “All yours. Take me.”

He pulled almost all the way out, making her ache with the loss of him, then surged back inside her. She moaned at the sheer sensation of his shaft filling her, gifting her with that delicious stretch that made her want to purr. He shifted until she felt his chest against her back, his hands covering hers. Their fingers twined together and she clung to his grip, rolling her hips to meet each thrust. The pleasure and joy shuttled back and forth between them, building with each stoking motion until Danaë felt like she was about to fly apart at the seams.

She sucked in a breath to scream and his hand tugged loose from hers, coming up and covering her mouth. “We’re not alone, little bird,” he panted. “Unless you want everyone on this trip to know how well I’m servicing you, you need to be quiet.”

Her oncoming orgasm receded, doused by the realization that they were in a tent surrounded by an entire convoy of people. She nodded and he lifted his hand. “When we get to Hellas, I’m taking you to one of our private islands,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m going to ride you like a stallion there and scream as much as I want.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be honored to be your mount. But for now, try to stay quiet.”

That turned out to be easier said than done. Danaë discovered that having to stay quiet and not advertise their activities to the rest of the camp did something delightfully wicked to her desire, making it even hotter than before. She bit down on her arm, using it to smother her moans as Matthias rode her hard and fast. When his free hand slithered between her legs and caressed her clitoris, it pushed her over the edge, making her inner muscles quiver and clamp down on Matthias’s cock.

He thrust into her again, stiffening as he reached his own peak. Danaë gasped as he set off a second orgasm, causing more pleasure to flutter through her. He moaned her name again, collapsing over her back.

She managed to brace, taking his weight well enough to breathe. “Matthias. I love you, but please get off me.”

“Sorry.” He straightened, sliding out of her and collapsing onto the bed. She turned onto her side and curled close to him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, little bird. But I give thanks to the gods that you’re in my life.”

She rested an arm across his chest. “I plan on holding you to that, you know.” 

“I would expect nothing less from you, my queen.”

****

The trade road continued to wind upward, leading the convoy through more of the evergreen forest until they exited into a narrow plateau. To Danaë’s surprise a thick cluster of cottages, huts, and other small buildings occupied the far end of the plateau, a village of some sort. A group of men in dark clothing came out from the buildings, eyeing their visitors.

Above them, the tops of the mountain range were visible, a jagged line of snow-capped peaks that stretched to the north and south. The wind now was brisk and everyone had broken out winter cloaks and other cold weather gear.

Danaë wrapped herself in the thick woolen cloak Flavia had pressed on her that morning, snugging the hood more securely around her ears. The weather in Hellas was moderate apart from the winter storms. She could remember one time in her life when it had been cold enough to snow during her childhood, and how she and Darius had whooped and romped through the thin rime of white coating their private courtyard. Back then, cold weather had been a delightful oddity. Now, the chill wind made her face ache. 

She recognized the gap between peaks where the trade route would cross over the ridge before descending towards Hellas. It appeared to be free of snow. “How far away do you think we are?” she asked Matthias, nodding at the pass.

The king’s eyes narrowed as he studied the range. “If we didn’t have to stop here, we would make it by late afternoon.”

“We’re stopping here? Why?”

Matthias nodded at the collection of buildings. “That’s a mining village called Creswaal. Don’t be fooled by the look of the place—it’s sitting on a rich vein of iron. The miners ship the ore down to Mons or one of the outlying cities to be smelted, or over the pass to Hellas. If what Caldo said was correct and Lukas took the Kasterlee Road to Hellas, I’m hoping someone here may remember seeing him.”

What he said made sense. “If he truly was as badly off as Caldo’s brother-in-law said, he would have been desperate to find a mage to help him fight off whatever was attacking him,” Danaë said. “Chances are he would have stopped off at any settlement that was large enough to support one.”

“Well, then.” Matthias sat up in the saddle. “Let’s go see if my errant son has passed this way.”

****

As it turned out, Lukas had.

The mayor of the village, a lean but prosperous-looking man by the name of Haansen, had welcomed the royal couple into his office with all due deference. He explained that he was also the mine manager, running it for its owner who lived in Mons. Danaë thought that keeping such disparate duties in one individual was a bit suspect, but decided not to question it for now. After the requisite offers of tea and food, Matthias got down to business, giving the cover story that they were looking for someone who had fallen foul of a curse.

Haansen blinked at the question, then nodded. “Aye, I remember him, majesty. Came up from the road at sunset, begging to be told if there was a mage in the village. His face were all scratched and scarred, and he had this mad look in his eye. I can still see him all folded in on himself as the sun went down, like he expected demons to fly out of the dusk and attack.”

The manager scratched his nose. “We get visits from the circuit priest regular-like, and a Terra mage comes up from Mons every year to work reinforcing spells on the mine. But Magister Artur had already been and left that week. I thought the lad would cry when he heard that. And then the queerest thing happened. He straightened up, looking all around him with this strange look on his face. Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed, until he cried like a babe. We all thought he was mad, we did. But he held up gold coins to be shown to a room, any room he said. Well, my missus wasn’t born yesterday, so she said he could stay with us.”

Matthias frowned in thought. “How long did he stay with you?”

“Oh, some months, I’d reckon.”

“Months,” Danaë said, startled. “He stayed here for months?”

“Oh, longer than that, majesty. Almost a year, if I’m figuring it right. Simons the bookkeeper were getting old, you see, and Luke was a city man.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Educated. He started working with Simons, managing the mine’s books and making sure we got a fair price from the foundries.”

She could see the stunned expression on Matthias’s face as he tried to imagine the crown prince of Ypres working as a mining bookkeeper. “I see,” he said. “But he did leave?”

The mayor nodded. “Last spring, belike. A storm came whistlin’ down the mountain early one morning. It tore shingles off near every building in the village and knocked over the arch across the road. And then we heard this screaming. I thought it were the wind howling in the eaves, but it turned out to be Luke himself, running through the village and beating at the air over him. Some of us grabbed him, thinking he was in some sort of fit, but we saw this scratches open up on his cheeks and neck. He broke loose and kept running about until the sun came up. I won’t forget the look on his face, and the wounds all over his shoulders and arms. He went back to Simons’s place, saddled one of the horses, and rode off towards the pass without saying another word. No one here’s seen him since.”

Matthias sat back in his seat. “Did this Luke ever speak to anyone about where he had come from?”

“He told me he were an orphan, but that were all,” Haansen said. Danaë’s heart ached at the flicker of pain she saw in her husband’s eyes at that. “You might want to have a word with Simons if you want more than that, majesty. I can have him come here, if you like.”

“Please.”

Haansen nodded and left the office. “What do you think?” Matthias said quietly.

Danaë tried to order her thoughts. “The description does sound like Lukas.”

“Yes, I agree. But why would he stay here for almost a year?”

“It seems like something in this village was protecting him. This Magister Artur may have cast a protective spell over the entire area as well as the time. I’d like to have a look around while you speak to this bookkeeper, if you don’t mind.”

“Good idea. Take Kostas and some of the guards with you.”

She nodded, getting to her feet. “Will we be stopping like this at every settlement on the road?”

He seemed tempted, but shook his head. “No. We’re due in Hellaspont for the wedding ceremony. I’ll have men stop at the settlements and ask around.”

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “At least we know he was still alive as of last spring.”

Matthias sighed. “I’m not sure if that pleases me or not.”

Danaë gave him another squeeze and headed out. Both Kostas and Schrader were loitering near the mayor’s office with their own soldiers as backup. They had been joined by a stout woman, neatly turned out in a well-made dress with a lace shawl around her shoulders. She curtseyed at Danaë’s appearance. “Your majesty, my husband the mayor has gone to fetch Simons,” she said unctuously. “May I help you in some way?”

Danaë recognized the behavior of the dedicated social climber. “I thought I might walk about the village a bit,” she said, hoping the prospect of exercise would put the woman off. “I’m eager to learn more about my new country.”

Mistress Haansen beamed at her. “It would be my honor to act as your guide, majesty. Creswaal has an impressive history, you know.”

Danaë kept her expression pleasant but cursed to herself. “I’m sure it does.” She turned to Schrader. “Lieutenant commander, the king will remain for a time. Please stay here until he summons you,” she said, nodding to Kostas. “Captain, you’re with me.”

“Majesty,” Kostas said, giving her a bow. At his gesture eight other Hellene soldiers fell into formation around them. They set off on their tour, Mistress Haansen started burbling on about the village and all the improvements her husband had made to it.

Danaë listened with half an ear, murmuring at the right points. For all her unfamiliarity with mining villages, the locale itself seemed unremarkable. The bulk of the homes lay at the southern end, while the mine head was at the north, surrounded by the mayor’s office and a handful of ramshackle shops. She extended her senses as they made her way along the pitted main road, searching for anything unusual. There was a feeling of something protective stretching across the area, but it didn’t carry the tang of magecraft.

A smiling Darius broke away from the milling convoy party, Ife on his arm. “Might we join you, sister?” he asked. “I’m of a mind to stretch my legs, and Magistra Ife here shared my inclination.”

Danaë appreciated her brother’s discretion. “Of course.”

The soldiers shifted to include them as they continued to walk, moving away from the village proper. Danaë maneuvered so that Ife was on her left while Kostas remained on her right. “Do you feel anything odd about this place?” she asked the mage in an undertone.

“The protective geas, you mean? Of course.”

A geas was different from a spell. “Do you know where it’s coming from?”

Ife gave her an austere glance. “Look around you and tell me what you see.”

They had reached the narrow strip of cleared land that separated the village from the tree line. Danaë studied the foliage now. The trees were medium sized, with green shield-shaped leaves alternating along a branch. Each tree was thickly decorated with red globulous fruits, gleaming against the dark green of the foliage.

The answer dawned on her. “Rowan trees,” she said.

Mistress Haansen smiled at her. “Aren’t they pretty? I do adore rowans, so Mikaal had the miners transplant them when we first came here. Now they form a decorative hedge all around the village.”

“Really? And is the arch over the village entrance made of rowan wood?”

“Indeed it is,” Mistress Haansen said, impressed. “You have such an eye for detail, your majesty. Some of the trees didn’t take, poor things, so I had the arch made from them. I thought it gave the village a touch of elegance.”