Authors: nicole m cameron

Tags: #fantasy erotic romance

empress of storms (32 page)

BOOK: empress of storms

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And, he was proud to say, the grand reception at the palace afterwards had been splendid. Taking advantage of the delay, his team had hauled couches and other seating out to the now-cool balconies and patios of the palace, allowing the guests to drink and dine under a starry sky. The banquet tables inside groaned with an astonishing variety of Hellene and Ypresian delicacies, and an equally impressive array of wines flowed from pitchers carried by an army of beautiful young serving girls, each one charged with making sure that no guest’s goblet ever went empty.

The meal appeared to perk up the happy couple at last, and they held hands and laughed when Prince Darius made a hilarious and inappropriate toast to their marriage, setting the rest of the honored guests roaring with laughter. The old Ghobian mage who had sat with the prince (really, the Master of Ceremonies had no idea where the queen found these people) watched the goings on with weary but approving eyes, saluting the queen with a raised goblet at the end. And when the musicians struck up a tune, her majesty had even lured her king out for a dance.

They disappeared sometime around midnight, by his reckoning. What they did after that was their own affair, although he did send a quiet prayer up to Lis that the queen be fruitful and bear an heir or heiress for the throne soon. After their departure he was free to concentrate on the rest of the party, making sure that everyone enjoyed themselves and there weren’t too many drunken fistfights, couplings in the bushes, or other indelicacies that tended to accompany such celebrations. And if Prince Darius was seen exiting a particularly secluded gazebo with one of the Ypresian officers, both of them mussed and grinning like fools, well, that was no one’s business but theirs.

The eastern sky was showing false dawn by the time his staff poured the last wavering stragglers into chariots or had the servants help them up to guest rooms. Once that was done, the sleepy palace servants set to work dismantling the remnants of Queen Danaë’s wedding celebration, and wasn’t he happy that he didn’t have to oversee that as well.

He disbursed purses to his staff, adding bonuses where they were due, and told them all that they had gone above and beyond the call of duty. With his last task discharged, he collected his horse and rode home through the quiet streets, knowing that he had done his job and looking forward to the cool jug of Fallian red that would be waiting in his study.

Of course, he mused, the reward for a job well done was another job. With any luck (and some effort on the part of King Matthias and Queen Danaë), he would be planning the announcement of a royal pregnancy soon. And the queen’s birthday was only a few months off, and he still had to learn the birth date of King Matthias so that he could add it to his schedule, not to mention the queen’s new foster child (Lana? Lina? Something like that), and then there were the holidays at year’s end, and countless events and celebrations that it was his responsibility to oversee. Really, he was so busy it amazed him that he had time enough to sleep these days.

He drained his wine goblet and gave a soft belch.
Royalty. They’ll never know the lengths I go to for them.

A WEDDING PRESENT

Danaë turned over in bed, snuggling closer to the warm body that shared the bedclothes with her. She slid her arm across a solid chest, enjoying the rare creature comfort of waking without any real need to rise and attend to duties.

The warm body turned over, shifting so that she could lie on its chest with her head resting on a muscled shoulder. “I don’t want to get up,” she yawned.

“No one says you have to. In fact, I’m sure I made it clear to all the servants last night that we weren’t to be disturbed until we called for them.”

“Mm. I love it when you’re all masterful and kingly.”

Matthias kissed the crown of her head. “Speaking of that, I thought I gave you a direct order to remain in Hellas and protect my grandchild.” His tone was mild, but she could sense the intent under his words. “And we were in Ypres at the time, so you have no excuse of having the higher rank.”

She opened her eyes. “Actually, I did. You were ruled incapacitated by the order of regency, remember? I was the sole ruler of Ypres at the time.”

“Danaë.”

“Besides, I’m a full Aqua magistra now, and your palace sits on a hot spring.”

He pulled back, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t have.”

“Flooded the palace? In a heartbeat if it meant saving your life.”

Flummoxed, Matthias settled back. “Gods. Talk about rising damp.”

“Don’t worry. I would have dried it out once you were safe.” She hitched up to where she could look him in the eye. “My love, if the situation had been reversed, would you have stayed in Hellas?”

He snorted. “Of course not. But I’m a trained warrior.”

“And a king. Just as I’m a trained mage, as well as a queen. I had defensive spells prepared in case I couldn’t talk the palace guard around to supporting me.” She kissed his chest. “Luckily for both of us, they were loyal to you.”

“Unlike my council members.” A gibbering Verheyen had been arrested and sent down to the dungeon, to await trial. The other council members who had supported Margot would be receiving visits from Bardahlson and d’Vrengny today to inform them of their removal from the King’s Council. Schrader had volunteered to lead one of the visiting parties, but the redheaded commander had ordered him to return to Hellas with Matthias and Danaë and attend the wedding reception.

“There’s not much I can do to them, at least not legally,” Matthias added. “I’m sure they’ll claim they were duped by Margot and Verheyen.”

“Still, they won’t be on the council anymore, which will bite into their power bases. And it’s always good to know who your enemies are,” Danaë pointed out.

“True.” He paused, one hand stroking her back under the coverlet. “Danaë, how did you … find Hanne?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Ghosts can’t cross running water. I knew she’d be at the harbor where Lukas took ship for the abbey.” She didn’t want to describe the dash to the harbor, the new spell ringing in her head, and how she’d summoned the revenant and forced it into the spirit bottle. Hanne’s enraged screams and struggles would echo in her dreams for months to come. “She didn’t deserve to roam the seafront for eternity. Letting her take her vengeance on Margot was horrible, but it was also the just thing to do. And now Lukas can return to the mainland in safety, if he ever wishes to.”

Matthias shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll leave Atredes. He’s found his peace there. And he knows Luna is safe with us.” His fingers traced circles over the wings of her back. “I’ll have to return to Ypres sooner than I planned. I need to deal with the council, and then there’s the matter of the Earl of Bevaan and his collection of arcana.”

She twined her fingers in his chest hair, admiring the variety of colors from bright brass to sable. “I know.”

“You don’t sound too upset about cutting our honeymoon short.”

It was time to spring her surprise. “Because I’m sending you back with a present. A brand new cheval mirror for our rooms.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I don’t think I want to sleep near another one of those, thank you.”

“Oh, this one you will. Because its twin,” she rose on her elbow, pointing across the bedroom, “will stand over there. And both of them will carry my impression.”

He stared down at her, comprehension dawning. “You learned the Morning Road spell.”

“Not yet, but I will have by the time you go,” she promised. “Ife’s right, it’s a difficult one. But I only have to hold it long enough to cross through into our bedroom at Mons.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “Or for you to come through here. We can rule Hellas and Ypres, and still be together whenever we like.”

The unabashed joy in his eyes made her heart swell. “You brilliant,” he murmured, kissing her, “wonderful,” another kiss, “amazing woman, you. If we weren’t already married, I’d throw you over my shoulder and haul you off to the cathedral this minute.”

“And we’ve been married twice,” she said complacently. “So it’s reinforced.”

“I would certainly hope so.” He kissed her again, but this time it was slow and sweet, filled with promise. They still had the morning, after all, she reasoned, and everyone wanted them to get started with the production of heirs.

She did like to keep her subjects happy.

She shifted until she was on her back, urging him to cover her. He did, kissing her breathless as he made a space for himself between her thighs. She could feel his erection, warm and heavy, pressing into the crease between her thigh and hip.

“I love you, little bird,” he whispered, dropping little kisses down the line of her throat until he reached the swell of her breast. “We were made for each other.”

She ran her hands over the breadth of his shoulders. It was easy to let the maelstrom take her, lost in the sensation of his skin, the scent of his body, the teasing crispness of his chest hair against her nipples. She wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing once just to feel him warm and alive between her thighs.

“Eager wench.”

She nodded, biting her lip in a happy grin as he slid lower and pressed into her. “I love you, my king.”

And then there were no more words. Only the sensation of being filled by him, watching him rock over her, silver blue eyes glowing in the morning light. A wonderful heat began to build inside her, stoked with each slow, deliberate thrust of his hips.

She wrapped her legs around his thighs, socketing her heels in the hollow of his knees. Using her new leverage she thrust back against him, angling her hips until he rubbed against that wonderful spot inside her.

The heat grew, turning into a bonfire that made her nerves sing and her muscles tremble. His thrusts grew faster, and she could see strain on his face now, a delicious kind of torture where he drew out his own pleasure for her sake.

He eased lower, pressing her into the mattress. “Fly with me, little bird,” he said, hoarse. “Please.”

She gave herself over to him, and found joy in the center of the storm.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicola M. Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about sex. When not writing about sex, she likes to knit and quilt. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.

While possessing a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance and erotica. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

When not working, Nicola is usually making Stuff™, kissing her husband, or entertaining her cats. She can also be found at
www.nicolacameron.com
.

OTHER WORKS

Olympic Cove

Romance on the Go™

Planet Alpha

Standalone Novels