QueensQuest (2 page)

I obeyed, and he was right, at least for that moment. I
could feel the hardness of his body inside me, atop me, rubbing against my
clit. Pleasure again flooded me with inexorable bliss, pushing me toward a
delight unlike anything else I had known. Yes, I knew my own body and had
allowed others to pleasure me, but the unique sensation of a man inside me, his
bigness, his hardness opening and dividing my channel, brought me to new
heights of lust. I writhed beneath Frayn, crying out with joy… I knew that this
ecstasy would be mine, again and again.

I enjoyed the first experience and all those that succeeded
it, but alas, such pleasure was denied to me a scant six months later when my
family drowned. Not only did grief for my loved ones sap my sexual urges, but
the succession was far too important an issue to be left to random chance or my
emotions. Matters of the heart are fleeting and unrelated to political reality.
If I became pregnant, my child would be the heir or heiress to the Shadowlands,
and my mate Shadow’s king.

Long would I hesitate and ponder such a step.

But time was running out, as the Progenitors might say. As I
approached my seventeenth starturn I was at the height of my fertility, and the
demands of my body had become more strident. Though any of my subjects would be
honored and joyous to help me find satiety, I was careful, seeking intimacy
only when I could not control my cravings. Even then, I observed limits. I
could not risk a pregnancy. Too dangerous.

And I had to bear a child before I lost my precious ova,
destined to die near my twentieth starturn unless I became pregnant. My private
unwillingness to share power could not remain an impediment.

* * * * *

“My seventeenth starturn approaches. On that day, I am
determined to crown my mate as king,” I told my ministers at our morning
meeting. “Gather the best candidates from the Three Lands so that I may make an
informed choice.”

Arrayed at a carved and polished wooden conference table
facing the Golden Throne, the Ten grumbled and muttered. Their voices mingled
with the crackling fire in the big stone hearth at one end of the wood-paneled
and tapestry-clad room. Smoke spiced the air.

“What is it?” I asked. There were moments, I believed, that
managing the elderly coterie, the Ten Ministers, was the most onerous task of
my monarchy. Dispensing justice was, by comparison, easy. Running the
bureaucracy in an efficient manner was also difficult, as was the collection of
revenues. These were tasks allocated to the ministries, but even so they
required oversight. They needed one strong hand on the reins of government. My
hand.

That I was many starturns younger than most of my ministers
was only the beginning of my difficulties with them. When I ascended the Golden
Throne, I had not been educated for my role. Nearly four starturns later, the
Ten had become accustomed to teaching me rather than obeying my commands.

So I had designed garments that emphasized my authority.
High-heeled boots and shoes so I stood taller than any of them. Long, sweeping
skirts, some with hoops and panniers to broaden my slender silhouette. The
finest silks and furs, velvets and brocades. Wherever it was moved, the Golden
Throne was set on a platform above all.

Still, the Ten were knowledgeable and had to be handled with
every shred of my tact and diplomacy. “What say you, Lord Kloutt?” I asked my
uncle, the Minister of the Interior, seated at my right.

He struggled to his feet and I fancied I could hear the
creaking of his arthritic bones beneath his purple-and-gold-embroidered
doublet. Poor fellow. He said, “There are some who believe that an alliance
with an aristocrat of Shadowlands would strengthen the Royal House and thereby
solidify the government.”

Next to him, Lord Frayn, Minister of the Exchequer, remained
silent, but I knew what he wanted.

I fixed a slight smile on my face. “That is a possibility,
of course. There are many noble candidates within the Shadowlands. What say
you, General Parlous?”

Parlous was my Minister of Diplomacy, and I already knew
that he favored an alliance with one of the Lords of Darkness, fearing their
military might. “The Royal House has long had the complete allegiance of the
people, and because of the tragic deaths of Their Majesties, you are an
especial favorite.” He faced the others. Middle-aged but vigorous, with
iron-gray hair that curled at the collar of his black doublet, he had a
sonorous, impressive voice. “The queen is beloved already and the Golden Throne
sits on firm ground. I respect the Interior Ministry’s concerns, but there is
no need to marry within, and there are many reasons to bring in fresh seed from
outside our realm.”

“Outside,” I said. “That would mean an alliance with either
the Darkness or the Light, unless we are so fortunate as to witness a visit
from the long-absent Progenitors.”

Chuckles ran throughout the room, dispelling tension.

“Past alliances with the prince-scientists of the
DesertDwellers have proven fruitful,” stated Caducia of the Health Ministry.
She wore healing green, the color affected by all HealthGivers.

“Their technological prowess could also contribute to the
welfare of our people.” This was the opinion of the Education Minister.

“And there are always those rumors…” said Lady Mercourie, in
charge of transportation and communication.

“I do not put stock in rumor and myth,” Frayn said. “If the
Children of Light possess the secret of eternal life, they have not shared it
with us during past alliances. I do not believe it.”

“Nor do I,” Caducia said. “Immortality does not exist.”

I leaned my chin on one hand, gloved today in orange satin.
“But it is true that as time moves on much is lost and forgotten, and we lack
the ability to regain the knowledge of the Progenitors or to reinvent their
tools and machines,” I said. “The Children of Light excel at such tasks, while
we do not, and technology is at an even lower ebb on the Darkside.”

“But an alliance with the Darkside would bring us many
advantages in terms of trade,” said Geoman of the Elements Office. “Their lands
are abundant in natural resources that we and the DesertDwellers lack.”

“We cannot forget that the man selected will not only sit on
the Golden Throne, sharing power with Her Majesty, but will be her mate,”
Caducia said. “I do not see how a choice can be made without seeing the
candidates.”

“Then it’s decided.” I stood, delighted that at least one of
this hidebound group shared my opinion. “Parlous, order our emissaries to the
Darkness and the Desert. Invite them to send their best. Lady Caducia, attend
me.”

I swept out, and Caducia followed. Maia, who had sat
silently on a stool next to the Throne, scurried in our wake.

“I wished to thank you for your wisdom and insight,” I told
Caducia as we walked.

An older woman with dark hair webbed with silver, she
shrugged and smiled. “It is self-evident. Our ruler’s happiness is paramount.
How else can you effectively reign?”

I remained silent for a moment. “I had thought that I must
subvert my own happiness for the good of the people.”

“The people’s happiness is dependent upon the queen’s joy,
for in the Shadowlands the people and their monarchs are one. You felt that
already, on your first mating day.”

“You witnessed the ceremony?”

“Yes, and your parents’ marriage and first mating as well.
The people must be convinced of your contentment and security on the throne
with a strong and trustworthy king, or they will lose confidence in the
monarchy. And if your house trembles, the Balance will be lost. All of
Shadowland—indeed all Janus—will fall, so you must choose well.”

We reached the dining salon, where we would take the
noontime repast. “Sit with me,” I said. “Speak more of your insights, for I am
greatly burdened by the significance of my task.”

“There is little more to say.” Caducia followed me to my
seat, set higher than the others. She took the nearest stool, and Maia went to
fetch victuals. “It is not my insight but yours that will be crucial. Permit me
to speak freely.”

“Granted.”

Servants snapped open serviettes, spread them on our laps.

“Queen Audryn, you are intelligent and deeply feeling. Make
no hasty decisions, but at the same time, trust your instincts.”

The first delegation came from Lightside, let by
Prince-Scientist Kaldir.

Late on the day of his arrival, I stood naked in the center
of my dressing salon, a graceful room lined with wardrobes painted with
woodland scenes and filled with gorgeous gowns and shoes of my design. The room
was illuminated by gentle candle- and lamplight. Around me, a score of maids
and ladies-in-waiting fluttered, cleansing me, shaving me, perfuming me and
finally dressing me for the elaborate state dinner that would welcome the prince-scientist.

Even though I had occupied the throne for nearly four
starturns, I could not become accustomed to this ritual, repeated every day
just after the rise of the largest of our three moons—a time we call morning,
though truth to say there is little variation in the amount of light emanating
from the heavens onto the Shadowlands. Our small and rocky moons reflect little
of the sun’s glow onto our realm, nor do they oft interrupt its rays.

Later I was scrubbed and dressed again before the first of
my audiences, and yet again every evening just after the setting of the second
moon but before the state dinner that occurred every evening. I also bathed
before retiring for the night after the third and last moon set.

My family’s deaths had heralded the demise of my privacy.

Chance had left me behind the day they died, because I had
fallen ill after eating some berries from the garden that hadn’t passed through
Maia’s inspection. Thus Balance had been upset by the workings of Chance.
Chance and Balance were of great importance to me, and my mind often dwelt upon
them.

As my ladies primped and fussed, passing scented powderpuffs
over my breasts and between my thighs, I sighed and stared out a great glass
window of a circular shape. The window was placed precisely in the center of
the side wall of the square dressing room, thus continuing the Balance that
preserved all.

A garden attired in eternal twilight and in a thousand
somber shades of gray stared back at me, filled with plant life culled from a
hundred planets. Some were native to Janus while many others had been brought
by the Progenitors some two millennia before—hostas and gardenias, mosses and
camellias, gleaming in dusky shades of deep rose and dark red, plus spotted
coleus, tenderly scented orchids and many more. Surmounting all were trees
specially bred to survive in the band of shadow dividing the dark face of Janus
from the Desert, bathed always in the brilliance of our sun.

Our three moons do not follow a predictable path, so
although they shed a little light onto the lands of darkness and shadow, we do
not depend upon their random wanderings. They are irregularly shaped, and as
their jagged forms turn and twist, they may reflect the rays of our distant sun
or at other times appear only as dark lumps in a gray sky.

Today was one of those times.

When my ladies had finished polishing my body, Maia took a
fine silk chemise from a clothespress and flung it over my head, deftly
avoiding my braided coif of dark-blonde hair. The chemise was followed by a
corset and gartered stockings fastened at my thighs.

Tonight’s brocade gown was draped over a mannequin. Bored
with the stiff, wired ruffs fashionable during my parents’ reign, I had
instituted new styles. Embroidered in burgundy, gold and blue, the dress featured
a heart-shaped neckline that bared my arms, shoulders and décolletage almost to
the nipples, below which was a narrow waist and a full skirt with a lavish
train. For warmth, I would wear fingerless, elbow-length gloves of golden lace
embroidered with burgundy thread. The ensemble was completed by high-heeled
slippers with golden buckles. If chilly, I would carry a fur stole.

While Maia laced my corset, another maid tied a layered
petticoat around my waist. I heard a door creak behind me and saw in the cheval
mirror that Frayn had entered. Though Maia’s demeanor remained rigidly
controlled, I sensed her unease. However, I smiled. Though Maia suspected him
of ulterior motives concerning my person, I was unperturbed. His attitude was
expected. As I approached mating, the question of my marriage and the
succession increasingly weighed on the minds of my people. I knew he wanted me,
and wanted to sit on the Golden Throne even more.

The arrival of the DesertDwellers’ messenger, presaging the
embassy of Prince-Scientist Kaldir, had driven Frayn into a manic state. He was
at pains to please me constantly, to the extent he was useless as a minister. I
did not want an advisor who did not advise but instead agreed with me always.
More to the point, my boudoir was constantly filled with his gifts of exotic
flowers and fruit. He favored me with the cleverest jokes and newest court
gossip. If the situation hadn’t been so stressful, I would have been amused.
Juggling the competitors for my hand was a magic trick I had never been taught
but was delighted to learn.

Having tied my petticoat, two ladies-in-waiting lifted my
gown from the mannequin and eased it over my head before lacing it up the back.
Others placed ruby earbobs in my ears, fastened a hammered gold chain around my
neck, slid the gloves over my hands.

“You should not be here, Frayn,” I said. “The prince-scientist
may well conclude that his efforts are in vain and abandon his suit.”

“If he is so easily discouraged he does not deserve you.”

Or the Golden Throne,
I thought. “But you are not
discouraged, are you?” I kept my tone neutral. Behind me, I could hear Maia
rustling. She came to my side and handed me a fan. A coronation gift from the
Darklords, it had sticks carved from the horns of the taqqa, a beast native to
Lands of Night.

“No—I will never give up.” He offered me his arm and I took
it.

“I have asked Lord Geoman to escort me to Prince-Scientist
Kaldir, who will be my dining companion this eve,” I said, moving toward the
door. Maia followed us.

“I’m jealous.” He eyed the fan.

“Do not fear me, Frayn.” I consciously echoed a statement he
had once made to me. “We have always been friends, and I hope always will be,
regardless of what other events may transpire.”

“I had hoped…”

No,
I thought, but said, “The demands of statecraft
may overrule the leanings of the heart.”

Two liveried guards opened the carved wooden doors as I
neared, and I saw that Lord Geoman waited in my anteroom. Green-eyed, he wore
his brown hair down to his shoulders and was attired in the brown and green of
the Elements Office. Thirty starturns old but unmarried, he had sired several
sons, all of whom lived in his castle several leagues distant near the largest
of our several rivers.

“My Lord.” Disengaging myself from Frayn, I offered Geoman
my hand.

He kneeled. “My Queen.” He took my hand and kissed it.

I loved seeing a man on his knees in front of me, especially
a good-looking one with his lips at the height of my quim. Would Geoman make a
worthy mate? He certainly understood the Shadowlands, its inhabitants, the very
soil itself. And he had already proven himself fertile, while Frayn had not,
despite frequent liaisons with my ladies-in-waiting as well as with any female
who would hold still for long enough.

“Rise,” I told Geoman.

He did and I took his arm. Together we walked to the Great
Banqueting Hall, with Frayn behind us, accompanying the most attractive of my
retinue.

* * * * *

The moment I encountered First Scientist Kaldir, elected
prince of his realm, I had an eerie feeling that we had already met, that I had
seen him somewhere before. That was not possible, for as far as I could
remember, I had never seen any DesertDweller, nor had I traveled to Lightside
due to the great distances involved as well as the press of my royal duties.

And I surely would have recalled a meeting with such unusual
personages. As Geoman and I drew closer to Kaldir and his delegation, I saw
that the Children of Light were small but well-formed, reed-thin with curly
reddish or black hair and rich brown skins. Their most prominent features were
their large dark eyes and full lips that held a wealth of sensual promise.
Quite attractive in a manner that was exotic and enticing. They wore long,
flowing robes with loose trousers beneath, all in white. I imagined that their
garb was most comfortable in the searing heat of the deserts, but wondered if
they might be chilled in the cooler environment of the Shadowlands.

I extended a hand to Kaldir. “First Scientist,” I said,
aware that the DesertDwellers valued intellectual achievement above accidents
of birth. Kaldir had not been born a prince but had earned his status as
leader.

Kaldir had unusually high, sharp cheekbones, a bony jaw and
keen eyes that smiled into mine. “My Queen.” He kneeled and kissed my hand, his
lips stroking my skin.
Yes,
I thought.
Yes.

And I was pleased by his quick assumption of our customs.
“Rise,” I said. “You are an equal and need not bow.”

“But I humbly seek your approval.” He stood and I saw that
we were of a height. That would be good for mating but would not increase the
size of our progeny, if any. I wondered if he had offspring.

“Shall we dine and talk?” I went with him from an anteroom
into the Great Banqueting Hall, followed by our servants. Maia was close by me,
as usual, arranging my train. My skirts swept the slate floor as we walked.
Torchlight glinted off the stone tiles, the jewels of the ladies, the
glittering, hard eyes of the courtiers.

I said, “Your garments appear most attractive, but I fear
for your comfort. The palace is made of stone and is not warm as is the
desert.”

He shrugged. “Any discomfort is a small price to pay for
attending you.”

“Well said, but I will arrange for more fuel for the fires
within your rooms and extra quilts for your bed and those of your entourage.” I
stopped and beckoned to the lady at Frayn’s side to give her the orders. Both
she and Frayn looked miffed, but she was present to obey me, not to slake his
lust.

Unlike the Dining Salon, a graceful room trimmed with golden
wood and white silk hangings, used for less formal meals, the Great Banqueting
Hall was designed and decorated for grandeur, not comfort. ’Twas a huge cavern
of a place, and despite the fires roaring in wide hearths set in each wall,
despite the many torches lighting the room and warming the air, despite the
thick tapestries hung from the stone walls and from massive supporting beams
crisscrossing the ceiling, it tended to be chilly.

Every night, we fed whoever came to the castle requesting
sustenance at long polished-wood tables. All castle personnel except the
kitchen staff and on-duty guards also ate with us, and the kitchen was always
open to all who were working at specified mealtimes, even the musicians and
minstrels who played in the upper galleries. Even through lean years I ensured
that my people were well fed. Their health and well-being were my paramount
concern, and we never stinted on food.

The sweetness of lute and drum filled the air while the
aromas of wood smoke and roasted meats scented it. I led Kaldir to a high table
set for the nobles who attended us and we took the two center seats. Raised by
a platform, they afforded us a little privacy. Maia took a stool behind us. At
formal meals, servants delivered dishes to Maia for her tasting and inspection
before I ate.

I did not trust either my uncle, Lord Kloutt, or his son,
Frayn, who stood next in line to the Golden Throne.

I eyed the place settings. Cut-crystal goblets with gold
trim brimmed with wine and water. Ivory in color, the plates sported a green
vine pattern with golden accents round the rims. Bowls sat upon golden chargers
with side plates nearby for bread. I had designed the china and selected the
evening’s menu—hot, spicy dishes to warm our guests, whom I suspected might
feel cold in our realm.

“Are your accommodations satisfactory?” I asked. I knew that
Kaldir and his delegation had arrived a few hours before and had the
opportunity to unpack, bathe and rest. “If there is anything we can do—”

“No, no.” He silenced me with a quick wave of his hand. “We
knew that the Shadowlands are cooler than our home, and wove robes of special
thread imported from your realm. See?”

As Maia poured warm wine, he offered me his sleeve for my
examination, and I was persuaded to touch his arm. Beneath the fine woolen
fabric, his flesh felt muscular, substantial. I was pleased. Below me, I saw
nobles, Frayn and Geoman among them, watching us with narrowed eyes.

“Wool from our sheep?” I asked. “Of what material would your
robes normally be—”

“Linen, cotton or silk,” he said. “We import fabrics from
your lands in exchange for labor and technical support.”

Maia offered pre-dinner dainties—smoked and broiled chunks
of wood pheasant with a groundnut sauce. She served each of us two or three on
our side plates.

“I am aware that Lightside has conquered the challenge Janus
presents regarding population growth.” I bent my head, hoping to conceal the
intensity of my interest, and eyed him flirtatiously from behind my fan. “What
is your secret?”

“A more interesting question is why Janus exhibits its most
peculiar configuration.” He nibbled on the pheasant.

An evasion, but I did not press. If his suit was sincere, I
would have plenty of opportunities to probe his secrets. “Has it not always
been so? Has not Janus always presented the same face to the sun?”

“We think not.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We have taken measurements of the planet. If our lands had
always faced the sun, we would expect to see a bulge, however slight, somewhere
in the desert.”

“A bulge? Perhaps due to the gravitational pull of the sun?”
I swiped a piece of roasted bird through sauce and ate it before chasing it
with wine.