Quell (5 page)

The wardrobe was full of the highly adaptive gowns in dozens of shades. The bed was covered with pristine sheets, and it called to her.

Gyrion was folding back the sheets for her, and he looked at her in surprise. “I thought you would take a hot bath.”

“I will take a shower. I am just surprised that you are still here.”

He chuckled. “I will remain at your side until our bond has been formalized. After that, I will come and go at your discretion.”

“Wait, it is up to me?”

“It is. It must be. If Artruo wasn’t exaggerating, you are a very powerful woman.”

She nodded. “It comes and goes. I will be back for a nap as soon as I finish a hot shower. I haven’t had a soak in nearly a year.”

“I will be here.”

Amylia headed to the bathroom and let the hot water work the knots out of her legs and back. It was less painful than learning with Yimtoa.

She finished her shower and towelled her hair dry. She was debating whether or not to put her dress on again when she heard voices.

The words
pasty cow
came through the door, and Amylia’s senses picked up on a flaring talent.

She opened the bathroom door and walked up to the woman who was trying to crawl up Gyrion’s chest. “He is not yours, Lady.”

Amylia threaded her hand in the woman’s hair and used the grip to throw her across the chamber.

The woman slid and got up, screeching and lighting her hands aflame.

Amylia turned and lazily lifted one hand, knocking the woman out by shutting off her powers and then her mind.

Amylia walked over to the unconscious woman, and she picked her up by the hair, dragging her past the astonished Gyrion and out into the hall where some of the locals were attending their duties.

Amylia stood, naked and damp, looking at the astonished folk who looked to her as queen. “The Lady attempted to seduce my consort in my own bedroom. That infringement on my territory will not be tolerated.” She smiled tightly. “Her talent will come back on in a few days if she apologises.”

She left the woman on the ground outside the doors. She walked back down the hall and past Gyrion. “I am going for a nap, Consort. You can come or stay there and catch insects in that open mouth of yours.”

He laughed. “Yes, my Queen.”

She ignored his mirth and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up around her shoulders after she pulled her damp hair up and splayed it across the pillow.

Gyrion seemed to be taking the
never leaving her side
bit seriously. He stripped in the fading sunlight and crawled into bed with her.

She closed her eyes when he turned, but just a second too late. His stripes went all the way down, lashes of colour caressing muscle that lead to an erection that continued the theme.

She didn’t know if his thighs were the same combination of black and gold. She frankly stopped looking when she took in the size of his interest in her. Of course, he could have been aroused from watching two women fight over him, but it hadn’t been much of a fight.

He settled in and propped one arm behind his head. She rolled over toward him and frowned. “Did you let her in here?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “No, she came in behind us and made her plea.”

“She tried to climb you.”

He shrugged. “It used to be her go-to move.”

She sighed and reached out to pat his chest on top of the sheet. He lowered his hand and held her fingers against him.

“Next time, I promise to yell for help as soon as she comes in.”

“If she comes in again, I will be sorely disappointed with her learning abilities, and I won’t be nearly as nice. She is just lucky I am sore and tired.”

Gyrion blinked. “You could do more?”

“I had a very thorough instructor.” She smiled smugly and let fatigue take over.

Breakfast was delivered to her room, and Gyrion sat up and stretched lazily. Unfortunately for her equilibrium, she had taken the sheet with her. Gyrion was very pretty in the morning light, and Amylia really had to stop staring at his crotch.

“Do all women of your world have fire for hair?” Gyrion wasn’t shy at all. He stretched again and then got to his feet.

“Uh, no. It is a recessive gene.”

His own hair was a cape of dark silk down his back. How had she not noticed that he had such long hair?

Just as she was thinking the question, he reached up and started to braid the hair with practiced moves.

He sat at the table and smiled at the man who brought it in. “Thank you, Dorren.”

The man bowed his head quickly. “You are most welcome, Consort.”

She wrapped the sheet around herself and shuffled to the table, sniffing curiously.

Gyrion poured the tea and set a plate for her. “Dorren has to wait until you taste the meal, my Queen.”

She reached for a piece of fruit and smiled as it exploded on her tongue. As soon as she could, she mumbled, “Thank you, Dorren.”

The man beamed, nodded his head again and left.

“So, why did he have to see me eat?”

“To make sure that you are in good health. If the queen is ill, the healers are called. It is the morning protocol that all provinces uphold.” He took a piece of fruit and popped it in his mouth. “Well, it is the protocol if they have a queen.”

She continued to eat, and she asked a question that had been nagging at her. “Why aren’t there any kids?”

“What?”

“Children.”

“Oh, our females don’t breed until they have a queen to protect them. It is how I knew that my dalliances were not true candidates. If they had been potential queens, the ladies in their circle would have begun to have children.”

Amylia took her teacup and sipped. “How does that work?”

“The women need to feel safe. Everything else follows.”

“Don’t their mates make them feel safe?”

He frowned. “It is a different thing. It is the feeling that they have one of their own to turn to if anything goes wrong. Oh, you will be expected to attend all births in your province.”

She winced. “I guess I will have to study up. I have only delivered one baby, and that was at Janial. We didn’t have a chance to get her to the med wing. She was a multiple murderer.” She sipped at her tea. “The baby was cute, though. Little bugger bit me.”

He shook his head. “You are one surprise after another. Good. Our infants don’t bite, but they can scratch.”

She ate in silence for a while before she raised her brows. “You really think that this will happen? Will the women trust me?”

Gyrion grinned wide. “After your display yesterday and your ability to defend your poor, helpless consort, I think you are well on your way.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I was sore and cranky, plus I didn’t want her touching my sheets. My psychometry is weak, but it does kick in now and then.”

“Artruo was a little vague on how you came to be with them. I have to say I am curious.”

She reached for some more fruit from the platter in the centre of the table. While she ate, she explained about Janial and her talent for quelling any possible uprisings. She talked about Kreatha’s arrival and her role in the eventual escape.

“I just went along to argue with the court. As an officer of the Imperium, I had the right to challenge any decisions.”

“So, you were caught up in her escape?”

“I was, and then, the decompression sickness struck her down, and I was left facing her family while Artruo tended to her.”

“He has his priorities. Which of her brothers was on the ship?”

There was a casualness to his question that made her frown at him. “Why?”

“Oh, just curious. I will ask Artruo when I call him.”

“The brother in question already apologised. Kreatha is now in charge of the rest of his punishment.”

He looked around. “Have you had enough?”

She looked wistfully at his chest. “Yes. For today. I am still feeling that ride.”

He blinked and grinned slowly. “Thank you for the update. I thought we would take a walk and you could see the keep, the town and understand your province.”

“Cool. I suppose I should get dressed.”

The devilish light in his eyes was bright. “Not on my account.”

She made a face and got up, shuffling to the wardrobe and choosing a deep-blue gown and black slippers. She dropped the sheet and slipped the gown on over her head, tightening the tabs at the front and back to fit the gown to her body.

She slipped into the black shoes and picked the sheet up, walking it back to the bed to straighten it.

“Dorren will come in and fix the bed when we are gone. He is your housekeeper, in case you needed to know.”

“Oh, good to know. Thank you.” She went to the bathroom and brushed out her hair, braiding it and twisting it into her normal coronet in a few minutes.

His braid was completely invisible.

“Where did your braid go?” She twisted her lips.

He turned, hooked a finger at the base of his neck and pulled the braid out again. With easy motions he tucked it back in.

“We keep it out of the way to deter attacks.” He pointed to her hair. “That wouldn’t be a good look for me.”

She chuckled. “Probably not. I got used to this for training, and I just kept up with it.”

He finished dressing and offered her his hand. She slipped her fingers along his, and he walked out with her, chatting softly as they made their way past the grinning locals who seemed surprisingly at ease with their new queen.

“What did your training entail?”

“A little combat and a lot of self-control. Soon after that, it turned into control of others.”

“Do you control what they think?”

“No, I just subdue the talent first and the consciousness second. I can also keep hostility from rising, but it takes a few days to learn the details of the species that I am working with.”

They left the hall and made their way down the stairs.

“Well, our province is agrarian. While Kreatha’s province has the living trees, we grow the food that supports seven provinces in our immediate vicinity.”

“Wow. That is a lot of responsibility and activity.”

“It is. We tend to attract elemental talents from around the globe as they become available.”

“There is a trade in talents?”

“With the provinces specialising, it makes sense to get the right talents in the right places.”

Amylia looked out over the expanse of farmers’ fields in varying colours. “It is beautiful.”

Gyrion smiled. “Yes, it is. I look forward to our population being as bountiful as the land we farm.”

“Amazing what can happen when an area is settled with an eye to cooperative provinces.”

“It was one of our species’ greatest feats. We are all protective of our way of life. The combination of modern knowledge with basic enjoyment of the world under us is a heady mix.”

They walked down one of the well-worn pathways, and he introduced her to a few of the farmers.

Amylia tried to pay attention, but there was an emotional knot of people a few hundred metres away. She excused herself and jogged off in search of the panic and frustration.

A group of men and women were pulling on the reins of a large bovine-type animal that was mired in mud.

She walked up to them, taking in the situation. First, she calmed everyone down, and then, she asked, “Can I help?”

One of the men growled, “Not unless you can get the beast to help.”

Amylia assessed the animal, guessed it was ten feet tall at the shoulder and its panicking was making the mud hold tighter.

She looked around, kicked off her shoes and headed into the mud pit. The beast’s eyes were rolling, and the whites were visible constantly. Animals were harder than people, because it was impulse that drove them.

She murmured to the beast and brushed at it with her mind. It took a minute, but it calmed and relaxed. She kept talking to it and slipped up and onto its shoulder before the mud could get a good hold of her.

She met the foreman’s gaze and nodded to him. They eased the leather straps slowly, and the beast stepped forward. Another soft pull and another step. It took ten minutes to work the creature out of the mud, and to Amylia’s horror, it was even taller than she had guessed.

She slid down the animal’s shoulder and landed on her butt as the creature broke loose and ran for the barn.

Covered with mud, she grinned up at the group from the farm. “Well, that worked.”

Gyrion came out of the grouping, and he helped her to her feet. “Demra Farm, this is your new queen. Amylia.”

The women in the group came forward and touched her face and shoulder. It was funny, because Amylia was the only mud-covered person there, so all the workers came away filthy.

Gyrion was speaking to the head man of the farm, and he came back with a grin. “You would do them a great honour if you would have lunch with them. They will get you a place to shower.”

She laughed. “Good. This stuff is drying, and I already know it isn’t just mud.”

His snorting laughter was unmistakable.

He led her around the back of the barn, and a hose waited. She shivered in anticipation. “This is not going to be fun, is it?”

“Hold still, and I will get this over with.”

If she hadn’t been caked with muck, she would have taken offense, but as it was, she stood as he unfastened her dress and pulled it down, from the shoulders to her ankles, coaxing her out of it.

She stood clear of the ruined fabric, and when the hose came on, she held her breath. It was a squeak that escaped her lips as the water hit. She turned, and he sprayed her off, getting the thick muck off her limbs in a few short bursts.

To her surprise, he produced a bar of soap and lathered up his hands before he coaxed her to a clean piece of stone that wouldn’t dirty her more than she already was, and he started with her hands, lathering up her skin and removing the dark stain to her fingers.

“You really have no pigment, do you?”

She snorted. “It goes with the red hair. I am just lucky that I am not covered with freckles. It also means that I will start burning in the sun in a few minutes, so whatever you are doing... speed it up.”