Chapter 13 #2
Exhaling, I try again. “What will he do? Call me a silly little girl with no idea of Cradle politics? Lock me in my wing? I can handle it.”
I think.
Can I?
No, you can’t.
Yes, I can!
“And what about your accomplices?”
I look at her. Blink. “Oh, Ana.” Gently, I take her hands, offering her touch, something I rarely do. “I would never let anything happen to you, I promise.”
Suddenly, a deep voice carries to us from the bank ahead, halting our conversation. “She was so beautiful.”
Panic surges through me as I quickly navigate the thick water, using my hands to hasten my retreat. Desperate to remain unseen.
Two figures emerge.
They thunder down to the river’s edge, stripping off their blue Trade Dammer shirts, the fabric falling away to reveal sculpted shoulders. The sound of boots hitting the ground echoes in my ears as they hop clumsily on one foot, before shedding their pants.
Nervous adrenaline bubbles inside me, and I can't help but cover my mouth to hide my shock, peeking through the foliage as they stand naked on the bank, bantering easily with one another.
I follow the long lines of their muscles, down to what hangs between their legs, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman,” the taller one states, stepping into the river, the water splashing around his strong legs. “Never. She can’t be real. Do you think if I touched her she would be a hologram?”
“What the fuck is a hologram?” his friend asks with a mocking laugh.
“Like a 3D picture, dumbarse.”
“Like the big screen with The Cradle updates?”
“No, moving 3D versions. They have that tech in the labs. I am not crazy,” the tall one says, defensively. “Makes sense they wouldn’t send the real queen to visit us riff-raff.”
Oh, my.
They are talking about me…
“Sounds like conspiracy stuff, and that shit scares me,” his friend says, plunging below the surface. He pops up. “Fuck! It’s cold! Anyway, a girl that pretty is probably bad at head. No one that pretty can suck cock.”
“She is the queen, idiot.” The tall one laughs, splashing the other. “She doesn’t give; that woman receives.”
Something both thrilling and unfamiliar awakens inside me. A rush of heat suddenly burns a trail from the tips of my ears to the points of my toes.
“My queen.” Ana’s quiet utterance comes from close behind me. She bumps me playfully and, for a moment, I am not the queen. I am just a girl bathing with her friend, spying on naked men from behind a bank tree.
I bite my lip, torn between shock and excitement, their candid, uninhibited words swirling in my mind like the surrounding water.
“I could eat that honey all day,” the tall one drawls, dragging out the word all.
“Honey?” I say. “I’ve never heard that expression before.” The inexperienced words fall from my lips, and I wish I could swallow them. I don’t know how men speak on topics of a sexual nature, but I am not a child. I know what men do… Mostly.
“Kong will not like this… Nope. Not at all,” Ana mutters, and my body stills.
What does that mean?
“Why would you say that?”
“Oh...” Her voice sounds hesitant. “Well, he never takes his eyes off you, my queen.”
And…? I watch the men splash one another. “His eyes are off me now.”
“Are they?”
A deep voice comes from behind me, and a thick tension strokes my spine.
Oh, no.
Feigning composure, I peer over my shoulder. Kong is walking down the bank. Removing my robe from the tree, he brushes it off and lays it over his black clad arm.
“Whenever you’re ready, little queen.”
How long has he been there? Was he there earlier? Did he hear our conversation? No, he was just striding down the bank; he couldn’t have heard.
He smiles, smooth and dutiful. This particular smile hides displeasure or disappointment. I see it in the thinning of his upper lip.
I look down at my body, suddenly realising I’m submerged in a dam in my nightgown—in front of Kong.
My cheeks prickle with nerves and embarrassment, but…
Why? I am on the road with my ladies. As free as I’ve ever been, despite the fact I will never be…
free. Why not misbehave a tiny bit? Why not take this rare opportunity away from The Estate, Cairo, and my brother, to let my marble tarnish?
As soon as I get back to The Estate, the corals and Cairo will soon polish me up again.
Turning, I glide through the dense river to where Kong waits with my robe. My thick, honey hair is stuck to my back, heavy on my crown as I step from the water.
My dress clings to me like a second layer of skin, completely translucent, and I know my nipples and the shape of my body, thighs and between them, are outlined.
I watch his dark eyes lock on my gaze, unwavering. He doesn’t allow them to wander down my body, and my heart twists. He doesn’t find me desirable. The memory of a night many years ago burdens me.
He rejected me…
I meet him on the bank, standing before the massive Xin De guardian, and without clothes or shoes, I feel far more vulnerable and even tinier.
Shivers race across my skin. He wraps my robe around my shoulders, offering more dutiful touches that feel empty.
I really hope he didn’t hear me asking what the man meant by eating my honey…
Then, as if reading the apprehension play across my face, he leans down, his body heat circling me like powerful wings.
He whispers, “If you insist on spending time with men, then you should understand their language—”
“I understand five old-world languages.” I huff. “Do you?”
“No,” he purrs, “but I know this one. And if you’re eager to be a part of the conversation, then you will need protection.”
“Don’t you protect me?”
He sighs, and its heavy and thick, and unlike anything I’ve heard from him before. “I protect you from everyone else, yes. It’s me you’ll need to contend with should you humour their conversation or gaze.”
My heart races. A flush crawls up my neck and blooms across my face.
Then his lips touch my ear, and he says, “He wishes to lick what drips from between your thighs, little queen. He imagines you might taste like honey,” before he scoops my hair free to lie outside the robe.
I am too shocked to speak. Too flooded with something strange and warm and distracting that I find it hard to… think.
Ana’s presence follows me as I walk in a daze of his words, of his husky tone, both are playing together low in my stomach.
We head back to the tent.
Ana sits on her bed with a startled expression and soft blushing cheeks, as I move around my side of the tent, pulling off my wet robe.
“Let me help—” Ana says, lifting to her feet to help dry and dress me.
“No.” I hold my hand up. “I can do it myself.” I don’t want to be touched right now, not while Kong’s words and tone roll through my body, like fingers stroking my skin. “While we’re on this campaign, unless the event calls for a costume or my armour, I will dress myself.”
That is totally unusual.
But I don’t care.
Brook darts her blue eyes between us, physically biting her lip to stop whatever questions and queries bubble in that unfiltered mind.
Without looking at her, I hang my robe and proceed to dry my hair. “What is it, Brook? Please, your silence is louder than your words.”
“Why are you wet?” she spits out and then exhales as if the question was strangling her. Poor girl; could have suffocated.
“I went for a swim in the dam,” I state plainly. “It was lovely.”
“Why are you both blushing?”
I still, opposite parts of me duelling with what to do or say. If I open this door of familiarity too soon, will I be able to close it again? Do I want to… be familiar with anyone? Or do I prefer marble? I have never been given a choice.
Defiance stirs inside me. I turn to look at her. “Help me with my hair.” I sit on a cushioned stool and wait. “Where is Essen?”
She dashes over to me. “She is organising things for our drive up to the Lower-tower. I am so excited to see it. I haven’t been. Bled’s Hall is reportedly, um, provocative.”
Kong’s rough utterance flares in my core. “Provocative, indeed… Brook, Army ladies get a great deal of leisure time compared to other Trades. Do you ever”—I glance at Ana, who I know has had a great love and plenty of experience with men— “have relations?”
“Relations?” she repeats.
“With men,” I confirm.
“Oh!” Startled, she continues to dry and brush my hair. “Well, no. I haven’t been with a man yet, but I do like them.”
I say, “And Ana is an expert.”
Apparently unable to sit still, Ana begins to collect our things and pack them for the drive.
“I suppose a Silk Girl is an expert when it comes to the male anatomy and what they enjoy,” Ana agrees.
“We are to adore and pleasure. I could…” She keeps her back to me.
“Teach someone if they wanted to know more.”
“Someone like Brook,” I add quickly.
Too quickly.
“Yes,” she agrees straightaway. “Is there something you wish to know, Brook? Before we get to the Hall. In case you see anything untoward.”
She hums. “I know most things. Seen… parts. Do they… Well, do they get much bigger? The parts?”
Ana stifles a chuckle. “Yes.”
Brook looks at me. “And do you know whether, I don’t know, Guards get leisure time?”
Of course, I know.
I am the queen.
I feel myself slipping.
“At night, when their Ward or Lord is asleep, they take shifts,” I answer, too intrigued to stop the conversation. “And so they have leisure hours.”
“Why?” Ana pipes up, tone playful. “Do you fancy a Guard?”
“Well…” The nerves rushing from Brook are palpable. “I do.”
A small smile curves my lips during this easy and…
friendly conversation. Before I became the queen, I remember enjoying friendship, candid conversation—teasing, even.
After that night, happiness hurt, and excitement and glee seemed strange.
How could anyone be joyful when I was torn down the seams?
And kindness. The kindest act, a smile, was forever ruined.
Smiles started to talk, hiss, warn. The shape, the steadiness, the length, the interaction with other features—all so loud to me.
A smile isn’t a smile to me anymore. It’s a detailed message.
“So…” Ana says. “Who do you fancy?”
“He is too old for me,” Brook dismisses, but I can tell she wants to share.
“Who?” Ana presses eagerly.
“Kong.”
My little smile flattens.
“Oh,” Ana mutters.
“I know he is twice my age, but—” she gushes. “He is beautiful. Do you not think he is beautiful? With that long dark hair and that serious expression. All those tattoos—”
“All of them?” I find myself saying before I can cease my insolent tongue. Of course, I know he has tattoos, but he’s always wearing full black leather armour, pants, and boots. He is always—on duty.
Then it hits me; he is always on duty with me… “You have seen his tattoos then?” I sound unimpressed, and I wish I didn’t.
Luckily, she has zero deductive skills, or perhaps unimpressed is my default tone, so commonly associated with me she thinks nothing further of it.
She simply replies, “Yes. All black ink. All over his body. I saw them when he was in the underground Roman baths once.” She pauses, and I stiffen my entire soul to not beg for more details. “I saw everything that day.”
Everything?
“Everything?” Ana says what I am reluctantly thinking.
“Yes. He was stepping out of the bath, water was rushing down his body, little rivers down his thighs. Oh, my, they are thick and—”
A pulse begins between my legs, forcing me to squirm as she talks, both wanting her to stop and go away, and stay and paint me a picture for my wall.
“Between his legs,” she continues, “the male parts were so surprisingly perfect. Long and dripping with water, swaying from side to side as he walked. It was hypnotic. I’ve never felt so strange.”
I feel strange right now!
“And then he looked straight at me as he grabbed a towel. He looked me up and down. What do you think that means?”
That he didn’t recognise you.
Or thought you were pretty.
She is pretty…
I can’t help it, can’t control it, or contain it, jealous rage simmers inside me.
I will take no man, bear no children, but Kong has always felt like… mine. And while I know he must be familiar with women, he is a male after all, I do not wish to share him so openly with Brook of all people.
The night he rejected me tumbles back with brutal clarity. The way his huge, warm body felt against my back, the way he squeezed my thigh, trailed his hand down between my legs, pressed his manhood against me from behind…
And then he realised it was me. He couldn’t have disappeared faster had I been an abhorrent, mutilated creature… Which I am.
I knew it before.
His reaction cemented it.
This was it. All I could take. The rejection and the final male to abandon me. The last I would ever allow! I wouldn’t abide it again. I would keep everyone at arm’s length, where they can’t chip at me, can’t hurt or disappoint me or leave me.
It was that night, that I realised a male would never desire me. Another design of The Trade, for the queen to be too beautiful to touch and too hollow to desire.
My womb might not have been visible, but it was a key component that made me a woman. Without it, I am a mutilated, little girl. Why would he want to touch hollow marble when he could roll against a soft woman with all the means to create life?
Sadness lodges in my throat.
“Perhaps you should visit him while we are on campaign,” I state, teeth clenched together and anger in my veins.
Who am I trying to hurt? Myself? Am I trying to prove something to him?
Her? Me? It feels like a test I shouldn’t perform, and yet, the burning despair makes me do it, anyway.
“You’re pretty, Brook. I am sure he will enjoy your company at night. ”
I Hate. Every. Word.