Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Tuscany
The journey north to Windmill Five exposes the true nature of The Cradle. The desert outside our military vehicle is a hazy vortex of red and grey.
"You should look through your periscopes. Take in the landscape," I say to my Army ladies. We are crammed together again. Essen sits beside me, with Ana and Brook opposite us, but we each have a periscope.
Peering through my scope, I can barely make out the vast Red Decline through the dense sand and debris.
When the windmills come into view, they seem endless, their slender silhouettes like white stitches in a crimson cloak.
I’ve been in a Windmill Forest before, just once, and it ended with us caught in a violent Redwind storm. We had to seek refuge in an old abbey—a Common Community. That’s where I learnt about the orphans being taken by The Trade.
My mission.
I can't forget why I'm here. I need to find the flaws in the system.
I don't know why, only that I must. I’ve no real authority, but I have to believe something can be done, something can be improved.
If I cannot make positive change in The Cradle as the queen, then who can?
I refuse to accept that nothing can be done.
The tank chews through the desert road, and soon, we are in the heart of the Windmill Forest in the central east of Aquilla. The stems are now as thick as the tank, somehow masculine and captivating.
Rattling the tank's metal frame and vibrating through the interior, the wind thrashes indiscriminately.
I release the periscope and look at my ladies. "We haven't really had a chance to discuss what happened at my birthday celebration.”
"Lord Bled said you weren't feeling well," Essen offers quickly, her tone final. Doesn’t she want to discuss it? "You don’t need to share any more than that with us."
"Well, I hope I didn't frighten any of you," I respond, glancing between them.
“I’m loving all the leisure time,” Brook pipes up with her usual lack of tact.
Essen rolls her eyes at Brook.
"We were concerned about you," Ana says softly, her gaze steady and genuine. "That's all, my queen."
"Did you happen to...” I pause and hesitate. “To hear anything while I was sitting on the throne? A ringing or... something similar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
"No, nothing," Essen replies.
"I noticed some flickering lights, but no strange sounds," Brook offers, her eyes bright with interest. "But you seemed really out of it. Was it the lights that made you dizzy, or something else?"
Essen shoots her a warning glance.
Ana taps Brook’s thigh, saying, "Essen is right. You don’t owe us an explanation.”
I nod, leaving it at that. The lights and sounds were not merely in my head. Lord Bled confirmed during our conversation yesterday that he also saw and heard a disturbance.
Adjusting the periscope, I lean back in, watching The Cradle go by. The blades of the windmills are carving through the Redwind.
I zone out, thinking about my conversation with Bled in his saloon. He believes I should return to the Lower-tower after my campaign and make it my home.
A smile creeps onto my face at the thought of Essen being able to see him often. It’s only a day’s drive from The Estate, and I can visit Aster and the babes frequently.
It’s a fair idea.
Rome will not be happy, but I have faith in my brother that he will see benefits in this situation. Lord Bled is his closest friend; no man holds more of the king’s trust than he… Well, except for Kong.
A pang of guilt hits me.
An entire day of Redwind pummelling our military tank, small talk between myself and my ladies, and yearning for the man in the tank ahead of ours, goes by.
The desert wind is so heavy that all I see through the periscope is violent red static.
By the time the tank is pressing between two brick walls and parking in the centre of a square, the tails of last-light disappear into the creeping darkness.
I am exhausted as I exit the tank, followed by my Army ladies, who rush to the rear and collect our cases.
“Tuscany of The Strait,” a Guard declares to the sleepy area. “The Cradle’s Queen and Mother.” Whether there is a single citizen or an arena full, protocol never wavers. I haven’t truly appreciated the Guards, my Army ladies—any of the Royal Personnel who go about their Purpose day after day.
With a soft yawn, I gaze around the small quadrangle, taking in the square-shaped courtyard with motel rooms fit into the fort walls, and a warm light glow from the quaint homestead at the base of the giant white windmill that lances into the sky above.
To my left, outside an open door, three pretty House Girls await the Guards, the light from the room behind them dancing across their figures seductively.
They will get a lot of attention tonight, and I’m thankful for their Trade. The men deserve intimacy and relief. I’m pleased to see they appear clean and well fed.
“Guards will sleep in the tanks this night. Take turns with the girls,” Kong calls out as the Guards feed into the small square. “If I catch even a murmur of argument, you will be walking to our next destination. I will be inside the homestead, outside the queen’s door. Do not disturb me.”
I’m smiling as the thought of spending this night in my Guardian’s arms when I follow the young girls’ line of sight.
I peer between Kong and them, catching undeniable yearning and attraction from the salacious young House Girls.
They have lovely curves, soft, but clear—entirely female, surely complete with a womb and two ovaries.
Jealousy coils in my belly.
“Guardians first,” the blonde coos, leaning on one hip.
That is my male.
I want his needs to be my concern, my duty. To curl up with him in bed and make him happy each night, to make him content.
“My queen?”
I tear my gaze from the girls, hit with the intensity in Kong’s dark brown and orange eyes. “Let me take you to your room.”
I scrunch my dress into my hand, lifting it from the red dirt, and follow my Guardian into the glowing homestead.
There are only two wooden doors, one on the left at the very front of the homestead and one on the right at the rear. In the centre, a communal dining and kitchen.
“Your ladies will be down the back,” Kong states, and Ana’s face flashes in my mind. I know we need to discuss tomorrow. It is the eighth day of our campaign, which means at first-light a man will come for me.
My stomach flips.
We enter the first room.
I wait by the door but scan the space that would be no larger than my ensuite at the Lower-tower.
I don’t mind.
Being in this small room, so quaint and simple, makes me feel lost. Not in a bad way—in a wonderful way. As if possibilities await me because this room has no expectations, no vanity, or dressing room.
Simplicity is peaceful.
I spin to face Kong as he searches the tiny space, checking and surveying. "What do you look for when you search a new room for me? No one could possibly be hiding in here.”
He continues his perusal, answering my questions with a deep, husky voice.
"I check under the mattress for weapons, check the cupboards, and make sure the windows lock from the inside.
" He looks at me with a smirk. "Check for secret doors.
Usually, I don't miss them. And other small things, like unsteady chairs, uneven tables, sharp corners, and anything that could accidentally hurt my little queen. "
I smile. "So… you baby-proof my room?"
"I queen-proof your room."
I giggle, and he sighs hard. “I adore that sound, little queen.”
A blush meets my cheeks. I watch him work, enjoying the vision of my Guardian, my massive Xin De Knight, performing his Purpose.
Being alone in a room with a man so masculine, so intensely virile and serious, makes me hot and bothered. Restless.
"Those girls wanted you," I whisper.
"Did they?" He pretends to be surprised, but he heard them. Their eyes practically purred against him. I can't blame them; he's gorgeous and powerful, and when he commands the Guards, his authority is intoxicating.
"You know they did. What do House Girls do for the Guards? What is the most common...” I swallow as my voice cracks with nerves. “Act?"
After one more sweep of the tiny room, he stops in front of me, towering and unassumingly seductive.
I squirm. He doesn't try to make me needy; just the sight of him causes my insides to clench around empty space.
It's strange having such a creature so close and tame when he is capable of destruction I couldn't imagine.
A slow grin moves across his face. "They would meet their needs, little queen."
I feel my throat roll. Being the queen doesn’t save me from the potent virility of this man. "You said that if I have needs and demands, they are yours to meet,” I begin. “Well, if you have needs, they are mine to meet, Kong.”
"You're my queen."
I arch my neck, holding his dark gaze. "When we are alone, I am Tuscany."
Your Tuscany.
He feeds his hands between my hair and my neck, cradling the back of my head. "And I bow to both, little queen," he says, voice thick. "To all versions of you."
Oh, he is so close; I want to gasp for air, though not exerting myself in any way. "I want to pleasure you… W-with my mouth. That's what they do? Don't they?"
His jaw clenches, the muscles pulsing as he breathes hard through his nose. It looks like restraint. "Sometimes... But sometimes the men have extra energy after a long journey crammed into the tanks and want more than anything to pin a girl beneath them and work that energy out.”
I part my lips.
"Can I unravel your inner creature, Kong the Unbreakable? Can I be your relief?”
I have to act, can’t just idle on those words, chew them in my mind over the following few moments and allow a harmless pause to transform my fragile resolve into a perceived rejection.
My cheeks burn as I place my hands on his hard torso, walking him backward until his legs brush the edge of the bed.