Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
VIZARIOS
When we reach the hot springs, Ragnakor attends to Nissia, cleaning her and kissing her and holding her in his lap.
It is as if our circle is complete now, the final thread tied and knotted to bring us all together as one.
I think that perhaps he understands my addiction now, because before we have even left, he is lying on his back in the shallow water while the queen rides in his lap, crying out her pleasure.
That night, he lies with his arms around both of us, and he falls asleep even before I do.
We work very hard in the coming weeks. My captain has always been the one to fuck me, to dominate me and use me—but our dynamic has shifted with our active goal. Now, I get to experiment with a new pleasure.
While Ragnakor sinks his cock into Nissia, who has been trained well to accommodate his size, I lift his tail and apply some oil to his ripe asshole. We have never explored this before, and so we have gone slow, using smaller phallic objects to teach him to take me.
Now, though, I believe he is ready. I coat myself in the oil, too, and then apply just the slightest pressure. Ragnakor, our stoic captain, barely reacts—so I push deeper, asking that tight ring of muscle to open, and he grunts.
“Good, isn’t it?” I ask. “To fuck her while I fuck you?”
For the first time in all the years I’ve known him, Ragnakor ejaculates too soon, snarling out his pleasure as he spews his seed.
Still, I use him as he used me before, slamming into his tight ass so he’s forced to thrust into the queen.
Ragnakor’s moans turn feeble and desperate, and then, when Nissia finally comes, he clenches around me, and I can’t help but come, too.
Though the sex is wonderful, my favorite part is cleaning up my two lovers afterward.
I push Ragnakor’s spend back into Nissia’s cunt, then attend to her with a wet towel.
When we’re all sated, we tumble to the bed together.
My queen likes to sleep curled up against me, one leg thrown over my hip, while Ragnakor spoons me from behind.
We are all immensely pleased when three weeks pass and Nissia doesn’t bleed. It will be some time before we can be certain, so we wait to celebrate, but we are all thrilled and giddy.
It truly is the perfect time for winter to set in, so we have plenty of cold days we can spend together and warm in bed. I am worried about Nissia going out, as neither she nor Ari are accustomed to the weather here, but she puts on the fur cloak I gave her and waves me off.
It will not be the first time, or the last, that I become protective of her.
Her scent begins to change, and it stirs something deep in my gut that can’t be denied.
I follow her around like her puppy Daina does, who is quickly becoming a dog.
Nissia comes to work with me more often than not during the day, as I find she has a keen mind for solving the problems of the kingdom.
Her solutions are creative, and she often thinks of things Syzari and I have not.
Though we only ask Quillion to guard us, Ragnakor spends much of his day in the room anyway.
He hasn’t said as much, but I know Nissia’s scent affects him, too.
He keeps an eye trained on her at all times, moving the same moment she moves.
One of her creative solutions was to hold a big party for our ceremony with Ragnakor.
He still resists the idea of officially becoming the royal consort, but Nissia is closer now to convincing him.
Then, if our child comes out looking the way we expect, no one will challenge their right to the throne.
She draws up missives to send out about our party, disguising the exact purpose. It is being passed off as a New Year’s celebration, but we will surprise the wardens with our plan.
“It will be a grand party to get them fed and drunk and happy first,” Nissia says proudly. “That’s how my father always did it. Show them a good time and they’ll listen to you.”
“Wise,” says Syzari, checking over the letter. “And then? What if they refuse to accept it?”
“Then I will put them in their place,” I interject. “I am the king.”
Nissia puts a hand on my arm. “I don’t believe it will come to that. We are simply making formal something that everyone already seems to know.”
I huff, hoping she’s right. Syzari drafts a dozen letters, then the queen and I sign them to send them off with pigeons.
NISSIA
It’s winter now, and I have only received one letter from home—not even written by my father, but by his advisor. I sigh and toss it away. Maybe he’ll have something to say once I announce that I’m pregnant.
Our first fight as a trio happens over hunting. There’s been word of a small group of moose living near Mirror Lake.
“No.” Vizarios crosses his arms. “I can’t have you thrown from a horse or gored by a moose while you’re carrying our dragonling.”
I square my stance. “I won’t get thrown from a horse. I’ve been practicing! I’ve gone on a dozen hunts now.”
“And never participated,” Vizarios corrects.
“But I want to throw a spear!” I stomp my foot like a child.
Ragnakor approaches Vizarios, setting a hand on his shoulder. The king relaxes under his touch, some of the tension draining out of him.
“The queen will be with me,” he says in his booming voice. “She will be safe.”
Vizarios shoots him a dirty look. “You’re on her side in this? With our dragonling growing inside her?” He hisses. “You don’t feel this anxiety?”
“It is just as risky as if she weren’t carrying a dragonling.” Ragnakor leans down to peck his king’s cheek. “Of course I worry. I always worry. But you must overcome it and let her be free.”
Vizarios looks mollified for now, but he still stalks out of the room muttering to himself about Ragnakor’s rebelliousness.
Striding over to me, the captain loops his arms around me, and I pull him down for a kiss.
“Thank you,” I say. “And for that time you told my father off, too.”
He chuckles. “I think I knew then I might fall for you. The woman who wears pants to ride her horse and hunts rabbits. It was inevitable.”
At last, it’s the day of the hunt. We take off early in the morning in pursuit of our quarry, and Daina leads the way as we leave the city far behind. We depart from the main road and track game trails through the woods, following the dogs’ wagging tails.
Then we hear it: strange, eerie sounds echoing through the trees. I pull my horse to a stop as my hair stands on end.
“What was that?”
“Mating calls,” Ragnakor says, and one of the hunters nods in agreement. “Males will be aggressive in their search for females, so we’d best be careful.”
I’m glad Vizarios isn’t around to hear that.
Daina and the other dogs all stop at once and lift their heads. We’re close. I palm my spear, feeling the weight of it, envisioning how much damage it could do when thrown just right.
Then, the dogs are off, racing toward the lake. We follow through the snow until we reach the edge of the frozen water. And not far away stands an enormous, majestic brown creature with antlers the size of royal serving trays.
I feel giddy just imagining how those antlers would look perched on the mantelpiece and raise my spear. The moose turns, noticing us. Instead of running as an elk would, though, it huffs out a breath and readies itself to charge. We call off the dogs so they don’t get injured.
As Ragnakor trained me, I haul my arm back, then throw with as much force as I possibly can.
The spear hurtles through the air, and for a moment, I wonder if perhaps I threw it too soon and my quarry is too far away.
But the wood shaft flies straight and true, and the sharp steel tip strikes the moose’s massive shoulder.
The spearhead keeps going, burying itself deep, and the creature lets out a monstrous howl.
It stumbles forward and attempts to charge us again, but now its foreleg is no longer working.
The leg gives out, and the moose collapses in the snow.
We ride toward it as it writhes. Ragnakor hops off his horse, gesturing for me to do the same, and one of the other hunters shows me how to end the moose’s life as humanely as possible with a blade under the throat. Once it’s dead and the body no longer moving, we prepare it to carry home.
“Good work,” my captain says, squeezing my shoulder. “You did very well.”
I beam at his praise as we climb back on our horses and return to the castle with our kill.
RAGNAKOR
She is fierce, my queen, my wife. I have grown used to calling her that, but only in private. Though I still harbor fears from time to time that I will fade into the background of their lives, for now, it feels right.
I’ve also grown accustomed to my husband.
How I would love to call him that forever, my little king, who has changed so much and learned to be truly himself.
As I had once hoped, Nissia brings balance to his life, and we are all better off for it.
Now, I can see how free he feels in loving both of us, and it gives me great joy to see him bloom.
There is this matter of the ceremony. I have resisted it because I worry what it will mean for the kingdom—how the king and queen’s open acceptance of me could put everything we hold dear in jeopardy.
I don’t want them to do that for me, to risk everything simply to claim me, when none of it is necessary to earn my loyalty and devotion.
I am not in need of any such royal recognition to know what lies in my heart. But it is important to them, so I’ve relented.