Chapter 31 Aristide
Aristide
Being a displaced monarch was many things: burdensome, troubling, and expensive. Oh so very expensive: my sister and I blazed through our deceased parents’ coffers much more quickly than expected. Our war-subjugated provinces were only slowly able to help refill them, much to my consternation.
Hence the call for nobles—and all others—to serve in my army, that we might reclaim our land from Matapa.
Hence the increasingly frugal entertainments offered at court, including entertainments of the carnal sort, modeled off the latest fashions in faerieland.
No, the one thing I had not expected was boredom.
Oh, there were plenty of tasks to fill my waking hours, and a few more yet that crept into my dreams and nightmares, making me count kernels of grain or repaint a room in my parents’ keep that was now under the rule of the enemy.
Lack of activities with which to occupy myself was not the problem.
Lack of interest in said activities—and the people who conducted them—was.
Even at present, balls-deep in a beautiful woman. I rode her hard, pausing to lift one of her legs to settle a knee atop my shoulder, giving me an even deeper entry.
My parents’ court had been lively, with entertainers and nobles (and occasionally noble entertainers) from all corners of the continent, and some across the sea. Back then, the variety had dazzled me, and I had occasionally dallied with the ones who struck my fancy: mostly women, occasionally men.
There was no meaning to any of those liaisons, no weight to them. Nobody expected the teen son of beloved monarchs to shoulder much responsibility.
Then everything changed when Matapa had my parents slain, and I became heir, and the burden of the crown dogged my every waking moment.
So much of me was pulled in so many directions by the demands of the occasion that there wasn’t enough of me left to dally, to partner, to seduce or be seduced.
And even in moments when I mustered the energy to find a partner for the evening, my interest waned quickly.
After all, there was so much to do, so much to think about. The last of the nobles should be here soon; the spies we’d placed at Matapa’s court had sent new reports; the granaries had reported on how much longer we could feasibly stay at the new capital without exhausting our resources.
My mind buzzed with all the facts and figures and strategies and tactics to keep straight, even as I withdrew from the rather attractive blonde woman.
I’d made sure that she had reached climax—twice in fact—before taking my own release.
Feeling her writhe under me, panting to give it to her, more, yes, yes, yes…
of course it drew me to orgasm. Of course I reveled in the pulse of her walls around my cock.
It was a transgressive pleasure, one of the few small things I took for myself.
My parents’ herbalist was still with us, and I trusted her to render me sterile for as long as I needed.
Which, given how slowly the war effort was coming together, might be a long time indeed.
“Your majesty?” the woman under me inquired, bringing me back to the present.
I rolled off her. Sweat trickled down my chest, and I swiped at it, irritated. I propped myself up on one elbow to look at her.
“Thank you…” I paused. I had forgotten her name.
Her brown eyes widened for a moment as she realized what had likely transpired. For a moment, my desire sparked again; I wanted more than a pretty face in my bed.
But as I made no move to rectify my rudeness, she simply lowered her chin.
“It was an honor, your majesty. If you would desire time with me again, ask in the trade embassy for Selestra.”
Curses, that was it! I forced a smile to my lips.
“Certainly, we shall see.”
She sat up, showing off her beautiful breasts.
“Or, ask for me and my friend Cleo,” she said with a wink. “I am sure she would delight in getting to spend time with you as well, your majesty.”
My lips tugged up into more of a genuine smile. The promise of novelty would always go over well with me, especially when I was in a depleted state, as I had been of late. That made me inclined for another go, and fortunately, Selestra was most accommodating.
But of course the night was over too soon, and another tedious day dawned.
My primary attendant, Charles, waited on me that morning, with special attention to my appearance, as I was to address a new batch of noble recruits later in the day. Most of them would, of course, be useless.
Just like you’re useless, an unwanted voice whispered in the back of my mind. A voice that sounded suspiciously like my father’s, in the few months before his assassination, when he was realizing that he’d raised a son better suited to ruling a peaceful state than one at war.
Even so, everyone had a talent, or at least money, to contribute, and so we would hopefully attain our shared goal of ousting Matapa from our lands…
not to mention a more concerning topic, of which I had received an abbreviated report from one of my spies.
And then there was the matter of my sister, who was making no secret of her dalliances with spies for the sake of determining who had killed our parents.
And then there was the vexing matter of these so-called faerie “charms”—humans who had crossed paths with faeries, for good or for ill, and who now bore their marks.
My sister had suggested more than once that I openly declare our kingdom hospitable to them, especially if they should aid in the war effort.
But my advisor Madeline had countered (out of my contrary sister’s hearing, of course) that Matapa had made it especially clear that he viewed any blending of faerie with mortal folk to be impure, and such contaminations were not to be borne; declaring this sort of amnesty, in turn, might draw Matapa’s ire upon us even more urgently than it already was.
But there was no time to ruminate on any of these issues, for the opening morning rituals of court were underway. And after more meetings that whisked me from one richly appointed room to another, and a meal, the afternoon welcoming had begun.
Since this was the precursor to a war council, the day’s ritual of greeting new nobles who had arrived started with a procession on horseback.
I was seated on my own favorite warhorse, a chestnut mare I’d named Fleur for her penchant for stopping to smell—and eat—the flowers.
Half a dozen men, ranging from paltry youth to wizened age, paraded their horses in front of me.
One, a lively stallion with a golden hue, stepped especially precisely, and I could see few signals from his well-dressed handler.
I made a mental note to inquire as to his training techniques.
Then it was time to stable the beasts and proceed indoors, to my reception hall, where we would later in the evening hold a fete.
The warm wooden paneling was reminiscent of the salons and bedrooms back in the castle where I had been raised; that type of decor always made me feel at home, even if it still felt like I should not be seated on the throne, but rather, my parents should still be there.
The first few noblemen were polite and dressed richly; I greeted them with warmth and esteem before passing them on to my secretary for appointments to be made once I knew more about them.
One was dressed in fine clothing a decade out of fashion.
Clearly, a country bumpkin with wealth but no style, which again, gave me no cause for complaint.
I had been raised among beautiful things, and our court had once been one of the major stars in the constellation of Europa’s kingdoms.
No more.
The final noble in the line stepped into my view—it was he who had so magnificently wielded his horse.
And for once, I found no cause for complaint.
He appeared a little shorter than me, with fine bone structure that nevertheless promised a hint of muscle underneath.
His skin was light like mine, though bore more recent kisses from the sun than mine, a glimmering tan accenting his beardless cheeks and chin.
That chin tapered to a fine point, and I gazed up from it to see glimmering eyes, the color of the summer sky.
His blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, with only a few wisps framing his brow under the magnificent emerald green tricorn he wore.
His whole suit was green, in fact, a glowing velvet that made me yearn to touch it. Looking closer, I estimated that those were likely gems embroidered into the sleeves and hems.
The richness of his dress impressed me less than how tidily put together he looked, however.
If he had brought his tailor and stylist along, I simply must know them.
And the earnestness in his eyes promised honesty and warmth, far more than I had seen anywhere other than my bed.
Even there, I was well aware that some sought my embrace to curry favor, and I put that notion to rest quickly and brutally.
The ones who still chose to consort with me generally seemed to do so out of pure enjoyment, and that was what I was craving: a chance to be authentically myself, and enjoyed all the more for it.
He was announced as the Chevalier Fortune, from a tiny outpost estate that I recalled passing through earlier in the year. The place had not seemed remarkable, but somehow, it had produced this lad, someone I wanted to get to know better, whether in a collegial sense…or a carnal one.
Though I was not required to say much during these introductions, and in fact I often refrained from saying much at all, because my mind was always torn between a dozen tasks and obligations, I extended a hand to the youth.
He bowed over my hand and kissed it.
His mouth was warm, his lips supple, and when he looked up at me over the place where our flesh connected, I saw how large and expressive his eyes were. And I liked what I saw.
“Make sure to come to the reception for all the remaining nobles tonight,” I said, inclining my head as he released my hand. He did not linger, for that would not have been appropriate, but he waited almost one second too long, which I took as encouragement.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied softly, with one more flick of those gorgeous blue eyes, and then he was gone.
Perhaps the rest of the day would not be so terribly boring after all.