Milady’s Wiles             by: Brandy Dewinter, with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright

 

Chapter 8 - Love War

My faint was driven by pure emotions, without underlying physical basis. As soon as I surrendered to the lack of air, my body relaxed and I began to recover. My first sensations, though, were internal, a sort of dreamy half life without demands or purpose. I knew that I could climb back to full consciousness but it just seemed too hard.

Despite my lethargy, awareness continued to expand. I knew that strong arms were carrying me. Then it came to me that I was wearing a dress and that this was wrong. I, Deacon the First, Monarch of Achaiea, should not be wearing a dress.

But it didn’t matter.

I remembered that I had let a man kiss me and that I had wanted his kiss. No, needed his kiss more than breath itself, in the end surrendering my last bit of breath in favor of another heartbeat with his lips caressing mine. And this was terribly, terribly wrong.

But that didn’t matter either.

Just as it didn’t really matter that I realized there had been no physical response, no increased discomfort in my most intimate recesses. My body that always reacted to Julia’s nymph-like beauty in our shared baths, had not cared a whit for the sensations that had so compelled my mind.

Nothing seemed important enough to make me give up my lazy drifting, a spectator within my own mind to the actions of the persona imposed on my world by Mother’s power.

The overwhelming emotions that had caused me to faint passed quickly. It was unseemly for a princess of Achaiea to appear weak, though, so as soon as the first thread of consciousness returned I struggled to full awareness. I realized that I was being carried in the strong arms of Lyonidas and for just a moment my desire for that comfort warred with my sense of duty. Instead of squirming to be let down, I lifted my head from the graceless loll in which it trailed and rested it on his broad shoul-der. This put my lips in interesting proximity to his ear.

"I’m all right, now," I whispered from very close range, more soft breath than real voice.

He turned to look at me, which changed the proximate part of his visage from ear to lips that seemed compelling beyond resistance. I lifted my own to renew that heavenly touch, but his drew back.

"What happened to you?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"You," I replied.

"Hardly," he argued, "I don’t have that effect on other girls."

"Well, maybe it is me, then. I wouldn’t know."

"Are you saying I’m the first man who has ever kissed you?"

"Um, hmm," I murmured, relaxing my head back on to his shoulder.

"Actually," I mused with a grin, "you took my breath away."

He was about to say something but I saw that we had descended back into the more open corridors. I didn’t want to have to go through all the explanations that being carried would require, so now I did wiggle in his arms to be let down.

He obliged, slowly, more carefully than I really required. At least since he hadn’t kissed me again. I saw a smug grin on his face that would have looked quite silly if I didn’t think there were a matching smile on my own.

He escorted me to my chambers, pausing at the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Why, Milord Regent, the terms of surrender grant you free access to all the castle," I reminded him.

He just stood there. The hurt look on his face hit harder than my earlier faint and I dropped my eyes to the floor.

"I’m sorry, Lyonidas, that was unfair. You have not taken improper advantage of any of your rights. Please, do come in," I said quietly, even as I moved to the bell pull.

"What are you doing?"

I tugged on the cloth strap as I answered, "Summoning servants. It is not proper for us to be alone together for more than just a moment. Also, this is my mother’s gown and I will need help removing it so that I can return it to her."

"Did you know that was the first time you ever called me Lyonidas?" he asked.

"When?"

"Just now, when you were apologizing."

"Oh, well, I won’t do it again," I promised.

"No, please, I like it when you call me Lyonidas. Never has my name sounded more . . . worthy."

"It is hardly my voice that makes you worthy," I demurred.

"It is only your voice that makes me worthy," he disagreed, moving toward me.

I turned away to needlessly straighten some things on my desk. Now that the moment on the high balcony was passed and I had my wits about me again, I realized that this was much too fast for Mother’s plan. Besides, the servants would be here in a moment.

He took the rebuff with good grace, the smile on his face adding a rueful element that showed enough experience with women to roll with the punches. He still moved closer, though. His large hands reached out to touch my books and his glance swept over my paintings and my musical in-struments.

"Have you read all of these?" he asked.

"Most of them. How else do you think I was able to quote your Holy Writ when your father was threatening us?"

He let his fingers trail idly over the top of the books, while his eyes took in my latest painting, still unfinished. I could have told him that was a bad idea but I was also looking at the painting.

When his hand got far enough toward the corner of the shelf, a tiny quicksilver paw struck too fast to be seen.

His reflexes were good. He had his hand drawn back before I even knew he had been touched.

"What was that?" he yelled, reaching for a belt dagger.

I giggled. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. My humor didn’t help his humor at all, but at least he calmed down since my attitude showed no trace of fear.

"Oh, that’s one of our secret weapons," I lied with a broad enough grin to make it clear I was joking.

Reaching into the dark corner, I pulled Wraith into view. The tiny bundle of fur almost disappeared in the next heartbeat as I cradled her in my arms. The shimmers and shines in my elegant black gown provided just enough light to match her smooth dark gray.

Lyonidas grinned now that he understood the nature of his fierce attacker, "If Reynal saw you with a cat, he’d think it was a weapon. There’s something about cats that affects his health. A few minutes in the same room with one and he is sneezing and itching. He hates them. He also thinks all the women of your family are witches and that you keep cats as part of your sorcery. Mother has one, too, you know, back in High Canyon."

To show that he was not himself afraid Lyonidas reached out slowly and took the bundle of dark fluff into his own hands. The little traitor started purring almost as soon as his hands started caressing her. For an insane moment I was actually jealous of my kitten!

I picked an imaginary piece of lint from my bosom, and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from the second-skin tightness of my gown. My motions drew his eyes as though I truly had a magic spell and I let a little throatiness into my voice when I spoke, "Are you saying that the women of Achaiea need magical powers to attract men?"

The flush that grew from his neck to his ears was most gratifying, but just then we heard a knock at the open door.

"Your Highness, did you call?" Minah asked. She knew that I had called, of course. Minah was Amy’s daughter, and it looked like she was going to be filling for me the role that her mother had filled for my mother. Whenever I needed anything, quiet Minah seemed to be handy.

"The women of Achaiea HAVE magical powers, whether they admit them or not," he murmured just loudly enough for me to hear. His flush receded slowly as he handed Wraith back to me, embarrassment transformed to shared amusement, no less frustrating because it was expected.

"Your Highness, Her Majesty the Queen has requested that you attend her as soon as your other activities permit," Minah announced with a smile of her own. For the first time in my life I understood how important loyalty in a servant can be. Minah’s eyes promised absolute discretion.

Still, duty called even louder than the joy of Lyonidas’ company so I nodded and moved to the door. For the moment I kept Wraith with me. Lyonidas escorted us as far as Mother’s door, then bowed courteously.

Inside, I was not surprised to find Julia, but Duchess Amity was also in attendance. Mother’s smile of greeting showed a bit of concern.

"Cherysse, dear, are you all right?" she asked.

"Of course, Mother. I was just watching the sunset as usual."

"Alone?" Julia asked with an impossibly high arch to one elegant brow. In the next instant her eyes lit with a smile of shared secret that eliminated any hint of argument. Was there another hint in those eyes? A message to talk with her in private?

I didn’t answer her question, or perhaps my blush answered for me. Mother’s concern was not relieved by my silent admission. She looked pen-sively at me for a moment then glanced sidelong at Amity. Her features firmed as she reached some internal decision and gently waved me to my accustomed seat.

"We need to decide how we shall proceed," she began. "Cherysse, just what did you do with Reynal? Amity informs me that he thinks you are some sort of evil incarnate, and a strumpet to boot."

I giggled at the thought of the proud general afraid of a mere slip of a girl. My giggle disturbed the nearly-sleeping Wraith, who mewed a small complaint. This made my laughter grow to something almost too vi-brant for propriety for I now had a truly interesting bit of evil in mind.

My first comment answered her question, though, "He was leering at me when we met, looking at my gown, or what’s in it, instead of my face. Since you said you wanted relationships to be confused, when his eyes finally reached my face I smiled at him."

Julia interrupted with a grin of her own, "I saw that smile. If you could bottle it, we wouldn’t need firewood to keep the castle warm this winter."

I just looked at Mother. She knew even better than I where that smile had come from. When she sat quietly, I went on to the next part of my thought.

"Did you know that Reynal hates cats? They make him sick somehow.

And he thinks they are signs that we are witches."

"Indeed?" Queen Selay mused, now once again a Monarch plotting for the safety of her realm. Even if it was my realm.

"Amity, did you have any other impressions of Reynal?" she asked.

Her Grace thought for a moment then replied, "I may have misrepre-sented Reynal’s attitude. He thinks that you and Cherysse are indeed witches, but I sensed a real lust on his part for the princess. It would not be good for them to be alone together."

"That seems like a lot of reaction for a smile," Queen Selay mused, once again looking at me.

"Well, I just started with a smile," I repeated, "but his eyes showed a predatory disrespect that made me angry. I suppose I let a bit of chal-lenge into my expression."

"Challenging Kragdle’s top general?" Amity responded, distressed.

"That could get us all killed."

"We could all be killed at any time," Queen Selay replied. "But Cherysse, we don’t want Lyonidas feeling you’re playing him for a fool. You better not ‘challenge’ Reynal again."

"But Mother, I must!" I protested, my grin showing there was more than simple flirtation on my mind, "and you must also."

Her expression showed her question so I explained, "I know you intend to get Lyonidas to stop attending council sessions in the same way you got him out of petition audiences, by boring him. Reynal might not be so easy to run off. His sense of duty might keep him there long enough to see our plan, or at least to keep you from running the kingdom as you must. I think at the next council session you and I should both bring our little friends. Don’t you?"

With that I lifted Wraith a little. Mother looked down at Grey-shadow, in her lap as usual, and a fierce, predatory grin that made Reynal’s look positively weak appeared on her face.

"Since there are enough seats in the chamber for the whole council to sit, I’ll make sure that Hugh places Reynal close to one of us," she promised.

Then her eyes got pensive again and she turned back to Amity. "Duchess, what would be the reason that you think Reynal lusts for Cherysse? Is it just her beauty?"

"No, now that I understand their interaction when they met I think the attraction is for Her Highness’s strength of character, the challenge. Do you suppose I should try to be challenging to him?" she asked, the prospect clearly not pleasing to her.

"Not at all, dear," Queen Selay assured her, "just the opposite. We need to confuse things, not clarify them. If Reynal is intended for you, and he prefers a strong-willed woman, then you will give him quiet weak-ness. Cling to him in your despair, cry a lot. It should make him even more aware of both Cherysse and Julia."

Julia’s eyes met mine and we shared a conspiratorial grin. We could pretend to be jealous of each other for the benefit of Lyonidas, while at the same time trying to make Reynal jealous of Lyonidas. This could be interesting!

Queen Selay motioned to the servants and we all went to the dressing area to have our gowns removed. Unfortunately, while the Queen and the Duchess could relax after their formal clothes were removed, Julia and I were held as tightly held as ever. At least the skirts on our dressing gowns were less full and less bother than the gorgeous gowns, though I surrendered mine with a wistful sigh.

Mother noticed, of course. She noticed everything. Another glance at Amity preceded another consideration of her previous decision. Her expression warned me to be careful, but as we settled back onto seats she required a more complete explanation, "Cherysse, tell me what really happened on the balcony."

I had thought I had gotten over the intensity of the emotions but when I thought back on my sensations on the balcony, I felt my heart begin to flutter again and my breath begin to get short. I could feel a flush of heat color my cheeks and looked out the dark window rather than meet Mother’s eyes.

"Cherysse?" Mother’s voice asked again, gentle, but insistent.

It drew my eyes. I saw understanding there with neither ridicule nor judgment and it encouraged me enough to start. "Well, um, when I got to my balcony, uh, Lyonidas was already there."

Mother sat quietly. Amity was interested in an amused sort of way. Julia was interested in a strange sort of way that I couldn’t quite figure out.

"We, uh, watched the sunset together. I, uh, well, he said I was . .

. beautiful."

Duchess Amity interrupted with a smile she meant to be encouraging, "An understandable sentiment, I’m sure."

"Yes, well, he had been, um, looking at Julia a lot at dinner, so I, um, suggested maybe he liked red hair better. I was sort of unhappy at the thought and I guess I was pouting a little."

"I’ve seen that pout," Mother smiled now.

"Yes, well, um, Lyonidas saw it too," I tried to conclude.

"And then?" now Julia encouraged me to continue, though her tone was less amused.

"I, um, guess it drew his attention, or something, and well, he, uh, put his hands in my hair," I blurted.

"You let him touch your unbound hair?" Amity was horrified.

"Three times now, isn’t it?" Julia asked innocently.

I sent her a dagger glance that bounced off her strange expression. It wasn’t condemning like her words might have implied, there was some-thing else in there.

"Was that all that happened?" Mother asked.

I shook my head. No one offered any reprieve, though, they just sat silently.

Gulping the little air that I could in that diabolical device, I stammered, "Then he, um, well, kissed me."

I looked at Julia, ready to kill her if she even gave me a dirty look, but she was suddenly as interested in the dark window as I had been.

All of the sudden her strange expression became clear. "He kissed you too," I exclaimed.

Her blush offered the closest competition for her fiery hair of any sight I had seen in Achaiea. The briefest of nods might have gone un-noticed if not for the ripple it started in her flame-red mane. I coul-dn’t decide whether to be angry, or jealous, or both.

Finally I laughed, "That two-timing son of a desert snake." I had passed on further kisses because I didn’t want to get too far ahead of Julia, and all I was doing was catching up. A most unladylike phrase almost made it to my lips, caught at the last instant.

Mother was surprisingly uncomfortable that I should make such an insult to Lyonidas’ ancestry. I mean, really, a man had put his hands in my unbound hair three times, and kissed me. I was practically a woman, not a little girl. I could say what I pleased.

"Julia?" Queen Selay’s interrogation shifted targets, thankfully.

"Well, we were walking back up from the lower storage chambers, and I, um, slipped, on the steps. Lyonidas caught me," now she tried to es-cape with half an explanation.

"Funny," I teased, "I’ve been up and down those steps a hundred times and have never slipped."

"Shhh," Mother demanded, then looked again to Julia.

"Well, um, he, uh, sort of held me for a bit longer than was, um, necessary. One of his hands ended up in my hair and he started, uh, twir-ling it in his fingers."

Amity’s eyebrows were headed for her hairline at this second revela-tion of the sorts of things that happened when maidens unbound their hair.

Julia was caught up in her own tale now, a dreamy expression showing her fondness for the memory. "My eyes sort of closed on their own, and the next thing I knew his lips were pressing into mine."

"I almost fainted," she concluded softly, wistfully.

This caused me to twitch uncomfortably. Mother caught my motion, and raised an elegant brow in regal demand.

"I did faint," I admitted.

"Well girls, it appears that Prince Lyonidas needs little help from us to keep his attention well distributed between you," Queen Selay de-clared with wry amusement.

"Well, I never," Amity huffed.

"No, and that’s the way you should remain," Queen Selay ordered, making our behavior acceptable as the result of similar orders.

"It seems you young ladies have had a busy day and tomorrow is another bathing day. Off to bed with you both. You’ll need your sleep."

I don’t suppose I’ve ever been so happy obeying one of her orders. But surprisingly, sleep took a long time coming. Memories of the sunset kept flickering through my mind, and of what followed. It made me wist-ful, and yet somehow uncomfortable at the same time. Like something inside of me was more horrified than simple propriety would demand.

 

(continued in Part 9)

 

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Milady's Wiles © 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.