The Wicked Tower - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The masked man moved nimbly. Vel and Naevia followed him down the alley, and then lost sight of him as he turned left through a door.

“A trap?” Naevia stopped next to her brother, her shoulder pushing against his side. The dagger in her hand glittered with the faint afternoon light that angled in above the tan buildings around them. “Perhaps we should have the man send us a pigeon instead?”

“I don’t think he trusts such communication.” Vel took an uncertain step toward the door. “As our cousin said, pigeons are brought down with an arrow. Men, not so easily.” He took another step and peered into the doorway. There seemed to be a narrow passage on the other side. “Let’s follow him.”

“Oh, you are brave, Your Grace. Guide me by your northern light.” Naevia tried to make a joke of it, but her knees trembled as she followed Vel through the door. Once on the other side, they could see daylight from the other side of a narrow passage. They moved quickly through, staying close together, ignoring the doors on either side. When Naevia looked back, she saw that the door they had entered through was now shut behind them.

“It’s not a trap. If it was, we would be dead.” Vel exited the passage with his sister and looked around. They were in a wide, grassy field, squared off by the buildings around them. All around were scattered large pieces of masonry, sparse at first, them more of them the closer they got to the tower at the center of the square. The blocks, mostly rectangles, had implanted themselves in the grass with the force of their falls. Vel looked up and marveled at the broken tower above them. Even decaying as it was, it was truly a marvel. He tried to imagine what it had been like in its prime, when it had pierced the clouds.

“There he is.” Naevia pointed to the grand double doors of the tower, standing partly ajar. The man in the silver mask looked back at them, his face glinting in the sun. He then disappeared into the tower. “Do we follow still?” She didn’t like the thought of entering that decrepit building. Few dared to explore the old towers. And fewer still returned.

“We would be fools to enter a magic tower.” Vel slid his sword back into its scabbard. There was no trap, and a sword wouldn’t help him should a stone block decide to cave his head in.

“Perhaps others would be fools to follow us?” Naevia shrugged and put her knife back under her stola. “Or at least that sounds like Father’s thinking. If the masked man is father.”

“So, we go?” He took his sister’s hand and approached the tower, listening for loosening stones from above. But all he heard were the sounds of the city from outside their abandoned square.

“Up, it seems.” Naevia squeezed her brother’s large hand as they entered the tower. The inside had clearly been looted, but showed none of the signs of vagrancy that one would expect from an abandoned building.  There had been a grand entrance hall, and she tried to imagine it with elaborate sconces, beautiful tapestries, and fine furniture. The tile floor was cracked here and there where stones had fallen from the ceiling above. “The stairs are over there.”

“Does it feel … different in here?” Vel’s senses throbbed with some indefinite portent. A raw buzzing faintly pressed at his skin. He followed Naevia to the stairs and climbed.

“I do feel … something. Perhaps it’s the shadow of the place’s magic?” She moved ahead of Vel in the narrow stairway, her feet creaking each wooden step.

“Maybe.” Vel watched her round butt ascend above him. He tried not to stare, but her form was captivating. Especially as her hips swayed under that nearly transparent stola.

They climbed and climbed. Each time they came to a floor, they looked out, but saw nothing of the masked man. After five floors, it was clear they had more courage than the looters had. Each floor boasted intricately engraved fixtures, grand furniture, and finely embroidered tapestries on the walls. All of it covered in dust, but otherwise unharmed. Up they went.

Naevia was a sweaty mess by the time they finally found the man waiting for them on the seventeenth floor. He was waiting in a hallway, but disappeared behind an oak door when they saw him.

“He’s … here.” Naevia huffed and puffed as she walked down the hall and peered into the room. It was a suite with a bath and toilet through a door on the left, a great room in the middle, and a bedroom to the right. “Did they have plumbing on every floor?” Naevia was amazed.

“With magic, even the common man could live as a duke.” The man’s voice was no longer a croak. Both his children recognized Gallio’s cool speech immediately. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom and removed his mask. “Well, maybe not the common man, but at least those that could afford to live in the towers.”

“Father,” Naevia and Vel said. She rushed into Gallio’s arms, but Vel hung back.

“It is good to see you, child.” Gallio patted her red hair and pushed her away. He looked at his tall, skinny nineteen-year-old son. The lad looked awkward and gawky. Nothing like Fortinbras. “Is it true? Your brother’s gone?”

“Yes. The queens regent made me the Duke of Ostia Novus.” Vel crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably. They knew from his letter that he was alive, but looking at his father’s face was akin to seeing a ghost. “Fortinbras has disappeared. But now that you’re back –”

“He is dead.” Gallio’s thin line of a mouth turned down in a frown. “I should not have left him as I did. He was the best of us, but too young to lead.”

“But father …” Naevia didn’t want to contradict him, but clearly Vel was the best of the Tullius clan. Fortinbras was a bully.

“And, to correct you, Vel, I am not back.” Gallio shook his head. “You two should not have come. You bring trouble with you.”

“We brought no one.” Naevia retreated to her brother and put her arm around his waist protectively.

“Do you take me for a fool?” Gallio retrieved a spyglass from under his cloak. As he looked out the window, he pulled it to its full length. “Look down there, in the alley between the market and apothecary.” He held out the spyglass to his children.

“What is it?” Naevia pulled her brother to the window, took the spyglass, and found the alley. “It’s cousin Dellia. Of course, we brought her. She served admirably in the storm at sea and she’s got a better sword hand than either of us.” She handed the glass to her brother and he looked.

“Um … Naevia? Who is she kissing?” Vel handed the glass back to her.

“What? She wouldn’t break her vows to her husband.” Naevia hadn’t even paid attention to the man Dellia was with in the alley. She looked again.

“She would not break her vows. No.” Gallio’s voice was cold.

“That is … I believe … is that … Spurrius?” Naevia could see them break their kiss and recognized Dellia’s husband. “What is he doing here? She didn’t mention it to us.”

“I can’t imagine that she did.” Gallio lifted his mask, but did not put it on. “I have always had my suspicions about her father. Find out her true purpose here and report back to me.”

“Do you have a pigeon?” Vel knew it was stupid as soon as he said it.

“Pigeons can be intercepted, and everyone knows to look for them. A monkey is inconspicuous in this city, and more cunning than a stupid bird,” Gallio said. “You’ve met my carrier already.”

“Mercury was your agent?” Naevia should not have been surprised.

“You call him Mercury? How fitting. Give him a note when you want to meet and he will get it to me.” Gallio put the silver mask back onto his face. “Careful on the way out of this building, my children. It is not what it used to be.”

“Wait. We have so many questions.” Vel stepped toward him as his father moved to the exit.

“And I have no answers for those that cannot be trusted.” Gallio swept out of the room, his cloak trailing him.

“But … I’m the duke.” Vel called after him. He heard his father’s laugh slowly die away as Gallio descended the stairs. He turned to his sister. “Well, that went about as well as it could have.”

“Was it that bad?” Naevia looked through the spyglass and could see Dellia and Spurrius holding hands as they waited in the mouth of the alley. They were situated about two blocks from where Naevia and Vel had accessed the abandoned tower. “I think we’re going to have to find another way out. Father could have told us how he planned on leaving.”

“Yeah. But he did not.” Vel walked over to the bed and turned back the dusty velvet blanket. The linen sheets seemed as clean as the day someone made the bed. He sat down with a sigh, the bed squeaking beneath him. “We could just wait them out.” He turned sideways and lay his head on the pillow. His ankles and feet extended over the footboard. He sighed again.

“What sorrows lay heavy on your breast, Brother?” Naevia put down the spyglass on the window ledge and walked out into the grand room. She closed and locked the heavy oak entry door and then returned to the bedroom.

“Our father has a toxic aspect about him. It clouds his view of the world. Dellia would never betray us. Yet he now has us spying on her.” Vel studied the Olympian mural painted on the cracking plaster of the ceiling. He spotted Venus and thought that even her beauty was surpassed by the Tullius women.

“Is she really watching our exit? Perhaps she followed us to make sure of our safety? What did she say she was doing today?” Naevia climbed onto the bed and rested her head on Vel’s chest, listening to the steady thump inside. She reached up and slowly unclasped the fasteners on his robes. A smile parted her lips as she watched up close as a mound of tunic rose between his legs.

“I … um … don’t remember.” Vel couldn’t think straight as the soft weight of his sister’s body pushed into his side. How was it possible to want anything on Earth as much as he wanted her? He watched her little hands spread his robes and move down to lift his tunic. He breathed in deeply and smelled the dust of the room and his sister’s dried sweat from their climb. Ambrosia could not carry a better scent to his nose.

“If we do it again, do you think we’ll bring the tower down around us?” She seized the fat bar of his cock through his tunic and rhythmically squeezed it. Uncovering it, she marveled at the crimson head and the crisscross of veins. How she had fit the thing inside her, she didn’t know. Her senses tingled, almost like the erstwhile magic of the tower called to her from the past. “How long do you think it’s been since a pair mated in this building?”

“I … um … really love hearing you say … mated.” Vel looked down and watched her hands work him. Her freckled arms flexed, looking so thin and pale next to his enlarged penis.

Naevia laughed. “Mated, mated, mated. If it makes you happy to hear it, it makes me happy to say it. You’ve mated me once, Vel, and I dare say you’re about to do it again.” She let go of him, wiping his precum on the sheets. She lifted her stola over her head, removed her chest band, and rolled to her back to remove her underwear. She tossed her clothes onto a far corner of the bed and then climbed on top of her brother. “Your thing is so long that climbing you is about as much a feat as ascending up this building.” She straddled him, reached in between her legs, and held his cock so that the head nudged her pussy. “You have your own magic tower, Vel. And it is in a much better state than our current accommodations. It’s hard, and vital, and huuuuuuuge.” She lowered herself and with a plop the head moved inside her.

“I love you, Naevia.” Vel had never meant it more in his life. He watched her body twitch as she readjusted to his size, her heavy breasts rising and falling on her chest. He gazed at the web of delicate blue veins under her pale skin. She was too perfect. He felt her slide a little farther down on him, and her eyes rolled with the effort.

“Of course, silly. I love you more than ipomea loves the eastern sun. And now … ugh … with the way you make me feel … aaaaahhhhhhhh … with your thing inside me.” She slid all the way down him. Looking down between her breasts, she could see the outline of his monster pushing at her belly from the inside. “And now … I want only this. To feel this …” Her hips rocked and she ground herself into him. “… forever.” She leaned forward, her breasts dangling and swaying, her nails digging into his chest.

“Does it feel good?” Vel knew it was the wrong question to ask a woman who’d just impaled herself on him, but he suspected his sister would forgive him.

“It doesn’t hurt … this time.” She threw her copper curls back and screamed. “I’m going to … cum … Vel … already … aaaaahhhhhhhhhh.”

Watching her hips writhe and her face twist with pleasure was almost too much for Vel. He reached up and grabbed her tits. A loud crack sounded somewhere in the tower, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

An hour later, Naevia lay perpendicular to him on the bed, her mouth bobbing on his cock. Vel could smell the tropical scent of his cum as it leaked from around her mouth and slid down his cock. “You … drank more of it this time.” He sighed and let his weight settle into the mattress.

Naevia pulled her mouth off him and swallowed another gulp she had saved in her mouth. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “If we’re to go again, I’ll need my sustenance, Your Grace.” She tapped his still hard cock with her hand and watched it wobble in the air. When she looked up at her brother’s face, a small frown touched her lips. “None of that, lord sleepyhead. I want more.” She got on all fours and turned her butt to him.

“We could take a nap here. Dellia will have to leave eventually.” Vel looked at the way she presented herself to him, eyeing the white curves of her ass, and knew he would not be able to sleep.

“Bother your plans for sleeping.” She wiggled her butt at him and looked over her shoulder. She could see by his expression it was having the desired effect. “I’ve ridden you twice now. It’s time you rode me.”

“Like that?” Vel had seen animals mate as his sister intended, but he’d never guessed that humans could do the same. He got up on his knees and got behind her. His hips were too high, so he opened his legs a bit to lower himself. He grabbed her hips and pulled her so that her legs were together, enjoying her little shriek of surprise as he moved her. “So, I just put it in?” He grabbed his penis and guided it toward her opening.

“Not there!” Naevia squirmed away from him. “You’ll kill me in that hole.” She scooted back to him, reached awkwardly back, planting a shoulder on the bed to bend far enough, and took hold of him. “It goes here. Yes … ah … yes. Is that not paradise, Vel?” She let go of him and uncoiled so that her face was again facing forward. “Hold my hips … while you thrust. Gentle … gentle. I’m still sore. Yeeesssssss. Now harder.” She pushed back at him. The percussion of slapping skin filled the room. “Oh … gods … Vel … you’re a natural … I’m …” Another climax hit her and she bit the ancient sheets. Bolts of lightning danced over her nerves.

They went at it like a pair of rutting dogs for a long while. From time to time the tower would groan or crack around them, but they barely registered the noise over their own grunts, cries, and the creaking bed. Eventually, Vel was ready to release again.

“I’m going to … I’m going …” He looked down at her tight butt, at the ripples bounding off each thrust.

“Not … yet … please …” Naevia was so close to another orgasm. She needed to pull off him, but not yet. Her climaxes were becoming as precious to her as water was to a lost traveler in the desert. The heat that was always flowing from Vel’s contact intensified. An eruption of fire filled her belly, even with her climax almost upon her, the reality of the situation hit. “Noooooooooo …” Naevia pulled forward and dislodged him, falling on her side. The heat of his cum splattered on her hip, her ribs, the side of her breast, and even her face. She writhed in the sheets, lost in pleasure, as he coated her with his stuff.

“Oh, Naevia. I like … that position.” He fell next to her, and the bed groaned in protest.   

“Did you … do it inside me?” Naevia rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and looked down past her copper bush. A trickle of white stuff slid out of her. “We … have to be … more careful.” With her fingers, she spread her lips to the side and watched it dribble out, mesmerized and terrified by the knowledge that she had taken some of his seed.   

“Did I?” Vel could feel his body try and tighten with worry, but he was too relaxed after his orgasm to bring on a full panic. He leaned on his elbow and looked over at her leaking vagina. “Oh, gods, Naevia. I did. I’m sorry.”

“Well, it was a stupid thing to do.” She looked over at him and saw the look of post-climax satisfaction on his face mixed with concern. She found the expression endearing. “But I am safe today. It doesn’t matter.”

“Good.” Vel watched as she stayed on her back with her legs spread and her fingers holding her lips open. He noticed her green eyes move from him back down to the damage he had wrought between her legs. “Hey, Naevia?”

“Yes, Your Grace?” Her mouth tilted into a smile.

“It does look beautiful, does it not? I mean, what we did.” Vel stood and walked over to the window. Hazy dusk spread over the city.

“Don’t get used to it. Can you imagine what mother would say if you got me with child?” Naevia rolled off the bed and landed on her feet. She reached for her linen undergarments. She shimmied her underwear on and reached for her stola. “She would decapitate me for sure. And remove worse from you.”

Vel instinctively put a hand over his softening penis. “We’ll be more careful.” He looked through the spyglass, but couldn’t spot Dellia in the alley. The tower groaned and let out a sharp crack. He quickly found his tunic and pulled it over his head. “Our cousin is gone. Let’s leave this place before it comes down on our heads.”

“Excellent idea.” With a faint sense of loss, she watched the giant, soft cock disappear under his tunic. She reminded herself she would reunite with it soon. But they had other things to do on that foreign shore. First and foremost was proving to their father that Dellia’s behaviors had innocent explanations. 

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What a wonderful morning. Brynhild moved about her room naked, as she prepared for her day. She didn’t even mind the way her new body jiggled at her. She found her balance caught the distribution of mass better, almost as if she’d lived years with a sow’s udders and wide hips. Gravity’s new pull bothered her very little. As she slid on a long skirt and wiggled into a tight bodice, she wondered what Merope was doing at this hour. Then she caught herself thinking of the small woman with desire, like some smitten schoolgirl. She smiled to herself. “You, the most powerful sorceress left of the North, do not long for a common scullery servant,” she said to the empty room. But as she brushed her hair, she couldn’t get the little woman’s cries of pleasure out of her mind.

Before even breaking her fast, with the wan light of early morning falling through her windows, Brynhild left her room and moved down through the castle. Sure enough, she found Merope working with her husband and another woman in the scullery.

“Servant girl.” Brynhild glided into the scullery, past the pot of boiling water, over to the sink where Merope scrubbed dishes. The young wife looked quite radiant. Maybe she was as eager to meet the day as Brynhild. “I have a box that needs cleaning.”

“A box, mistress?” Merope dared not look up at those steely blue eyes, but she also could not meet her husband’s gaze either. She hoped very much that her rosy cheeks were not betraying her shame to all those in the room. She wanted desperately to run from this woman, but she did not move. And, even worse, a wetness gathered between her legs. She desperately hoped that her poor Nicias suspected nothing. “I must finish these dishes.”

“My box takes precedence, I’m afraid.” Brynhild’s face was tight with anticipation.

“Maybe I can help you with your box.” Nicias moved between the women. He did not like the interest the sorceress had taken in his wife ever since Merope had forgotten the dishes. Was the giantess punishing Merope in secret? His wife had been taciturn the last few days.

A sardonic grin crossed Brynhild’s tight lips. “Thank you, gentle Nicias. But I require your wife’s skills.” She turned and walked out of the scullery, without looking back. “Now come, Merope.”

“Yes, mistress.” Merope finally met her husband’s gaze. She could see he meant to put himself between them again. “Shh, it’s fine, Nicias.” She patted his shoulder. “She has shown me kindness. I will be back with you at work in no time.” She tried very hard to smile for him, and followed the tall woman out.

“See you soon, my love,” Nicias called after her. His wife gave him one quick, reassuring look over her shoulder and was gone.

Out in the hall, Merope hurried after the sorceress. She found it hard to keep up with the woman’s long strides. She watched Brynhild’s rump sway under a long skirt that swept down to the stone floor. Had she really experienced such pleasures while grasping that butt with her own two hands? That memory seemed to be from someone else’s life.

“We are far enough away, and the climb back to my chamber is too long a wait.” Brynhild turned, took the woman’s wrist with her left hand. She nearly pulled the woman off her feet in her urgency. They were in the long curving corridor that connected the temples. They turned and entered Venus’s sanctum. The circular room was small, with the bountiful goddess standing in statue form in the middle, offering her large breasts to her followers. There was no door, but that did not matter. People rarely visited the temples. “This will do.”

“The box … is in here?” Merope found it hard to think. Brynhild’s heat spread through her grip on her wrist, and moved into Merope’s core. She found herself pushed to her knees, then somehow, she was under Brynhild’s skirts. The smell of excitement from the sorceress was a powerful indication of what the woman expected of her. Tentatively, Merope reached up and felt the downy tuft of hair above Brynhild’s vagina. There was no underwear between Merope’s hand and the woman’s secrets. Hating herself for the lack of doubt in her mind, Merope crouched on her feet for her tongue could not reach its destination while on her knees.

“There now, my little marsh flower. Drink what I offer you. Yeeeeesssssssss.” Brynhild nearly lost her balance when that hungry mouth fastened itself to her pussy. She reached out and put her hand on Venus’s cold, stone breast to steady herself. She looked down, but only the faintest outline of Merope’s bobbing head could be seen under her skirts. “You have found the box that so needed your skills. Wash it … yesssssss … delve it … I’m going to …” Brynhild shuddered out her first orgasm standing in the sanctum. As she tried to control her cries, the sorceress knew that it would be just the first of many climaxes that day.

Merope reached up to those wide, round butt cheeks and squeezed them hard as she worked the tall woman’s button. She felt that she might climax herself just from giving the sorceress such pleasure. Her whole world had turned upside down.

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The morning wore on and still Merope did not return to the scullery. Nicias tried to make explanations that did not involve some secret torment for his sweet wife. But after more than an hour, he could not continue with his duties. He had to rescue her. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

The other servants eyed each other, nervously. One was not supposed to break this early in the day, but they knew he worried over Merope. They said nothing as he left.

Nicias went straight to Brynhild’s chamber, but found no sound from within and no answer to his knocks. He then doubled back and went down to the main floor. After a while, he stopped in the corridor outside the temples. A mewling sound greeted his ears. After a minute’s investigation, he found that it was coming from Venus’s sanctum. He entered and stopped, wide eyed. There was the sorceress, holding the bust of Venus. Her face was clearly contorted in some sort of religious ecstasy. Nicias stared at her. “Oh … um … forgive my intrusion.”

Merope froze. She now had two fingers in the other woman’s clenching vagina, and her tongue stopped as it was mid-lick on her button. She was hidden under the skirts, but recognized her husband’s gentle voice. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

“Ah, Nicias. You have caught me giving my devotion to Venus.” Brynhild composed herself a bit. It helped that the wife had stopped her ministrations. She made a show of squeezing the stone breast she held.

“I … uh … I … thought you worshiped the Northern gods.” Nicias felt like he had intruded on a very intimate moment, and wanted nothing more than to quickly exit. But he had to ask about his wife.

“I find my pantheon to be open and accommodating.” At these words she rocked her hips a little, trying to spur Merope back into action.

Merope could feel the pussy clenching around the fingers of her right hand and Brynhild’s hips wiggling. She still held the right butt cheek with her left hand, and felt it clench under her grip. She knew the woman wanted her to continue even as she spoke to poor Nicias. How depraved did she think Merope was?

“Oh … I see.” Nicias could see the woman’s curvaceous body writhe a bit, in what he assumed was her continued religious fervor. He needed to leave. “Have you … um … seen my wife?

“Maybe your wife is nearby. Would you like to see her?” Brynhild glanced around the room as if searching for someone.

“I … um … don’t see her.” Nicias did not understand the woman. There was nowhere in that small space for a grown woman to hide.

Merope understanding the threat, pumped her fingers again. She tried to do this gently, for she did not want her husband to hear the squelching sounds she made. She pursed her lips and sucked on the button before her.

Brynhild laughed. “Of course, I jest. I sent her on some errands about the castle. She’s probably already returned to the scullery.”

“Oh … okay.” Nicias backed toward the exit.  The woman’s hips were now rocking quite rhythmically, like a dance. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, mistress.” He turned and left.

“I am not disturbed, Nicias.” She called after him. When he was gone, she whispered down to her skirts. “Very good, little one. Now … ah … finish me off. Yeeeesssssssss.” And she climaxed again.

Before sending Merope back to her tasks in the scullery, Brynhild pulled the young wife from her hiding place. She lifted her up, swung Merope’s legs over her shoulders, and tucked her head under Merope’s stola. As she licked and sucked at the servant's womanhood and listened to the woman’s frenzied whining, she thought that perhaps she was not so well hidden as Merope had been. But she knew Nicias would not return. It was almost midday by the time she patted Merope’s butt, advised her to wash her face, and sent her on her way.

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The morning after she had spent such a wonderful time in the tower with her brother, Naevia woke up before sunrise and settled herself just out of sight from her cousin’s room. She did not wake Vel for fear that she might get waylaid in his room. Naevia wore a stola, with a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. She could not imagine that Dellia would do her harm, but if her father was worried, she figured she might as well be cautious.   

Just as the first rays of daylight fell into the hall, Naevia heard Dellia’s door open. She peered around and watched the young woman march with purpose away from her down the hall. Naevia followed, sticking to the shadows.

They traversed the viscount’s castle, and Dellia slipped into the aviary. Naevia sneaked to a nearby balcony so that she could watch her cousin through the glassless windows of the aviary. Dellia wore her battle tunic, and even from a distance Naevia could hear her sword jangling at her side. Naevia watched her spend time at a pigeon cage and then approach the window. Naevia removed her bow and notched an arrow.

It all happened quite fast. Dellia strode to the window, tossed the bird outside, and turned back to the door. Naevia let the arrow fly just as her cousin’s back turned itself to the outgoing message. The poor pigeon exploded in a puff of feathers and fell with the arrow to the rocky outcrop below. Naevia glanced at her cousin but Dellia was already leaving the aviary. She hadn’t seen what befell her messenger.

Heart thumping in her chest, Naevia waited a good long while before leaving the balcony. She crept through the castle, telling herself over and over that the message’s contents would be banal and benign. She prayed it was so. She exited the castle, crossed the north lawn, and found the dead pigeon and her arrow on the rocks where they’d fallen. She retrieved her arrow, tossed the pigeon into a nearby wood, and tucked the still sealed scroll into her stola pocket. Now it was time to wake her brother. She hurried back into the castle.

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Birds sang in the trees of the courtyard. The portcullis rose as Cassia stood waiting with her retinue. She wore a gold circlet in her hair, and her stola was interwoven with glittering silver thread in floral designs. “Smiles everyone.” She reached up and patted Bantia’s shoulder. They could hear the horse hooves approach. This was the day Lord Hostus Gala’s family would formally propose marriage to the Tullius clan.

A horn sounded. Cassia’s smile left her like smoke on the wind. That was not the sound of the Gala family. That was the royal horn. It was supposed to be reserved for the princess in waiting. But, as a column of horsemen entered the courtyard pulling the royal carriage, Cassia could see that it was now used by the queens regent. This was the royal guard. Beside her she felt the sorceress’s stance shift uneasily. Bantia reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed it tight.

The carriage pulled around the courtyard and stopped in front of Cassia. The duchess stood a bit straighter. She could see another carriage rumble through the gate. The banner waving from it was the gull on a blue field. The Gala sigil. Why had the Gala’s not told her the queens were with them?

Guards descended from their positions about the carriage and opened the door. First, the consort regent, Tiberius, exited. He smiled at Cassia and held his hand out for his wife. Queen Valeria took his hand and stepped out of the carriage. She held her free hand behind her, and Queen Cesphea followed her out. Cesphea had never married, so the carriage had no more passengers.

“Welcome, Your Majesties.” Cassia curtsied low and Bantia followed suit. To her right, Brynhild paused for a fraction of a second, and then curtsied, too. “It is an honor and a blessing to have you with us.” She stayed in her curtsey, eyes on the neatly trimmed grass below her.

“Rise, Duchess.” Valeria held up her hand in a magnanimous boon to all present. “The gods bestow their love and charity on you. Now rise.”

“To what do we owe this glorious pleasure?” Cassia looked on the perfect, pale faces of the queens.

A guard handed Valeria her scepter with the goddess Salacia sculpted out of patinaed copper. “We are here for the blessed joining of two of the kingdom’s most storied houses.” She looked around with a faint smirk and raised eyebrow. “But where is the duke? Could he not greet us?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. My son is across the sea negotiating a trade compact.” Cassia bowed her head.

“Well, it is good that he is working hard for Ostia Novus. We would not want him running hither and tither on personal errands so soon into his ducal duties,” Cesphea said. “Come then, let us help you celebrate this momentous day.” The queens and consort walked past Cassia into the front hall.

Cassia glanced at her daughter whose olive complexion suddenly looked quite wan. “Welcome the Gala family and your husband-to-be. I will attend to the queens.” She watched her daughter nod and rush off to the second carriage. Then, Cassia turned, cursed herself under her breath, and headed into the main hall to welcome this new intrusion into her home.

Continued in Chapter 7

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