The Wicked Tower - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The grunting, moaning, and slapping echoed off the walls of Vel’s chambers in the viscount’s castle. Naevia was grateful for the thick walls built to keep out the desert’s heat. Did Naevia sound like such a wild animal when she and Vel rutted? She didn’t think so, but she so lost herself in her pleasures with him that she couldn’t be sure. She guessed that Dellia might sound very much like this in the throes of pitched battle. Grunts, squeals, and curses came out of their cousin’s mouth as Vel took her from behind.

“You’ve … aaahhhhhh … fucking … broken me … Cousin. Stop … and I promise … I will forget it.” Dellia tried to look back at him over her bare, tensing shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered as he hit some deep place inside her that Spurrius had neglected with his smaller tool. “Just pull … gods damn … out.” The heat that spread from Vel’s cock deep in her belly and from his hands on her hips fogged her brain and sapped her of her agency.

“Naevia?” Vel was trying not to enjoy himself too much in front of his sister. But punishing Dellia for her treachery by possessing her from the inside out was a high he had not yet known. “What should I … uh, uh, uh … do?”

“She’s asking you to pull out of her. She’s not making you.” Naevia bit her lip. This really was the only way. Right? Maybe the curse was a gift. Dellia would have hurt them otherwise. And she would have hurt their father. “That means it’s working. Keep going. Don’t stop, no matter what she says. We can’t let her go until she swears her allegiance to the Tullius clan.”

“How … ugh … about it?” Vel’s hips slammed into his cousin’s tight butt. He moved as if he was an automaton. “Will you … swear to … help me … and … uh … uh … uh … my sister … and … my father?”

“N … n … never,” Dellia said as she dropped her head to look back at the floor. She tried to focus her gaze on the iron ring on her left hand. She knew a nerve ran from her fourth finger directly to her heart. That was the power of a wedding ring. But her cousin’s cock had somehow attenuated that nerve. Vel’s power and the pleasure he coaxed out of her were attempting to usurp everything that mattered to Dellia. “I am … oooohhhhhh … loyal to the crown … and to my father. Agh … agh … aggghhhhhhhhhh.” She bucked her hips back at him and let out a series of low grunts. She was at the mercy of another climax. There was no mention of her loyalty to her husband.

Naevia sat herself on the edge of the bed and watched. Her pretty, unlined face twisted in awe. Did she actually enjoy seeing this traitor treated thusly? Would she enjoy it even if Dellia had not tried to betray them? She worked hard to keep her hand from going under her stola. After a while, she could see some clarity return to Dellia’s eyes, and the woman’s back flexed in such a way that it looked like she was working herself up for action. Vel needed to do more. “You must take her harder, Vel.”

“I’m … getting … tired.” He was indeed sucking in air as if he’d just run a race. But also, he couldn’t hold back the flood much longer. Thinking about sports was not working in the least. Not when he could look at the impact ripples on Dellia’s tight butt. To make matters worse, his mind kept returning to the idea that he had to vanquish the treachery inside her. And the battle for that conquest, waged inside her pussy, excited his mind into a frenzy he could not easily quell. “And I think … I’m going to …”

“Oh … oh, my.” Naevia rubbed her legs together. “Well, you cannot stop. Or pull out.” She watched her cousin.

Apparently Vel’s words had further sobered Dellia. She looked over at Naevia with a dark look, but said nothing.

Naevia nodded to herself. “First, you need to regain some control, Vel. Grab her hair. No, at the top. Yes, like that. Now, pull her head up and back so that she’s forced to arch her back.” The man Naevia had once lain with had done this to her. At the time, she’d thought it was pure magic. But now she knew that such tricks in the hands of that man were just parlor games. But in Vel’s hands, she could only imagine what this would do to Dellia. “Good, now really drive it into her.” Naevia’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. He was so long, and pulled back so far with each thrust. Power seemed to flow from Vel in waves.

“Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh.” Dellia orgasmed again. She could feel Vel striking to her very center. With her back curved, she could feel him poking at the front of her belly. Did his penis want to find another way out? He was driving her crazy. His words about his impending orgasm floated out of her mind.

“Going to … do it …” Vel looked over at his sister with longing and guilt. He did not want to plant a baby in his cousin, and he certainly didn’t want to do it while the love of his life looked on. He raised his eyebrows in an unsaid question.

Naevia understood him well. “You’ll just have to put it all inside her. I didn’t tell you, but when you did it in me, I never felt closer to you. It bonded us. It made us as one. She will feel the same thing. I know it.”

“Naevia … here … goes …” Vel felt like his balls might be glowing. He’d never tried so hard to hold back and he knew a monster eruption was moments away. He tightened his grip on Dellia’s brown hair, and her narrow hip.

“Wait … wait … Spurrius … ugh … ugh … fuck! … ugh … ugh … the Bellius … line.” She was stronger than her tall, gangly cousin. But she lacked the fortitude to break away. For the first time in her life, she found something she could not fight: her own pleasure. She heard a growl that she would not have suspected from her nineteen-year-old cousin, and then fire filled her from the inside. Dellia howled and fireworks danced before her eyes. The young, upstart duke planted his seed. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to provide a fertile furrow for him. As he pushed her over a cascade of ecstasy, she almost prayed to Venus for a successful joining.  

Amazed, Naevia watched them. Dellia writhed, grunted, and hissed as she pushed back. Her head still upright with the force of Vel’s grip. Her brother’s whole body jerked spasmodically, his face contorted, and his eyes shut tight. She knew they had just pushed Dellia over her Rubicon. It seemed that the cousins climaxed together for minutes. Eventually, Vel released his grip on her and sat back on the floor. His long cock slid out of her with a wet plop and flopped up to his belly, leaving a smear of their combined cum above his navel. Naevia rushed over to him, dropped to her knees, and flung her arms around him. “How do you feel?” She was happily surprised when he turned his head and kissed her.

His arms went weakly around her shoulders and he broke the kiss, panting. “I … feel ...” He held her at arm’s length, looking into her deep, green eyes. “Are you angry?”

“How could I be? I told you to do it. I put you inside her.” Naevia had been blindsided by everything on that trip. There was a relic tower that they had somehow nudged out of its slumber in that very city, and it was not even close to her strangest experience. “Did she feel good to you?” Naevia persisted.

“I thought I … knew you. I thought you were … innocent … teenagers,” Dellia panted. Now lying face down on the floor, Dellia’s chest pressed at the cold tile with each rasping breath. Her nipples were hard and rebellious at the almost painful sensation. “But you are … some sort of abomination … before the gods. How can a brother and sister …?” With some difficulty, she propped herself up on an elbow and looked back at them. She knew if they cared to look, she was giving them a show, but she didn’t have the energy to close her legs at the moment. “And you’ve soiled me … with your filth. You better pray –”

Without thinking, Naevia smacked her cousin’s butt like she would a braying hound to shut her up. “Quiet.” And to her surprise, Dellia did stop talking. But the look in her eyes was dark. Naevia’s gaze fell down to the backstabber’s vagina. She could see the delicate brown hair around her gash, the froth on Dellia’s lips, and Vel’s semen leaking out of her. She smacked Dellia’s ass cheek again and watched it shake with some satisfaction. With Vel’s gift, they had tamed the most wild of horses. The fight had gone out of their cousin. “Do you feel bonded to him?” She asked Dellia. “Do you feel the warm gravity inside you, pulling you back to him? I know that feeling, too. For me, there was never a purer joy, for I love him above even myself. But for you? I see how it casts a shadow on your countenance. Don’t look so surly, Cousin. Do you swear loyalty to us now?”

“When I get my sword –” She stopped talking as Naevia slapped her butt again. Her cheeks reddened and her brow knitted. How could she be so cowed by teenagers? She needed to get up and flush out her vagina with saltwater immediately. But she just lay on the floor like she was their broken pleasure servant.

“I will have to mount her again.” Vel looked down at the hourglass of Dellia’s body as she lay before him. He could see that her vagina now yawned open where he’d stretched her. “I will have to mount you, Dellia. I cannot match your sword.”

“You speak truth, Vel. You must take her again.” Naevia gave his cock a light tap to emphasize the point. She watched it wobble a moment, and then she reached out and helped Dellia close her legs. “Don’t look at me so,” Naevia said to Vel. “I’m helping you. You mount her like this.” Naevia straddled their cousin’s butt, and thrust her hips a few times to show Vel how it might be done. She was maybe a little jealous of him, as she looked down on Dellia’s strangely quiescent form. Naevia dismounted and moved herself to her seated position on the bed. Goodness, she had just dry-humped Dellia’s tight, round rump. What were things coming to? Under her stola, Naevia’s underwear was nothing better than a saturated bog.

“Will I fit like this?” Vel could barely see her vagina with her legs together as they were, Dellia lying flat on her belly. But the sight was beyond inviting.

“No,” Dellia said into the tiles.

“Yes,” Naevia said at the same time. “The marvel is that you fit at all. But this position should be no hindrance. You have both already readied the way. See how she waits for you. Hurry, before she turns restless again.”

“Very well.” Vel lined up the head with Dellia’s opening. He heard her whimper, but she said nothing more. He had to angle his cock down a bit, but that was no problem. He sunk right in, braced his hands on the fine curve of her lower back, and found a rhythm with his hips. He could tell from her cries that she was already meeting another climax.

Naevia watched them all afternoon. Eventually, sometime after her brother’s third orgasm, her hand found its way under her stola. She pleasured herself as the cousins pleasured each other. She had no idea how many times Dellia’s ecstasy crested, but her grunts, cries, and curses were nearly nonstop. Eventually, Vel grew tired of his position behind Dellia, and turned her onto her back. Naevia was concerned the woman might try to bite Vel, or otherwise make an assault. But it seemed she didn’t have it in her. Dellia let him have his way with her. She even locked her legs around his butt, accepting his torrent every time Vel needed a release.

The pungent, salty smell of sweat mixed with cum filled the room. All three were bound by the moment, continuing their various states of participation until long after the sun set, and the room fell into darkness. Vel could finally go no longer, and he pushed Dellia off him. She had just ridden him to his last orgasm of the day. He then stumbled to bed. Naevia sprung up to help and laid him down onto the sheets. She then gathered her dagger, and sat next to him, one hand on his snoring chest, the other on the blade’s handle. “If you try for our lives, I will finish you, Dellia,” she said into the darkness.

“You have already finished me,” came the mumbled response from the blackness on the floor. Dellia rolled herself over twice and found a wool rug that was softer than tile. She knew her leaking body would make a mess of that fine bit of woven artistry, but she couldn’t move herself anywhere beyond. She closed her eyes, her body an aching mix of longing, languid satisfaction, and tense obstinance.

“I will not sleep this night.” Naevia wondered if that was true. She was very tired, but determined to watch over Vel. “You will not harm His Grace.” That was the first time she’d addressed his new title without sarcasm in her voice. “I will not sleep.”

“As you will,” Dellia mumbled. And she drifted into strange dreams filled with new senses and a compelling sense of tumescence.

---

“You are the scullery servant that was with the witch, were you not?” The cool voice startled everyone in the scullery.

“I was with my mistress, the Sorceress Brynhild.” Merope shivered. Despite the pot of boiling water, the room had suddenly taken on some sort of arctic draft. “I was with her in the hall when we saw you,” she quickly added, wanting to avoid any insinuations. Especially with her good husband looking on only feet away.

“I am Nicias. Can I help Your Majesties?” Nicias stepped toward the identical queens. How odd it was that they should roam the castle without their retainer. He had noticed that they hadn’t employed food tasters at their meals, either. They must have a deep trust of the Tullius House. “Is there something that needs scrubbing? Because we –”

“Quiet,” Cesphea said. “We require nothing from you. We simply wish to borrow your scullery wench for a little while.”

Nicias turned red in the face. “Really, I can be of –”

“You do not argue with a queen.” Valeria gripped her scepter a bit tighter. She watched as Merope reached for and squeezed the hand of the impudent Nicias. Valeria’s jaw softened at the sight of them. She understood that they were married. That’s why he acted so. “Never fear, Nicias. We will have her back presently.” This was not true.

“I’ll be back soon.” Merope gave her husband’s hand one last squeeze. She tried not to let him see how frightened she was. Had the queens somehow found out about her repeated and escalating infidelity with the sorceress? Would she be punished? She could tell the twin sisters were impatient, and it would not do to keep the queen regents waiting. She followed them out of the scullery, through the kitchens, and into the corridor. The queens walked ahead of her, their pale chins high, and their backs straight.

There was silence for a while, and then Merope saw one of the queens whisper to the other one. She couldn’t hear what was said, but they both laughed. Nor could she tell which queen was which. They looked too much alike. She studied their backs as they climbed the stairs. They each had an identical birthmark on the back of their slender necks. No, that wasn’t right. The small crescent mark faced left on the neck to Merope’s left. But on the queen to her right, the mark faced right. So, they were not identical. Same mark, opposite directions. She could tell them apart, if they ever identified to her which one was which. But, of course, dukes and barons would not dare to ask such a thing, so what was a servant to do?

After many stairs, they came to a floor Merope knew well. And then to a familiar door. Her pulse thumped like a brass drum in her ears. One of the queens turned back to regard her.

“You are a small, frightened thing. Aren’t you?” Cesphea cocked her head at the woman. “Despite it though, she’s quite pretty. Isn’t she, Valeria?”

Merope twisted her hands together as they all stood outside Brynhild’s door. So, the one with the right facing mark was Cesphea. And the other was Valeria. She could remember that. She looked from one to the other of them.

“She probably wants to know what we’re doing here.” Valeria put her hand to the door. A brief glow of red light settled around her fingers and the door swung open. She reached up, adjusted her copper crown, and looked at the servant. “She is pretty,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But clearly, we’ve scared her witless. Don’t worry, the witch isn’t here now,” she said to Merope. “We’ve tasked her with some engagement. She’ll be busy for quite a while. Come in.” She glided into the room, her gown flowing behind her. Merope followed, and then Cesphea walked into the chamber last, closing the door behind them.

Merope’s jaw had dropped when the queen had clearly used magic to open a charmed door. She hadn’t known the queens regent were sorcerers. Was that common knowledge?

“Look at the diminutive wheels spin in her head.” Valeria laughed. “You haven’t the foggiest, do you …? What was your name?”

“Merope, Your Majesty.”

“Well, look at that. The little beauty can talk. You’ll be singing before long, sweet thing.” Cesphea patted Merope on the butt and walked around to stand next to her sister. It pleased her the way Merope stiffened at the intimate gesture.

“You’re wondering what this is all about.” Valeria walked over to the table where Brynhild’s books sat in piles. She put down her scepter, and leafed through the volume on top. She seemed uninterested in Merope’s presence.

“Don’t share too much.” Cesphea, put down her scepter, too. But she stood in front of Merope, eyeing her with a warm smile. “You always share too much.”

“Right you are.” Valeria sighed as she looked at what Brynhild had been reading. “It is enough for you to know that Cesphea and I are not, strictly speaking, sisters.”

“But … but …” Merope’s smooth brow furrowed in confusion. “You look exactly alike.”

“Not quite.” Cesphea turned her back to Merope. “Unfasten my gown.”

With trembling fingers, Merope undid the clasps down the queen’s back. Valeria did not watch, she seemed to have found something interesting in Brynhild’s book.

Merope looked at the delicate spine that arched into view as the gown opened. Something stirred in her. Had the sorceress made her develop a taste in the same sex? But this was a queen, she dared not let her fingers glance upon that alabaster flesh. As the gown fell to the floor, Merope saw that in addition to the common chest band, the queen wore some sort of restrictive band around her hips instead of underwear.

“After the accident, our uncle made me learn to hide myself. And he had to invent, in the popular imagination, that there had always been two of us. Always sisters.” Cesphea turned around. It was clear now that the band around her hips was there to restrain what was in front.

“I … I … don’t understand.” Merope looked down at what clearly was a large, soft penis bound under the band. She watched Cesphea wiggle her wide, feminine hips as she lowered the restraints down her legs. The image of that very male thing, hanging between her feminine legs gave Merope the kind of shock that nearly turned her brain off. “I … I … I …”

Valeria glanced over, barely interested. “Are you broken already, Merope?” She smiled when the woman did not answer. The servant did not even turn her gaze away from Cesphea’s smooth, slumbering serpent. Valeria sighed. “Well, at any rate you can see what she has waiting for you. I possess nothing of the sort between my legs. She also has a hunger that I myself do not possess. I will look through the witch’s things and find out whether our suspicions are founded. You will amuse my sister.”

“Why … me?” Merope squeaked. She had lived such a plain, simple life until only a short while ago. And now this. Everything spun faster and chaos reached out its tentacles all around her. An ever-widening gyre had enveloped Merope’s world.

“Only because it seemed to us that the witch wanted you. This is an easy enough message to send to her. Oh, and you are pretty.” Valeria went back to searching through a parchment on Brynhild’s desk.

“Is it time?” Cesphea looked over at the back of Valeria’s head. She undid the chest band and stood before Merope wearing only her sandals and crown. Merope was fully clothed in her stained stola, but Cesphea could tell she had a pleasing shape underneath.

“Enjoy yourself, Sister,” Valeria said over her shoulder.

“Please me well, Merope, and you shall earn the queens’ favor.” Cesphea took in several breaths, releasing the control she placed on her phallus. She let it swell at the sight of this small, olive skinned woman trembling before her.

“I … cannot …” Merope blushed so deep she was sure she now looked purple. Her eyes did not, could not, leave that strange royal penis. It was so pale, and smooth. Too smooth, really. The only blemish on the thing was the hole up top. It rose, engorging itself. The base was nestled in a thinly populated patch of dark hair, and two overripe testicles dangled beneath it. The thing curved a little to left, but stuck well out from the queen’s person. Was it fully hard now? It was maybe twice, or even thrice the size of her husband’s thing. Oh, her poor husband.

“In this matter, I’m afraid, I will not accept a refusal.” Cesphea’s smile turned imperious and victorious. “Drop to your knees, sweet thing, and have a taste.” As she said it, a trickle of clear liquid leaked from the head of her cock. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint me.” She looked down at Merope’s iron ring with her dark, wild eyes. “Your husband wouldn’t want you to disappoint me.’

“Yes.” Merope dropped to her knees. With tentative, shaking hands she reached out for the long, sleek tool. In fact, she was quite sure that Nicias would happily give his life to stop what she was about to do. But that wasn’t his choice to make. The threat was clear, and she had the opportunity to save him. She shook when her hands came in contact with the phallus. It was cold. Too cold to be a part of this living, breathing woman. She caressed it softly, as she would for her husband. “Is this good, Your Majesty?”

“Well, no. But you’ll learn.” Cesphea laughed, and her sister snickered over by the table.

“Right.” Merope remembered what the queen had said about tasting it. She stuck out her tongue and slowly, very slowly, leaned forward. This was so unlike her infidelity with Brynhild. There, Merope had been burning in a fire of hunger for the tall, northern woman. But here, in this moment, she only hoped the queen would be pleased completely and quickly, and then she could put the whole thing behind her. Her tongue came in contact with the salty fluid leaking from the winking hole in the cock’s head. It wasn’t as bad as she feared. She licked again. The stuff was frigid, just like the rest of Cesphea, but it had a favorable taste. She licked at it like the iced treats she’d seen the Tullius children enjoy.

Cesphea sighed with exasperation. “You look like a cat at the milk dish. Here, let me help.” She reached into the back of Merope’s dark curls, took a handful of hair, and pulled her face forward.

“Ggggggpppppphhhhhhhh.” Merope put her hands on the front of the woman’s hips to brace herself. She had to breathe through her nose and stretch her jaw as wide as it would go. She wondered at how sure of herself Cesphea was that she wasn’t worried about Merope’s bite. Soon, her head was bobbing back and forth under the queen’s forceful guidance. Her eyes watered. After nearly choking on the thing several times, Cesphea had found Merope’s gagging point and stopped each thrust about a quarter of the way down the shaft. Merope wondered at how ludicrous she must look, kneeling before a queen still in her crown, gobbling that giant thing, with drool dribbling down her chin.

“No need to brace yourself.” Cesphea relaxed a little. The pleasure was starting to mount. The young servant and wife was learning. She could feel the woman’s tongue involve itself more in their dance, rolling around the head. “Remove your hands from my hips.” She looked down with a smile as the fellating woman held her hands awkwardly in the air. “The gods gave you hands, use them.”

“Mmmpppphhhh.” Merope tried to give her assent. She took hold of the penis and pumped the strange thing. It was so different from Nicias, that she scarcely recognized them as the same species. But then again, they scarcely were.

“Stop toying with her and break her in.” Valeria did not look up from the notes she rifled on the table. “The witch will be back presently.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Cesphea pulled Merope’s mouth off her, stood the panting woman up, and pulled the stola off her. She then roughly removed the chest band and underwear. Merope’s body did indeed please her. “Have you found anything? Has she betrayed us?” Cesphea then threw Merope onto the witch’s bed and climbed on after her. The small woman was on her side, her legs scissored back and front. She admired how Merope’s heavy breasts hung to the left with gravity. She straddled the back leg and let her cock bounce on the woman’s ass cheek. This would do nicely.

“I see no evidence of betrayal.” Valeria listened to the woman whimper. Her sister did so love to make her women whimper. “But she is dabbling in magics that should no longer concern her. She is reading on spells lost to all but …” Her voice trailed off and she put her finger on the page. In the background, she could hear Merope’s grunt as Cesphea entered her, and then the slow, ponderous slap of flesh on flesh. “I knew that protection spell on the door was odd. She’s added something that the North hasn’t used since the towers fell. A clever charm.”

“Does she … ugh … have some sort … of enhancement device?” Cesphea grabbed Merope’s right ass cheek tightly with both hands. She left Merope’s legs scissored. The servant was on her side still, so that while Cesphea took her from behind, she could also see Merope’s pretty fast twist in ecstasy. This pussy was a tight one. Whatever Brynhild was doing with her, she was not stretching her much. And her husband had left her nearly virginal. That was good. Cesphea had always planned on keeping this one, just to spite the witch. But now, she was looking forward to the time she’d spend with Merope over the coming months.

“I’m not sure what she has, or maybe she’s making one last gasp before our tower lays her to waste,” Valeria said.

“You’ll see the Blessed Tower soon … ugh … ugh … enough, sweet thing.” Cesphea caught Merope’s frantic eyes with her own and winked. “But tell me. What do you … ah … ah … ah … think of my personal, blessed tower?”

It was clear to Merope that the queen was boasting about her cock. And she had reason to be proud. “It’s … oooooohhhhhhhh … good. It’s … like … nothing … aaaaahhhhhh.” She lost her focus and could no longer answer. She was taking every inch of that tower, and it had turned her body to jelly. She had gone from the tame, timid sex ordained by the gods with her husband. To wicked, mind-alerting sex with Brynhild. To something with a queen regent that was melting the very fabric of reality for poor Merope. She knew her body would never be the same. She doubted her husband would even recognize her nethers once the queens let her go. She also knew that her mind was lost. She only hoped she would recover it once the queen had her fill. “Oooooohhhhhhhh.” A flood of ecstasy spread over the planes of her mind and she had no more cohesive thoughts for some time. Somewhere, far back in her mind, she heard the sisters, who were not sisters, talking about something. But she could not bring her mind to focus on the words.

A while later, Merope found herself riding Cesphea with wild, thrusting hips. She looked down between her own dangling breasts at the fat shaft that she took over and over. It was a continual surprise to her that it did not hurt her. Indeed, it drove her nearly mad with gratitude. What a boon to be able to take that royal cock inside her. She was dimly aware of the door opening and a tall, platinum blond woman stepping inside. But she could not focus on this event. It was too far outside her vortex of pleasure. Instead, she gripped Cesphea’s breasts below her for leverage, and continued slamming down her hips.

“What?” Brynhild was not normally one to be scandalized. But to find her very own Merope bouncing like a common whore on the … the … abomination that was one of the queens regent. She narrowed her eyes. It was Cesphea. And there was Valeria to her left, going through Brynhild’s things. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You may finish your claim now, Sister.” Valeria spoke first to her sister and then turned toward the door. “I would watch your tone, Sorceress. Remember to whom you speak.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Brynhild forced herself to curtsy. On the bed, Cesphea grunted louder under Merope, and then the little woman howled on top of her. Cesphea’s hands clamped down on Merope’s hips and forced her all the way down, so that the cock was as deep as it could be. But even so, Merope’s hips continued to gyrate, and she screamed as if there were no witnesses. Brynhild closed the door behind her. What had they done to her sweet scullery servant?

“My sister will be finished in a moment.” Valeria glanced at Cesphea. The pair on the bed had now collapsed together, but Cesphea was still grunting as she pumped more blessed seed into Merope. “So, I will tell you what you need to know.” Valeria casually lifted her scepter. “The last two dukes of Ostia Novus behaved in ways which we found adverse to the crown. We always must look out for the welfare of Princess Minicia. And we worried that her life might be in danger. So, we dug into things and found that the rest of the family was loyal and true. But you, we couldn’t be sure of. You certainly dabble in odd magic. But … now that I have you before me … it’s clear. You really are only a shadow of your former self. Are you not?”

“I am.” Brynhild bowed her head.

The couple on the bed had stopped groaning and grunting.

“So, we will go now. But know that we are watching.” Valeria glanced at the sweaty, gasping bodies on the bed. “And we will take your little scullery servant with us so that you may be reminded of our reach. We are, quite literally, everywhere.”

“But the duchess will not hear of losing a servant like this. She’ll –”

“She’ll lend us the servant with her blessings. We are her queens.” Cesphea said from the bed.

“Now leave us. Her Majesty needs to freshen up.” Valeria nodded to the bed.

“Of course.” Brynhild gritted her teeth and forced another curtsy. She turned, opened the door, and strode out of her own chamber.

---

“I thought you were going to stay awake the whole night?” Vel blearily rubbed his eyes. He shook his snoring sister next to him in bed until she was awake. He was sore. His whole body, even his penis, ached from the previous day’s exertions. That had been a lot, even for him on that strange trip. He and his sister had yet to try such a marathon.

“What?” Naevia opened her eyes and sat bolt upright, her hand clutching the handle of the dagger. She crawled to the foot of the bed and looked down. Dellia was not on the floor where they’d left her. And her clothes were gone. More ominously her sword had disappeared, too.

“Well, we’re not dead. Or bound. Or hanging over a fire pit.” Vel looked around the room. The sun was up and pale light settled over everything. “So maybe that’s good news?”

“What should we do?” Naevia got out of bed. She still wore her stola from yesterday, but Vel was naked on top of the sheets. She longed to rejoin him in bed, but perhaps that might not be how they’d like to be found by Dellia and her Vulpes accomplices.

“We could flee?” Vel wondered if they had handled Dellia the right way. Could a woman really be pleasured into submission? The thought seemed silly to him now.

“We could find Mercury and alert Father.” Naevia gathered some fresh clothes for Vel. Whatever they were to do, he needed to be dressed while they did it.

“Let’s not force a decision now. We flee the viscount’s castle, regroup in the city. Then we can decide.” Vel leapt out of bed. He could still smell a thick cloud of sex hanging off him. He looked longingly at the adjoining bath, but dressed. He was pleased to find that Dellia hadn’t absconded with his sword. He sheathed it and fastened the belt. “And let’s travel with weapons. All the weapons we can find.”

Naevia rushed about the room. She retrieved her bow. “It’s the start of a plan. And that’s something.”

“It is something,” Vel agreed.

They met at the door, ready for whatever greeted them outside.

“I love you, Vel.” Naevia stood on her tiptoes for a quick kiss on the lips as he bent down to her.

“And my love for you only grows.” He clasped her hand. “I am somewhat surprised you’re not furious at me for carrying on with the traitor as I did.”

“I find it impossible to be furious with you, Your Grace.” The familiar teasing lilt entered her voice. They each put a hand on the door. “One, two … three.” They opened it and raced out into the corridor.    

Continued in Chapter 9

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