His Lost Princess: A Fairy Tale (Tales of Euphoria Book 2) Page 5

  And I would have another kiss from him. That might be sufficient to keep me warm all the winter long.

  “Do you know what time of year it is, Ellie?” Marta asked when I stood again at the door to her hut. The door had been left open, despite the snow, and I had just stepped on to the threshold when she addressed me. She stood before the hearth, her back to me, apparently staring into the flames. She didn’t even turn around to speak to me, and I wondered how she knew that I’d arrived.

  “It is the Yule.”

  “It is more than that. These are the shortest and darkest days of the year, with the Yule being the darkest of all.” She snatched at something on the floor and I heard a squeak. She turned then, revealing that she held the golden cage in her hands. Instead of the birds, it held six mice, their backs slate gray and their bellies white. They tried to escape, stretching up to nibble at the bars, and squeaked in their agitation.

  I eyed them, wondering what she meant to do. She set the cage on the floor, beside a large pumpkin, then granted me a cunning smile.

  I remembered that there were as many who said Marta was mad as that she was a witch and fought my urge to take a step back.

  “The Yule is the day when darkness is at its strongest,” she hissed. “When power can be coaxed from the shadows, but even on the days near it, the darkness is closer.”

  I wasn’t sure that I trusted the sound of that.

  She came closer, putting out her hand, and I gave her the cup filled with loose pearls. She smiled at the sight of them. “Dark ones,” she murmured. “Perfect.”

  I gasped when she spun away from me, but she put the cup on the table. She reached in and took some of the pearls, then began to line them up on the floor so that they didn’t quite touch each other. The cage with the mice was in the middle of the circle she created, as well as the pumpkin. At her imperious nod, I went to her side and did the same, lining up the pearls, working in the opposite direction.

  When we were done, they shone in a circle, looking sleek and fine against the rough dirt floor. Marta went to her larder and fetched a fistful of feathers. They were black and glossy, as if they had come from ravens. She arranged them in a fan shape beside the pearls. She considered her work for a moment, then took a broom and carefully evicted a spider web from the rafters above. It shone briefly as it was dropped into the circle, for there were water drops caught on the gossamer strands.

  I couldn’t make sense of Marta’s actions at all, but she showed me the red pebble that was in her hand. “Good from bad,” she said to me. “And love over hate.”

  I thought of the birds, both dead, and my chest clenched. Marta crushed the pebble in her hand, whispering into her fist as she did so, then flung the red powder at me.

  Once again, I was caught in the midst of a swirling maelstrom, one so strong that it nearly blew me off my feet. I heard the squeaking of the mice and the whinnying of horses and feared the outcome. I heard Marta open the door and felt the cold air, then the cyclone raced out into the night. I saw it lunge for the stars high overhead and realized I had been swept out of the hut along with it.

  The red storm suddenly stopped, its wind falling silent. I stared about myself with astonishment.

  There was a silver carriage before me, with a shape not unlike the pumpkin although it was much larger. Four slate gray horses pranced in their harness before it, ready to run. A footman in dark gray livery with a long nose held open the door of the carriage and bowed low to me. The driver wore the same livery and had a similarly long nose, though he was more plump.

  I looked down to find myself adorned in my mother’s pearls again, their dark wealth gleaming against my pale skin. On the ground was a pair of marvelous shoes that looked to be made of clear glass. I smiled, knowing they had been created from a spider’s web thick with dewdrops. My rough dress, once dyed blue with woad and faded to the palest blue of a summer sky, had become a cloak of sapphire silken velvet, lined with white ermine. I put on the shoes and spun in place, delighted with it all.

  “Beware the dawn,” Marta said from my side, offering me a beautiful dark mask of feathers and embroidered satin. “For its light will dispel all the sorcery of the night.”

  I nodded, for I had been warned. And then I kissed her on both cheeks, so delighted and excited that I couldn’t believe my luck. “Thank you, Marta. Thank you so much.”

  She smiled a little sadly and gestured to the coach. “Don’t thank me before you know the cost.”

  “Must there be one?”

  Her smile faded. “At Euphoria’s palace, there always is.”

  Another maiden might have taken warning from those words, or hesitated. But my dream had been fulfilled, against all expectation, and I would soon see Royce again. Surely, there could be no price demanded by him that I would not be happy to pay.

  Chapter 3

  Royce

  Life at the palace was splendid, more splendid than I ever had imagined.

  And I’d imagined a lot.

  I had never eaten such fine food or tasted such marvels. The dogs in the palace hall ate better than most of us in the village. The king ate meat every day, thrice a day, and there was plenty to be savored. There were sauces and tarts of every description, and sweet confections beyond anything I had ever known. There was fruit I could not name, and flavors I had never tasted, and wine flowed like water. I could not get enough of the wine and it seemed with every passing day that it bolstered my conviction in my birthright.

  There were servants by the dozen, maybe by the hundred. They fetched and carried and bowed, bringing every possible item and aiding in every task. I was bathed by one servant and shaved by another, dressed by a third, and my boots polished by a fourth. I was given new clothes, garments more similar to those of the king, and I knew I looked fine. There proved to be a third room in my suite, one hidden behind that massive mirror. It was filled with shirts and chausses and boots, tabards and cloaks and hats, each finer than the one before. There were enough garments there to dress a village, and they were all mine.

  Mine.

  I trained at arms during the day, for there were knights aplenty in the king’s hall. It pleased the king when I learned to fight with a sword and with a mace. He cheered when I bested any other man in the palace, and I strove to become better to please him more. He gave me armor and a marvelous black destrier, even before my birthday. I was learning to fight on horseback, and also to hunt with a falcon. I improved upon my ability to fire a crossbow as well as learning to defend myself with a shield and many other feats of war. I learned to dance, as well, which was the easiest of all my lessons. I dined with the king each night and he spoke to me of my progress, making suggestions and sometimes showing me a tactic himself.

  Each evening, Lascivia came to my chambers, and I learned with even greater interest from her. Helena hadn’t possessed an increment of Lascivia’s skills and knowledge, plus there was the heady thrill of power in Lascivia’s game.

  And then there were the twins.

  I did not ask for their names. Indeed, I seldom could tell them apart, for in essentials, they were identical. They seldom spoke. They sang, but the words were in another language. I used them, as I had been invited to do, and I learned much of myself and my taste for control in those early days and nights of pleasure. Lascivia urged me on, provoking me to do far more than would have been my inclination. They never recoiled. They never retreated. They were never shocked or reluctant. They fluttered, at most, but never fought me or my impulses.

  It was intoxicating to have them at my mercy. At first, I thought to find a means of shocking them, to put a boundary on my control, but I soon learned that this territory had no borders. With Lascivia’s encouragement, I bound them and beat them, I took them in every way I could imagine and then I did it again. The armoire was filled with diabolical devices, intended to torment and tease. I tried them all and chose my favorites. The twins were in my thrall, and I came to savor that.

  My ni
ghts were filled with wine and pleasure beyond all imagining.

  After having been denied so many times in my life, it was wondrous to know that I couldn’t be denied ever again. I could have my every desire, three times over, and then demand more. Again and again and again.

  Had another told me of these pleasures months before, I would have been convinced that those at the palace lived in a paradise. And so it might have been, if I hadn’t been plagued by nightmares.

  They began that first night. I never remembered them, but I awakened out of breath and sweating each and every night long after Lascivia was gone, my heart racing in terror, the bitter taste of wine on my tongue.

  The caged twins were always awake and watching me, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. They huddled together on the perch, wary of me and my demands.

  For when each night’s terror released me, I knew I would not sleep again.

  And they had learned that when the nightmares relinquished me, I was not only more cruel and demanding, but that they would have no reprieve until dawn.

  Several days after my arrival, the king sat back after the evening meal, watching me as he ate grapes. Lascivia had left the table, having declared an intent to visit the queen. I realized I’d yet to see his wife, Queen Ruby. There had been rumors in the village that she no longer drew breath for she hadn’t been seen in years. I was saved from this line of thought by my father’s question.

  “How are your pets?” he asked, and I turned my attention to him.

  “Well enough.”

  “But not so lusty that they have completely claimed your attention.”

  I glanced up, wondering at his tone.

  “I understand that you welcome Lascivia to your chamber.”

  “Is that a problem, sir?”

  He plucked another grape, slowly. “It might be, if you take more than is yours to claim.”

  “I have not, sir.”

  “You are not king yet, Royce. While much is at your command, you don’t yet control all.”

  “I am sorry, sir.” Such was the nature of the change in me that I resented the need to apologize. I preferred to do as I wished, with no regard for others. Still, I knew he had given me that right. “I thought...” I began but he interrupted me.

  “And you will ask in future.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” I did not like to be constrained at all, not now, and fell silent.

  “Do you like men?” the king asked, with no judgment in his tone.

  “I am not certain, sir.”

  He smiled as if this was terribly predictable. “You should try them to be sure. I will send you a few tonight.” He finished his grapes and tossed the stem aside.

  “We should discuss the coming festivities.”

  “The festivities, sir?” I was aware of preparations in the palace but not what they were for.

  “To celebrate your coming of age and naming as my son and heir.” The king held up three fingers. “Three nights of revels, for which many guests will arrive. The third and final ball will be on your birthday when you are named heir to the throne, the others on the two nights immediately before.”

  Heir to the throne. The words thrilled me. “I see, sir.”

  “I doubt as much. The festivities are a celebration of your coming of age. In a way, they are also a tease and a game.”

  “A game, sir?”

  “At the first ball, you will dance with each maiden, then kiss them all, each in their turn. Only those you choose will be invited to the second ball. Again, you will dance with them all.” He shook a finger at me. “But you will also choose a maiden to take to your bed for that night, a maiden to whom you can do anything you desire. She will be yours, body and soul, for that one night. On the third night, she will pose as your queen, and you may well savor her charms again, if you so desire.”

  “Who are the guests, sir?”

  The king smiled. “We have a long list of aristocrats arriving for the official naming of you as my son and heir. You will not choose a lover from their ranks, for it might prove complicated.”

  “How so, sir?”

  “Not all countries upon our borders share an approval of the royal games of Euphoria. If you treated a visiting lady as your pet, it might cost the kingdom dearly.”

  “I see,” I said, though I didn’t really.

  “You will choose from amongst our vassals. They will all send their daughters who are maidens to the ball, because I have invited them to do as much, and they will do it willingly.”

  “From the village, sir?” I managed to hide my displeasure at the notion. I knew all the maidens in the village, and there wasn’t a one of them as alluring as my twins. There was not a one who could hold a candle to Lascivia. I was irked, to tell the truth, that I might be the one teased with what I desired but could not possess.

  “From the village,” the king said firmly. “It is a tithe and one I believe they welcome. It is your responsibility to accept the tithe.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They will dress their daughters in their best jewels and send them naked into the palace for you to choose a favorite. On the second night, you will keep your choice until the dawn, then dismiss her, and give them much to discuss during the long nights of winter.” He sipped of his wine. “Our noble guests will be amused, especially if you ensure that your decision cannot be readily anticipated. They will wager upon your choice.”

  “What if she bears a child, sir?”

  “Then you will have a bastard of royal blood in the village, should you ever have need of him.” There was bitterness in his voice that told me much of my own presence in the palace.

  “I see.”

  “I expect you think you do.” He slanted a glance at me. “I chose your mother at my coming of age ball. I was snared by her beauty and succumbed to her allure. I thought I would have her and forget her, much as you are already forgetting your two captives. The ritual of the coming of age ball is intended to provide an entertainment, no more than that.” He pursed his lips. “But I couldn’t think of another woman, not for years. Even now...” The king fell silent for a moment.

  I thought of my mother’s fury with the king and knew that theirs was not a passion that had cooled, much less been forgotten.

  He cleared his throat before continuing. “Marta declined to be forgotten, and I have paid the price of that these many years. Choose well, my son, for the maiden you select may cast a spell of her own.”

  The king left me then, left me alone at the high table with a great deal to consider.

  I pushed aside the wine, having no taste for it.

  Against all reason, in the midst of all this wealth, my mother was the one person I wanted most to see. I wanted to hear her side of the tale the king had told. I wanted to know why she had hidden the truth of my parentage from me, and how she had hidden it from the king. I wanted to know what bound these two together with such fervor, for I didn’t imagine that it was me.

  The village might have been leagues away for all its convenience. If I called for my horse, all would wish to know where I went and why. If I walked to the village, all the palace would be a-chatter that I returned to my past. The king might well be displeased.

  This life of luxury might end.

  My mother probably wouldn’t have admitted more to me now than she ever had before. Perhaps the issue was simply one of power. The king needed an heir and she might have been glad to have the ability to deny him one. In the end, though, she had ceded to his will and sent me to the palace.

  In the end, she hadn’t kept my legacy from me.

  I missed her in that moment, missed her fierce love and her fiercer opinions. I thought of the snow that had fallen these past weeks and wondered who had swept it from the roof and cut the logs for the fire, since I wasn’t there.

  I thought of those two yellow birds and wondered how they fared. Did they sing in my mother’s hut and keep her company in my absence? Did they give her joy?

  Did
anyone in the village miss me?

  I thought of Black Ellie and wondered whether anyone showed her kindness in my absence.

  Then I thought about Blondina and Maligna nude except for their jewels and shuddered to my marrow. Even masked, I would know them both, and I would have to be blind to choose either.

  Who would I choose?

  There was no maiden in the village I truly desired. I knew too much of them, just as I knew nothing of my caged slaves.

  That I supposed was the point of the ritual, to teach me that emotion and even mercy had no place in the exercise of my power over all those under my dominion.

  I rose from the board and the company bowed. I strode to my chamber, intent upon proving myself worthy of the king’s trust.

  The dark knight stood outside my door. He inclined his head slightly at the sight of me and I knew who was within. I opened the door to find that Lascivia had invited herself to use the tools in the cabinet. One of the twins was bound to the table, her wet sex displayed and her cries silenced. Lascivia stood beside her, eyes gleaming, sipping wine.

  “Your amusement is prepared, Royce,” she murmured and I knew she offered a test of what she had taught me. I crossed the threshold, claimed the chalice and drank mightily of it. The fire was blazing, the golden light dancing over the helpless slave. I slid my hand up her thigh then gripped her soft flesh.

  Mine.

  And I didn’t have to stop. I bent and licked her wet sex, driving my tongue against her so that she shivered. Then I braced my hands on her thighs, held her captive, and devoured her sweetness, ensuring that she was excited but denying her a release. I could do this over and over again, and did as much for Lascivia’s approval.

  There was no need for sleep on this night.

  Remaining awake, after all, would ensure I didn’t dream.

  It was strange to stand just inside the doors to the great hall, watching the villagers arrive for the first ball. I knew I must be acquainted with them all. Even though they each were masked, I put myself to the challenge of identifying each one.