As she sat at her vanity, Kiera worked the tangles out of her hair, or at least pretended to. The mirror angled to reflect towards the bed where a very content-looking Warlord prince lounged. Fully dressed Alessi lay on top of her covers, his stocking-clad feet crossed at the ankle and hands clasped together on his stomach. Hunger of a different sort stirred in her, but she tamped it down; refusing to make him feel like he had to perform every time he came into her room.
"How long will you pretend you are combing your hair?" At least he sounded amused; her cheeks heated in a blush before she sighed and sat down the brush. Her subterfuge discovered Kiera started to plait the heavy mass into the single braid she preferred for sleeping.
"I was lost in thought." The excuse came easily enough as she tied off the braid before rising and padding toward the bed. Her nightgown was not designed to seduce, though the material slid over the curves of her body as she moved. Alessi pulled the blanket back while waiting for her to climb into the bed before pulling her close to him. Kiera huffed softly as she settled against him, her head rested easily on his shoulder and her hand splayed over his chest as she lay on her side to press against him.
"It went well, today, I think." The words were an invitation for his thoughts. Kiera wanted honest feedback; though she hoped for some assurance. Platitudes and encouragement were Luca's territory. Alessi just rubbed the side of his jawline against the crown of her head in comfort, waiting patiently for the rest of her thoughts to emerge. "They all were so skinny; this winter needs to be mild or we need to establish better trading relationships if we want any majority of the remaining population to survive."
"It went well. Hunger is the biggest factor in the districts right now, and not as many have the army's treasury to fund purchasing extra supplies." Alessi began as his hand traced a lazy pattern down her back. The soft smell of her and the shampoo she used, her body's warmth, and the gentle thrum of her heart were a balm to the beast that lived under his skin. His Queen held his leash in those delicate hands and didn't even realize it.
"None of the other territories in Terrielle will trade with us, not that the long-lived ones are in any condition to trade. We lost three out of five of the blood population, Dhemlan was worse by all accounts, and Askavi was already near barren." Kiera had read the reports, and knew the trading patterns from listening to the grousing by her parents pre-Witchstorm; the two long-lived territories had been their closest allies and all had been firmly under the heel of the red jeweled priestess and her people. The leaders of her districts reported that conditions had not improved but only declined since then.
"Kiera, we will get through this winter." He tried to assure her; knowing that the poorer members of the population - blood or not- starving would devastate his queen. Aristo by breeding only, was too open and too compassionate for the world they lived in. Sheltered from the worst evils of the world and he would do his damnedest to keep her that way, it was the least he could do after abducting her from her home and forcing her to watch the death of her family around her.
"We will, but will they? That warlord looked like he would blow away in a good breeze." She squealed as her train of thought was ended by Alessi pulling her astride him. Her nightgown was taut over her lap as her legs straddled to either side of his clad hips. Her hands were pressed to his chest, and she used them to balance and sit upright. A brief flash of annoyance crossed her expression before disappearing at the gentle touch of his palm to her cheek, his calloused fingers stroked over her soft skin as she nuzzled against his touch.
"We can talk about this in the morning, little queen." He would always be amazed at how quickly she melted with each touch. How love-starved had she been to accept her captor so easily into her bed and heart? Would the first person who had shown her any sort of kindness and affection been in his place? The idea of another male being here, touching her, and holding her in those quiet moments in the night raised a level of jealousy that was unreasonable.
"Prince?" She spoke his title, not with the cool court command, but with something else that tugged at that leash just a bit harder than she normally employed. "Stop thinking whatever thoughts are troubling you." Kiera leaned down, her fingers flexed slightly against his chest as she brushed a soft kiss to his lips. Tender and innocent, she playfully nipped at his lower lip before pulling away slightly to check for whatever demon rode his thoughts to have disappeared.
"Bossy little queen." He playfully groused before his hands pulled her hips down to press her core against his groin where his cock strained against the material of his slacks. Her soft little groan was as much encouragement as the subtle rock of her hips against his, sliding her bare skin against his clothing.
"Stop distracting me, She groaned, the actions of her body at odds with her words as she arched into his touch, moaning softly as his tongue teased over her fabric-covered nipple, teasing her through the thin garment. Absently she wondered who this wanton creature was that eagerly followed his guidance to ride him as craft was used to remove the barriers of their clothing. Then, as he sheathed himself in her, she was lost to thought.
Later, she resolved briefly, they would discuss whatever troubled him later.
Draega, Hayll
Week before Winsol
Ramiel threw down the reports brought to him about the festivities in the upstart Court's hometown. Their little puppet queen was on full display with almost every ruling court having sent a representative to meet and tour the town where the Rebel's queen lived. Fucking Gerodi and his unknown little aristo bitch queen. Fucking incompetent males in Prince Ayers and Prince Domani in retrieving the little bitch.
"How are we going to counter this?" He understood the slow erosion of their foothold that happened with every small success the Rebellion claimed. Upstart peasants the lot of them outside of their idiot queen and her first escort; even then those two barely counted as members of The Hundred Families for how minor their branch was. The Witchstorm had made things both better and worse for the ruling class of Hayll. The sadistic games those bitches played were gone, but in their place was starvation, the uprising of landens, and the rebellion of the peasantry against the aristocracy.
"Counter what?" Lord Triano, looked up blurry-eyed from his drink. His hair was touselled and bronze eyes bloodshot from the perpetual hangover the Warlord seemed to nurse. The benefit of light jewels, Ramiel figured, was that it didn't take as much drink or substances to alter the mind. Useless, but even Ramiel had to admit the boy was pretty. A specimen of aristo bloodlines that reached back generations. Naturally lithe with features that straddled the line between feminine beauty and masculine. A distraction for their vapid little pet.
"The Rebellion and their public display of their queen." Ramiel work Dark enough jewels combined with the rest of the guard that it kept Alessi and his troops from openly marching on the capital city. The Rebellion's conquest was held back by their weakness- concern for the common plebeians who lived in the slums of the city. Little scurrying rats, little better than the short-lived races, with their lack of breeding and education.
" Morga, you worry too much. We hold Draega and thus Hayll. The novelty of the rebellion will wear off and when they prove themselves inept we will take over. Plus, isn't their queen rumored to be an idiot?" Ramiel's attention turned to the Rose jeweled Steward of their Court. None of them were bound closely either to their queen or each other outside of ambition and the preservation of their social class. Prince Adriel Vedrulo was the worst of them. Father to a past ruling queen, a white jeweled witch that had shattered her jewels during the Witchstorm and had withered away after.
"And if they don't or she isn't? Gerodi isn't a fool; he wouldn't show off a queen if he didn't think she had something to offer." The Warlord Prince was younger than himself and Prince Vedrulo but he was experienced with court intrigue. The boy had come to age under the twisted leadership and games of the ruling queens and priestesses that had roamed Hayll seeking their next high. A boy who had whored himself without even having the excuse of a Ring of Obedience to protect his useless and emasculated father.
"Who are we talking about?" Davina breezed into the room. The scent of her perfume announced her presence as clearly as her sultry voice. Ramiel bit back a groan of annoyance as the woman came closer to peer over his shoulder, pressing her scantily clad breasts against his shoulder. The fall of her silken hair an annoying brush against his neck and cheek.
Lady Marti was stunning; he wouldn't contest that in any regard. She was always perfectly coifed, with her face enhanced tastefully with cosmetics, and dressed to display her assets accordingly. Her breath also stank of alcohol. A bored and spoiled creature, she was the perfect puppet queen; as long as she was given her indulgences and entertainments the woman was happy to let her Court deal with the annoying details.
"Prince Gerodi and his little upstart queen" Her Consort spoke, his tone sour enough that she pushed away from Ramiel to drape herself across the Warlord's lap. Her fingers tangled in the young male's hair as she dragged his mouth to hers for a kiss. Shame warred with triumph on Maalik's face at having her attention. To the young man, she would seem like a conquest; a woman who knew what she enjoyed and indulged herself often and who wasn't prone to jealousy with her various pursuits.
"Kiera? Shush, she doesn't look Hayllian and is so naive she might as well be simple." Davina rolled her eyes. "Plus I am certain Ayers and that other Prince did enough of their job." When all three males of her triangle turned their attention on her, two with disapproval and the third confused she just gave a little sniff of annoyance.
"What? You are allowed to plot and I am not?" She sighed as she leaned back against her consort, her feet kicked over the arm of the chair as she surveyed the two other males of her triangle. "They can't exactly challenge us if their queen is damaged, or simply missing." When they continued with their silence she swung down from Maalik's lap and rose to her feet in all temper.
"Don't look at me like that. I am Queen here and you rule on my behalf." Her snapped words were shrill lacking the husky tone she cultivated when prowling around the court and its entertainments. To emphasize her point she swept an angry arm across the paperwork on Ramiel's desk sending it flying across the room. "I rule! So I made a decision."
"Of course, you are our queen lovely." Maalik proved his usefulness as he rose to wrap his arms around her waist. His mouth nuzzled and nipped at her throat. "They are just impressed at your cunning." His words became inaudible whispers until the temper eased from her and turned to something else. Whispered promises of more wine and the enhancing herbs laced in the drink. Promises of debauchery coaxed her to leave with Maalik to seek their pleasures and distractions from the dreary winter days; where the next few days would become dull as people left to visit their families for the private days of the holiday.
Ramiel shared a weighted look with Adriel as Davina swept out of the room. Her hold on Maalik was passive and eager; a reminder of the bitch queens they had served in the past. She hadn't perished in the Witchstorm, hadn't even lost her jewel strength so her faults weren't tied to whatever that was purging. Still, there was something dirty about serving the woman. She was not a choice they would have made except her volatile temperament made her easier to distract and leave the actual ruling to them.
"Maybe we should get dependable eyes on this Rose of the Rebellion," Ramiel stressed the euphemism attributed to Lady Domani; making a mocking thing instead of a symbol of hope that it was originally intended to be.
"You may be right, Morga. You may just be right." The Steward replied, his gaze focused on the partially opened study door where the traces of Davina's perfume still lingered in a cloying trail.