Chapter 36
"Are you well?" Nerissea asked softly.
She had at last found time to see me today, and so we sat together in her chamber. Between us, upon a small round table, rested an elegant chessboard.
"Not quite," I admitted.
Nerissea moved a pawn forward. "If you wish to speak of it, I am here," she said, the faint curve of her usual calm smile returning to her lips.
I straightened my posture. Now was not the time to dwell on myself. I had come with the intent to apologize.
"Nerissea, I heard the maids laid hands upon you. I am truly sorry."
"Why would you apologize for that?"
"Because I am the cause of it," I replied, sliding my knight across the board to shield my poor king. I was never particularly adept at chess. I understood the rules, but skill forever eluded me. Still, I always made the effort.
She moved her queen with quiet grace. "Some gossip is born of lies."
"But this one was true."
"Do not trouble yourself. It is not your fault."
"But it is," I insisted, moving my knight once more.
She cornered my king. "Checkmate."
"I do not understand," I sighed, a touch of frustration slipping through, for she had evaded the subject and defeated me for the fifth time this evening. I drew in a long breath, then let it go. "Nerissea, if you can find it within your heart to forgive me…"
"Forgiven."
I looked at her in stunned silence.
"Forgiven," she repeated.
"That easily?"
"That easily."
"Are you certain?"
"I am certain."
A joyous smile blossomed upon my lips. "Thank you, Nerissea."
"Now, shall we go and build a snow temple? Did you not mention it earlier?"
"I did… but there is something I must do first. Let us go to my chamber."
In my eagerness, I took her hand and led her down the corridor. Once inside, I locked the door and guided her to sit at the writing desk.
From the drawer, I retrieved the materials I had been working on. In the end, I had settled on a simpler approach which was repeating the same sentence in varying hands.
As before, I stood close beside her, leaning my weight against the edge of the desk. "Everyone possesses their own writing style," I whispered, bending nearer. "These are but examples. In time, your hand shall grow into something uniquely your own."
I began tracing invisible letters in the air with my finger as I explained. I described how curves and lines may shape a script's character, how a tilt or flourish may lend it beauty. I said quite a great deal, my hands moving with quiet animation, but-
I stopped.
Her expression had changed.
Though her eyes rested upon the page, it seemed she saw nothing at all. Her lips were drawn tightly together, as if something buried within had stirred and risen to the surface.
"Nerissea," I murmured, lowering myself beside her.
Her eyes met mine, heavy with something unspeakably deep.
"When I return to the temple, it is your letters I shall cherish most. In your own handwriting. Will you write to me? And you must not fret over postage. I shall see that gold is sent to you in secret."
Her eyes shimmered. "I shall write to you," she said at last, her voice low and full of emotion. "At every chance I am given."
"I like that answer," I said brightly, and at that, she smiled.
We continued the lesson well into the evening, the sky darkening beyond the windows. At last, we found ourselves seated shoulder to shoulder upon the sofa, our heels discarded, our legs drawn comfortably beneath us. Nerissea held the book I had borrowed from the royal library, reading aloud to me.
Oh, how swiftly she learned. Most of the time, she read with little trouble, and I need only assist her in sounding out the occasional word. The hearth glowed gently, Nerissea appeared content, and I felt naught but warmth within.
That was, until a sudden knock came at my chamber door.
We tumbled from the sofa in a most ungraceful rush, the book slipping from her lap and landing upon the floor. Realizing then that our heels had been cast aside, we quickly seated ourselves once more, fastening them in haste with fumbling hands.
She looked at me and gave a small laugh. "You need not rush. You are a noble lady, after all," she whispered as she deftly wound the delicate laces of her heel about her slender ankle.
Her words gave me pause. Indeed, it was my own chamber, and the hour was late. What did it matter if my feet remained bare?
With that, I lowered myself to the floor before her and took up her other shoe, meaning to assist her.
She drew her foot back. "That is not proper."
"Do not be foolish, Nerissea. We are friends," I replied, slipping the shoe on her foot myself.
"If it happens I must leave now, I shall return to you on the morrow," she said. "Her Majesty will be with the ministers, so I shall be free."
I nodded quickly. "We may read again."
"And build that snow temple you so dearly wished for."
"Yes," I replied, unable to hide my delight.
Once Nerissea was fully composed, elegant from crown to heel, I moved to open the door.
"Good evening," said Mr. Blightmere, bowing his head with formal grace.
Nerissea stepped beside me and offered a respectful curtsy.
"Her Majesty wishes to take supper earlier than usual," he said, addressing Nerissea.
"Very well," she replied, and then turned to me. "I must go. But I shall come to you in the morning."
I smiled and nodded, already looking forward to tomorrow.
---
Morning came, yet Nerissea did not. Our chambers lay upon the same corridor, and it should not have taken her long to reach me. I waited a little while longer before deciding to go to her myself. But when I arrived, the guard stationed by her door informed me that she had departed with my queen.
It did not surprise me. Her Majesty's duties often shifted without warning. Still, disappointment pricked at my heart. I spent the rest of the day seated by the window, watching the snow fall in a soft, endless hush.
The following evening, Her Majesty summoned me to her study. I had thought that we might at last spend time together. A stroll outdoors. Light conversation. But such thoughts were only dreams.
"I want it so terribly," she said, leaning against the window with playful grace, her hand tugging lightly at my sleeve. The moonlight poured over her like silk, making her seem both angelic and wicked.
She had drawn me from the study and into the hall, where the servants and guards roamed. My heart raced with unease. Though I wished dearly to please her, even I knew there must be a limit to such indulgence. It was one thing to endure her desires before the maids, but this was different. Here, there were men.
"Might you think of something else?" I asked quietly, attempting to steer her thoughts away from the yearning that presently possessed her.
"Ah, I see. So you take no pleasure in it," she mumbled, her gaze lowering with a trace of sorrow. It pained me to behold her so disheartened.
"Thinking on it again," I forced a radiant smile, "it does sound… arousing."
And so I removed my dress and unlaced my corset, attempting to lull myself into believing we were quite alone in the palace. The illusion half held, and half did not. I shivered faintly. It had already been cold without my cloak, and now it was colder still. Or perhaps it was not the air at all, but the fact that I stood in the corridor nearly bare. Or perhaps it was both.
"Mmm… how delicious," she purred, her hands gliding upward until her fingers found the peaks of my breasts. She pinched and twisted lightly. Such an act might well have been arousing had we been in private, but in my present state, it was anything but.
"Remove your drawers as well," she said, her voice silken with mischief. "I want them all to see that hairy cunt of yours as you crawl."
"It is not so very hairy," I replied, turning my gaze away from the walls, the floor, and even her golden eyes. "You have more hair there than I, Your Majesty."
"That is true, but I would not call myself especially hirsute."
"Still… hairier than I."
"So then, if I am not particularly hairy, yet I possess more than you, are you declaring yourself nearly bare?"
"I made no such claim. Only that I am less so than you."
"Hmmm… have you considered the color of it? Yours is the palest flax, almost silver. It may simply appear thinner. Mine is a flame of red, so naturally it seems fuller. Therefore, I say you have more."
I turned to her, my head cocked slightly. "But earlier, you admitted you were the hairier of the two."
"And I stand by it."
"Pardon me?"
"You have more."
I was just about to say that she was confusing me, but I held my tongue. Her golden eyes had begun to gloss with tears, and she was smiling at me so fondly.
"Your Majesty," I said, reaching up to cup her cheeks. "What troubles you?"
"You look so precious just now," she whispered, and drew me into her embrace. "Remain just so for a moment. I am reminded of how it was between us then, when all things were simple."
"Things shall return to peace, Your Majesty. I will return to the temple, yes… but I shall visit you and Nerissea often. The Duke cannot pursue me forever."
She wrapped her cloak around us both and pulled me closer, holding me tightly within its folds.
"I love you, Yseldra Valebrinth," I breathed, burying my face in the warm crook of her neck.
We remained still for what felt an eternity, as though Ombrithar herself had stilled the very air so that only our breaths might move within it. When at last Her Majesty withdrew from the embrace, the chill of the hall returned to my skin. Yet I felt a quiet relief, for she had composed herself once more. Her tears were gone, replaced by that wicked, beautiful smile.
My gaze, quite by accident, fell upon the nearby footman and the unmistakable strain beneath his trousers. My cheeks burned, and I wrapped my arms across my bare chest.
"Let him look," Her Majesty murmured, drawing my arms away. Slowly, she hooked her finger beneath the band of my drawers and slid them down until they pooled at my feet.
Then she stepped behind me and lifted my right leg wide, baring my womanhood to his gaze.
"Let him fuck you," she whispered into my ear, her voice husky, followed by a low, sinful moan.
My legs shook as fear clawed into me.
Please… may the heavens tell me she was jesting.