Love Charms (87 page)

Chapter 10

Life as
the God-King’s favoured concubine was not an easy one. In the tent with the
other women, Mirella had almost free reign to do as she wished, except for
those times she was called to serve. Instead her day began early, for the
warlord Kulav—as she’d come to know his true name—was a demanding
and insatiable Master who awoke early, slept little and was ever busy.

He was
glorious to see in action though. His ebon body so toned and muscular as he
pounded into her from the break of dawn until his morning lusts were sated in
her, leaving her a panting, wet mess, drooling his sacred seed.

Slipping
from the bed he stood gloriously nude, his massive shaft still rigid as he
prepared for the day. “Run and see that breakfast is brought up,” he commanded
in his gravely, early morning husk. “The usual for me,” he instructed, “but for
you: two eggs, a sausage, and a tundra-berry pancake with as much syrup as you
like. Oh, and some tea for me, juice for you.”

He was
already assembling his usual attire, his long black hair pushed behind his
shoulders, for once, as he read from some parchment arrayed on his dresser.

She
never deviated from his orders, not in the slightest, and though she pulled on
some pretty little underthings to please his eyes, she felt no shame of it. Of
course a God would be more commanding than her prissy, stubborn princess, and
she was grateful for it.

His
orders, she understood. They weren’t for his vanity, or to suit his whims. He
had a purpose and she was joyous that he included her in them. When she
returned, it was with one of his servants trailing her with his order,
impeccably arranged, likely by her.

She
nodded to the table, having him set everything up before retreating, a soft
smile playing at her lips.

Dressed
in his half kilt and boots, he moved to sit at his table, beginning to eat
immediately. After he had already dug in he gestured to the other chair. “Sit.
Eat,” he said in his gruff voice. Those dark eyes of his studied her as she sat
her increasingly pregnant form next to him. “Have the seamstress make you some
new things today,” he stated firmly.

She
nodded with gratitude, beginning in on her food more slowly and with great
appreciation for both it, and his company. This was the life she was meant for,
and she knew she would worship this man until her dying breath.

“Do you
have anything in mind that you’d like to see?” she asked as she pulled her
glossy black hair over her shoulder, exposing that long, olive neck.

She was
in her thirties, far older than any of his other concubines, yet that never
stopped his dark gaze from passing over her with such interest and desire.
“Tell her to make you one of my usuals,” he insisted, and she was reminded of
the outfit all the others had to wear, “but add some of the raven’s feathers to
a circlet and gold chain. Then have her make you a loose gauzy robe.
See-through,” he explained, eating as he talked. “Adorned with more of my royal
feathers.”

She
realized the significance in that. Only him and his elite guards, the ones who
watched over his mother or protected him specifically, wore such raven’s
feathers on their garb. Her heart pounded in her chest and she swallowed a
lump. It was too much of an honour, yet she knew not to question him. Instead
her head dipped in reverence and gratitude.

“Your Greatness,
you honour me,” she breathed.

He had
nothing more to say to her on that, and it wasn’t until his breakfast was
finished and he rose in his glorious majesty to grasp his cloak that he spoke
again. “The princess has asked for you again,” he said simply, pulling the
garment around his shoulder, letting it drape over his arm as he looked down at
her.

“I’ve
told her it’ll take some time to find you, as you were cast out into the masses
when she dismissed you.” A slow smile formed on his face, “I trust you can use
that to your advantage.” He touched his heavy hand to her head. “Go see her
once you’ve finished your tasks. Tread carefully.”

Fear
gripped her but she nodded, “I live to serve you.” She needed to do this, to
succeed where she had failed before, and her head leaned into his caress.
“Thank you, Your Greatness.” She knew his name. She knew his story.

It did
nothing but make her respect for him grow, her determination to please him
solidified.

With a
nod to her he left, the business of a God-King never ending, she knew.

Her day
went much as she was used to. A lifetime of serving a needy, whining princess
or another noble had prepared her for keeping track of numerous tasks and
managing it all in her limited time.

When
the time came to visit the princess, she was able to find some old rags akin to
what the troubled masses of the city below were forced to wear these days, and
was ushered up to the princess’ room.

Let in,
she was struck by how perversely decadent it was. Even compared to before, this
was over the top. The princess had been showered with gifts, all the riches of
the land and beyond to win her affection.

Though
seeing the slender, waif-like noble beauty come around from her balcony, the
look of distaste on her face said it hadn’t done its trick. “Mirella!” she
said, eyes wide as she approached the woman. “Oh I am so sorry, I have missed
you so dearly!” She said, the female guard shutting the door behind her and
leaving them be.

Mirella
hoped she looked stricken, the way she collapsed into the Princess’ arms and
let out a sob, “Princess!” She angled herself to press that pregnant orb into
the thin woman, letting her feel the reality of what she’d let her servant
become. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Even if
she was trying to garner the Princess’s sympathy, she realized the woman had
little sympathy for those not herself and that feeding into the Princess’ ego
couldn’t hurt. “It’s been such a misery out there without you to lead us,” she
whimpered.

Anabelle
looked stricken and touched at once, putting her thin, young arms about the
older woman. “My poor Mirella,” she cooed, “I am so so sorry...” And strangely
enough she almost sounded it. Almost. “Come in and have a seat,” she invited,
leading her to sit at the little breakfast nook chair.

She stroked
her former servant’s dark hair away from her olive toned face, looking at her
with sympathy. “I know this must have been so very hard on you,” she said
soothingly.

“I was
just so worried. I had no way of knowing if you were safe. I’d heard such
horrid rumours that you’ve stepped away from leading, that you have no interest
in it but worse still was that I’d heard you’d been injured, ill. I almost died
myself the day I heard you were pregnant. I was cast into such torture when I
rebelled to try to see for myself,” Mirella lied to the much younger woman with
such ease.

The
young, blue-eyed noble somehow managed to go even whiter with shock at the
woman’s words. “Pregnant?” she said with such scorn. She rose up and looked
around with displeasure, “He’s done everything to buy me off but resurrect the
dead!” She said with exasperation then scoffed again, muttering distastefully,
“Pregnant.”

She
spun back on Mirella and her eyes were alight. Somehow she’d kept her spirits
up all this time here alone. “I’m saving myself for the prince, my betrothed,”
she said dreamily, looking as if she had something she wanted to say.

Slipping
into the seat beside her, the princess lowered her voice, “I know you’ve been
through awful misery, but you were the only one I could trust. And I needed
someone in the city when the time came.”

Mirella’s
head tilted to the side, her brows furrowing, “What is it you need, my
Princess? I am forever at your service,” she bowed her head in reverence to the
other woman even as her stomach churned.

The
princess took a deep breath and looked troubled. Speaking in such a careful
whisper she seemed to fear someone overhearing them even then. “I had to stage
our little... fuss to get you out there, Mirella. I knew I could trust you,
only you, to be faithful without needing to be in on the plan. They... they
have strange powers and insight I think, and would too likely see through our
charade.”

The
dainty princess gave a hopeful smile, reaching out and taking her servants
hand, “You can forgive me... right?”

“My
Princess, I’m honoured you trust me so,” she said as her eyes watered,
returning the princess’ smile. “I am utterly devoted to you.”

Relief
seemed to wash over the noble lady then and her eyes watered too, “Oh Mirella,
thank you.” She flung her thin arms around her older maid, hugging her in such
an unprecedented display of affection. “There’s so much I need to tell you
now.”

“I’m
all yours, Princess. Just tell me how I can help you! What of your Prince?”
Mirella prodded, seeming so sincere as she moved towards the other woman, her
voice so low.

With a
sweetly devious smile the fair princess welcomed the close, conspiratorial
turn. “I’ve been in touch with him all along,” she whispered. “And now the time
has come where we can do more than just wait, Mirella.” Her eyes dipped to her
servant’s pregnant stomach, and darted away immediately. She obviously didn’t
care to linger on that thought or more precisely the guilt from it.

“How?”
Mirella gasped, honestly taken away that the girl had any bit of cleverness to
her at all. She had not been expecting the woman to have a plan, let alone
having found a means to contact him.

Looking
so smugly confident she pursed her lips and looked for a while as if she’d not
say a word. “Remember the locket the prince gave me at our betrothal ceremony?”
she asked, fishing into her lacy, frilled dress and pulling out the exquisitely
crafted silver filigree locket. “I can speak to him at night with this,” she
whispered. Her blue eyes were so wide with excitement, “But what’s most
important is that...” she took a moment to calm herself. “He’s told me he’s
marching here right now. And will arrive within a week to free us all.”

“That’s
fantastic news,” she gasped, Mirella’s exotically shaped eyes widening.
“Princess, you are too clever! How many does he have? What should I do?”

Her
servant’s excitement only seemed to stoke her own, but she held up her pale,
delicate hands in a gesture to quiet them both. “We have to be calm. We can’t
show our true feelings, Mirella,” she cautioned. “If that blackheart finds out
it could spoil things and cause the prince more time and lives than need be,”
she said with a bit of that haughty air of a ruler.

Mirella
nodded, bowing her head, “Of course, my princess. I will keep myself contained,
in service of you always.”

Princess
Anabelle smiled confidently and touched Mirella’s hand. “I need you to get a
message to the people, Mirella. But you must be circumspect,” she cautioned.
“There is a resistance in the city, I know it,” she stated with absolutely
certainty. “So you must get word to them to be prepared. If they get word
beforehand they can ignite the city into open rebellion so that those heathen
dogs will be caught between both forces and utterly annihilated.” There was a
certain malicious gleam in her eyes then, one Mirella knew well.

“I will
do all I can, Princess. I know there are those that would eagerly rebel,” she
nodded eagerly. “Tell me, how many can we count on to join our fight?”

With a
shrug of her slender shoulders she said, “I don’t know, to be honest. Though
I’m hoping it’s all of them.” She gave a hopeful smile. “I know they are out
there though. The prince had contact with them up until recently, but he can’t
get word in anymore.” She squeezed Mirella’s hand, “It’s up to you to find them
and help save my people.”

“It is
my privilege and duty, Princess. You expect him in a week, that gives us plenty
of time to plan a coordinated attack,” she mused to herself, but all the while
the wheels in her head were turning. “Why can he no longer rally them?”

She
shrugged her shoulders and looked down, “Something about that blackheart
barbarian closing off the city from their old lines of communication,” she
said. The princess was never one for details. She was accustomed to giving
broad orders and expecting them to be obeyed, leaving the details to those
who’d carry them out.

Mirella
shook her head, but then smiled, “Then I will pick up where he left off.” She
looked so honest, so trustworthy, but for that moment she hated the princess
like she never had before. “Is there anything else you need?”

The
smiling princess reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the royal seals.
“Show this to the rebels in case they need convincing of who you are. This is
the most important moment of your life, Mirella,” she said with such certainty,
the noble willing to mark the value of another’s life at the drop of a hat.
“When this is done, you shall be handmaiden to the princess who helped save
beautiful Ariste from the barbarian hordes,” she said with a proud smile.

She
accepted the token with such a display of reverence, secreting it away against
her swollen bosom, “I am so grateful that you trusted me, Princess. You will
not be disappointed.”