Out of the Faold (Whilst Old Legends Fade Synchronicles) (28 page)

The woman told him, “You have to be careful
or I’ll send you to watch over some spores just coming into conscientiousness.”

“I can do amazing things with that,” he told her. “Look what we did with that fever.”

She frowned. Perhaps it was better to leave him here with them
so she could watch over him
. The problem with that was that she’d have to tolerate him.

“How? What are they? They aren’t like mine,” he said, pointing to the two now
crying out together.

She didn
’t answer. They simply watched.

“You don’t know, do you?” he shouted. He turned to all of them and pointed into the arch at the couple collapsed in each
other’s
arms, sweating and smiling, still kissing and touching. “You don’t know what you’ve created. They are living gods
, walking gods. Look what they did to me. They can do worse.”

“Is that what you think they are?”

“Well, what do
you
think they are?”

None of them had an answer. They watched the couple as they nuzzled faces and laughed, as he ran his hand down her body. She moved in pleasure and he smiled so sweetly at her.

The goddess smiled
, slightly flushed
.
The bloodied god watched her face in exasperation.
He stepped up behind her, his menacing voice in her ear. His arousal pressed against her. “Is that what this is to you? I’m enjoying it as much as you are. If you
need passion and a good dricking
I’ll give it to you. Just don’t go playing a
round with this sort of thing.”

Without moving away from him
she watched as the two in the arch laughed and rolled over,
the woman’s
hair falling around his face
as she
slowly
, gently
sat across
his hips. Watching them move together, the god moaned in the goddess’
ear and she gave him her neck.

“You don’t even h
ave all the necessary equipment,” she whispered as he roughly took her neck with his teeth. “
The god-
smiter
took it from you.”

He pressed up against her more firmly.
She
leaned
against him.
They stood together watching the pair love each other, be with each other,
take each other over and over.

“I have what we need. We can’t
reproduce anyway.”

“I don’t
know what
they are,” she told him breathless
ly
. “But
they
can.”

“Doran!” King Fredrick shouted at the top of his lu
ngs from the war room. “Doran!”

One of his guards made a movement with his hand and a page jumped out the door to find the wayward soldier. Boots could be heard running away from the war room and down the
corridor as the page searched.

“Where is he?” the King demanded, expecting no one to answer. He sighed in frustration drumming his fingers on the desk. “Doran!”

“I know where he isn’t,” a pleasant fem
ale voice said from behind him.

The King turned to look at her. She had appeared from one of the two entrances at the back of the room. He raised his eyebrow to question. “The barber?” he asked.

“Exactly,” sh
e smiled and they both laughed.

Pearl wore her sandy blonde hair in a loose braid down her back. At sixteen years she was a pretty young woman of average build. But she stood tall with pride in her deep blue robes with white sacred symbols down the front. Around her waist she wore her official Marshall belt with her own smaller version of a Marshall hatchet made
just for her. She cherished it.

She walked forward to stand beside the King. Two pairs of footsteps approached at a run, someone banged into the closed double doors and Pearl winced. The page swung one of them open; he was out of breath and his face red. A small boy of five years rushed into the war room, his boots threatening to trip him with the clumsy feet of a boy that age. He wore a black leather short coat and the scalloped leather breast plate of a Marshall. Around his waist was his own small hatchet. His eyes were big and brown as he stared at the King from under his mop of dark brown hair. He clumsily fell to one knee and saluted King Fredrick.

“Doran,” Fredrick said gruffly. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes. I told you to stay close.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said changing knees uncomfortably.

“Get up,” the King said gruffly, hiding his amusement.

The boy stood and glanced at Pearl, wondering if he was really in trouble. She didn’t give him any indication by the look on her face until he caught a quick wink and he relaxed. She was the best big sister a boy could have, even if she wasn’t his real big sister. She was God-
Smiter
and she told the best stories and tickled him and played with him in the vineyard and through the well…

“Doran!” the King
barked, getting his attention.

Little Darius stood straighter in his best attempt at
being at attention. He wobbled.

“Did you complete your orders as instructed?”

“Yes
, Your Majesty,” he called out.

“Report!”

“Prince Tomas and Miss Glory met in the gardens, Your Majesty. They walked and walked and walked. Miss Glory talked and talked and talked.”

Pearl stifled a laugh, knowing that was exactly how the meeting would have gone. Prince Tomas was shy and Glory was not. He always paid rapt attent
ion to her though, Pearl mused.

“So where were you just now?” the King asked. “You were supposed to be back here to report ages ago.”

Darius blushed. “Miss Glory told me one of the hounds had pups this afternoon and I went to see.”

Pearl straightened in surprise. No one had notified her. She’d been waiting anxiously for the whelping. Fredrick noticed her interest and leaned forward toward Darius.

“I have more orders for you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Tell your mother you need your hair cut,” the King told the boy.

“Mother s
aid
…” Darius started but stopped, looking to Pearl.

“Oh, and what did Mother say?” the King asked.

“Mother said that’s something you will have to talk to Father about.”

The King stared at him with squinted eyes. “She would.”

Pearl turned away so Darius couldn’t see the smile on her face as she laughed to herself. She turned back to see Darius and the King staring each other down. Fredrick waved his hand and blurted, “Out!”

Darius saluted the King, bowed crookedly to Pearl then gave them both a huge grin. The same grin his mother, Coral, said made her fall in love with his father. He sp
un and ran out of the war room.

“That boy is just like his father,” the King said with a smile.

“And that’s why you love him.”

“I suppose so,” he nodded.

“You shouldn’t have him spying on Tomas and Glory. He’s just a child.”

“He isn’t spying,” Fredrick told her. “He’s chaperoning.”

“You know Tomas gives him sweets to take a walk and leave them alone?”

“What?” Fredrick cried in feigned surprise. He smiled, “That’s why I have someone else spying on them.”

“You are wicked,” she laughed.

He sat back, looking at her intently. “Always have been. Now, when are you going to agree to marry me?”

Pearl blushed as she always did when he asked. “A street rat like me doesn’t have any business in a castle,” she said, walking around his chair and plopping her backside down on the table.

“Yet here you are.”

“And I am a child,” she said to him.

“You were a child when I first carried you on my shoulder. You are not a child now.”

“I am less than half…” she started then stopped to calculate. “…half your age. I am the same age as your youngest son!”

“These wrinkly knockers aren’t dried up you know!” he blurted and she blushed more. “You came of age a year ago.”

“You are
my King! What would Glory say?”

“Glory would tell you you need to follow the orders of your King!” he told her, slipping his finger in her belt to pull her forward.

“Are you ordering me to marry you?” she demanded. And with a flap of the robe she told him, “I have obligations, you know.”

He looked at her thoughtfully then shook his head, releasing her belt. “No, I’m not.”

She remained sitting on the edge of the table looking at him. He watched her, wondering what she was thinking. She was a bright one, strong willed and powerful. More powerful than any woman he’d ever met before. She could get him to do anything she wanted. In a heartbeat. They just looked at each other for long moments and then she smiled sweetly.

“Puppies,” she growled, kissed his cheek and ran out of the war room, her
blue robes sweeping behind her.

He sighed and shook his head. She was right, he knew. She was always right. But that didn’t mean he had to accept it.

Pearl slid into the kennels from her run down the alleyway. Darius was already there on his knees in front of the whelping crate. The kennel master wouldn’t let the boy get any closer. Pearl dropped to her knees too and watched them. The mother’s tail wagged gently, recognizing Pearl. She spent so much time in the kennels and on the grounds with them they were practically kin.

“Four,” she whispered and looked up to the kennel master.

“Small litter this time,” he said. “She had eight last.”

“It’s wonderful,” she said, smiling at Darius, who nodded.

They watched them suckle while getting licked by mother many times over. She was intense in her efforts. Pearl couldn’t wait until they were old enough to totter around and follow them around the yard. After an hour the pair was s
hooed out to prepare for dinner. Stepping
through the kennel door
they found
the same page looking for them.

“Oh, oh,” Darius groaned when he sa
w the young man waving to them.

Pearl smiled and took his hand. “He picks on you because he likes you,” she told him. “He says you are just like your father.”

“Y
eah?” Darius asked in surprise.

“Yes, and you are.”

He beamed at the news. He adored his father. He was the best man in the world. And his mother agreed. He had to go away sometimes, on order from the King, but when he came back he spent all his time with Darius, teaching him how to wrestle and they played with swords and Pearl’s dogs and picked grapes and …

“Darius,
” Pearl whispered with a nudge.

“Yes?”

The page looked at him then realized the boy hadn’t heard what he’d said. He repeated, “The King wants to see you in his library.”

“Thank you.”

The page rolled his eyes at Pearl in exasperation then spun and rushed down the hallway back the way he’d come. That poor page, Pearl thought and smiled. He was run ragged by the King in his harassment of Darius. It was all in fun on his part, saying since Darius was his father’s representative and head of household while he was away, the boy had to fulfill his father’s duties. Hence the miniature Marshall uniform and hatchet. At first Darius thought it was fun but then he started having t
o follow all the King’s orders.

“Let’s go,” Pearl told him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you,” he said wearily, dragging his feet.

“Enter!” the King barked t
o Darius’ soft tap on the door.

When Darius stumbled in gracelessly Fredrick waved him forward. The boy dropped to one knee as he always did and wobbled.

“We need to get you sturdier legs,” the King told him, glancing down. Pearl slipped in behind him and stood quietly at the door. “You can stand.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Fredrick held out a wax sealed letter. Darius approached and took it.

“Read it,” he told him. “It’s for you.”

“I can’t read, Your Majesty.”

“Why not? Hasn’t your mother taught you?” he demanded. “I’ll have to have a word with her.”

“I’m five!”

“I could read when I was two!” the King told him. He motioned for the letter to be given back and sighed heavily, “I’ll read it for you.”

Darius Somas Kolder Doran,

Take off one of your stockings and hand it to the King.

Darius’ face paled as he stared at his King in shock.