Chapter 7

One week later the giant dining hall had been rigorously cleaned by the palace servants and set to rights. The walls were closed, hiding the now no longer secret passages. Garrin had declared a day of feasting and celebration throughout Argorn and his reconstituted court joined him and Dianora at the castle for their own revels. The food was plentiful, the wine flowed and although she was an introvert who normally avoided any and all such gatherings, Dianora played her role as best she could. She had a few acquaintances at court now and considered herself an interested observer, constantly taking mental notes. The attitude helped her not to be self-conscious and awkward. Garrin at her side was a far bigger support, explaining who various people were and making sure her plate was always full of the best morsels and her wine goblet topped off. There were endless toasts, a number of them to her, which was embarrassing and the event was giving her a massive headache truthfully. Being a queen—well not quite, as the wedding and coronation were scheduled for a month from now—but close enough, wasn’t as much fun as the fantasy trideos of her time made it out to be.

At least not the ceremonial aspects of the job. She and Garrin continued to enjoy an extremely healthy relationship in bed and he’d kept his word to involve her in all his councils and decisions. When he went to inspect a fortification or there was an issue with a dam or whatever the topic might be, he insisted she accompany him.

Now there was to be dancing. A group of musicians tuned up in an alcove and the servants swept the central portion of the floor.

Garrin turned to Dianora. “The king and queen must open the first dance, my lady. Will you honor me?”

“I—I’m not a dancer,” she said, thinking belatedly she should have asked for lessons ahead of time. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never embarrass me, my love. And it’s known you’re from another realm. The dance is a simple one—I’ll guide you.” He kissed her cheek and laughed. “This is the woman who wasn’t afraid to engage in mortal combat with the Craadil, who now shows reluctance to dance?”

“Yeah, well, never said I was perfect.”

Bending close, he said, “Perfect to me.”

He rose and held out his hand so she got herself out of her chair, trying to be as graceful as possible in the flowing gown with its many petticoats. She wasn’t sure of her footing in the bejeweled slippers either and wished she could at least go barefoot but supposed as a queen that would be breaking too much protocol. Garrin led her onto the floor and struck a pose in the exact center. The music started up, not too fast, with a good rhythm, and Garrin swept her into the Argorn version of what she thought of as a waltz. His arm around her waist was firm and he held her hand firmly with his and guided her through the space without too many stumbles on her part. Her cheeks were flaming hot with embarrassment at being the center of all eyes and no doubt being judged harshly by many but she kept her eyes locked onto his and maintained a smile on her face the entire time.

“I’m going to twirl you and then we’re done. You must curtsey to me,” he said in a whisper as the music was obviously winding to a conclusion.

Dianora concentrated and managed the spin without falling and sank into the curtsey she had been taught by a kindly maid several hours ago. “All the people of Argorn but the king must curtsey to you but you might have occasion to curtsey to his majesty and it must be done properly,” the prescient woman had said. Dianora was growing quite fond of her maid, who was like a well-meaning aunt and had given her a number of useful suggestions.

There was applause after her curtsey to Garrin and then another tune began and other couples came onto the floor. Garrin escorted her to her seat and she took a long drink of wine.

“Well done, my lady,” he said as he resumed his place next to her. “Having survived the first dance we aren’t expected to do another.”

“I like dancing with you,” she said, surprising herself. “But I’d rather learn out of the public eye if you don’t mind.”

“Once you’ve been crowned queen officially you’ll set up your ladies court,” he said. “I’m sure the women can apprise you of things it would never occur to me to be concerned over. I should have thought about the dance but I’m a soldier, not a courtier. When I was growing up I spent all my time with the guardsmen, learning the skills a soldier needs, and then I shadowed my father, the old king, to learn statecraft. I was the despair of my mother.”

“I doubt that,” she said. “You must have been the kind of son to make any mother proud. Airs and graces be damned.”

Dianora excused herself a few minutes later, pleading the headache and the need to go to their rooms and treat herself with a medinject so she could finish the evening with him. Garrin wanted to send two guards with her but was distracted by a late arriving noble who wished to make a petition. As she slipped from the room, she was just as glad. It was hard to get used to constantly having bodyguards everywhere she went and she did have her blaster, hidden in a pocket of the dress which she’d insisted the seamstress add. Being an introvert, in a relationship with a total extrovert, she rarely had time to herself. As far as being with Garrin himself, that was wonderful but she craved those moments of peace when she could be alone.

She was used to the castle now after a week of tromping through every inch of it on inspection tours with Garrin and found her way to their suite on an upper level with no problem. She sat on the bed and dug the proper inject out of the medkit, happy to see she still had a good supply remaining. Not enough for the rest of her life most likely, but they’d buy her time to become more familiar with Argorn medicine and decide what parts of it were useful to her.

Knowing she had to return to the dining hall, concerned her absence might reflect badly on Garrin, Dianora packed up the medkit, straightened her dress and her hair and forced herself out into the corridor and down the stairs. As she was coming around one of the sweeping curves, she heard voices ahead and stopped.

“I give it six months at most,” said one woman dismissively. “She’s a curiosity to him, nothing more.”

“He’s grateful to her for saving his life,” said another.

“Gratitude only goes so far.”

“But they’ll be married. She’s to be queen. Garrin would never set her aside,” a third person observed. “The act might anger the gods after sending her to him.”

“He’ll take lovers. They all do—his father had so many,” the first gossiper said. “The gods don’t care about dalliances. Let her keep the title and enjoy the empty bed.”

“Morganil will snap him up. She had hopes of becoming queen, you know, before the Craadil came.”

Dianora knew the name. The woman was a proud, haughty lady of remarkable beauty who had indeed been disdainful to her when their paths crossed in the castle or at gatherings. The speaker went on confiding her opinions to her unseen companions. “Best stay on Morganil’s good side because she’s already scheming to reignite what they’d shared before.” Lowering her voice, the woman added, “And she might know of ways to drive the newcomer back to her own realm, if you know what I mean.”

There was a titter of amusement and then Bakuln’s voice broke into their mirth. “Ladies, well met. Have you seen Queen Dianora? She’s apparently been delayed in returning to the banquet and the king is concerned.”

That’s my cue.Dianora tamped down her fury and pasted the smile on her face, stepping around the curve to enter the spacious landing, where the gossips were seated on couches, enjoying a snack and their idle chat. Extending her hand to Bakuln, who was her trustworthy ally since the beginning, she assumed a gracious air. “Well met, my lord. I’m slow and cautious on these damn slippery stairs.”

The women were curtseying, eyes downcast as she swept by them, escorted by Bakuln. Dianora hoped they were worried about what she might have overheard.

“Garrin is a man with a man’s appetites,” Bakuln said softly as the two of them continued to descend the grand staircase. “Which he has indulged in the past of course. But he’s totally taken with you, my lady and his heart has room for no other. Having given his word to you, he’ll never stray from your bed. I’ve known him since we were too young to even pick up a sword—he’s a man of honor. He loves you as anyone with eyes can plainly see.”

“Thank you for speaking on his behalf,” Dianora said, touched such a hardened warrior would care what she thought. “I have no doubt of our bond. Biddies like those like to make trouble. They enjoy feasting on the scraps and stirring the pot. I will say if those women had any plans to become part of the Queen’s Court, which I’ve been told I must establish, they’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Bakuln gave a shout of laughter and patted her hand where she maintained a loose hold on his arm. “You’re a warrior in your own way. There’s something to be said for keeping enemies close, however.”

“Life is too damn short to waste my time on them.”

“I envy Garrin,” Bakuln said with amusement. “He’s a lucky man. By any chance do you have a sister waiting in your realm?”

“Sorry, no sisters or brothers and my parents are long gone,” she said. Would she have embraced this adventure if there was a family waiting at home? Probably but with more regrets.

As she made the final turn of the stairs, she saw Garrin in a group which included Morganil, who was right by his side and plainly trying to capture his attention, her hand resting on his arm flirtatiously. The king had only eyes for Dianora, however, his face lighting up as she and Bakuln came into view. With a barely murmured apology he left his companions and came straight to meet them, holding out his hand to Dianora.

“Is your headache better then?” he asked. “I was hoping for another dance if you’re up to it.”

“Bring it on,” she said with a smile. “Promise not to let me trip over my own feet or yours and I’ll be fine.”

Garrin swept her onto the floor with the other couples, who moved aside to make room and shortly they were doing their best to maneuver the steps, which were more complicated than the first dance had been. Relieved of her migraine, Dianora found it all amusing and had a wonderful time for the rest of the night.

Much later,she stood by the windows in the king’s suite, which overlooked a beautiful garden, complete with a pond, and contemplated her life choices. The jewels in the ring glinted in the moonlight and Dianora found she was quite at peace with where she was and what her future would be.

“Planning to leave me?” Garrin asked, entering from the other room. “Bakuln told me what the gossips were saying tonight.”

She faced him. “I’m planning to fight for you, my lord, and for what we share.”

He came to take her in his arms. “Flattering as it is to be the object of a campaign, you do know there’s no need for battle? I love you and I’ll always love you. No one can ever come between us, my lady of the future realm.”

“I’m not seriously worried,” she assured him. “But I’ll never take your love for granted either. We’re a team and we need to hold that mindset. The gossips themselves didn’t bother me but their chatter was a good reminder not everyone will wish us well and there are those who won’t approve of our agenda as rulers.”

“Or another Fedorr,” Garrin said, “Wanting what isn’t his.”

“Exactly. And I’d slot Morganil into the same category. She won’t be joining my little court, you can count on her omission.”

Garrin grinned and nodded, kissing her hand. “Who you choose as your ladies is entirely up to you.” Turning more serious, he added, “Before the Craadil she might have justifiably had hopes of becoming queen. As my heart was unaffected by any woman, I might have selected her as a practical matter of state, given her family. Once I met you in the dungeon, there was no doubt in my mind and no room in my heart for any other woman. Only Dianora.”

Touched by the obvious sincerity in his voice, she swallowed hard and continued with her previous discussion of their relationship. “So we won’t take each other for granted and we’ll communicate openly.” Dianora felt strongly about the two points. She’d studied worlds torn apart by conniving, scheming people and politics and didn’t intend for Argorn to have the same problems. The mysterious end of the civilization on the planet was firmly planted in the back of her mind. She was fully invested in building a foundation for the future with Garrin and doing their best to ensure the catastrophe, whatever it might be, didn’t occur. She’d likely never know if they were successful but the lack of assurance wasn’t going to stop her.

Garrin cupped her breast and teased the nipple through the fabric with his thumb. “I’ll communicate my thoughts at the moment, my lady.” With his other hand he drew her hips closer to his.

She pressed her hand against the impressive bulge in his trousers. “I think I have a good idea but yes, please, do tell me more.”

Lifting her into his arms, he said, “I think I’d rather show you. I’m a man of action.”

As always whenhe picked her up, he marveled at how petite she was compared to the immense emotional strength she showed and her courage, even in battle. Dianora had told him more than once she was considered curvy by her own people and nothing special in the looks department, which were verdicts he couldn’t accept. She might be built on a more petite scale overall than Argorn women but her curves filled his hands and cushioned his body to perfection when they were in bed. He and his cock could never get enough of making love to her and he thanked the gods daily for giving her the ring and sending her to him.

Placing her on her feet beside the bed, he helped her out of the layers of dress and petticoats, until she stood before him in the black and red lacy underthings he found so arousing. Garrin couldn’t get out of his own clothing fast enough now, cursing at the fastenings while Dianora watched, stifling her amusement at his impatience. She knelt to help him get his pants off and then took his jutting shaft in her hands, placing her delectable lips around the head and driving him to distraction with the sight of his cock in her mouth, not to mention the feeling of her tongue swirling over all the sensitive spots. She rolled his balls gently in her fingers and he had to grab the bedpost to keep his feet under him. Dianora was relentless and all too rapidly he reached the point where he was going to climax if he didn’t stop her. His preference was to seat himself deep in her body and let her milk his seed in a glorious burst of their combined love.

“We need to take this into the bed,” he said firmly.

With a pretty pout, she allowed his cock to slip from her lips and gave his sac a final caress. “If you insist. We have all night, you know.”

“I’ve already suffered enough tonight at the endless banquet, imagining this moment,” he said, lifting her and placing her on the mattress. She reached for him and gladly he complied with her wordless request, coming over her but keeping as much of his weight off her smaller frame as he could. She still wore the lingerie, as she called it, and now he unfastened the bra and tossed it on the floor.

“You’ve gotten much better at undoing the clasp,” she said with a mischievous smile, wriggling her hips.

“The rewards for doing so are great.” Lowering his head, he took one pert nipple into his mouth and suckled, while kneading the pillowy top of the other breast with his hand.

Dianora stroked his back lazily, tracing the old wounds acquired in years of battles.

He moved his free hand to the gusset of her panties, finding it soaked as usual, which filled him with satisfaction. His beloved was so responsive to him—he had no doubt about how much she desired him. Their passion matched nicely and the symmetry of their need always drove him to even higher levels of emotion and arousal.

“Don’t tear them,” she said as he fisted his hand at the side of the panties. “I don’t exactly have extras.”

“I adore them too much to ruin them,” he said, loosening his grip and working the scrap of fabric down her legs and off her body. Kissing his way down her stomach, he spent a few minutes employing his tongue to stimulate the hidden bundle of nerves at her clit and then paid the same attention to her folds, lapping at the cream as if he was the giant cat of his family’s crest. Dianora’s taste and womanly essence were indescribably erotic to him. She had her hands entwined in his hair as she writhed and moaned in pleasure. Raising his head, he studied her, all flushed and tousled and his heart thumped hard in his chest. “I love you more than I can ever say.”

“The feeling is mutual—I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you in a dream.” Her response was immediate and said in such a husky voice full of emotion that a shiver ran through him. Truly he was blessed by the gods.

Unable to commit to any more foreplay because his need to be inside her was so compelling, Garrin changed position, taking himself in hand and placing the tip of his shaft at her entrance. Dianora moved ever so slightly and he immediately slid inside, to be cushioned and caressed by the hot wet silk of her body. Already aroused nearly beyond bearing, he began to thrust in and out, driving hard toward his goal for their complete union. “Better than dancing?” he asked.

“I don’t need lessons for this,” she said confidently, matching his movements perfectly. “We just fit.”

He saved his breath now as he could sense the pressure building and as she clenched herself around him, he went over the edge in a massive surge of erotic energy, his seed jetting deep. Maybe tonight they’d begin their first child but whether it happened now or not, he was a happy man. Maintaining his arousal even as he was climaxing, he made a concentrated effort to bring her with him and was rewarded by the sight of her arching her back as she screamed his name and came to her own completion. Garrin held her tight as the echoes of the orgasm ran through her entire body, delighted by the way his beloved abandoned propriety and her usual mild demeanor when she was in the throes of passion. Gently he brushed her hair out of her eyes as she lay on the pillows. “My one and always love,” he whispered, kissing her gently. “My queen.”

Dianora returned his kiss and closed her eyes for a few heartbeats. “How much of the night did you say we had left?”

Laughing, he rolled off her body, moving her so she could pillow on his shoulder. “Not nearly enough but we’ll make do. Even a king requires a bit of recovery time.”

“A legendary king,” she said with a grin. “The tales which survived your civilization didn’t begin to do you justice, not when it comes to the bedroom.”

Garrin was always discomfited when she referred to the fact he’d been the last king of the Argorn before she arrived in his time and meddled. He was glad and grateful not to have perished at the hands of the Craadil but he felt the burden of trying to establish a foundation which would enable future generations of his people to thrive. Of course one considered what legacy he might leave in the annals of kings but Dianora’s knowledge of the possible future pressured him if he thought too much about it. “I can only do my best,” he said out loud.

Her eyelids flickered upward as she’d been close to drowsing off, which was her preference after a bout of vigorous lovemaking. “Did you say something?” she asked.

Kissing her cheek, he settled her more comfortably again. “Nothing important, my love. Sleep and I’ll wake you in plenty of time before the servants arrive to feed the fire and start the morning rituals.”

“Time,” she repeated as if it was a question. “I had a plan I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Not now,” he said with a smile. “You’re too tired and we both need at least a little rest before tomorrow.”

“At breakfast then?”

“I’ll be all ears, I promise.”

“It can wait, you’re right.” With a sigh she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Garrin stroked her hand, staring at the ring of his ancestors, gleaming on her finger. Misgivings rose in his heart over what Dianora might want to discuss. She gave every sign of being content to be here and to live as his wife and queen for the rest of her life and he couldn’t imagine the ring taking her away from him now…but if he were a betting man, he’d take the odds she wanted to talk about the damn ring, which couldn’t be a good thing. He shut his eyes and ordered himself to sleep. He’d find out in the morning so he hoped the cook had prepared a good breakfast—he was sure he was going to need it.