Free QueensQuest by Suz deMello

before dinner.”
    “Certainly.” I donned long pink satin gloves. Fingerless,
they wouldn’t impede me when eating or touching. Again anxiety cramped me to
the guts, but I laid a hand on his elbow.
    He had bathed from top to toe. Most of his dark mane hung
loose, but the thick locks at each side of his face were braided, leaving his
features, angular but pleasing, exposed. Amber and musk from the EastMarch
scented his hair. He wore fine garments subdued in color—deep-blue shot and
trimmed with silver. The hue complemented his coloring. Hose of the same rich
tone limned brawny legs. He was aware of Shadowland fashion, for his codpiece
was large and embroidered with thick silver thread. His velvet doublet bore a
design with the sacred oak and fiery mountain, traditional symbols of Darkside
nobility, nature-worshippers all.
    His gray eyes continued expressive, holding intelligence and
humor, and his mouth was unexpectedly sensual. A fantasy image of his lips
caressing my pussy drifted across my mind.
    He led me through the palace with a sure step, showing no
uncertainty. Our respective retinues followed. Behind me, the train of my gown
swept the slates, but as it didn’t have panniers or hoops, our bodies occasionally
bumped as we walked. Each contact shot a scintillating trail of desire along my
skin.
    “Where are we going? Do you know your way?” I asked.
    He cast me an amused glance. “I had a free hour to explore
your castle. It is an admirable stronghold.”
    He took me to the same terrace where I’d so joyously given
my virginity on my Exhibition Day. When our servants attempted to follow, I
said, “It’s all right. There are plenty of people below.”
    True enough. Down on the lawns, tearing apart the sod, a
herd of magnificent taqqa milled and stamped, huge animals with shaggy
ochre-colored pelts, massive humped shoulders and curved horns, themselves
long, sharp weapons. Some of the beasts were mounted by armored warriors almost
as big as Storne, while the rest were laden. Servants, both Shadowlanders and
Darksiders, busily unloaded and stacked boxes, baskets, trunks, rugs and
portmanteaux. That our people worked together amicably was not lost on me.
    “For you,” Storne said.
    I stared at him.
    “Tribute.”
    My eyes widened. “You owe me no tribute, and you cannot buy
me.”
    “No, but I see that I must woo you.” That smile again, so
unexpected from such a solemn mien. “I am but a rough warrior, but I wish to be your rough warrior.”
    Pleasure robbed me of speech. I was touched by his
courtliness, so at odds with his earlier arrogance. And he was an astute judge
of character. He had taken my measure immediately and adjusted his approach. He
had also come prepared for any eventuality.
    He took out a small pouch from a hidden pocket in his
doublet. “My first gift to you.”
    My face felt too small for my smile. “Thank you.” Excited, I
reached for the red satin bag, hoping it contained jewelry. Darkside boasts a
wealth of minerals and gems and its artisans excel in the craft of jewelry design.
    He pulled it out of my reach. “Let me show you. Rumor tells
me that women of the Shadowlands enjoy this kind of gift, and I will enjoy
knowing that you wear it.” He tugged apart the drawstring at the pouch’s top
and upended it above his cupped palm. A stream of molten gold spilled forth,
resolving into a fine chain, nearly three feet long.
    Puzzled, I took it out of his hand and held it up to examine
it by the light of the torches lining the marble terrace. The chain had little
scissorlike appendages at each end, each maybe the size of my thumbnail. The
scissors had curved blades that weren’t sharp but were lined with tiny seed
pearls, leaving a circular gap in the center perhaps the size of a baby pea.
The ends were curlicued to wrap around each other.
    I raised my brows at Storne.
    “Allow me.” But he didn’t take the chain, instead reaching
for my bodice.
    I gasped and jerked away. “Sir,