The Dragon Queen

Three: Princess Ashden

Three

Princess Ashden  

The treaty was signed, and now there were two days until my birthday. Two days until I turned eighteen, and two days until the countdown to Summer Solstice began. It would be a month of feasting, debauchery, commencing in our very own masked ball. This year would be my first time going. I’d be presented as the Prince’s fiancé.

Everything was planned.

And I hated everything.

School had ended the week before, and I didn’t even have that to look forward to. Now, I was stuck within the palace walls confined to nowhere to go. I had taken a book from the library, and a blanket and I was now lounging in the garden maze reading. It wasn’t what it was meant for, not really, but I knew I’d be left alone there.

No one ever went out into the maze.

Somewhere, Sir Samael was out there. But I hadn’t talked to him yet. I probably wouldn’t. It would be too hard, getting close to someone who knew my homeland so well. Besides which, I couldn’t afford having George getting mad at me because he thought I might be flirting with someone else. I already had one guard I had to worry about.

I lay on my stomach, on my blanket, reading Adore you by Edward Endless for the millionth time. A shadow fell over me. “You know, reading isn’t exactly what the maze is for,” George drawled. He laid downright next to me, and I found his face dangerously close to mine. “It is meant for lovemaking and passing out drunk.”

“I know,” I said, “and I have no interest in either of those things. What are you doing here, George?”

“I’m here to spend time with my fiancé,” he said, “my fiancé that kissed me the other day. Care to explain?”

I rolled over on my back, in an attempt to get away from him. “I wanted to shut you up. Samael didn’t deserve that. The way you treat Haven is bad enough. Despite what you think, I don’t go around falling in love with everyone I meet.”

George lay on his side, one leg stretched out, the other bent, and he used one elbow to rest on. Lounging like portrait of an arrogant prince that he was by definition. “Didn’t deserve it my foot, he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you up. Besides, it’s not you I’m concerned about. It’s them, because they both look at you like they’re going to fall in love with you.”

I frowned. “Lancelot Larkin often looks at you that way. I don’t see why it should be a problem. I’m not a fool, George. I know that this is an arranged marriage. I don’t expect anything from you, except that I should like very much not to die or be imprisoned, if you can manage that.”

George reached out and brushed away one of my blond curls, tucking it back behind my ear. His fingers grazed my cheek. “The difference is that you are mine, and no one else should look at you like that unless I’ve given them permission. Lancelot, I’ve given permission. In fact, I encourage it. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to have the two of you at the same time. You, writhing in under me, him, inside me.”

I blushed. “I…you would have us both?”

“Surely, my Little Princess, you know that I go both ways.”

I bit down on my lip. “I didn’t know it was possible to have more than one person.”

“Of course, it is,” he said, “why do you think orgy’s exist?”

I looked away and tried to focus on my book. I was a Princess. I couldn’t think about such things.

“Ah, I’ve made you uncomfortable, I see,” said George, “well, you had best get used to it, my dear. At one point or another, I’ll make you squirm. Perhaps not right away, unless you want it. Tell me, are you perhaps feeling frustrated, my dear? You’ve blossomed into a young woman, that’s no secret. Perhaps my innocent waif is having urges that I should help out with. After all, I am your fiancé, and you will be my Queen soon.”  

I could feel his eyes roaming my body. He then plucked my book from my hands, and when I made a noise of objection he only tossed it to the side. I was wearing a pink skirt, a white blouse, and a black ribbon around the waist. The skirt went down to my knees. George turned my face so that I was looking at him.

His blue eyes bore into mine, and before I could stop him, his hands were on my waist, then slowly, achingly, making their way from my hips  to my legs. When his fingers were gripping my calves, I thought I might die of anticipation. He grabbed fistfuls of my skirt and inched it up. My thighs, and white, simple underwear were on display for anyone to see who walked by.

“George,” I said breathless, “what are you doing? We’re not married---”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his blue eyes looking like a storm, “I’m only doing what I should have done ages ago. Do you object? Scream now for your guard if you do. Haywood or Bero, I don’t care. Otherwise, Little Princess...”

I was torn. Part of me knew I should wait until marriage, and yet part of me wanted to know what everyone else knew. Passion. Desire. If Prince George was truly the best lover in Vincia, as everyone claimed. Or perhaps George just made them claim it. He was the Prince. He could do that.

I bit down on my bottom lip, and I did not call out. I made a move to pull down my panties, but he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Leave them on,” he whispered, “I want to sneak in.”

I pulled away and let him take over. He moved my panties to the side, and then I felt his hands cup my cunt.

His eyes glazed over. “This is mine,” he said, “all mine.” 

His finger parted my folds, and then slid inside. He pumped his finger inside me, playing with me as though I were his new favorite toy. My toes curled, my back arched, and a breathy cry escaped me that echoed through the maze so loud it frightened the birds from their nests.

That was all he did. Play.

I thought he would take more. But he removed his hand, and left me panting, staring up at him incredulously.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

I nodded.

His face hovered over mine. “Good.” There was no space between our faces, his nose was brushing against mine. His breath was hot against his face. He opened his mouth, as though he was going to kiss me.

But he closed it and rolled off of me. “Remember that you’re mine,” he said, and he got up to leave.

He left me there, alone in the maze, breathless and yearning. Which was exactly what he had wanted. When I left the maze, my hair blond hair was mused, my skirt raised and I had to adjust myself to make myself look presentable.

As I was coming out, I expected I would be alone. Haven was always good about hiding in the shadows, and Samael seemed to be the same. But this time, Haven had made himself known.

His green eyes looked like a hurricane was swirling inside them. “Are you really going to do it?” he asked.

I stared at him, surprised. Our conversations had been minimal over the years, reserved to a few pleasantries now and again. This was the angriest that I had seen him.

“Pardon me?” I said.

“Marry him,” he said.

I bit my lip. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

I was standing on the castle porch, just near the back door. He stood not far from me, far enough away I wasn’t trapped. Close enough I had to worry about being so. I felt like a mouse about to get eaten alive by a cat.

“Do you know why I gave you the music?” he asked.

I knew why. So that he could listen to something else besides me crying myself to sleep every night. But I wasn’t going to admit that out loud, because if I did, I would start crying. “A birthday present?” I whispered.

“Because,” he said, “I hated hearing you cry every single night. There was nothing that made you stop. I know that you’ve a responsibility to your country, but there’s got to be some other way for you to keep them safe and not sacrifice yourself in the process. They sold you off when you were five years-old to a boy that doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

I bristled. “If he doesn’t want anything to do with me, why did he just try to f**k me in the garden?” I challenged.

“Try being the operative word,” said Haven. He was towering over me, and I found myself breathing deeply. “If you were truly satisfied, you’d have been screaming through the garden so loud that you had the entire palace coming out to watch.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What gives you the right---”

“I’ve none, your majesty,” he said, hanging his head, and looking much like the humble guard I knew. “But, as the man charged with keeping you safe, might I say that you don’t seem like you feel very safe with him. Something I do know something about being as it is my job to keep you safe.”

I wanted to yell at him. To slap him, to scream that he was wrong. He didn’t know anything about me, I wanted to say. But even though we didn’t talk, he did know everything about me. Because he had watched me every moment since I was thirteen. He saw the things that no one else had seen.

For that, I hated him. For that, I longed for him in ways I didn’t understand. I didn’t say anything, I only stormed off and retired to my room. I took out the records he’d given me, and I played the one he’d given me for Christmas last year.

Adele’s 21 album. Track 3. And I played it loud enough for Haven to hear.