The casual use makes me whimper against Rega’s lips. Then a big hand grabs my shoulders and pulls me to kneel up. My kiss with Rega is broken as Jonas’ hand strokes down the forced curve of my waist. My legs tremble where I kneel, feeling his heat and weight pressed against my back.
“You want her mouth, Rega?” Jonas asks even as his fingers pluck at the binder around my arms. He frees me from it, and I can’t help but moan my appreciation before he gently lays me back against the ground. I look up at the library ceiling, the eyes of so many people watching. Then, two thick fingers spear my cunt.
“That’s it, Galiva,” Jonas purrs, the gentle heat of his voice washing over me. “You’re more than ready for me, aren’t you?”
In between blinks, Rega is above me, her trousers gone. She kneels over my head before bringing her cunt to my mouth.
It’s hard to concentrate on what I’m doing. I moan and writhe as Jonas toys with my cunt, only for Rega to bear down on me, smothering me between her legs. The shouts and cheers are muffled by Rega’s thighs, and I can only squirm as they pleasure me, tease me, use me.
A third thick finger slides into my cunt, and as Jonas’ thumb presses against my clit, I scream as I cum again. I don’t think they were even trying to get me there, but it happens all the same. I jerk helplessly, hearing muffled cheers over Rega’s long, low moan.
“Gods, what a mouth,” Rega gasps, and I flush at the praise as she lifts off of me.
The fingers withdraw, leaving my cunt clenching, aching for more. Then, in between long blinks, Jonas is in me. Or at least part of him. The man is well endowed, and I moan as my cunt aches to accommodate him. He seems well aware of his size and treats me gently, even though a vague part of me wishes he wouldn’t.
I’ve never been so deep in a spell before, my usually swirling thoughts reduced to a crawl. Around me, the wizards of the Crux cheer and laugh, hands starting to wander among the onlookers as they watch.
Jonas works into me, his pace speeding up as I adjust to the size of him. I go to grab his shoulders, but Rega takes my wrists, pinning them over my head. I’m held helpless as Jonas fucks me to the cheers and scattered moans of the others. Even if they were cheering for my failure earlier, they’re just cheering me now, and it’sexactlythe type of introduction I was hoping for.
Jonas groans, giving one last hard thrust before he stills, spilling into me. He gives a breathless laugh as his kind blue eyes meet mine. “Fuck, Galiva. It was a pleasure.”
I shudder as he pulls out of me, too content to talk as I bask in the aftermath of the spell. The chatter continues around me as Cancassi comes forward to pluck the laces of my corset loose, allowing me to pull in a proper breath.
“How are you feeling, Grandmaster?”
My addled thoughts slowly come back together. I look at the congregated wizards talking and laughing, and the idea I’d been piecing together snaps into place with post-orgasm clarity.
“I know how we’re going to restore people’s trust in magic.”
Reunion
While there has been some success in tracking magic through family lineages, there is no exact formula. Two magical parents may have a higher chance of birthing a child with the gift, but that doesn’t account for the new magical lines that appear with every non-bloodline wizard who joins the Crux.
An Essay on Magic and Family by Lionel Lorne
THE STRAE DELEGATIONhas been given nearly an entire wing of the palace to call their own during the peace talks. It’s big and lavish, with curtains of sheer linen diluting the sun that pours in through the tall, arched windows. It sparkles across the mosaics of colored glass, the precious stones that make up the floor. Elaborate chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and candles are set into the sconces instead of the light globes I’ve become so accustomed to. The airy central room is filled with cushioned chairs and chaises, and hallways branch off to more private quarters of varying size and opulence.
And since Irefuseto return to my old quarters in my family’s wing of the palace, I’m sharing a room with Alix. Allisande is housed just across from ours, though the abjuration keeping her door locked tells me all I need to know about how much say she has in being here.
From what we’ve gathered, the Immen delegation arrived only a couple of days after us. The rumor is that King Luther of Immenbach is trying to delay the talks until his son and heir arrives, but the Shykhdar isn’t having it. Though with the way the palace is laid out, none of the Strae delegation have actually crossed paths with the Immen party, and that is likely intentional.
No, the first time the two opposing parties are set to come together is tonight at the Shykhdar’s welcome dinner. Which I resolutely plan to avoid.
“How are you faring?” Alix asks.
“Oh, you know,” I sigh, rolling the sending Arlon gave me in between my fingers as I stare up at the arched ceiling. Alix is on the bed next to mine, legs crossed with a book in his lap, but at that nonanswer, he glances over at me, unamused.
“No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”
I scowl, folding the focus into my hand. “I don’t understand why I can’t leave. I got us here, made my appearance. Arlon said my presence is required, but he didn’t say for howlong.”
Alix sets his book aside with a snort, giving me his full attention. “Somehow, I think that you leaving would be frowned upon at best, catastrophic at worst.”
I’m sulking. I know I am, but the worry about what’s in store for me mixes with my worries about Dom, worries about the peace talks. Too many Goddamn worries. I sigh, rolling on the lush bed to face the wall, my back to Alix.
“We should get ready for dinner,” he says after a quiet moment.
“I’m not going.”
