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My spine collapses onto the bed of bell-heather.
I shudder when Franzy rubs her lips to mine in a flutter of a kiss before she voyages to my left breast and circles the rosebud with her tongue. I moan and cup my forehead, my throat, reveling to her knowing tongue expertly teasing the nipple, licking and lapping at the flesh to urge it to rise and swell.
“Oh, leyanyn!” I moan again when she closes her lips around the rosebud nipple and sucks it deep into her mouth.
After suckling for a few moments, she repeats the pattern with the right breast, then hovers to eye the full flesh, how the nipples have turned to flushed pebbled diamonds.
“I learned what you love first,” Franzy kisses me, and I gush, arching my back to her hands kneading my breasts, squeezing my erect nipples. She urges my blushing breasts together, and I clench my fingers into the flowers. I rip at petals when she blows on each nipple, a hair’s breadth from kissing. “I learned how you love when I tease you with my tongue, suckle you, then tease you with my fingers, then suckle you again.”
Tears glisten in my eyes as I gaze at her, heart pausing to her poised above my ruby gems, her breath warming them,
“Please, Franz!”
Without warning, Franzy pinches and tugs my nipples, then finds my mouth. Opening it, she trails her tongue around the inside. “You will call me Princess during our remaining time in bed. Am I clear, leyanyn?” She twists my peaked buds.
Sweat riddles my brow. My sex aches for more, but I know her unrivaled tongue won’t migrate lower without my acceptance. Remembering her words, “you are not the only one with a crown,” I surrender mine to the pillows next to me and bow to her.
Franzy smiles, my sweetheart, my dearest one, my...princess. After my gesture, she plunges three fingers deep into my sex and swallows my scream with her mouth. Finally, she rubs my distended lips with her tongue. Heat eddies through my body, flushing my skin as if a firefly host glows inside my blood.
“Oh, Fra-“
She snaps her gaze to mine, withdrawing her fingers. I shriek from the loss of them and her tongue.
“Princess! Princess! Princess!” I correct three times, hoping they are enough.
“Better,” commends Franzy, and I can’t deny how I love the praise from her lips.
But I love her lapping at my swollen labia more, swirling her tongue around my clitoral nub. Miniature waves of pleasure engulf me from her pinching my left nipple as she sinks her curving fingers deep into my sex. She sucks my clit so hard, I climax. The soft wet sounds of her mouth rise and fall in pleasurable splashes. My breath, quick and rhythmic to the orgasm, mirrors my heated pleasure. My breath climbs to the peak of a great mountain.
Finally, I exhale, the tension relieved, my shoulders and back sinking against the pillows. Franzy withdraws her fingers and scoots to lay on her side. Lids heavier than anvils, I snuggle against her, curling into the royal bell-heather as my Princess sings melodies of our childhood to lull me to a much-needed sleep.
But I dream of my future child...and Death.
Before I departfor my Death business in the Hollows, I make my way to the Great Hall where Aydon will be skulking, ensuring everything is prepared for Court. Thanks to a servant, I’ve learned Isla has found solace in the Crown Princess’ arms. Perhaps Franzy will encourage her when it comes to bearing a child.
I pause in a stone alcove on my way to the secondary hall where I slam my fist against the stone, gratified by the pain and deep vibration humming into my bones without rattling or shattering them.
I rub my stiff jaw and neck, contempt for the gods and their games searing my belly. If it was solely up to me, I’d steal my bride from Nathyan Ghyeal, from all of Talahn-Feyal, and we would travel the world free of any burden, including children. But it’s not up to me or her. Isla may have wooed Kryach, may have survived him, but he and the other gods will not spare her child,ourchild.
Chest rigid, I put my trust in the Crown Princess to soothe and temper Isla while I go hunting for the Crown Prince.
Thankfully, none of the servants have suspected my restoration beyond my heavy robes, gloves, and mask. The irony. Once I’d achieved full form, once I’d met her eyes, those royal diamonds undimmed by the Curse, I was ready to march straight into Court, chuck Aydon off my throne, and issue an official proclamation to all of Talahn-Feyran.
In the past, while I allowed a few privileged staff of the Citadel of Bones to look upon my features during the precious year following Kryach reaping my past brides, I vowed never to show my restoration before the Court. Not until it was full thanks to my bride’s survival.
Now, I am hesitating.
Regardless, I look forward to the moment he discovers my transformation. Above all, he needs to know first. Nor will I make it easy. Stronger than ever, I take rapid but full breaths as I stride into the secondary hall where, true to form, Aydon hunches over the table, combing through bone scrolls of Nathyan Ghyeal’s center city and its zoning bylaws. Beyond the curtains of the Secondary Hall is the chattering sound of stewards, court envoys, nobles, elders, and more gathering to commence the day’s business.
Caping the room in shadows to mask our conversation as well as myself, I approach Aydon from behind. More mischievous than usual, I vault the shades to upset the scrolls and cause my brother to startle.
He stiffens without turning, mutters under his breath, “Allysteir...”
“Oh, come on. One good thousand turns deserve another,” I casually reference his endless pranks on me throughout the decades.
“I must commence Court soon. What do you want?” He bends to one knee to collect the fallen scrolls.
“Shut down the mines.”
