At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 15

She found his warmth comforting rather than stifling. If not only just physically. After pursing her lips, she surmised what must have been his thought process, an equally enigmatic smile shining through. "You can't rule out any possibilities. I am not to be trusted, after all." This, she expressed with the undertones of a tease.

"Perhaps," said the King. His hand felt heavier on her. "But you're too clever for that. Aren't you?"

The unvoiced implication was clear. They both knew that, even if she were to succeed, she would never escape the consequences. Neither would her family.

She was so close to his face, their noses almost touching, such that even the slightest flinch in her features would have been easily caught. Her smile remained steady. She really was too clever (and too risk-adverse) for that.

"Of course," she replied, looking him in the eye. The night's rest had been enough for her to compose herself for his games.

His eyes were back to scrutinizing her, his gaze too sharp to let any variance in her expression go uncaught. But he seemed satisfied - or perhaps unsatisfied - for he smiled idly again, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I thought so. And besides, it would make for poor gratitude after my generous procession of gifts, don't you think?"

"Are you saying my loyalty can be bought?"

"Oh, I'm saying exactly that."

"Then I suppose you've insured yourself." Outside, the lilt of birdsong filtered through, and she almost felt peaceful as she lay nestled in his arms and they listened. A fair number of questions circled her mind, however, and she felt his mood was good enough that she could give voice to at least one of them. "Now that I'm back in the capital, what should I expect my days to be like?"

"Well, there are scores of noblewomen who are clamoring to be acquainted," he replied. Idly, his fingers brushed through her hair. "I have dissuaded them for now, given that you are still in the process of settling in. But there is a backlog of invitations waiting for you, should you ever feel your popularity in doubt."

She wasn't surprised that her role would entail a good deal of socializing - or politicking, however cynical she wanted to be about it. Neither was she altogether worried; if she was being immodest she'd consider herself fairly competent when it came to intrigue and that sort of thing.

"In the coming months, you will also be provided an education in Obsivian history, lore, and etiquette. Although I'm sure you are already very learned, it always pays to have a more nuanced understanding."

His tone was still passably pleasant, but it was telling that he had not presented this as a choice. It didn't even seem that it was consciously done - it probably didn't occur to him not to be dictating her life.

"I see," she said. She could handle culture and etiquette. She was all but bred for handling culture and etiquette - and it wasn't a terrible thing to be further legitimized in this way as his consort.

"Of course, those aren't the only lessons you'll be receiving."

"What do you mean?" she asked, but part of her already knew, judging by the wicked glint that gleamed in his eyes.

"I mean," he said, with a smirk, "that when I taught you how to present yourself sensually last night, that was but a taste of what I have in store for you." His fingers found her chin, tilting her up so he could look upon her. "You are still fairly inexperienced in the art of pleasure. I intend to fully educate you. In all aspects."

The shiver that crept up her spine was nervous and a little excited. "What - what kinds of lessons will there be?"

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise," he replied, his smile not fading. As his hand roamed casually along her waist, his expression turned pensive. "Though since you seem particularly...anxious around me, perhaps you would benefit from the occasional other tutor."

Alais was surprised. "I thought you didn't share," she pointed out, repeating his own words.

"I don't," he agreed. "Which is why, if I do entertain the idea, they would be women."

Her eyes widened at the implications of this scandalous arrangement. To lay with another woman? And one that her husband ostensibly had relations with, if he could be certain of their expertise in the bedroom arts?

...then again, after all his other depravities, this didn't even seem so unbearable. Although such practices were considered shameful in the north, she'd heard of Scalyrian men and women who had affairs (and even married!) within their own sex, and they had yet to be smited by some disapproving god.

The King - Alexander, she corrected herself - laughed as he looked upon her. "It's so easy to embarrass you," he observed. "And you always flush the same way."

She thought this terribly unfair, given that anyone in her position would have been just as embarrassed - if not more. If anything, she was fairly even-tempered. "And you never get embarrassed," she accused in turn. No, that was not strictly true; he had those small glimmers here and there. But for the most part, he was remarkably without shame. "Does that mean you weren't being serious? Will my tutors really be women?"

He only grinned. "Oh, who knows? After all, who among us could know the future certain?"

She swatted at him indignantly (to which he only laughed). "You know," she retorted. "Why do you never tell me anything?"

"Because it's more fun this way." He leaned down, bestowing a kiss on her forehead. "Now, as much as I'd like to keep you in this bed all day, I'm afraid our retreat is over and ruling must be the first order of the day."

His hand gaze a little squeeze at her waist, and then he was shifting away, rising from the bed. She watched as he pulled on his breeches and strode over to his desk to rifle through its contents.

Her eyes lingered over his (annoyingly) well-defined backside a moment too long. Then she set about fishing for any sort of garment that might pass for morning clothes - and finding his discarded shirt the closest before begrudgingly pulling it over her head and rising out of the bed herself. She found that the hem of the shirt dipped as far as her knees.

Moving about reminded her how sore she was on her backside - his handiwork. Her steps were accordingly dainty and ginger, and she tried not to wince as she became accustomed to the feeling.

"While I'm at my...lessons," she said, perhaps to distract herself, "what will you be doing - Alexander?" There had come a self-conflicted pause before she uttered his name, slowly, as though still testing the way it sounded from her lips.

And that sound had him turning. His eyes lit with a glimmer of mischief, as if remembering the last time she'd breathed it under the influence of passion...but his smile looked oddly sincere.

"Why, hunting down this conspirator of mine," he answered. "Treason does not go lightly punished in my kingdom." His attention drifted back to his scrolls, one of which he picked out from the crowd. "And, of course, planning my next war."

Though unsurprising, his answers piqued her curiosity. Alais blinked, still gazing absentmindedly at the contours of his muscular shoulder blades, and wondered if it was worthwhile to probe for further detail.

She decided not to press her luck that morning, instead tiptoeing toward his back with a different undertaking in mind. Yesterday, there had been a break in her compliance; she intended not to make the same mistake, and to resume the role she had undertaken before - that of the loving wife. Ever so quietly, her arms snaked about his waist where she gave a gentle squeeze.

"In the meanwhile, I'll try not to get lost in your castle."

His gaze rose briefly to her. His smile flickered, but only for a moment. "I have a feeling that if you get lost, it would be purposeful on your part."

He turned, drawing her in for a kiss. His hand steadied her, at the small of her back, even as the kiss deepened and she began feeling heady and light-headed again.

When he broke off, there was an unevenness to his breaths that suggested the feeling was not one-sided. He chuckled. "Go on, then," he said. "Before I change my mind and bear you back to the bed after all."

She stepped back, and, after regaining her faculties, decided that she didn't need to be told twice. With a quick curtsey, she was off in search of a robe and slippers in his wardrobe (as comfortably and at home as any wife ought to be), and wandered her way out the door while slipping on the garment over his shirt.

As it turned out, her own chambers were nearly overflowing with the excess from the day before - wedding gifts decked every floor and surface, heaped one on top of one another for lack of room. Her handmaidens were scattered here and there, apparently in the process of making order from the chaos. Their various states of confusion were almost humorous, so harried and agitated as they seemed. Fiona had ten necklaces dangling from her wrists as she fumbled with a jewelry box; Belle, Beatrice, and Beth were barely visible under the armfuls of silken garments they carried; and Eleanor and Maerion were in the midst of directing slaves in the placement of her new armoire.

It took some looking to find her dear friend Bimba, who was attempting to drag her new harp to one corner of the room. Indeed, it was the other woman who spotted her first. "Your High- Majesty!"

This sufficiently alerted the other ladies-in-waiting as well, each of whom left off their tasks to curtsy in her direction.

"Oh, we're very sorry for you to come upon this mess," said Fiona, still fumbling with the jewelry. "We'd hoped to have most of the clutter out of your way, but it was..."

"There was just so much," said Belle. "We hardly knew what to do with it!"

"But Your Majesty must be so delighted to be the recipient of such generosity," sighed Beth, looking with wonder at their surroundings.

"Truly, the King outdid himself," said Eleanor, more wryly.

Alais had more the impression of stepping into a museum than her bedchambers. A genteel smile spread automatically across her features nonetheless, as she tipped her head.

"It's quite a lot to organize, isn't it?" she observed. "Well - I should probably get dressed." Her gaze slid meaningfully toward Bimba.

"Oh, of course," said Bimba, taking the cue with hardly a blink of her eye.

"I can help too," inserted Fiona cheerily, while a few others nodded behind her.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt more of you than I need to," Alais returned with equal cheer, and already she was breezing her way toward the dressing room.

"Yes, and I should make up for my absence, after leaving the bulk of the wedding work to all of you!" Bimba said agreeably. She blithely trotted after, which left Fiona no recourse but to reluctantly return to sorting through the jewelry box.

Her one true friend not far behind, Alais picked her way around this chest and that, trying not to trip over any one of the generous gifts her husband the King had left for her; although the prospect of accidentally kicking down one of the busts sculpted in his image tempted her a little.

Once they were through, Bimba closed the door gently behind them, though she paused to press her ear to the door for a few moments. She scrunched her nose up irritably, making a pantomime indication that she suspected the others had drawn closer and were listening outside.

"It's alright, we have nothing to hide," Alais mildly expressed as she turned to face the wardrobe, sifting through all the clothes and gowns she had probably never seen before that morning. "How is everyone?"

"Oh, you know. Very...curious about you," said Bimba, which was probably code for "they asked a lot of questions about you." She added, with a wink, "You know, they want to make sure they know your preferences well enough. I can hardly blame them!"

Yes, that sounded like her new ladies-in-waiting - actually beginning to feel a seed of embarrassment for all the gossip she was sure to be the center of. "Ha ... I hope they're doing fine with the ... abrupt change." She cleared her throat. "Is my brother well?"

"He seemed well enough, last I saw," said Bimba. She paused, probably to find a way to answer the real import of the question without giving anything away to tany would-be listeners. "He's been taking lots of walks lately. Even went on a hunt!"

"That's good..." Alais did not know whether to be concerned or relieved, but that was neither here nor there.

Bimba left the door to come to her queen's side, bending to help sort through the garments. "It's really good to see you," she added, in a rather dramatic whisper. "We were so worried."

A dull pain thudded in Alais's chest. By the next heartbeat, she had pulled her arms around Bimba and given the blonde a little squeeze - a gesture that was returned twicefold by her handmaiden. "Oh, nothing to worry about. All will be well." Her tone took a more hushed dip, as she continued, "How did they like my artwork?"

Bimba's expression looked more furtive too, in the way she used to when they were younger and she'd been caught carousing with some lordling's son. Though, of course, the stakes had never been this high. "Your doodle of the cat with the canary?" she said. She giggled a little, though her eyes were lit with understanding. "It was darling! They agreed it was one of your finest."

Good, so they had gotten the secret message. Alais had known she could not attempt any sort of letter code on the missive they had allowed her to send home - any patterns would be caught and deciphered by his codebreakers. No, she'd drawn a picture instead, one that could easily be dismissed as a benign way to confirm her identity.

There was no way any outsider could know that she and her brother used to communicate with little doodles just like that, back when they were naught but children sneaking notes under the eyes of tutors. Neither would they have known that the cat had always represented herself, and the canary had always represented canary grass - a shorthand of referring to her supplies. It had been a request.

Bimba paused, before adding, as if on a different subject, "Your grandfather sent along some of your plants with me, by the way. They know how very fond you are of gardening."

Those plants - or rather the product of those plants - served a function beyond recreation, but that need not be announced aloud.

Picking out a reasonably looking dress, Alais let out a small and innocent giggle of delight. "How thoughtful!" She wasn't certain how she was to manage without them - no doubt Nanna had picked out a very special selection just for this.

"Well, they had to provide some gifts of their own for the wedding, I think," said Bimba, gamely. "Though I don't know if any gift could compare with that procession yesterday! It was so dizzying that it even put me to sleep." Her eyes widened a little. "I'm sorry about that! I must have been awfully tired from the trip, and all that food only made me drowsier - imagine! Falling asleep at your wedding, of all things! Will you ever forgive me?"

Alais waved her hand at the plea. "I'm just happy you're here." Although a lingering glint in her eye, accompanied by a faint tightness to her smile, hinted that all may not entirely be well. That it might not be safe - that it could have been by Alexander's machinations that there was now someone else in this palace that she was certain to care for.

"I'm happy as well," said Bimba, earnestly. Her expression was guileless now, and not tarnished by one mote of regret or uncertainty. "I'm so glad you sent for me, and that I can be here with you. Regardless of...the circumstances." That was probably as clean a euphemism as she could manage. "Besides," she added, with a more light-hearted air, "you know I've always wanted to travel! And this gives me an excuse to do so, while I can claim to simply be doing my duty or what have you."

"It is like an adventure, isn't it?" Tone growing furtive once more, she pressed the elegant gown toward Bimba. Her eyes glanced to the doorway, as if to be cautious of unbidden presences or creaks. "... you know," she was saying discreetly, "you're welcome to my closet. No one has to know."

"Oh, I don't know," said Bimba, blinking around at the volumes upon volumes of dresses that surrounded them - in every shape, fashion, and color. Here was one in an eastern style, silk smooth with invisible stitches; there was a lavish ballgown of lace and crushed velvet. "Would it be proper? You're a queen now, after all." Her smile was a little nostalgic. "It's not like it was in Vvaria."

"It would be even less proper for most of these to go to waste," replied Alais, with a sagely nod.

Bimba giggled again, this time more genuinely. "Well, I suppose it would be untoward of me to refuse such a generous gesture." Her gaze passed over all the racks of garments appraisingly. "Well, at least he seems to...spoil you?"

Her handmaiden's expression took on one of curiously and concern as she looked back - as close as she could to asking after her real welfare here.

Spoil indeed. Alais was silent, but only briefly so, as her features glazed pensively over. When she blinked back into focus once more, she smiled gently. "Alexander leaves me in want of nothing," she answered, almost fondly - but not quite so.

It was impossible to speak of anything clearly like this, not when they had to hide behind innocent words and double meanings. There had to be some way of speaking more candidly. She needed to tell Bimba her plan, or else everything would have been for naught. But how?

An idea clicked into place.

"You know," Alais started again, "I have an idea about that harp."

*****

Authors: What is Alais's plan? Will she be caught? And will Alexander find the traitor on his council? Stay tuned, etc.!

And we hope you enjoyed Alais's punishment. ;)

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