Pale Painter Ch. 08

The snow had melted away, making way for the rising flowers of spring. The Rising Jewels, the beautiful mountains that had always enchanted the locals, were displaying their spring colors. Many couples preferred to marry in this time. Because of that, there was a greater variety of flowers on sale than there would be during the summer. Temples that represented the God of Marriage were sprucing up their exteriors and hiking up their prices.

Rosanda was trying to figure out if she should go the Fertility Ball or remain in her townhouse. She had already ordered and received a new ballgown. Actually wearing it was another matter.

She let her thoughts scuffle about in her mind for a long time, and then she yielded. She was going.

On the day of the ball, Rosanda decided to wear her pale green shoes that the king had given her, because she desperately wanted to wear the pearl necklace that came from the prince, and she felt guilty choosing one accessory and not the other. She had shown the shoes to a seamstress so she could find a matching fabric to construct the gown with.

The pale green gown had thick festoons of red-purple ribbons pinned about the over-skirt. False white daisies, made of silk, were pinned in clusters on the ribbons, between each festoon. Her neckline was wide, showing off not only the tops of her shoulders, but also a small portion of her small but gently curved bosom. The sleeves were fitted and covered her elbows, with layers of white lace flaring out like thin bells. Red-purple bow-knots were arranged over her stomacher in a tight row.

Her pearl necklace was looped around her neck a few times to keep it from catching on her dress. Her ears had the smallest little gold earrings, inherited from her late mother. While her fingers were clean and soft, they had no rings. There were no ornaments in her simple coiffure. She simply invested in a golden chain attached near her spectacles' hinges, so that if they fell off her head, they would be hanging against her collarbone like her necklace.

As she rode on to Penthorn Palace, she fidgeted with her outfit. Sometimes, she tugged on the chain on her glasses. Other times, she pressed some pearls between her fingertips. There was a closed metal tin of hot coals under her feet, keeping her body warm, and her feet often tapped onto the tin, making a harsh sound. The cloak around her body was soon pinched and crumpled in her fists.

She knew that she'd end up spending the night at the palace, as many of the guests would. It would be rude of the royal family not to offer their home for the weary guests who had a long ride home waiting on them. Rosanda had packed up two bags of supplies and clothing with this fact in mind.

If it wasn't getting so dark, she would have read a book to distract her mind. She was trying to figure out how to refuse the king's proposition without angering him. The king did seem like a mostly decent human being. Rosanda couldn't hate the man. She imagined that any woman would dive into the chance of being connected to him. He was a handsome man with a great deal of resources that he apparently was willing to share.

It didn't feel right to her, though.

Kutberth I wasn't going to be pleased.

When she arrived at Penthorn Palace, she saw that the whole building was alight with celebratory paper lamps. Two servants took her bags for her. She thanked them and pulled her cloak even tighter about her throat as she gingerly clicked her heels onto the glittery pathway to the main entrance. She showed a doorman her invitation. Then she was led through a foyer, down a hallway, and to an immense ballroom full of colorful guests.

The music was jolly and enlivening. There was gold, marble, and silver colors all around the room. The high ceiling seemed to be divided in equal squares panels, each one elaborately painted with geometric designs and holding a chandelier of sparkling crystal.

Floor lamps, essentially tall candelabras, were near the walls. There were a few white fireplaces, unlit, but still elegant. There were also large paintings, mostly portraits, hanging high and just out of anyone's reach. On one side, there was a large band of musicians and a table loaded with food. On the other, there were seats and benches, and open doorways leading to porches.

Most of the guests were either dancing or eating while standing. Some were seated, waiting for a turn to dance. The great amount of people, and the various lit candles, put a great bit of heat in the room. Rosanda fanned herself with a white lace hand fan and shuffled around the perimeter of the dancing floor. Then she seated herself on a single stool that had a very soft cushion.

Immediately, men started asking her for a dance. She wasn't offended, and she barely had any surprise. She knew she was considered to be quite pretty, in a curious and startling way, but still pretty. Out of civility, she danced with them. It was actually pretty fun. The popular dances were very similar to what she was used to. Whatever she didn't understand could easily be guessed or faked.

After three sets, she found a moment of peace and used it to walk to the table of food. She slurped down a few oysters, and then she took a sip of water. A sturdy cracker with spicy meat paste spread over it was delicately balanced on her fingers when she heard a familiar man's voice. Rosanda almost dropped the cracker, but she caught it without causing a nasty mess.

She looked up at the man. It was Kutberth I. At first, she had thought it was Kutberth II, but his paler skin and his slightly graying hair gave his identity away. She liked his formal coat. It was a pale blue color with a subtle dotted pattern that gave it a little sheen. Mirror images of the God of Hope was embroidered on the left and right of the opening at his front.

"It's good to see you, Miss Lunai," the king said with a calm smile and lazy eyes. His cheek were a little flushed. "I hope you would celebrate this occasion by dancing with me." She tried to curtsy, but he shook his head. "Don't bother with formality. You might stain your clothing."

"Your Highness," Rosanda said, smiling and hoping to get the worst part over with. "I wanted to give you an answer to your generous proposal."

He reached over and patted her free hand. "Don't fret over stressful decisions right now. Wait until the ball is over." He grinned at her in such a way that made her knees quiver under her gown. "Now eat your little snack and join me on the dance floor at the next set."

Rosanda sighed and put her cracker into her mouth. When she was done eating, she took the king's expectant arm and waited with him for the next set.

People were staring at her. She didn't need to see their questioning faces to know about them. She was dancing with the king himself. It wasn't considered to be scandalous. The queen had been dancing with several men. Still, whenever the king danced with someone, that someone automatically became interesting. Rosanda didn't know how she was supposed to feel about it.

It wasn't a bad experience. Dancing with such a graceful, enchanting man had its perks. Rosanda didn't want to enjoy looking up at his self-assured expression, his soft yet clever lips, sharp cheeks. His hand was strong against hers. His other hand stole quick touches of her arm or back.

And when it was finished, Rosanda's cheeks were pink. Her breath was like sandpaper. Her pussy was vibrating like a nail under a hammer, and she loved it. She would have gone back to a seat, but the king claimed her arm and said, "Dance with me again."

Rosanda didn't think she could refuse.

They danced through another set while Rosanda's thighs were moistened by her desire. The way he looked at her, with those enlightened hazel eyes, seemed to suggest that he knew she was excited. He even licked his lips a few times. Close to the end, her glasses fell off. She was thankful for the chain.

She slid her glasses back onto her face as she stepped away from the king, trying to suppress her elation. The king nodded to her and bowed. Then he said he had other guests to dance with, and he left her alone.

Rosanda took a sip of water. Then she made her way to one of the porches outside. There weren't any other guests on the porch she chose. The roof was supported by columns and fences that were partially obscured by thick vines. She peeked through one of the openings between the vines, and saw that while she could see the other porches, she couldn't quite see if any people were on them.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She was startled enough to yelp and turn about. Under the outdoor lights, she thought it was the king, but it wasn't. He was wearing a different coat. It was black with silver and white embroidery in geometric shapes. He didn't have the gray hair, and his skin seemed darker.

Rosanda wanted to say the name Alex, but she was afraid that he might have changed his mind about that. She gave a greeting and a curtsy. Then she laced her fingers together and moved them to her bosom. Her eyes went to his strong chin, then his mouth.

"Miss Lunai, when I heard you were invited to this ball, I must admit that I was excited."

Again, she wanted to say the name Alex. Her breath was hurting again.

He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was something in his lips, something hot and needy. As strange as it was, even his teeth inflamed her skin as he spoke. "Did you know that you're allowed to retire to your guest room early?"

"I'm sorry?"

He went on, leaning towards her. He was close enough for a kiss. Rosanda wasn't being kissed at all, but his warmth was teasing her in such a way that she almost thought there was a caress.

"If you were to tell a servant that you weren't feeling well, then you would be excused to your guest room. The king is the host, and he is required to remain in the ballroom until the end of the celebration. I'm not bound by that rule, though."

His eyebrows bounced in a way that was fairly comical, but Rosanda wasn't in the mood to laugh. She was wondering if she should dare to follow the prince's suggestion.

Wouldn't it be rather ... improper?

"Sir, you should know that His Majesty has offered me an apartment in this palace." She gave him a meaningful nod. His eyelids flinched. "Will you become a Royal Mistress?"

"I've been led to believe I'd be a beneficiary for my painting, although I'd imagine His Majesty would make other demands of me."

The prince stepped back, put his palm to his chest, and bowed deeply. "This is interesting news. Perhaps we can discuss this later?" He straightened his back and tilted his head a little, smiling at her as if he was plotting something out in his mind. "You do appear quite ill, Miss Lunai. I believe you should retire soon."

He didn't seem upset by the truth at all. Rosanda wasn't sure if she should give into his suggestion or ignore it. Indecision had her opening and closing her hand fan.

Ah, fuck it. She wasn't immune to the twanging pains of lust.

She used her middle and ring fingers to push her spectacles up her straight nose. "I am feeling ill. I should rest. Please excuse me, Your Highness."

Rosanda felt his eyes burn through her back as she left to search for an appropriate servant for her needs. When she found one, she told him she needed to go to a guest room, and then she gave him her name. She was given directions to the guest rooms, and when she was in that hallway, she saw a hand drawn floor plan pinned to a wall with people's names written on each bedchamber. The room assigned to Rosanda turned out to be the same guest room she had slept in when she and Kosette had been deceiving everyone.

When she was in her room, and a few candles were lit, she locked the door and started removing the layers of her indulgent ballgown and jewelry. She noticed that her luggage had been placed on an ottoman at the foot of the canopy bed. How convenient.

Rosanda put aside her bum roll and searched her bag for a nighttime robe. When the robe was hanging over her arm, she unlaced her stays and put them away. She shrugged into her robe, bent over, and removed her pretty green shoes.

There was a rapping at the door.

Rosanda gasped, even thought she wasn't surprised. Her stockings softened her footsteps as she hurried to the door. She unlocked the door, and she revealed a small crack of air. "Who is it?"

"Alex."

Firm, hot, the man's voice was dipped in anticipation and inky darkness.

Rosanda pulled the door enough to let the prince inside, and then she closed it very slowly, quietly, listening to her own pulse. She locked it, and then she folded her arms against herself, turning her body to face the man.

"Do you remember my name?"

Kutberth Alexandrio Lothair, of course, but he didn't want that.

He wanted a name that was special to him.

Rosanda's fingers rubbed the chain attached to her glasses, and her eyes slid down to point at her covered feet. Her voice was light, but scratchy, as she said, "Alex?"

His fingers spread out on her cheeks. He tilted her head upwards, and then his mouth was on hers.

"Hmmmmmm!" Rosanda couldn't stop herself from humming her fervor against his invading tongue. Her arms moved around his form, pulling their bodies together.

Alex removed his lips barely long enough to growl down at her, "I need you." He didn't let her say anything. He kissed her again, quickly, roughly, chafing her lips.

She loved it. She knew she wasn't supposed to love it, wasn't even supposed to let this man into her room. Maybe that was why she loved it. The element of taboo might have been an aphrodisiac.

Impatiently, she tugged on his clothing, and she was pleased when he started undressing. Every bit of flesh he revealed was caressed or kissed by her. When he was nude and ready for her, she untied the ribbon holding his hair back and weaved her fingers through his silky hair. His fingernails scraped against her robe as he gave her more kisses.

They went to the bed, and for a moment Rosanda was the one having her clothing pulled away, what little she had. When she had only her stockings, Alex sat her down onto the bed, knelt before her, and untied the ribbons holding them up. Then he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled the stockings down. Rosanda enjoyed the sight of him at her feet, but she knew she needed to remove her glasses. She pulled them away and reached to a nightstand to place them there.

Then they tumbled around on the bed, laughing at each other, kissing each other, holding each other. Soon, Rosanda was on her back, and she felt the man press his large knee between her thighs. The sensation was hot and almost abrasive against her delicate labia. She liked it. Her hips ground against his knee, spreading her moisture onto his skin.

"Your pretty little slit is all wet for me," the man groaned over her. She felt him shiver against her. "Are you needy, Rosanda?"

"Hnn ... yes!"

"Do you want me inside?"

"Yes!"

He moved his knee away from her flushing vulva. Then his head lowered over her chest. A nipple was licked, then pinched between his teeth, not hard, though. He bit with just enough pressure for her to feel it.

Rosanda's toes sank into the mattress. Her back arched. Her pussy seemed to throb in time with Alex's playful little nibbles. "Put it in me! Please!"

He released her nipple, but then he lapped at it, heating it up, and then letting the air cool her. "I've wanted you ever since I saw your painting. I've been stroking myself to madness thinking of you."

"By the gods!" Rosanda thought his voice was like sugar dusted onto dense chocolate cake. "Take me! Please!"

"Hm?" His palm slid down her belly. He took a moment to swirl a fingertip around her belly button. "Would truly be so kind to me? Would you let me have you?"

"Yes! Please!"

Alex's fingertips pressed into her blooming clitoris, stroking up and down.

Rosanda cried out and gripped his shoulder. "Ahhh! Yes! Please! Now!"

"You want me now? Are you certain?"

"Yes!"

Alex gripped her thighs.

Rosanda closed her eyes, and she whined as she felt his erection press into her. He was all steel encased in flesh as smooth as a flower petal. Her hands curved into fists, and she keened out a sharp noise.

And, as strange as it was to her, Alex pressed over her body, wrapped his arms around her, and only then did he start a rhythm of plunging and withdrawing. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had held her during sex, at least not in this way. Usually, her hips or thighs would be given the most attention by the man's urgent hands.

His nose went to her throat. His breath was heavy with struggling heat.

Rosanda loved the tight stroking of his shaft. She loved how his hair fell against her face, enveloping her in its sweet and clean scent. She cooed out little words of affection, and then soon, as his speed increased, as his breath seemed to quiver, she was whining out the name Alex.

"Yes! Yes!" His voice was harsh, but not cruel. "I'm the one fucking you. You feel me, don't you?"

Of course she did. How could she not?

"Yes, Alex! Yes!"

"I'm the one you want, isn't that right?" He almost sounded like he was about to cry.

Her pussy was blithely squeezing and sucking him in, making sloppy wet sounds. Her feet were nearly cramping. Her thighs were trembling.

"Yes! I want you! Only you!" Rosanda would have told him the sky was made of candy and dogs were reptiles if he demanded it.

"Then stay with me!"

What? Rosanda didn't know how to reply to that. She only groaned.

Alex unwrapped his arms from her body. He pushed himself up with a hissing grunt. Then he pulled his cock out, leaving Rosanda with a desperate, hungry emptiness.

"No! Put it back! Please!" She reached out to the blurry world, to him, but he didn't let her touch him.

"Get on your hands and knees," he demanded with an oddly smoky voice.

That was a lovely idea. Rosanda flipped over to her belly. Then she supported herself with her hands and knees. When she felt his hands slide up and around her backside, a line of electricity danced down her spine. Then his thumbs seemed to pull her cheeks apart by just a bit. His thumbnails scraped around her flesh a little.

And then his thighs were against her.

Rosanda's lips parted as Alex opened her cunt up again, thrusting himself inside. It seemed tighter, rougher, and she was happy to experience the aching sensation.

"Ohhh ... Alex! Fuck me! Yes! I need it!"

"Do you?" One of his fingers slipped between her cheeks, and she felt his fingertip press against her anus. It didn't go in, but it did put a bit of pressure against her.

Rosanda gasped and rocked her hips back against the man. She felt more exposed than ever before in her life. It was wonderful.

"Stay with me, Rosanda! Stay with me! I'll keep you close and safe!"

"Aaahh! Please! Alex!"

She had wanted to last a bit longer. She had wanted the delightful building of sensation to keep on and on, but her body had other plans. She screamed, her upper body collapsing. Her pussy spasmed around the hot cock that touched her so kindly, so sweetly, and her mind seemed to stop functioning for a few seconds.

As she floated back to reality, she felt Alex pull his erection out of her. He seemed to bark and whimper, and she felt hot liquid on her thighs.

***

"I heard a family member of yours was murdered."

They were sitting beside each other, looking out into the dimly lit room. Rosanda had put her glasses back on, preferring a sharper world.

"It's true. My little brother was taken from me years ago, and only recently have I learned that he's dead."

One of Alex's bare knees bent and he let his arm rest on it. "What of his character?"