Beauty's Kingdom
Page 56

“So true,” said Laurent. He turned and looked at her for a long moment.
“And Lexius should be here within days,” said Lady Eva.
“Alexi,” Beauty said, gesturing for a moment’s patience. “We are pressed to leave here for other matters. But I would know several things first. Was Sonya truly indifferent to Lexius?”
“Oh, no, Your Majesty,” said Alexi. “She lied unwisely but desperately when she spoke to the Queen, and more to the point Lexius had a special destiny for her—” He broke off looking helplessly towards Dmitri.
Dmitri shot him a dark glance and shook his head.
It was subtle, quick, but Beauty caught the exchange, and she caught the look of regret in Alexi’s face. She also knew that Laurent had seen this, but Laurent would be in no great rush to acknowledge it. He would wait until it suited him, which might not be just now.
“I never knew exactly what he meant by that,” said Alexi quickly, obviously trying to repair the breech. “But Lexius said it, something, that is, about a special destiny.” He shrugged. “And she was quite enthralled with him when they sailed away together. They were quarreling, yes. But they were tired and facing a long journey. I don’t know that she would ever have agreed to leave Bellavalten with him, but once banished, she clung to him, was devoted to him, and linked her destiny with his. At least as far as I ever saw.”
“I’m sure,” Dmitri said softly, “that Lexius will answer many questions when he comes. Why ever would he come if he did not intend to answer any questions that our beloved king and queen might have? Surely he knows that he will be asked.”
Laurent drew himself up and laughed. “So he was rich, of noble birth, and might have called on his family anytime for his release.” He shook his head, marveling. “What a man!” He laughed again. “What a remarkable man.”
Beauty almost laughed too, simply because Laurent’s good spirits were always infectious, but she had to admit that the silken Lexius who seemed to glide rather than walk as other mortals walked was quite a tantalizing figure on the horizon. Again, she saw him in those moments when he’d first examined her as the Sultan’s slave, when he’d studied her all over without ever speaking a word to her, when he’d felt her teeth and her tongue, her naked sex. He’d seemed a giant of a man at that time, and his smile had been blinding. Yet she’d felt delicious menace emanating from him; she remembered that acutely, though only the thrilling menace of a master with a treasured naked pleasure slave.
“He does know we’ll be asking him many questions,” said Lady Eva. “In his letters to me he has spoken of dispelling the mysteries that surround him, of cutting the knots of so many tangled misunderstandings. He’s eager to see the new kingdom. Indeed, if he does know of any other kingdom in all the world like Bellavalten it is not enough for him to keep him from returning here. He speaks warmly of you, my king, and you, my queen. He remembers others. He has a multitude of questions of his own.”
“Very well then,” said Laurent. “This is quite enough on the matter of our beloved dark-eyed magician Lexius.” He rose, reaching for Beauty’s hand, and the entire company rose.
“And now we must go,” Beauty said. “The day-to-day cares of Bellavalten are calling us.”
i
Sybil was awakened before dawn. By now, she was used to the quick toilet, the scrubbing, polishing, cleaning of her teeth and her tongue, and the brushing of her hair. It felt good to her, and she luxuriated in the firm handling of her now-familiar grooms.
But this was the day she was going to the stables, so her bottom and legs were given even more oiling than usual, and Neshi, her handsome golden-skinned groom, warned her that if she was accepted into the Queen’s Stables, she would likely sleep there and he would not see her again.
Princess Lucinda, the mistress of the Queen’s Stables, had approved of Sybil but only conditionally. Today, Sybil would have to prove herself.
“You be a ripe little confection, Sybil,” Neshi said, kissing her tenderly. “Don’t be sent back to the Hall of Postulants. This is an immense privilege! But remember the Queen for all her strictness is very understanding and takes great pains to effectively correct her slaves.”
“Yes, sir,” Sybil answered, and said no more. She had no doubt of it. She’d been the Queen’s pet kitten in the great gardens last night, and so revered was Queen Beauty that slaves and courtiers alike fell over themselves to bow to her wherever she went, not with the icy formality of a weary Court such as those Sybil had known, but with an enthusiasm that bordered on worship.
The gardens had dazzled Sybil even more the second time she saw them than the first—what with the many gold-burnished slaves everywhere bound in artistic positions as so many magnificent sculptures and the busy games and the spectacle of naked slaves attending to all the needs of the immense Court.
The Queen had ordered Sybil exquisitely decorated for the evening with tiny jewels threaded into her pubic hair, her nipples rouged, and her ears pierced and hung with teardrop agates. Sybil’s hair had been tied up on the back of her head to fall down in long ringlets all around as she crawled beside the Queen. She’d been fitted with a silver collar of agates, and a matching leash.
The elegant and ever-charming Grand Duke André had once again pressed his suit for Sybil, as the Queen had called it, but the Queen was adamant that her “precious one,” a mere postulant, was not ready for service in the lord’s private chambers. The Queen had had no objections whatsoever to the Grand Duke handling and studying her “little kitten” Sybil, however, and Sybil had been pulled up and ordered to display herself as his gentle fingers had probed Sybil’s privates with impressive politeness. Sybil could not think of the Grand Duke’s cheerful eyes and agreeable smile without feeling weak all over. He revered her as he might an exotic cat or bird, or an artfully worked silver statuette.
Another brief experience last night had weakened her too. At one point as she accompanied the Queen on her hands and knees, she’d seen her beloved Brenn bound to a gaily decorated cross beside a table at which the King played cards with one of his friends, a Russian prince.
Brenn had been rubbed and polished with gold all over, and his arms had been bent back over the beam of the cross, his legs wide apart at the knees and bound at the ankles. His eyes had been closed as a lord or prince in impressive apparel sucked Brenn’s cock. A group of highborn spectators surrounded the cross watching the little ritual with obvious glaze-eyed fascination. The King was only a few feet away insisting the Prince pull back and make Brenn thrust his hips forward, but Sybil could see the Prince was lustily at work on his own game. The Prince’s hands had been clutching at Brenn’s backside as he sucked.
The Queen had taken the time to remark that she “adored” Brenn. And the King had said that well she ought, as Brenn was a perfect fount of elixir for those who clamored for it, as the Queen could well see. How lovingly the Queen had stroked Brenn’s hair as she stood for a moment beside him. Then she and her pet kitten had moved on.
The ashen-haired Lady Lucinda had been there, and that is when she’d seen Sybil and remarked what a fine pony Sybil would make.
Lady Lucinda was a delicate, fine-boned woman with pretty hazel eyes. It was she—with the help of the famous princesses Rosalynd and Elena—who had designed the Queen’s Stables and saw to them every day. But Sybil had been so taken with the Queen she’d hardly noticed Lady Lucinda. Oh, surely sooner or later, I shall be a pony for the Queen, she had thought.
“It is impossible to exaggerate the will of the Queen and her hand in everything,” said Neshi, his dark eyes flashing as he lectured Sybil. “So never mistake her kindness for indulgence.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sybil quietly, savoring the strokes of the brush moving through her perfumed hair, bringing up the luster that she would never see for herself in a looking glass.
“Indeed the talk of the kingdom this morning,” said Neshi, “is that Queen Beauty only yesterday at a Court audience readmitted to the kingdom three remarkable grooms who’d been banished under Queen Eleanor, accepting them back with such kindness and consideration that all were amazed. But that’s the Queen’s will, don’t you see, and the King never questions her. The King leaves many matters in her hands entirely. It’s said the King feels the Queen has a greater wisdom in refinements than he has.”
Sybil didn’t dare to ask Neshi to continue, knowing full well he would continue anyway. Neshi was the most talkative of her grooms so far, a thin, feline creature whose skin looked all the more deeply golden for the thin silver bracelets he wore. Of course it was entirely permissible to put questions to one’s groom, she’d been taught that again yesterday during her general lessons in slave etiquette, but she knew full well that idle curiosity was not tolerated.
“Georgette, Charlotte, and Samantha, those are their names!” said Neshi. “Only no one ever knew them by those names when they served as grooms under the late queen.” He shook his head. He was applying rouge to Sybil’s lips and a touch to her nipples. “No, we certainly did not. In those days, they were George, Charles and Samuel!”