The Best Medicine Ch. 05

"You really enjoy it, don't you? The games?"

The young woman nodded enthusiastically. "It's no different for me than breathing used to be. It's just who I am. Some people, like Shamira, need to be convinced that it's okay, but Shane and Renata set her straight on it."

"How so?"

"Shane told her that being a sexual submissive is not the same as being weak, and if you get to know Shamira, she ain't weak. Then Renata reminded her kinda what Lillian was talking about. It's okay to want stuff, even if some people might consider it weird or freaky. Shamira was so used to having to be strong all the time that when she finally was able to let go, she was happy."

"Do you think . . . well, that maybe I --"

"Nah. I don't see you as a sub. Just . . . well, slutty. And trust me, that's a good thing in my book."

Vanesse blushed, but she smiled. "I like you."

"Back at ya! And now that you're hip to my taste in music, we can be BFFs!"

"BFF?"

"Best friends forever."

"Technically, Trina is my best friend."

"Oh, no sweat. BFF is an entirely different kind of best friend." The bubbly blonde proceeded to break down text-speak and modern friendships, filling Vanesse's head with pop culture like she was feeding her with a fire-hose. By the time they got to the main dining hall, the BFF status had been firmly established.

They arrived at the dining area, and it was full to the brim with lycanthropes, vampires, human guards and servants, a few other elves, and she was pretty sure that she saw a fairy or two flitting around the room. She had never seen such a conglomeration of beings in one place outside of a royal event.

"Lord Stapleton," Lillian said, parting the crowd with a wave of her hand, "May I present Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the throne and crown of the Elvish people."

Shane Stapleton was very close to the poster-boy for the modern view of vampires. Standing at six feet, two inches, he wore a custom made suit that fit him perfectly, and boy did he look good in it. Sharp blue eyes stared at her from underneath dirty blond hair, and she could tell that those eyes did not miss much. Clean shaven, full lips . . . 'Damn,' she thought. 'No wonder everyone wants to work for him.'

"Your Highness," Lord Stapleton said, "It is an honor to welcome you to my territory, and only wish that it had not been under such dangerous conditions." He took her hand and kissed it, every bit the gentleman. "And may I introduce Banshee, oldest child of my line and territorial lord. This is actually her estate."

The woman in question stepped forward, dressing in a traditional Japanese kimono. She was not a particularly large woman, but she had a determined, commanding presence that almost radiated from her Asian features. Vanesse knew that Banshee had been Lord Stapleton's chief assassin for approaching two centuries, and she had a reputation that made even an Elvish Princess nervous.

Banshee simply nodded and bowed. "It is an honor to meet you, your Highness. Know that you are safe and welcome here."

Vanesse curtsied. "And thanks to both of you for arranging my safe passage for the last part of my journey. Being rescued by a greater dragon was . . . well, something that I shall remember until the end of my days." Shane smiled, making Vanesse's heart beat a little faster. 'I am a slut!' she thought.

"Shamira has that effect on people."

"And I would like to introduce you to Farmer, matriarch of the Joker's Wild werehyena pack. Without her and her comrades, I would never have made it this far unharmed."

"Greetings, and be welcome," Stapleton replied.

"Lord Stapleton, my other companion --"

"Is currently resting," Lillian assured her. "The spells we cast exhausted her somewhat."

Lord Stapleton leaned in. "And she seems somewhat disoriented still. After dinner, we shall attend her so you can reassure yourself that she is well."

Vanesse smiled and blushed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Lillian told me of what happened and what she could of your relationship. I would be disappointed if you were NOT concerned with her health. Actually, the Representative is with her now."

"The Representative?" Vanesse knew that the vampire's representative to the Tribunal was here, but it was still impressive to hear her name. The Representative was reputed to be a thousand years old, making her easily one of the oldest beings to walk the earth.

"Yes. She apparently knew the vampire who's body Lady Trina now possesses, and felt she might be able to help your friend transition."

"Thank you," Vanesse said. "For looking after her. She deserves it more than most."

Shane offered his hand to his young guest, impressed that she cared more for her guard than for herself. He glanced at the less polished but still fetching Farmer. "You and yours are welcome to join us for the feast. I promise to compensate you, on behalf of the Tribunal, for your considerable expenses in rescuing the Princess."

"There was an offer of free grub in there, wasn't there?" Farmer asked with a grin.

Shane cocked an eyebrow and almost smiled. "I believe there was."

Farmer turned, whistled, and her gang came pouring in shortly thereafter. There were some odd looks from the other guests, but Joker's Wild did not care. They were used to being stared at.

"Farmer, would you sit with me?" Vanesse asked, suddenly anxious to have at least one person she knew nearby.

"I'll keep an eye on you," Farmer replied, her voice becoming unusually solemn. "Don't you worry."

Banshee snapped her fingers, and another place was set at the high table.

"Princess, your uncle is on his way, as well as is the delegation from the Tribunal," Shane said softly. "They have been delayed by storms up north, but should be hear by sunrise."

Vanesse went from relaxed to anxious to angry. "Good. I have a few things to say to . . . several people," she almost snapped.

Lord Stapleton did not look surprised. He knew about elvish politics. "If you would like, I am well-versed in politics. If you would like to discuss things before everyone arrive, you might find my ear to be quite attentive."

"Thank you, Lord Stapleton. I may take you up on that."

"Ah, there is someone I believe that you've already met."

"Lady Shamira!" Vanesse said with a child-like glee. "I'm glad to see you again."

The living incarnation of Shadow Wing was leaning against one wall, a silky black robe covering that goddess-like body, while her long black ponytail was draped over her shoulder and fell between two rather large breasts. Standing next to Shamira was one of the most deliciously sensual looking women that Vanesse had ever seen. She was a young, brown-skinned woman of Native American descent. Her long legs were on display for all to see, as the only thing below the woman's waist were a loincloth that barely covered the private areas, and a pair of leather moccasins. A leather vest encompassed small, soft breasts, and the woman's hair was decorated with a variety of colored feathers. And damn, that girl had the most amazing lips that Vanesse had ever seen, full, delicious, and smirking.

"You've got another fan," the new woman said. "Another to add to your list of admirers."

Shamira looked like she wanted to blush, but couldn't. "Don't start."

The woman grinned, then faced Vanesse. "Hello, I'm Clara Yellowtail. I'm Lord Stapleton's shaman, though I currently reside here at Banshee's estate."

"Are you here to look after the dragons?" Vanesse asked, thinking it wise to have a nature-based magic user around to help look after a new species.

Clara glanced over at Shamira and smiled. "Well, one of them anyway." Her gaze went far beyond friendship or even lust. It was the look Vanesse's father had whenever he looked at his queen. Whatever relationship these two had, it was not casual. And the returned look, one of pure devotion, sealed the deal.

"Does she really cause that much trouble?" the Princess asked.

Shane coughed a comment into his hand, Clara grinned . . . even Banshee strove to suppress a smirk.

Shamira glowered at all of them. "Okay, I do not --"

"Yes, you do," they all said in unison.

Clara ran a finger along Shamira's jaw. "If you didn't cause trouble, I wouldn't have any reason to discipline you." Her voice had gone from affectionate to downright sultry in just under a second. "What fun would that be?"

"I'd tell you to get a room, but dinner is almost served," Shane said.

Shamira looked somewhat intense, and her eyes did not leave Clara's face. "But Lord Stapleton, the children are asleep, and how often --"

"Dinner . . . now," Shane said firmly, then smiled as the muscular vampire-turned-dragon practically pouted all the way to her seat.

Dinner was a spectacular event and, for a while, Vanesse forgot her troubles. The food was amazing, and Lord Stapleton had even arranged for a string quartet. He and Banshee sat next to each other, with Vanesse and Farmer on one side while Clara and Shamira sat on the other. Banshee had introduced her to Aven and Neva, a pair of brother/sister elvish assassins that had sworn themselves to Banshee's service. For now, they stood nearby, protecting their Princess, but their presence only began to remind her of someone else's absence. She wanted to go check on HER bodyguard. She was getting ready to ask to see Trina again when a disturbance was heard toward the front of the room.

The music stopped, the crowd parted, and King Tarrin Ralisen, ruler of the elves, made his appearance. He was flanked by thirty elite elvish guards, as well as by Baron Glennon Montain, his guard, and Torris, the Baron's personal "problem solver." Instantly, Vanesse felt a chill. She looked at the Baron, who was supposedly her uncle's first choice to be Vanesse's king, and she saw the eyes of the man that she was sure had put the death bounty on her head.

"Princess," the King said, hurrying forward, his face showing a rare moment of actual relief. "We were so worried. Are you unhurt?"

Vanesse rose, her legs trembling, but her voice was steady. "I am well, your Majesty. It was a frightening ordeal, but Lord Stapleton has been a most gracious host." Then she saw how the King was looking at Farmer, and she had to put her plan into action. One of the principles of elvish politics was to set the tone of the conversation. "And this brave werehyena and her pack escorted me safely from here after rescuing me from my captors."

"What captors? Who were --"

"I never saw the faces of those that took me from our Alaskan compound. I was drugged, and they were all wearing masks. By the time I awoke, I was in the care of Joker's Wild."

The King was not buying any of this, but he could not accuse the Princess of lying directly, and she knew. He did not know what game she was playing, but she was just a foolish, young girl. He was the king. "Farmer, is it? Who exactly did you rescue her from? I assume that there are bodies that can corroborate your story?"

"I didn't realize that we needed an alibi for a rescue," Farmer said evenly, summoning up her alpha's strength. "I didn't get a good look at the guys holding her, but getting her out safely was my highest priority."

"We wanted to let you know where we were," Vanesse said, trying not to talk to quickly. "Unfortunately, we had discovered that a price had been put on my head, and finding people we could trust was problematic."

"You could have contacted me," the King said, annoyed that his desire to punish Farmer and her flea-bitten mongrels was being circumvented. 'Perhaps the Princess is not quite as much a dolt as I thought,' he contemplated.

"Information obtained from the first group of assassins who made a play on my life indicated to me that my enemy or enemies might very well have contacts within the nobility. While I trust you, your Majesty, there are those in Court that hold no love for me."

"Are you suggesting a spy? Amongst MY council?"

"I only suggest that I chose to be cautious. I saw my oldest friend bleeding in the snow from bullets meant for me, so I hope you will forgive me my paranoia."

That stopped the King in his tracks, but only for a moment. "I am sorry Princess. I did not even notice that Trina was not at your side. I had heard that she had not been witnessed at the scene of the last rescue attempt by the Royal Hunters, but . . . my condolences."

"Save your tears, your Majesty," came a smooth, freezing cold voice from a door behind Lord Stapleton. From out of the shadows, the new body of Trina stepped forward. "I am not quite as dead as I was supposed to be."

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To be continued . . .