The Duties of The Royal Advisor Ch. 03

"Good morning, highness." Ronan curtsies slightly, as if to greet me for the first time. The little minx. My lady, now towering over me as advisor to the crown, is an orchid in a gutter- the rest of my counsel is left over from my father's court. They sit as fragile as aging pottery, and I almost expect them to arrive each day covered in dust. The oldest among them. Andrew, has already began to snore in his chair by the window. The rest sit, many in corners, leaning on canes, contributing only judgement. It seems only my lady is engaged to prepare the treaty arrangements. When the doors to the audience room opened to me, she alone walked towards me, while the others took their time and stand to bow. Even on our feet, she is at least a head taller than me. Now Andrew has jolted awake, nods at me, and returns to his slumber. He's not worth making an example of, and the rest of the counsel is painfully aware of this.

"At your ease." In spite of the beauty now standing before me, I remember my manners.

I bow my head, giving my lady barely a glance, and quickly assume my seat in the audience room. The council, as is customary, follow suit and sit down. Only Ronan remains standing, returning to her concentration on a spread of maps and papers scattered about the table in the center of the room. The remnants of my father's council stop and stare at her.

I stare too, perhaps for the wrong reasons. Her dark hair has been neatly braided back, intricate coils laiden with pins set with pearls. The pearls compliment the embroidery on a burgundy gamurra that cinches in her waist, and seems to float when she moves back from the table to assess the stillness of the council. I'm certain I paid for this gown, and she looks incredible. I want to savor her, take my lady by her delicate waist and kiss her perfect neck. Instead, I set down my slack-jawed schoolboy fascination with her. Instead, the crown Prince of Verona, seated while his advisor stands, clears his throat.

She turns pink and surrenders into a chair. "I cry your pardon, my lord."

Instantly, my schoolboy heart melts. "Think nothing of it, Councilor." I offer her a chaste smile. How I long to touch her in comfort. Her brow softens, and I die. "You had mentioned, Thursday last, that you had found past attempts at a treaty between the houses?"

My advisor, the head of council, straightens in her seat. "Yes, sire. In the state records, it appears a variety of formal warnings were given both to Lord Capulet and Lord Montague."

"How many is several, Councilor?"

"Sixteen."

A few members of the half-asleep council guffaw and mutter to one another until the young advisor silences them with an addition. "Eleven of which were issued by King Proteus."

I have my own disputes with my father's reign, his persistence not the least among them. "And how many have I issued in the past year? Remind us, please."

"Four, highness."

"Four" I boast to the council. "And the remaining one is the plea for armistice issued by Mantua, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord. My proposition would require both families to be accountable. Debts owed to each other would be put into writing and paid upon signing the treaty," she places a map before me with inscriptions neatly inked along a border, "and both families would agree to permanent agreed-upon boundaries."

Since she left my bedchambers, it appears Lady Ronan had produced a document for each head of house to sign with the details outlined. And I had barely managed to dress. She modestly sets it over the map and waits with breath held for my approval. "This is nothing short of brilliant, Councilor. And you've allowed room for..."

"Trade agreements, yes, highness. I thought it might be best if the two families were encouraged to benefit from one another. Both possess considerable wealth on their land, as you can see. All this," She gestures, hand just grazing my own over the parchment to show on the map. "is farmland."

The fingers on my right hand drum the polished oak of the tabletop, and the seal I wear on my ring finger makes a clicking sound as it hits . "But...perhaps all of this is agreed upon by the heads of each household. Then what's done to control the laymen they employ, and their families?"

There's a fire in her spirit and she strains to contain her enthusiasm in her seat. I can see her mind speeding for an answer. "A fine of three hundred lire could be fined to anyone found involved on disputes from either side."

"Awfully low, don't you think?" I deliver the question to the rest of the room, only to find none of the council attentive. Once again, many had dozed off. Andrew has his nose in a bible, for a reason unknown to me. This does not concern me. "Why not six hundred?"

"Financial gain is not the concern, is it? Most of Verona does not live as you do, sire. The fee would be enough to motivate most of the remaining troublemakers on either side to cease arms, but the collections could be used to repair damages caused by the feud."

Clever girl. "So if they don't behave, some peace is still being worked for."

"Precisely."

"This is excellent, Councilor."

"Merely attending my duties." Her cheeks flush again.

"Don't be so modest." The table and the circumstance are the only two things keeping me from kissing her. I stand, and by custom so does she, though I step in closer as to murmur. "Do you know how crucial you are to the state, Councilor?"

"Am I crucial, my prince? Enlighten me."

"Madam, the state would be nothing without your wisdom and grace." My hands draw themselves to her waist, delighting in my dusty absentee council granting my ability to be close to her again.

"I am honoring the vows I took as high advisor, sir." She sets my hands down. Her touch shoots sparks through my fingers and up into my arm. Her gaze intensifies, full of wanting, and our mouths are close enough to sin together. "I assure you, the state speaks too much of me."

I laugh softly, taking her hand in mine again while the other lightly grazes her cheek, her chin, her shoulder, the small of her back, as close to touching without allowing either of us satisfaction of touch. "The state would never dare speak falsehoods about council, my good lady. It is in the best interest of the state to do as you say. You musn't be so humble."

"Humility is what is called for, is it not?" Her breast heaves as she asks.

"Were I in your position I would far less modest." I raise an eyebrow and see her gaze darken.

"Not all of us have that luxury, sire."

"Perhaps I have not made myself clear. I will require immediate assistance in mandating your orders this afternoon. Will you attend me in my private study, Councilor?"

"If my liege insists" She finally smiles, a genuine grin, and takes my hand when I offer it to escort her to the study.

"And for the record," I whisper, as we leave. "My lady may stand above me if she should like."

***

Her touch sends lava through me as we walk together down the corridor. A million things race through my head but all of them drown in the memory of Elias' mouth on my now-stiffening member.

"Prince Escalus," she raises an eyebrow, "you seem troubled. Was it something I've done? Have I displeased you?"

"Hardly, my lady."

"Highness, of all people, I hope you will not lie to me."

She has my heart, mind, and now my tongue in her possession. "There is...much on my brain." I manage.

"If it is the treaty that troubles you, I assure you it will be under my control."

"I have no doubt, Councilor."

"Is it my appearance?"

"Of course not, Councilor."

"Enough of this."

Lady Ronan charges down the remainder of corridor to the study, forcing me to hasten over her to make it appear as though I am still escorting her.

I open the door with my free hand and an attendant rushes to the pair of us.

"Leave us." She speaks with a power I've never seen within her. The attendant looks at me for approval, startled by her authority, and I nod.

I try not to flinch when she slams the door. Swiftly, Ronan whirls around so her eyes meet mine.

"My Prince. Tell me what has you so vexed that you cannot focus on the task at hand. Verona does not have time for any one person's feelings."

"It's nothing of concern. I assure you." A response I hardly believe myself as it comes out.

"Tell me," she commands gently, causing me to stiffen further. I'm beginning to strain underneath my britches and I pray to the gods she doesn't notice.

"My lady..." I look up at her, the lovesick fool that I am. "It killed me to rise with an empty place in my bed."

"Caleb, please. It's childlike to think we can go on like this with no scrutiny. I owe it to you as your advisor to maintain your image as well as mine. I cannot jeopardize your birthright because of my own feelings."

The nerve of her, to presume I didn't want her as bad as I did in this moment. "I'll be the judge of that." I growl, cornering her by a bookshelf. She puts her hand against my chest; I ignore it as my lips go to her neck. Sucking, biting with just slight pressure, I smile into her skin when I hear her moan and feel her grip on me tighten in pleasure.

With a hand on her waist to pull her in close to me, my free hand finds her breast. Even under the brocade, I feel her nipple hardening under my palm as I caress her. My lips travel down her neck, planting deep kisses on her throat, her now-exposed shoulder and her collarbone. I feel her breath getting heavier as my mouth finds the skin that just meets the edge of her bodice.

Her body gives into me, her legs parting slightly as I grind against her with my hard-on. I have forgotten the work we had set off here to do; all I desire in this moment is to pleasure the goddess I have trapped in my study.

I must tell her of this morning's events. The guilt presses a start of a sentence from me. "My lady, I want to-"

A surprising amount of force throws me against the wall when the world "No!" boils out of my lady. Before I can find my footing again she is now grinding against me. Gods. Somehow, she finds my throbbing cock over my britches and begins slowly, painfully slowly, stroking it through the fabric. She laughs at my moan, and this reaction is even more arousing. She pushes me into a nearby chair, straddling me so that she hovers above my cock and her breast is at my eye level.

"Don't we have...matters to discuss? Strategizing, or..." I begin, meekly.

"Why? Would you like to stop?" Her fingers slowly undo the laces confining the erection in my breeches. I surrender to her and shake my head quickly. "I didn't think so." She smirks and my cock springs out at her attention. As she removes her gamurra her eyes stay locked on mine, and when she pouts her full, soft lips just so, I am at my absolute weakest. A lance through the chest would be less painful. Chemise bunched at her waist with her soft, pert breasts now exposed in front of me, she deftly caresses her chest. She takes her fingers into her mouth, sucks each of the first three deliberately, and twists her nipple. She makes a show of the pleasure that gives her, moaning sweetly and biting her lip.

Her other hand trails up and down my shaft as leisurely and gently as spring air. It is pure torture that only makes me throb more intensely. My mind at her mercy, a "please..." escapes my lips.

She smirks.

"Please, what?"

"Mmngh...please, my lady, I need release..."

"Do you? I think that's unwise."

"Gods...mmmmngh"

In any other situation, my lack of articulation would be humorous. In this circumstance, it's pitiful. I writhe underneath her, trapped as she teases her nipples and encircles her cleavage gracefully with a hand, grinding against my helpless cock. My arms desperately reach out for her waist, her ass, her gorgeous legs but the moment my skin gets contact she brushes my hands away. I try again, and she swats; again, and she slaps me. The sound it elicits from me is some combination of arousal, pain and shock. She unhurriedly runs one finger up my length, puts her free hand on my chest, leans in and kisses me with a ferocious hunger. Her tongue enters my mouth and as she breaks away she bites my lower lip and pulls. I would question where all of this anger is coming from, exactly, but she doesn't seem terribly keen to listen to me at the moment. Precum teases out of me. She takes a finger to it and, again, puts it into her mouth. She is merciless. She moans, and begins to stroke me with drastic increase.

"Such a gorgeous specimen. Get close, darling." She says, grinning with a frightening intensity. My core tightens. My neck rolls back, lost in my own bliss.

And then she takes her hand off of me.

My abdomen tenses and my cock throbs. I feel my eyes watering. She laughs again.

"What has gotten into you?" I plead, helplessly wiggling underneath her. She simply shrugs and without another word begins to touch her breasts again. I move my own hand to my cock and foolishly assume she won't slap it away. She does. My entire body pulses with electricity and want for her. I moan uncontrollably.

"Would you like something, your majesty?" Her tone is agonizingly saccharine. Of course she knows what in hell I need. My jaw tenses and I strain to respond.

"I need release, damn it."

""That's very ungentlemanly of you, Prince. Try again." Were she a man and mocking this way, I would have her head. Instead I obey, because I know not how else to please her.

"Please, let me have release." My breath is ragged.

"How gallant." She giggles and begins to lightly stroke me again, starting with a finger along the length and then mercifully palming my throbbing cock. I am prey in her clutches, and my ache magnifies her touch.

"Please, goddess. Give me release." I have never known such a desperation in myself.

"Hmmm." She pouts, running her free hand along my jaw, my throat, and down the split on my doublet. She gets off of my lap, never breaking her touch with my cock, and kneels between my legs in the least devoted manner possible. Her eyes, large and behind dark, thick eyelashes, look up at me as her tongue slides up and down my length. She swirls her tongue around the engorged head, lets out a moan, and finally--

"Explode for me, darling." She coos.

"MMMmmmngh...ungh, nnngh...Gods!!" I arch my back in delicious agony as I explode again. She wraps her lips around me and I see stars. It is white hot between my legs and I give into it. When my breathing finally steadies and my body stops shaking, I notice my lady has allowed some of my seed to spill onto the wood floor. She bends forward, and, eyes still fixed on mine, she licks it off the floor.

Incredible.

Again, I have allowed an inferior to take advantage of my perilous wanting.

I blush red and my fingers fumble to re-lace the opening in my breeches. In my writhing, my coronet has fallen askew. My gut sinks.

Ronan rises to her feet and kisses me softly, gently, as if the last few moments were a bad dream. I put a hand on her cheek to kiss her back and she places hers over mine, like the woman I know to be my advisor.

I am at once consumed the kind of shame that forces me to grunt out of the chair and stand. I cannot look at her. She reaches to adjust my crown and I flinch. She strokes my hair as if I am some helpless animal. I smooth my doublet straight and back away from her.

"My lord, truly-"

"No, Councilor. We shall not speak of this."

"But Caleb-"

"You may address me as Prince Escalus." My face is hot. "I will someday be your King and I would strongly suggest, Lady Ronan, that you educate yourself on the power that holds."

I see her face tint pink. I could feel her fury if I was on the other side of the earth. She clears her throat, wipes her face with the back of her hand, and curtsies. "Yes, my liege. I cry your pardon."

With a turn of her heel, as quickly as she had broken me into her toy, she burst open the door.

And I am, again, without her at my side.