The Queen's Aide

They'd been at this for hours, and so far, all of their work had yielded them no results. Much of the blame could be put on Daphne's shoulders. Ever since that girl had interrupted their procedure early in the day, she had been unable to center her focus. Hardly had she contributed to the cause at all. Mostly she stood and she watched, hoping some epiphany would burn out the darkness in her mind like a candle in a dead winter night. As of yet, that had not occurred, and she was not hopeful that is would happen any time soon.

The process had started by draining the body of all its blood. At this point, it would only serve to get in the way, and as Lucien was no longer in need of it, what was the harm? From there they opened him up, starting with the chest. There had to be some reason that their magic had no effect on these children. Something that differentiated them from everyone else. Merga hypothesized that it was a layer of tissue in the skin, one that was not strong in a way as to keep out an arrow, as was evident by the boy's demise, but one that could filter out their conjurations. It was no easy task to prove. One shred of cells appeared very much like the next, and testing its effectiveness while not being attached to a living host made the nightmare only worse. Multiple samples were collected in vials regardless, to be used for future experimentations.

Next was the brain. They had Isadora to thank for that speculation. She had gotten it in her mind that the reason these children could not be harmed by their spells was much the same reason why mages could emit them in the first place. That they had access to a certain part of their brain that no one else did. It would be very easy for them to simulate brain activity by forcing energy into the nervous system, but if they wished to examine the reaction, first that had to get to it. Cutting through a human skull, especially one of a boy who was built as like an ox, such as Lucien was, was not so simply done. Not only did it require a great deal of force, friction, and resolve, it also needed to be done in such a delicate way as to where the brain would not sustain any damage. There were many methods they could have employed, but with the slim margin of time that they had left, a bone saw was their only viable option.

His entire body was strapped down to a wooden slate to limit his movements, and two of the mages secured his head from either side for added support. Agnes and Isadora were the two women dedicated to that job, while the Constable and St. Cyprus worked the saw. It took five painstaking minutes for them cut a flap adequate enough for them to examine the inside, and Daphne knew this for certain because she counted every second. As she was no expert in anatomy or trepanation; she left the matter of studying it to her other colleges. It was midnight by the time they all agreed that it would be for the betterment of the group if they got some sleep and returned to the matter on the morrow. Daphne was the first person out of the room.

Her path led to the bathing apartments first. Servants had to be woke and a fire had to be started to warm large stones. These stones were then tossed into the wide pools, bringing it to a near boil. In truth, Daphne could have warmed it herself with a simple spell, but she did not want to expend any more of her energy, and rather preferred the natural methods. One of the maids took a rigid horse-hair brush to every part of her body, scrubbing until the flesh was red and raw under her own order. Once the burden of the day had been cleansed from her skin, she wrapped her body in a towel and walked to her room. The guards on duty were rewarded for their late service with a passing glimpse of her naked legs as well as the skin above her breast. She imaged they'd all be bragging of their good fortune to their compatriots for a long time to come.

Back in her room, the towel was tossed to the side and replaced with a gown of gold and green that cut deep at the chest. She sprayed at her wrists and neck with a perfume of rose and cinnamon, knotting her wavy black hair to the back of her head in a bun that hung loosely off her scalp. After slipping a pair of sandals to cover her tired feet, she made her way back out the door of her room, heading for the stairwell.

On the top floor of the castle keep, two dozen guards made patrols in pairs around the enveloping walking, turning a blind eye when she walked past them. They knew to do that by now. With how little ease Kaito had been able to sneak his way into the upper apartments, Daphne wondered if they had seen her at all. Most of these men had been running the same shift for months, perhaps even years on end. After performing the same task routinely day in and day out, one begins to lose the contrast on what should be there and what shouldn't. If she had been in charge of the command, like so many thought her to be, she would have designed a rotating shift as to not let anyone get accustomed to their environment. Alas, she was not.

The center walkway that split the top floor into two sections was where the sorceress found the door to the Queen's private chamber. She had her hand wrapped around the copper handle when the rasp of a clearing throat drew her attention towards her back. Leaning against the door to her room in the small recess of the wall, the princess was staring at her with a cold demeanor. Her two sleeved arms were folded beneath her breasts, one foot tapping on the tiled flooring. The little brat had been the bane of her existence ever since they'd met. She was arrogant, controlling, hungry for power, and she knew exactly how to get whatever she wanted. In truth, the girl reminded Daphne much of herself.

"What are you doing out of your bedroom, Eve." When addressing a princess, even as a member of the Dwol Council, using the proper title was typically a necessity. Daphne often forced herself to forget that fact while speaking to Camella's daughter.

"I could ask you the same question. And do not call me Eve. Only my friends call me that. To you, I am either Lady Lockhart or Your Highness. A lady such as yourself should remember her courtesies."

"What are you doing out of your bedroom, Your Highness."

"I was waiting for you," Evangeline grinned. "I wanted to ask you; did you like the present I sent you earlier?"

If there was any doubt as to who told Adha of what they were doing with Lucien's body, that put an end to it. The only question left to ask was how the princess had discovered it. "You seem determined to make everything I do be as difficult as possible. Would you care to share with me why this is? What did I do to scar you so?"

"If I told you that, it would ruin all the fun. And have you ever stopped to think that I might be doing this because it brings me joy?" Truth be told, Daphne had thought of that, multiple times. The girl was much like her mother in that way. At least what she had been like as a child. "But none of that matters, does it? What's truly important is that boy on the loose. He was the one who found what my mother was looking for, wasn't he? And now that he's out of your reach, he's a threat to everything you spent so much time building up."

"I wouldn't be so pleased if I were you," Daphne told her. "If the boy returns here, he might very well take his anger out on all those who he deems have wronged him. And possible even those who have not."

"Perhaps," Evangile nodded. "Or perhaps I will be able to persuade him into joining my cause. Dezba might fare better with new leadership. Many of my mother's liege lords are already beginning to question her merits. And since she refuses to take a husband, even the Holy Temple spreads ill word of her, no matter how much coin she gives them. A new face might do the realm some good. Someone younger... prettier."

"And how do you intend to accomplish that?"

The princess shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps I'll take the same approach on him that you took on my mother."

Daphne clenched the inside of her cheek between her jaw. She would have bit her lip, but she did not wish to openly display frustration. "Go to bed, Your Highness. The hour is late."

The girl grinned once more before turning to enter her bedchamber, the sorceress digger her nails into the palm of her hand as she stepped into the Queen's apartments. Camella's private quarters were larger than that which she had given Daphne, as was expected, yet only slightly. It was enclosed with four walls instead of being rounded, with no windows save for the one in the ceiling as the walkway outside blanketed it. The room was lit predominantly by the moon poking through the enormous ceiling window, the only other sources of light being the lone tallow candle that rested on the dresser and the dim embers cracking and popping in the hearth. Camella Lockhart was sitting on one of the many cushioned chairs in the room, peering at herself through the looking glass placed beside the melting taper. She was powdering her cheek, in the dead of night of all times, turning away when she heard the snap of the closing bedroom door.

"Well, if it isn't about time. Back for two days and yet this is the first I've seen of you. Should I be worried. Most loyal servants would have reported to their Queen the moment they arrived. Did you know I stayed up halfway to dawn last night waiting for you to walk through that door, only to stare at it for hours. And still I had to wake early this morning to listen to the sniveling pleas of my people."

"Forgive me," Daphne said, bowing. "I have been very busy performing Your Majesty's business. There is much that we need to discuss. I take it you've heard it already from the mouths of others, but I believe it will be best if you take it from my own lips."

Camella smiled. She was a ravishingly beautiful woman, with an even more ravishing smile. Almost as beautiful as her daughter would one day grow up to be, and better looking than most sorceress's too, all of which possessed the ability to alter their appearance. Daphne did hold some remorse that the affection between them was vastly one sided, but much could be said for most any relationship. As lovely a woman as she was, the sorceress did not share the Queen's devotion towards the same sex. But that had never stopped her from feigning as if she did.

"I believe that would be best as well," the Queen agreed. "Come. Sit with me on the bed. After dealing with a corpse the entire day, I'm sure you could enjoy having a place to rest."

The sorceress knew where this was headed. She knew it the moment she stepped inside, but she did nothing to stop it. It was easier that way. She hadn't put in all these years of work to surrender to her morals now. The princess could go on hating her for it, and the castle inhabitants could go on whispering amongst themselves with their suspicions. If it was not Daphne, it would be someone else. That much was certain. The Queen knew what she wanted, and she did not know how to stop until she got it. Daphne using that to her benefit was just good business.

Gliding across the bedchamber in a slow strut, the sorceress stopped at the Queen's bedside. Brushing her hands across her backside to straighten out the cloth, she took a seat. With her index finger, she combed a long strand of black hair falling over her eye behind her left ear. Once she was set, Camella rose from her dresser, plucking up the candle by the curve of its metal holster, carrying it to the nightstand beside her bed. She then took her place behind Daphne, hiking up her silken dress past the knees, putting each leg on the outside of sorceress's hips, pressing her chest to her back. Her chin she had mounted on Daphne's shoulder, just above the collar. The sorceress could feel the buttery smooth fabric of the Queen's gown rubbing up against the bare skin of her arms.

"Is that cinnamon I smell?"

Sorcery was not all magic tricks and conjurations. Sometimes, to put a person under your spell, all you needed to do was know a little bit about them. Daphne, for one, knew that Camella loved the scent of cinnamon. She also loved the colors green and gold, which could account for the outfit she had donned. Every move she made was meticulous. If it was not, it left room to be taken advantage of. A decade plus of making all the right moves could render a woman weary. Exhausted as she was, the sorceress had to instruct herself not to rush anything. Even the simplest mistake could have the gravest repercussions.

"As I'm sure you've heard, our mission was not a complete success. The fountain was located in a small oasis in the desert. One that moves from day to day, which is why it took us so long to track it down. The night before we were set to visit it, we were attacked by Baalim, a sorcerer in service to Gymlerax. Amidst the chaos, one of the boy's snuck off and drank the last of the water from the well. Inside him now is a strength that none on this earth have seen for centuries. Unfortunately, we lost him."

"Is that so," Camella asked, in a voice that was half uncaring, half lascivious. Daphne could hear the laces that knotted up the back of her dress slowly being unwound, the cloth brushing against itself with a heated friction that matched the Queen's own steamy breath. "Go on." Camella planted a warm kiss at the bottom of her neck, her lips fixed for moments on end, Daphne's entire head curling towards it. It felt good to be kissed. Even if it was not by a person she hoped it to be from, the sensation was undeniable. The feel of being wanted. The understanding that someone else just had to have you. It was something that the sorceress did not know she needed until the instant she got it.

"His name is Kaito. A handsome boy. Bold, more developed than the rest of his brothers and sisters. Mentally more than physically. He'll know that the power he possesses cannot easily be beaten. He hopes to use it against our enemy, as vengeance for the death of his friend. A boy named Lucien, who was killed in the attack that I spoke of. The one we are currently examining in the lower chambers."

"Good," the Queen said, her fingers still working leisurely on the laces, her lips continuously searching any untouched patch of skin. "If he kills the devil, we won't have to."

"True, yet there is a chance that he may not. If Gymlerax is able to trick the boy, to capture him, it will not be long before her finds a way to transfer the energy. And even if the boy does succeed, we will have exchanged an old threat for a new one. We've been working tirelessly to pull some clue from dead child's corpse, to discover what about them makes them immune to our spells, but as of yet, we have learned nothing."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out?" By now, Camella had done away with all the laces, slowly peeling back the cloth covering her right shoulder, exposing the skin and kissing her there as well. "But forget about all that. The best antidote for a clogged mind is a pleasant distraction. Leave the daytime for work and the nighttime for..." She peeled back the strap on her other shoulder, tracing the white imprint with her tongue. "Well... you know."

"Your daughter knows what's happening between us. I get the strong inclination that she doesn't approve of it either."

"Let her mope," Camella whispered in her right ear, the skin of her neck crawling with gooseflesh. "The girl knows nothing of love. The little urchin cares only for that which she believes will anger me. She becomes more of her father with each passing day. But what can she do? I am the Queen of Dezba, and she is a child. My child. I should have raised her better, true, yet I had little time once my husband's responsibilities fell on my shoulders."

"What if she were to tell someone," Daphne asked.

"Let her." Taking ahold of both sides of her shift, Camella curled the sorceress's tightly fitted gown down below her navel, exposing both of her ample breasts. The woman filled her palms with each, kneading them firmly and impatiently like unbeaten dough, pinching at the nipples with the nails of her thumb and index finger. Daphne had to bite down on her cheek just to keep from screaming. Was it pain? Was it pleasure? She did not know for certain. "Do you think I care if entire realm learns of our affair. Let them look on and gawk, and let them bite down on their lips whenever they are in my presence. If they seek to open them, I will have them removed. But enough talking over trivial matters. Take the rest of that dress off. Your Queen commands it."

Daphne did as she was told, rising and squirming out of her woolen shift as Camella laid back on the royal bed, blowing out the flame of the candle with a hot breath. With the moonlight to illumine her naked body, the sorceress's pale skin glowed like a distant star. She took her place beside the Queen who was yet to slip out of her own dress. It began much as it always began with their midnight excursions. With a kiss. Camella's mouth was slick with her own saliva, taking Daphne at her bottom lip as she took the Queen's top. There was no refuting that the woman was devilishly skilled at what she did. Her tongue moved as swiftly as a serpent, brushing along her teeth and intertwining with her own.

As was often the case, the Queen rather enjoyed being on top. Lifting the blossom of her frock past the edge of her rump, she mounted Daphne on top of her waist while the sorceress was resting prone on her back. The woman refused to tear their lips apart for so much as a moment as she made the transition. Each time the sorceress opened her mouth a bit wider to gasp for air, Camella filled it with her own, delving deeper towards the back of her throat with her tongue. When she finally did pull away, she left with a bite on her bottom lip, one so fierce that it drew blood. Realizing what she had done, the Queen slowly and passionately sucked the wound, cleansing it with the rubbing of her tongue until the bleeding ceased.

Her trail then brought her further south, cutting a kiss covered course down her chin, along her neck, coming to a halt at the nipple of her left breast. As she lathered one in her saliva, pinching at it with the crown of her teeth, she clamped down on the other between two of her fingers. This time Daphne could not keep from crying out. Camella used her moaning as a catalyst to go harder, switching from left to right, then right to left. Like it or not, the sorceress could feel herself growing wet, fed up with the teasing, taking the Queen by her hair and directing her downward. With the woman's head between her legs, Camella tormented her once more, planting kisses along her inner thigh. "Tell me what you want," she asked.

"You know what I want," the sorceress said.

"Yes," the Queen agreed, founding yet another kiss on her thigh, this one closer than the last. "But I want to hear you say it?"

It was just more evidences of Camella's deeply rooted fervor for power. One that Daphne did not want to nourish, but at this point, the woman had her by the throat, and she was incapable of doing anything other than abiding by her command. "I want your mouth on my cunt."

That put a wicked smile on the Queen's face. She started with a gentle peck on her mound, just below the thicket of finely trimmed black hair. From there, it only intensified. She took Daphne by both of her hands, their fingers intertwining as her mouth moved faster and her tongue pushed deeper. The sorceress did not have to pretend to arch her back in blissful agony. Her body did it for her. The room suddenly had become very hot, as if she was laying on a bed of burning coals. She felt one finger enter her, and then a second, and after the third, her entire body was quivering, head to toe.

Having done her part, the Queen hastily shook out her of dress, the fabric falling to her feet, revealing her olive-skinned legs and torso. The Queen was stunning, shapely in all the right places, with large breasts tipped with wide, dark brown areolas that matched the patch of dark brown hair covering her mound. Climbing over Daphne's frame, she brought it down on her mouth. It was often believed, by those of her own sex at least, that those who knew how best to please a woman were in fact woman. It came with having the same parts and knowing what felt right. The sorceress supposed, in truth, that this theory could then apply to both sexes. Yet seeing as how she was not a man, she could only attest to the former.