20
I told myself I was not avoiding him. Which was silly. If I wasn’t avoiding him, I wouldn’t have to tell myself I wasn’t. Just like I didn’t have to tell myself I’m not pissing in a wine glass or sucking off the baker down in the market. The truth? I was avoiding him, and yet I expected him to remain, to stick around so I could avoid him. But Fenrir wasn’t known for staying in one place very long, and he was well past his normal cycle. He had no reason for doing as much as he had. Fenrir was not under obligation. This was not his realm, and I was not his queen.
The first day after his question, the question still pounding in my skull - why do you want me? - I held court.
Today, I rode south with ten of my guards and five shifters, including Víðarr, who asked if he could join. I wanted to check on the vines this season. It was still early summer, and far too soon for harvest, but we had new aqueducts built in the area which promised better water control. I wanted to see the vineyards and ask around about these aqueducts. The longer I sat, the more Fenrir’s question haunted me.
Why do you want me?
Perhaps it was the timing. Perhaps it was the mindset I had at the time he asked. Whatever the case, the question speared itself past all my defenses.
Three, gorgeous men shared my bed and my heart. Others on my list of guards and shifters would gladly spend night if I would allow it. I didn’t know this because they were bold enough to speak the words to my face. I was queen. A queen who grew up in that Keep. I knew all the best places to hide and listen to all the gossip that went on within my walls.
The point is, I did not lack admirers, though most weren’t interested in intimacy, just my ass. Sure, they never voiced their interests too crudely. It was one thing to find me appealing, and quite another to voice disrespectful comments. Not even drunkenness forgave that trespass.
With all of this, why Fenrir?
Karal shared my bed last night. We fucked from sun-down until sunrise and not once did Fenrir cross my mind. Bryce, yes. And Karal and I talked about him and I didn’t feel odd sharing with Karal how much I missed Bryce. Because this was normal. My normal. My men knew my body, knew how to make me fall in love with them over and over again. Knew how to make me orgasm so hard I’d forget all my worries. This is not just speculation. In the height of all that was going on in my Keep, Karal nestled his head between my thighs and sucked orgasm after orgasm out of my center. He stretched my legs beyond their capabilities and he drove his swollen cock deep, deep, deep in my center. In the moments that Karal was inside of me, I didn’t remember what it was that plagued this Keep.
I had no idea how things would be if Fenrir, joined my side. Would they accept him? Would Fenrir try to mean more to me than the others? There were reasons for my men being with me for as long as they were.
Avoiding connections with the elder shifters wasn’t law, but Fenrir was correct in calling it what it was; taboo. And taboo often had more power than law. It was a crack in one of the legs of a chair. It didn’t mean the chair would break. And a thoughtful person could even use a three-legged chair. The fact remained, the chair wouldn’t be as strong as before, and nothing would change that except fixing what was broken.
And that was how my people thought. They were good, solid people. They didn’t spend much time in gray areas. That was my job, after all.
But why even bother with the hassle? Was it really just an old crush?
I shook my head and focused on what was ahead of me. The vineyards were beautiful. Stunning really. The grapes were already showing good signs for harvest. If we could keep off a drought or inclement cold front, this was going to be a great year… minus the impending war.
We arrived in the small township which was the center for the southern wineries. I was greeted with smiles and waves. A few cheers. My mother was a ‘working queen,’ and she expected to get dirty, and sweaty. People saw her more as a leader than as royalty.
I talked with some of the owners, and listened to them discuss the pros and cons of the aqueducts. All of them agreed that if fire came, it would save several crops.
"Over and over I read that nature’s choice of water and temperature creates the best flavors," one man told me. "I don’t wish to ruin what was made by working with nature, even though it was more difficult. I would rather lose the crop than make it bland."
"True," said another, "we can’t forget that we are the late comers. Only five generations, that’s all we’ve been here for. We are simply picking up the pieces and dreams of those who lost all of this to the Fall. They had piped water, they had aqueducts. All of that was available, and they didn’t use them in the fields. Heaters, during a cold front, yes. But water was left to the Goddess."
When I was given a bottle of wine, corked two years ago, I nearly slapped my head, "There is to be a festival at the temple in two days. Can you come? Should I send men to escort you?"
"Escort us?" one of the women asked, with concern in her voice.
"Well," I said, "I was hoping you would bring a lot of wine, and that could tempt the strongest of men."
Instead of waiting two days, they decided to return with us. After quickly packing three large wagons with barrels and bottle crates, and three more with children and parents, we left to return to the Keep. I motioned for the shifters to run wide of us, and work as outriders, to give us as much warning as possible. Víðarr remained near me. Not beside me, but vigilant, and close.
"Víðarr?" I asked after several kilometers.
"Yes, my lady?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the area around us.
"What is your take on Fenrir? If you don’t mind me asking." I pretended not to notice the sudden stiffening in his spine.
After a moment he gave me a grin. "He’s what they say he is. All of it. He walked away. He arrived in time. He is a scoundrel, a liar, the person you want at your back in battle. He is a thief with his time, and generous with his life. He’ll take all that you are and give you back everything you could be."
I grinned. "You are quite the poet."
"Ah, but it’s not my poem," he admitted. "It was on a tavern wall, in Queen Madb’s realm. Carved into the wood. I remember reading it and wanting to be someone that could be written about as well."
"Sounds like he’s well liked in that realm," I offered.
"Not sure. Generally, no one says bad things, but there’s a sizable reward for his capture, and the promise of the queen’s favor," he said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "According to a billet I saw."
"Sounds like a good story behind that summons," I murmured thoughtfully, hoping my face didn’t give away too much of how I felt hearing his statement.
He shrugged his great shoulders with a noncommittal manner. "Never heard the story, not even gossip drippings."
I mused for a moment on how often we checked the billets posted in public houses, and taverns for false information. I doubted we ever had, but with our new antagonist, it felt like a good thing to do regularly.
The next day I took the same group of guards to the fishing village west of the Keep. This was the only fishing village of any size in my realm. Two others had made an effort north, near the border with Kate, but they didn’t last long. Around the bay there were twelve villages, all doing well. Some primary fishing, the rest had various wares and interests. My favorite was Quentin. A large town grown up around scavengers and the restoration of old technology. Which reminded me to send a message to Travis to come to the festival. He was my lead engineer and I wanted to catch up on some things with him, like the power project he was heading.
My eyes scanned Víðarr absently as I went through these lists of things to do, and areas to attend to.
"Why are you still here, Víðarr? Do you not have family, or a woman back where you were?" I asked, just as the village came into view. To the left of us, children whooped and shouted, then ran through the brush to announce us.
"I have a debt to pay," he told me.
"It wasn’t your fault. You were drugged, for lack of a better term."
"I don’t think fault has much to do with it, my lady. My body, my self, did those things, and caused strife. People could have died. Hell, a war could have started."
"That would have been my fault," I told him.
"Perhaps. But I believe in taking responsibility for my actions. I live on purpose, I’m not a victim," he explained.
"So, whether you did so intentionally isn’t a decisive factor," I suggested.
"I’m not sure why it should be." His eyes, as before, constantly searched the area around us.
"Some would say that taking on responsibility was a worthy trait.”
He glanced up at me. "And you?"
I shifted in my saddle. I hadn’t really meant to say that out loud, but there it was. "I would say not to be too urgent to take on responsibilities, because life has a way of stacking them up soon enough."
This was the first time I had given a less than positive assessment of my position as queen, though no one except myself understood my focus.
Long ago, when I was a child, my mother was holding me on a chair in the throne room, and she told me that most people saw a throne up on the dais. I asked her what she saw, and she told me it was a wall.
"We are queens, you and I," my mother told me. "We are not like other people. That wall will keep you alone your whole life. Because you are queen, you won’t have the pleasure of real love, or relationships. You won’t have friends when you grow older. You will have subjects, and servants. You will make decisions because others cannot, or will not. This here, you and I, is the closest we’ll ever come to love."
Now, this week in fact, I had been making decisions which will not be shown later as right or wrong, but bloody or safe.
I would not be handed a grade on my test, but the bodies I failed to protect. It didn’t matter that I was just out of my teenage years, and my mother should still be ruling for many years to come. It didn’t matter that all of my advisors had never been in battle or know much about the world around us. None of that mattered. I needed to rule. I needed to make decisions, and safe guard my realm. If not me, then who?
***
As we came up on the village, from the shore, I spotted Adian and Iris running up from the surf to meet us. Despite myself, my mood lifted with the surprise.
Sliding from my saddle, I asked, "Why are you here?" I was smiling, near laughter.
"Just thought we would check the shoreline, and stretch our legs. We heard you were heading here. Lunch sounded good," Adian answered. He walked up to me, a dotted kisses along my jaw. His hands worked their way around my waist and he pulled me closer, as though inspecting me. Something about him felt different. I couldn’t quite put a finger on exactly what it was. But he was different. Stronger? Maybe.
I looked up the coast, squinting my eyes to make out as much as possible. "See anything interesting?"
"Shells," Iris told me. "Some kelp. I’m told they once used that to make ice cream."
"Well," I said, giving her a smile, "insanities like the Fall don’t happen with the flip of a switch. You build up to them piece by piece. Seaweed deserts, then zombie nations." Both Iris and AdIan laughed a small laugh and a wind of ease washed over me.
Most of the village boats were out to sea with the nets. The village looked larger than I remembered. In the public house I found my memory was true, and several houses had been added since my last visit.
I checked the postings in the public house, and in the three taverns, discussing with both Iris and Adian the need to supervise these regularly.
"We can’t afford to allow rumors to fester into facts. Posting notices is easy, and frequently anonymous. There are no signatures, and yet if it’s on the wall in the Pub, a large portion of the public feel it must be true."
After that I announced the festival being held at the Temple, and then talked with the villagers about supplies, how the fishing looked, and asked about any new ideas anyone might have.
The most interesting of these topics regarded the usefulness of using blowfish to keep the dolphins away from the nets — but nothing practical came out of the conversation. It started from a recent discovery, finding that dolphins used the blowfish like humans might use recreational drugs or alcohol. The blowfish have in them a neurotoxin. While this toxin won’t kill the dolphins, reports suggested they get loopy after biting on one for a while. The members of the pod, will catch one, and then pass it around to the rest of their group. The idea was to keep the dolphins entertained while the men hauled in the nets. The logistics proved more complicated than they first appeared.
"Has anyone tried this blowfish toxin?" I asked, and was answered with awkward silence.
Iris didn’t mind breaking it at all, calling over to me. "It’s a toxin my queen. A single drop will kill a human."
I allowed myself to appear embarrassed just long enough for the villagers to laugh, and then we got back to our discussions.
As we walked back to the horses I asked Iris about the cure Fenrir gave them. "Is it something we can use?"
"For spreading blindness, and insanity, sure," she told me. "The shit damn near killed me, and Adian both. I still haven’t seen Karal. Have you?"
"Now that you ask, no, not since last night," I admitted, and bit my lip. "If it was as bad as that, we need to find him," I said, and passed the message around to the shifters with us, that we would be alright on our own. Karal might need them now. Only Víðarr remained with me.
"You never told me if you have a woman waiting for you," I said to Víðarr.
He looked up into the sky, as if he could see the planets beyond the blue, "Yes."
Before I could say anything else he added, "I sent word. She’s not worried." Then he stepped away from me, toward the front of the line.
I mounted my horse and turned back to meet his gaze. "Would you mind staying near me for a time, Víðarr?"
"If that’s your wish," he said patiently.
"It is my wish, my desire, but not my command.”
He glanced toward the front of the line, and then to the end, and his shoulders slumped, "It’s not you or even me." He met my eyes. "The treatment that Fenrir gave me is still putting me out of sorts. I’m worried that I will not be good company."
"Then set your mind at ease," I told him. "You might be unpleasant, but you will always be good. In my eyes anyway. I’m glad you told me though. Both Iris and Adian are still having issues as well, and no one has seen Karal. They are running ahead to track him down."
The trail officer gave the command to move out, and I urged my mount into the middle of the line where they liked to keep me. "Besides, I have questions, I’m hoping a visitor will feel more at ease in addressing with a candid mind. Maybe your mental state is more valuable to me than we know."
He fell into an easy gait beside me, his size continued to baffle me. "That would be nice — nice to know it wasn’t just turmoil and strife with no value."
"Can I ask, what are you feeling?" I ventured.
His hands opened, splayed, and then clenched into fists, before relaxing again. "Ants. I have a nest of them all over me. Inside is all anger, and irritation. No reason for it. None at all. But it’s there, and buzzing; a hive of hornets — trapped, and aware of smoke. Panicked.”
That explained why Iris and Adian wanted to run, and hunt. "I believe I understand. So, I will tell you now, that if you need to run, and shake them off, or at least loosen them, you already have my permission to leave abruptly without asking or even finishing your sentence."
Glancing up at me, he said, "I’ll hold you to that, highness."
"Good." I looked over my shoulder, and we were as private as it was going to be on the journey back. "And in the spirit of shoving aside formalities and manners: what is it about your woman that touches you so deeply? I know she does, I can see it. She may be beautiful, but there is something else which is calling you back to her."
"Oh, is that all," he said, and his grin was filled with sardonic humor.
"Well, I didn’t want to start with anything personal or obscure. We just met," I countered, returning his grin.
"Of course. Very politic of you," he said. "Is there a specific reason you ask? It would help narrow the answer to something more useful than a litany."
Now why did that question feel so damn awkward?