"Your Majesty, there's a woman here who's asking for you." The King was having breakfast by himself, his mind on the young maid, well she was no longer a maid, who he had left sleeping soundly in his bed. He'd ordered the guards to watch closely and ensure that she didn't leave his quarters and to enter immediately if they heard any unusual sounds coming from inside his rooms. She was under no circumstances to be harmed or to be allowed to harm herself. She was to be treated as a guest, unless she tried to leave and then it was to be understood in no uncertain terms that she was a prisoner.
"Send her away." Etan had been staring out the window, picking at the fruit that had sat before him for the better part of an hour. He'd hardly tasted what he'd put in his mouth as his thoughts returned over and over again to the little Fey in his bed and what he was going to do with her. It bothered him immensely that now that he'd had her, he kept on thinking about her. Wasn't the entire point of sleeping with her getting her out of his system? First Lady Calla and now this Fey imp.
What was it about Fey women that was so intoxicating? Or was it just this one? He had invited the Lady Calla back to his bed again and again, but he knew it was only because she had been very good at her job. He had wanted her again, but his thoughts hadn't lingered on her when she wasn't on her knees before him, or when she hadn't been riding his cock.
The page cleared his throat and the King looked away from the window, setting down the grape he'd been about to devour.
"Yes, Samuel. What is it? What more do you have to tell me about this woman since you haven't yet turned to do what I've told you to do?"
"Lord Fendrel told me to tell you that you needed to speak with this one. He said she's the Captain's mother and-" now the page glanced around, lowering his voice and taking a few steps closer to the King- "he says that she's a witch."
The King threw back his head and laughed, startling the page so that he jumped back several feet before regaining his composure, so that he could stand straight again and wait for the King's response.
"What should I tell her, Your Majesty?"
"Well if the good Lord Fenny says we must see her, I suppose we must. And what else would I be doing on such a lovely morning, other than entertaining witches from those Northern Mountains, which have so clearly been forsaken by the Gods, if the number of monstrosities that are coming out of them are any indication."
Etan sat back in his seat, as the page ran to the door, impatient it seemed, to be finished with his morning duties. The King had little doubt that he longed both to be away from himself and perhaps even more likely, from this supposed witch that had dared show herself at his door. It was foolhardy of her, really. She should know what he did to those who weren't human and witches were hardly human. His men had burned plenty of them at stake and she should know it as well as anyone. If she paid any attention she wouldn't have dared come here and admit what she was, he supposed.
Well, at least this could be some good fun morning entertainment.
The woman who entered the room, swayed her hips slightly as she moved towards him. They were perfectly rounded and a contrast from her waist, which was so narrow he would have doubted she was anyone's mother unless he'd been told. She certainly didn't look old enough to be Captain Bakerson's mother. Her skin was fair and smooth and her cheeks were pink as if she'd just stepped inside from a chilly autumn morning. If he'd seen her walking through the Capital he would have guessed that she was a teenager. Maybe twenty at the oldest. Her long dark hair didn't have a hint of grey and her eyes were so bright blue she might have been a Fey. But she wasn't, he reminded himself. She was a witch.
"Mrs. Bakerson, I presume."
"Your Majesty." She dropped easily in a low curtsy and he was surprised at how graceful she was, especially for a peasant. The dress she wore was simple, but again it appeared to be made for someone above her station. The fabric was made of dark green silk, with laces up the front, and a neckline that had been cut so low that the dress left little enough to the imagination. All in all, his fine Captain's mother was nothing like what the King had expected.
YOU ARE READING
Little Red's Riding
Fantasy"Why, Alpha?" he had sat down right next to her when he arrived, and now she leaned closer to him so that their lips were only inches apart. He could smell the sweet scent of strawberries and cream that drove him out of his mind whenever she was nea...
