***
Sage felt heavy and uncomfortably hot. Lord Habern, her uncle, stood by her whispering to another man.
"Any permanency?"
"No. She's recovered quickly."
Peeking under her lashes, Sage noted her Uncle's companion was older with long, silver hair. "The council has commenced enquiries. Explaining the charred bodies will be difficult..."
"Those idiot boys received what they deserved, Clide."
"Those 'idiot boys' come from powerful families, Habern."
"Not as powerful as mine."
"On that, we can agree," Clide muttered, his eyes on Sage. "She's the spitting image of Lydia, but far more compelling. How could you permit her betrothal to Bard?"
"Any attempt to force her hand would be catastrophic. I've lost enough time with her absence and won't turn her against me now."
"Lydia wed a mortal," Clide said pointedly. "She turned her back on our protections and then-"
"She travelled without escort, and I won't entertain the notion that magic would have changed the outcome," Habern said angrily. "I have more pressing problems than tragedies of the past. My servants were infiltrated and now Sage accosted-"
"Hasten the nuptials," Clide interrupted. "Until they are spoken, she is a target. Witches won't respect a mere engagement when there is power to be gained." He cleared this throat. "And, of course, you don't want Lord Bard's death on your conscience. He is a good man; he went to war for us."
"The past, again, always about the past," Habern complained. He felt Sage's brow and withdrew with a frustrated sigh. "She's still burning."
"It won't last," Clide said. "We should invite the Council to interview Sage directly."
"She's in no state to be questioned!"
"They will rightfully assume we are hiding something," Clide argued. "How do you think this will proceed if we delay until
you
decide she is presentable?"
Habern's mouth set. "She's not ready."
Clide sighed. "You just discovered Lydia's child and you want to protect her, that is understandable. But she is too unique, Habern. A desirable power is one thing, but to be considered dangerous is very different."
Staring at Sage, Habern didn't respond.
"Mortals dread what they do not understand. Witches have the same fear. It won't matter that she's one of us, they will dispose of any threat."
"I have strong allies."
"Oh, by all means, drag us through a civil war that draws the attention of the King, so we can all perish together," Clide quietly snapped, packing his supplies. "Your stubbornness won't serve you in this matter. Invite the council, and see she is married the moment she can stand on two feet."
Clide departed, and Sage's eyes fluttered open to find Habern ruefully watching her.
"Did you enjoy our conversation, niece?" Habern asked.
"Edmund?" Sage said hoarsely.
"Is alive and impatient to see you, but I won't allow it."
"What happened?"
Habern tilted his head, his eyes sharp. "From what I was told, you evoked a potent fire spell that we've only read in chronicles. Very old magic."
"I didn't cast."
"No, you simply willed it to reality," he said gravely. "Did you have no awareness of what you were doing?"
"They were mocking me, and Edmund was... he was dying," Sage recalled, her eyes filled with tears. "I was going to lose him, and I couldn't bear it."
Habern considered his next words. "We are capable by our bloodlines," he said slowly. "But a witch must be guided to uncover their abilities, to be enabled. Through teaching we become practiced in our crafts, otherwise is little hope of discovering our capability. Who was your teacher, Sage?"
Sage's eyes were downcast.
Habern watched her speculatively. "Since much of the ancient learnings were lost in the purge, I must assume your teacher is from the old times, long before the likes of myself and your mother. Which means they either mastered the spellwork for eternal preservation, or they are something else entirely."
Sage's face tensed stubbornly. "I wasn't taught to achieve... what happened. It just happened."
"Do you deny having a mentor?"
She sighed.
"I am trying to protect you," Habern said gently. "But that is difficult with this mystery. I am not the only one asking questions." He lightly patted her hand. "Rest and think about it."
***
Lucille gasped, straddling Stephan's face on all fours. "S-Stephan! Please!"
Stephan chuckled against her juicy flesh, his tongue pressed through her pussy, wringing another moan of despair from her. "Give in, Lucille." His hands smoothed up her thighs to close around her buttocks, pressing her close when she tried to distance. "Come in my mouth."
Panting with exhaustion, Lucille tried to hold out, then feeling the moment her thighs trembled before she climaxed, unable to conceal it.
"Mmm," Stephan breathed, hungrily fixing his mouth to the pulsing area, his tongue searching for her swollen nub, mercilessly rubbing.
Lucille cried out again, arching, though Stephan's hold kept his mouth connected until she was completely spent. Finally, she was released onto her back where she lay, red-faced and panting.
Stephan was on top of her, his mouth demanding kisses. She tasted her pleasure in his kiss, his tongue coated in her sweet scent. He cupped her breasts, moved up and smoothly slid inside her, his cock stretching her pussy wide.
Still sensitive from her release, Lucille gasped into his mouth, his girth stimulating her sensitive nub again.
Stephan picked up a rhythm, the strength of his thrust making her whimper. He was breathless, panting, pulling her hair until her face turned up, his tongue tracing her ear. Then he sheathed himself fully, slightly bucking, pumping cum into her.
Lucille exhaled with relief when he withdrew, his grip on her hair relaxed. She pulled the sheet up and turned onto her side, watching the wall.
Stephan went to his desk, downing a glass of water and pouring another. When he sat on the side of the bed to offer it, Lucille turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
"You should drink," he smiled down at her.
Lucille ignored him.
Stephan put the glass down and joined her in the bed, lying close. After admiring her beauty for a time, he narrowed his eyes at Lucille's face. "Something is awry, my love."
Lucille's teeth set. "Don't call me that."
"I have good instincts, perhaps not the reputable kind of your suitor," he said softly. "But I recognise a change in your demeanour. Your eyes are alert and scheming."
"Perhaps that is to be expected from a blackmailed woman," Lucille shot back, her blood running cold that Stephan might realise her plans.
"Perhaps," he said, his fingertips trailing down her collarbone and between her breasts. He cupped one, rubbing the nipple to a budding peak. "I'll never let you go, Lucille." She couldn't know he had already taken measures to ensure this.
Lucille ignored him, until he rolled on top of her and cupped her face, the intimate position more intimidating than affectionate.
"I've no illusions about your regard for me," he said huskily, brushing his lips across hers. "But you can't deny there are moments you enjoy."
"When I pretend you are someone else?" she snarled. "Certainly."
Stephen smugly considered the strength in his arms, the way his size practically enveloped her slender figure. "I'm a good deal taller than any of your suitors."
"I wouldn't say 'good deal'," Lucille ground out, wriggling. "You've done your worst. Release me."
"My worst?" he echoed, not moving. "Was that when you moaned with pleasure, impaled on my cock?"
"Release me! I have appointments today!" she cried angrily.
Laughing, he left the bed to sit at his desk, still naked. He considered a small paper pile.
"So many executions this season, undoubtedly some innocents caught up in the fray," he said, his eyes slyly turning back to Lucille as she tugged the blanket to shield herself from him. "If only someone with influence were willing to be friendlier to their judge," he sighed.
Lucille was shaking. "Does your despicable corruption have no limits?"
"Not where you are concerned."
"Well, my friendliness toward you has limits beyond my control," she said quietly. "What more would you ask of me?"
Stephan's eyes sharpened, and Lucille knew she would dislike his next words.
"You know I'm of noble blood," he murmured, tapping the chain on his neck. "It means a union between us would not necessarily be prohibited. Heavily frowned upon, but not illegal-"
"Y-You are not daring to suggest..." Lucille broke off, sickened.
"We would have to leave this region for a while," he speculated. "The scandal would not blow over in this town. But we could comfortably settle elsewhere, as shamed nobility oft does, following a severe indiscretion."
"Or serious criminality!" Lucille scrambled from the bed. "I cannot express the hatred I feel for you!"
"And you wouldn't be the first woman to marry a man she hated," Stephan grinned, admiring her passionate rage.
"No. What would society think? No!" Lucille shook her head resolutely, trying to shake the terrible image from her mind; trapped to Stephan forever, his official property, her reputation in tatters. The thought alone was so unbearable she could burst into tears. "No. Never.
Never!
Do you hear me?"
Stephan calmly watched as she snatched her dress from the ground.
"You promised not to compromise my reputation!" she said hotly, fighting to keep her voice level, her shaking fingers failing to link the ribbons through her corset. "Everything we agreed...! You are turning this into a disaster. As if this weren't a disaster from the beginning!"
