The Ward Ch 11

***

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!"

"For whom? Lord Bard and his fiancé are alive and unharmed," Stephan pointed out.

Immensely distressed, Lucille finally turned to him, her face red with fury. "The moment you feel threatened, you react with drastic, reckless measures!"

"Have I no cause to feel threatened?"

"You're not entitled to feel threatened!" Lucille snapped. "You guaranteed this would end if I married!"

"That was before I fell in love with you," he said frankly, unmoved by her outburst. "Attracting the attentions of the King's lead Knight is a serious and I cannot disregard it."

Giving up on her dress, Lucille dragged her long cloak about herself, collected her boots and rushed to the door. The second she hauled it open, it slammed shut in her face and she spun to face Stephan looming over her.

His green eyes were steadfast on her flushed, panting face. "What appointments do you have today?"

"None of your damned business!" she sneered, feeling the ache in her neck from craning to glare at his height.

Stephan leaned down so his mouth brushed her temple, staring fixedly over her head at the door. "Everything to do with you, is my business. Am I understood?"

Alarmed, Lucille nodded, recognising the dangerous twist their arrangement had taken.

Stephan backed off to see her face. "What appointments do you have today?"

"I..." Lucille swallowed, suddenly afraid of him. "I'm meeting with... I'm re-decorating my guest parlours. I'm reviewing the tapestries."

"What else?" he purred. "

Who

else?"

"I have afternoon tea with Lady Cindy at the Plume Gallery," she said hurriedly.

"And?"

"A-And nothing," she uttered.

Stephan's stare was terrifying. Lucille didn't look away, though she blinked back tears.

Finally, he relaxed and jerked his head to the bed. "Sit. You're in complete disarray. I will tie your dress and lace your boots." He smiled wryly when she rushed by, eager to escape his threatening stance. "You must maintain appearances, after all."

****

Alice laughed, covering her face. "I cannot!"

Grinning, Simon nimbly climbed down the bedpost to settle on her bed. "He sleeps so deeply, he'll never know. Well, not until dusk," he admitted.

"He has visited me in the day," Alice swallowed nervously. "And it is almost dusk. I don't want to cross him."

"If he was a danger to you, you would know it by now," he said seriously. "I only feared him before I knew him."

Alice looked down at her hands, wringing them. "He said he might...might teach me to read," she mumbled quietly, wincing a little.

"Why are you embarrassed to say so?"

"Because I'm a peasant, it's not proper that I'm learned," she blurted, still looking down. "And if I displease him..."

"If he retracts the offer, I will teach you," Simon offered, straightening with slight pride. "He helped my initial learning, but I mostly taught myself in isolation."

"But you're like him," she answered, her eyes dropping again. "Different."

Simon shrugged impatiently. "You are healed. I am bored. Come to the forest with me."

Alice was terrified. "T-The forest with you? Alone? Why?"

Simon's pale cheeks lightly flushed with anger as he took her meaning. "You fear me?"

"I fear the woods," she said, focusing on her interlinked fingers. "I thought we might stay on the grounds. The gardens."

Simon pursed his lips. "I can protect you just as readily as Aleksis."

Alice looked up and gasped, face-to-face with Simon, nimbly crouched before her. "I..."

She broke off when he kissed her softly. Alice's eyes were wide with surprise, thankful that Simon's were closed, and she wasn't staring into their confronting, molten depths. Her body warmly responded, parts of her that she thought might never want touched again suddenly heated, wanting.

Simon slowly moved back; his eyes very dark. He blinked, taking in the moment, wondering at the different sensation reverberating through him, similar to when he'd watched Edmund mount Sage in the field. A mix of sexual arousal and hunger. Bloodlust. He swiftly retreated to the bed's end.

Alice was mortified that she was furiously blushing.

Simon broke the tension with a laugh. "I have never kissed a girl before."

"I wish I were that innocent," Alice glumly replied.

Simon made a dismissive gesture. "I don't care," he scoffed. "Our world has a ludicrous double-standard with matters of virtue. I worked in a noble household; I've seen things." He tilted his head, considering her. "I liked kissing you."

"Oh," Alice said awkwardly.

Simon shrugged, leaving the bed, a strange surge lingering from the feel of their lips together. "It is probably better I am alone. I don't know..." he trailed off uncomfortably. "I won't let Aleksis be right about me."

He left her, gentling closing the door behind. He passed down the corridor quickly, not noticing Aleksis against the wall, concealed in shadow.

"So, it's time," Aleksis murmured to himself.

***

Upon entering her home, Lucille was urgently approached by a porter.

"My lady," he briskly bowed. "You have a visitor. Lord Dacre is waiting in the blue lounge."

Lucille choked. "A-At this hour? W-When did he arrive?"

The man cast his eyes upward. "Before midnight. We offered him a guest chamber to rest, but he declined. If I may say, my lady, he appeared out of sorts."

"Thank you," Lucille muttered, looking down at her evening gown with dismay. "Do not disturb him with news of my arrival. I will change attire and find him myself."

"Very well," the man bowed, looking worried.

Lucille wasted no time changing into a sleek navy gown, shushing her maid's fretful remarks about her outing. She washed her face and allowed Marie to tidy her hair, only sparing a brief glance at her reflection on the way out.

When she entered the lounge, she found Alexander standing stiffly before the window, observing the budding sunrise, his riding gloves clenched in his hands at his back.

"I hope your evening was eventful?" he drawled, before turning. His hair was dishevelled from a long, hard ride. His fine clothes lightly dusted. Despite an obvious fatigue, his posture was firm, and his dark eyes were keen on her face.

"M-My Lord," Lucille managed, forgetting her curtsy. "Your visit at this hour is unexpected."

"I'm sure it is," he replied, slowly walking forward. "My curiosity could not wait, though I suppose it was destined to, given your overnight absence."

"Curiosity?" Lucille repeated, walking to pour herself a glass of water, also distancing herself. Observing his coldness, she reconsidered asking for his help.

Alexander continued to watch her, his penetrating gaze very unsettling. He took a deep breath and went straight to the matter on his mind. "Are you having an affair with a member of the Guard?"

Lucille paled. "That depends on what you mean by 'affair'," she said faintly.

Alexander crossed the room in a flash and seized her shoulders. "Don't toy with me, Lucille," he said though his teeth. "Answer."

Confronted with Alexander's sudden rage, Lucille struggled to find her voice. "Yes," she whispered.

He released her as if she was poisonous and turned away, placing his fists on the table, leaning on them. "I don't know what to say. I suppose you tried to warn me, and like a fool, I didn't listen." He looked at her; rage and disgust on his face. "But I had to hear it from you."

Composing himself, he picked up his gloves with a smirk. "I suppose you could be congratulated upon being the first to prove my instincts vastly incorrect. No small feat." He bowed mockingly and strode to the door.

Lucille stood shaking, his cutting words setting in. As he reached for the handle, she forced herself to speak. "That isn't all of it, my Lord."

Alexander's fingers twisted on the knob; his anger urging him to leave, his punishing desire to know more stayed his hand. Lucille's soft voice interrupted his conflicting thoughts.

"You've come this far and waited long enough to see me. You should know the tale in full."

"Could it be more distasteful than what I know already?"

Lucille wrung her hands. She had meant to take time to choose her words for this conversation, but she wouldn't get another opportunity.

"Yes," she admitted. "I am...not...I didn't..." she struggled and took a deep breath, praying not to burst into tears. "I was compelled to enter the arrangement. I meant to ask your aid to extricate myself."

"You whored to conceal a crime?" Alexander's lip curled into a sneer of contempt. "Your estate must be poorly managed. Most nobles can afford to monetarily pay off the Guard."

Lucille's breath caught at the pain of the insult. Facing his confronting hatred, she wasn't willing to show any more vulnerability. She was already exhausted and had no fight left. She wanted to be alone, away from his searing judgement, where she could break down in peace.

Alexander observed the shock on her face, like he'd slapped her, then watched her eyes fill with pain. Even with his suspicions justified, she seemed taken aback by his accusation. But there was no protest, wailing or fainting; none of the dramatic display he'd expect from a conniving woman.

Lucille quickly bowed her head and curtsied so he wouldn't see tears spill over her cheeks. "Please accept my apologies for wasting your time," she said huskily. "Goodbye, my Lord."

Alexander seized her arm when she tried to pass him. "Lucille, look at me."

"No!"

"Lucille," he said firmly, drawing her close, his anger quickly dissolving. "Look at me."

"I can't! Let me go!" she sniffed, horrified he would see her crying.

"No," he said gently, his fingers sliding through her hair to turn her face up and failing, content to let her hide. "I should have heard you out before drawing conclusions. I'm sorry for my judgement. Will you speak with me?"

Lucille shook her head, but she couldn't pull free, and she couldn't look at him. Humiliated, she buried her face in his coat and sobbed, wishing she could disappear into the floor.

Alexander walked them to a nearby sofa, holding her carefully when she tried to wriggle away. "Be at ease," he murmured, feeling two kinds of fear; that he was being a fool, or she was truly a victim. Either prospect was difficult to stomach.