Daemon And Sunny Ch 06

She wasn't in the

saeda

. Daemon eyed the maidservant who had informed him of this, still caught in her respectful bow. "What do you mean, she isn't here? She's always here at this time!"

"I do not know, Majesty. I'm sorry. She has not returned from the Imperial University, yet."

"Well, is she still there?" he asked, feeling his heart thump unevenly in his chest. After this morning's argument, he'd done a lot of thinking, though very little had been resolved in his mind. Some things, yes, but little else of his confusion.

"I will go check, Your Majesty." Another bow, and the woman hurried away.

Daemon looked around the grandly decorated foyer of the Consort's suite, then headed up the stairs with a sigh, retreating to Sunny's private study. Gilded artworks and costly fabrics weren't his Sunny. Datacrystals and reference tomes were. Entering the room, he crossed to her chair and dropped into it, eyeing the scattering of rods and pads on the surface of her desk. Idly picking one up, he turned the transparent rod over and over in his fingers, thinking.

How angry was she, this morning? Angry...angry enough to leave me? She knows she isn't a slave. She's within the reach of the Pax Imperium; there are no slaves. All she'd have to do was assert her legal rights, and I'd have no way to keep her here. Astor...please let her not have left me!

At first, he'd been overwhelmed by his lusts for her, lusts which hadn't been roused by any other woman with any real strength for nearly a year. He'd hidden it from everyone, performing almost mechanically when necessary, but Daemon's libido had slowly been dying out, leaving him disinterested in sex. Still capable of performing, thank Astor, but unable to summon his prior levels of enthusiasm.

Until Sunny. She'd revitalized something within him that was as necessary to an Astorran male's sense of sexuality as religious rites were to a Craidan's. But the fear of her abandoning him had nothing to do with the prospect of a future with little true desire. No, the anxiety was entirely placed in his heart.

I did right, instinctively naming her Consort. She's enslaved my soddering heart.

Tapping the crystal against the blotter on her desk, he wondered what he should do about that. She was funny, vivacious, intelligent, beautiful, audacious, witty, knowledgeable, sexy...just hearing her voice today in Council had made him ache with two needs: the hardening of his loins, and the desire to just sit and listen to her forever.

What he wanted most of all, Daemon acknowledged ruefully, was to be able to listen to her forever. Eventually his libido would fade—hopefully at the correct age, somewhere in his seventies—and when it did, well, modern medicine ensured that most people lived to see a healthy centennial birthing-day. That left roughly thirty years of...what? Without sex, a relationship had to rely upon other values. Compatibility, trust, a shared sense of humor, intellectual stimulation...they were compatible, they shared the same sense of humor, she intellectually stimulated him—soddering hell, she challenged his mind!

Yes, she challenges my authority and my decisions, but in a way that opens my eyes to the way these worlds

should

be run, under the hand of a caring, competent leader.

That was one of the other reasons why he needed her. Daemon hadn't expected to be thrust into the position of king. He was beginning to enjoy the work, knowing he had the power to make wise, helpful decisions, but he wasn't trained for these decisions. Not as fully as his brother Trevid had been. Daemon had been given a certain amount of training in statesmanship, but only as a contingency. He wasn't supposed to inherit the throne through the deaths of his father and brother, who should have lived to a ripe old retirement age, allowing a nice, orderly succession to the throne of Trevid's firstborn daughter or son. Modern medicine could take care of almost any ailment, after all...save for a snapped neck, of course. Or a badly trampled body.

He pushed away those thoughts. His most important problem was his quarrel with Sunny, and how to repair the rift between them, not his lingering questions over his family's misfortunes.

She wants a relationship of equals. Yet she's not royal, nor even noble. The only way we could have a relationship of equals is if she were to be my Queen, and Astorran law is very clear on that point: royalty must marry either royalty or nobility.

...

Am I, or am I not the king? Can I not just repeal the silly law?

he wondered suddenly.

Well, I'd probably have to get my Council to ratify it; without their support, it'd be a hard battle against a millenia of tradition. Or...or I

could

have her ennobled.

Now there's an idea.

Yes, that would be the easiest way, really, even though I'd have to get five nobles to agree to the elevation. No fighting against tradition, laws, or their ratifiers. I just have to explain to her that I cannot marry her unless she's nobility, then tell her I'm going to see that she's made a noble, and...and beg her to be my Queen.

His heart thudded even as his mind squirmed.

Yes, beg

, Daemon told the more prideful parts of himself, silently ordering them to sodder off.

We're compatible on so many levels, I cannot allow her to slip through my fingers. Assuming she hasn't already fled...

Armon bustled into Sunny's study, distracting Daemon from that glum thought. The eunuch beamed a smile at him. "Worried about our sweet Sunny's little delay, are we, Your Majesty?"

"Your sense of humor might get you beheaded, Armon," Daemon groused, giving him a dark look. The eunuch didn't even bat an eyelash at his king. Of course, that would've gotten him beheaded, too; the eunuchs of the

saeda

were forbidden to flirt with their royal employers.

"Well, it turns out there was a hoverball game at the University stadium, and there was a bit of a scrum, accusations of cheating on both sides, a bit of violence among the fans, a number of people got hurt, and the campus security had to put a ban on anyone leaving until the mess was sorted out. The city's peacekeepers have enforced the ruling, too. I've managed to get them to authorize her departure, however; the hoverlimo's finally on the way, and she'll be here within fifteen minutes." Dropping into the chair placed at the end of the desk, Armon folded his hands together and eyed his king. "So...how badly are you missing her, right now?"

Daemon bit back a retort for the other man to mind his own business. As Chief Eunuch, it was Armon's job to counsel his king. Instead, he sighed roughly. "Badly."

"Well, you shouldn't have been an idiot, earlier—and I say that with respect, Your Majesty."

Suppressing a groan, Daemon eyed the other man. "She told you about our quarrel?"

"She muttered something about it, yes. Along with several uncomplimentary names, and dire grumbles about leaving this planet and you behind. But they were just grumblings," Armon reassured him blithely. "By the time she was ready to go to class, she wasn't angry with you anymore. Trust me, I know the way a woman thinks. You have to give them time to calm down; it's the way the adrenaline spikes in their bodies, slower to build than a man's, but longer-lasting in nature. Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong between the two of you, and we'll see if I can't patch things up for you."

"You can't work your magic on this one, Chief Eunuch," Daemon told the other man. "I took her on as a slave, as you know, because I didn't want her to leave before I was through enjoying her, but now...now I'm the one who's enslaved. I don't want her to leave me, but I want her to be happy with me. I cannot force her to be happy, and if I try to make her promise to not leave me...it's just a different form of slavery, and she's right about that. I want..."

"You want...?" Armon prompted him as he fell silent.

It was awkward, voicing these words to another soul. "I want to marry her, Armon. But she's not a noble. She's not royal. Either I have to get the stupid law repealed, or I have to find a way to ennoble her."

"Hmm, getting the required five nobles to agree to make your Consort a noble will be very difficult, Your Majesty," Armon murmured pensively, lacing his fingers together and resting tips of his forefingers against his lips. "The problem is, the Marriage Mart is coming up, and every noble within a parsec will want to parade their eligible females in front of you. They certainly won't want the one woman who's captured your heart to be ennobled so that you can marry her, instead of some more politically advantageous arrangement. Hell, we even have a self-invited queen from outside the Imperium who's insisting on showing up for a State Visit that is also coincidentally just in time for the Formal Familial Ball."

"Which queen?" Daemon asked idly, his thoughts circling back to the idea of repealing the idiotic, inbred law.

"Queen Astrida of Ruyika."

Daemon's instincts sharpened.

That woman is coming here, during the Marriage Mart Ball, as Armon so astutely puts it? Perhaps Sunny's instincts are right. Perhaps Her Majesty thinks she'll be able to press a marriage alliance as well as a favored-trade-status treaty between our realms. It would certainly be one way of joining the Imperium without needing an Emperor and Empress on the throne...

Sighing heavily, Daemon ran his fingers through his hair, scraping his fingerlength bangs back from his brow for a moment. Glancing at him, Armon narrowed his eyes, making Daemon arch a brow in enquiry. Armon voiced his thoughts. "Majesty...I just noticed the marks on your skin, at your hairline. Are you alright?"

"—What, the reverse-freckles? I'm fine. Leastwise, the medbox couldn't find anything wrong with me," he added. That was another matter, a mystery Daemon had yet to solve. "It happened the morning after I joined with Sunny. The pattern is similar to hers, too, save that mine spiral the other way around my arms and legs, and there's a bit less on the chest for me...but she doesn't know how she got hers, and she doesn't know how she passed it on to me. Have you ever heard of an ailment that does this? Some sort of virus? Bacteria? ...Fungus?"

The Chief Eunuch shook his head slowly, but the look in his narrowed, speculative eyes was too thoughtful. Daemon drew in a breath to ask what he was thinking. Something beeped. Armon jumped, smiled sheepishly, and fussed in the pockets of his tunic, pulling out a communicator. He read the screen and smiled more broadly. "Ah, they've arrived. She'll be up here in three or so minutes. I guess traffic was really light, for her to arrive so fast."

"Out. And don't let her know I'm in here, but tell her there's a present waiting for her in her bedchamber," Daemon ordered, rising and shooing the other man out of the office. Thoughts of his freckles vanished, as a different idea took shape in his mind. Grinning at his sovereign, Armon complied.

Removing himself to Sunny's bedroom, Daemon quickly stripped off the long-sleeved tunic, trousers, boots and undergarments he had donned this morning. Crawling onto her bed, he arranged himself so that he knelt facing the foot of the broad, velvet-draped mattress, hands clasped behind his back and knees parted. His plan had his flesh hardening with hope; the sound of her voice as she entered the upper floor made his manhood twitch and harden further with anticipation.

"...A present?" he heard her ask outside in the corridor. "For me? In my bedroom? What is it?"

"You'll see!" Armon's lilting voice teased, before he clapped his hands and ordered all the servants and guards that had accompanied her out of the Consort's suite. A moment later, Sunny entered the chamber, and stopped, eyeing the naked king kneeling on her bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your slave. Where else should I be?" Daemon returned, hoping his ploy would work.

Her narrowed eyes and the grim line of her mouth didn't give him much hope. Removing her shoulder bag, she slung it into a chair and planted her hands on her satin-clad hips. "Slaves cannot own other slaves, Daemon."

"I free you from all bonds and responsibilities," he murmured, heart pounding in his chest as her eyes widened. Shifting his stance, Daemon climbed down from the bed, moving on hands and knees across the carpet as he literally crawled up to her. Lowering his head, muscles flexing and tensing, he brushed a kiss on the top of her foot, where the cut of her footwear bared her stocking-clad flesh. "And I enslave myself to you."

The breath left her body. Sunny stared down at him in shock, not expecting this. The sight of such a gorgeous, muscular man crawling to her feet, abasing himself gracefully, was a sensual image that she knew would stay burned in her memory for its sheer eroticism. But this...! He freed her from her status in his mind as a slave, freed her even from her position as Consort and Councillor if she read his words right, and then in practically the same breath, vowed to be

her

slave?

The way he continued kissing her feet, shifting gracefully from one to the other, worshipping her through her tights, distracted her. Needing to sit down, Sunny shuffled out from under his mouth, careful to not step on his fingers. As soon as she was free, she crossed to the bed and sat on its edge.

He watched her almost warily, wondering what she might do, then crept back to her feet and started kissing them again. Daringly, he started kissing his way up her shins, though not quite to her knees. Not yet. As he did so, Daemon spoke, putting his feelings into words. His words were all he had left to chain her to him, the most gossamer of bonds. He prayed silently to Astor that they would be strong enough.

"All I knew, back when I met you, Sunny, was that I wanted you. I wanted you as I had not wanted any woman in more than a year. An Astorran's sexuality is like a blazing fire...and mine had started to die down, to bank itself, though it shouldn't have done so for another forty or fifty years. But then you were given to me, so proud, so regal, a visiting queen. You ignored the subjugations they tried to force upon you, not wanting to be there, but determined to endure with dignity. I saw much in you that I felt within myself, for I didn't want to be there, either, yet I had to be. I would've set you free, save that the Ruyikans would have known you were untouched, and I didn't want to risk offending them my first day on the job, so to speak.

"And then I saw you in private, and you roused my passions, and I knew I had to have you—and when you fought me, bold and breathtaking, I knew I had to keep you." Now he kissed her knees between words, nuzzling his mouth under the hemline of her gown. "You roused more in me than just the desires I thought had ebbed into nothing more than a mechanical need, like eating or sleeping. You engaged my mind...and you ensnared my heart. I vowed I would set you free the day you proved that I was your slave, and not the other way around...because I knew even then that you had already ensnared me, and could bend me to your will.

"So I free you, Sunny. From slavery, from concubinage, from counselling me, from anything you do not want to do...and I enslave myself to you. Because I find I cannot live without you in my life," he told her, sliding his palms up her calves, caressing her through her tights. "Where you go, I will go."

Flabbergasted. That was how she felt. Sunny's heart twinged at his soft-spoken confessions. His final words gave her something to grab onto. "But...but your kingdom—if I leave Astorra, how will you rule?"

That made him snort with laughter. Looking up at her, Daemon grinned, his aquamarine eyes dancing with humor. "Ever heard of nullspace communications, Sunny? I can teleconference with my Council from just about anywhere in the civilized galaxy, and even hold vid-Courts, if need be."

His smile faded into something too serious for laughter as he held her gaze.

"...I just know I don't want to be without you. I want...I want to marry you, even though there's that stupid law between us. You complete me, Sunny," Daemon confessed, hands tightening slightly on her knees. "With you, I'm a better man, and a better ruler. You challenge my mind, and make me think, and give me a different perspective on life. You make me laugh...and I want to make you laugh. I want to be a source of inspiration for you, too, as you are for me. I want to argue with you, for the stimulation of our two minds...and I really want to be able to make up with you afterwards, whenever we quarrel."

Sliding his hands up her skirt—on the outside, not underneath—Daemon caught her hands with his, lacing their fingers together.

"I want you to be my Queen, my equal...and if it takes me abasing myself to convince you, that is what I am willing to do. So I will enslave myself to you for the next two weeks, obedient to your schedule and your whim, so that everything will be equal once again between us," he told her. "That is my present to you, Sundrea Dannonee. All I beg is that you let me stay with you that long, so I can prove my love for you. Please."

Tears prickled in her eyes. His pleading was unexpected. It was also both welcome and embarrassing, in a way. She didn't want him to abase himself for her; she just wanted to be his equal. And yet there was some symmetry in his request. If he really was sincere, if this wasn't a ploy to get her to stay...he'd really obey. Sniffing a little, blinking hard, Sunny freed her hands. "On the bed, slave."

He blinked as well, then scrambled to obey. Resuming his original kneeling position, Daemon reviewed that look in her eyes, examining it in his mind.

Was she really moved by my words? Is she going to stay? What is she going to order me to do?

For her part, Sunny was torn between ordering him to wait on her hand and foot for the next few days—to give him, a privileged royal son a taste of what it was like to be one of his subjects, caught under the whims of those more powerful than himself—and being very careful about not diminishing his status in the eyes of anyone else. There were already rumors running rampant around the capitol of how the Consort of the new Astorran King had him wrapped around her little finger. Some of her classmates had even dared to ask her about it, during lulls in the roundtable lectures she was attending. She'd quelled them with a look and a blunt statement that she was there to study the impact of the Matrix upon the Emperors and Empresses of the Imperium, and that their off-topic questions were detracting from precious classtime.

...Yes, I'll have a delicate balance to tread

, she knew.

Moreover, I have to be careful how I treat him, so that it's no worse than he treated me. Equals, on both sides of our relationship. In how we treat each other, and how we perceive each other.

He was waiting for her instructions. Eyeing the submissive way he knelt on the bed behind her, Sunny felt a rush of desire within her. Standing and facing the bed, she spread her arms. "Undress me."

"As my mistress commands," Daemon murmured huskily, aroused by the demand. He'd made the conscious choice to put himself into her hands, under her control, and now he found it was erotic to give up all control of where their activities were headed. Crawling up to her, he began unbuttoning her gown. Deliberately, he caressed her curves through the silky material as he worked, seeking to arouse her as well as undress her. By the time he peeled back the inner panel of her gown, her nipples had beaded in the cups of her bra.

Sliding the dress from her shoulders, Daemon swayed forward, nudging one of those turgid peaks with his mouth, nipping softly at it. His fingers unclasped the support garment, caressing it off of her body as he recaptured the flesh he had just bared. Her own hands buried themselves in his black mane a moment later, kneading his scalp as the steady rate of her breathing faltered, shuddered. Hands stroking down her back, Daemon deftly inserted them beneath the waistband of her tights, pushing them down over her hips.