Page 96 of The Huntsman's Heart
My poor baby. He’s been such a good boy, waiting so long.
I take his cock with my other hand as I stroke my fingers into him and listen to him moan.
“You’ve done so well, baby.”
Raban gasps as I curl my fingers and find that pleasure spot within him.
“Did you like tasting all of us?”
He whimpers. His cock throbs in my hand. “I loved it. You always know what I need, princess.”
“You always need exactly what I need from you, so that is easy.” I smile. “Now let me have your pleasure. I know you want to give it to me.”
“Yes.” He sighs. “Always.”
It takes only a few moments to bring him to a shuddering mess, my fingers deep inside him.
Alaric collapses into the arms of Corvin and Évandre as I milk the last of the pleasure from Raban, watching the rapturous look on his face as I gather the seed and let him lick it from my fingers. Then I curl up in Alaric’s arms, with my sweet boy gathered against my chest, and for the first time since leaving the woods, I find peace and rest.
Guinevere
I thought it would feel good to walk into the Great Hall of Blackthorn victorious, head held high. All I feel is slightly numb as Alaric yanks the strings of my corset tight. I dismissed the maid, used to dressing myself and unwilling to let her see me like this. So changed.
When I glance up at reflection all I notice are the subtle ways I no longer look like me. The dark circles beneath my eyes that were never there before, the greenish gray tint to my skin.
I turn away. “Come, let us get this over with.”
“Are you certain you do not want your maid to do your hair?” Alaric asks.
“No need.” I head for the door and he follows.
He looks good dressed in fine blue silk with flowing sleeves and a belt of gold, with his hair pulled back and tied into a knot at the base of his neck. Like the prince he once was. Just as if my entire world has not changed, I stand at the door and wait for the herald to announce me before I stride through the room, ignoring the whispers and the stares, making my way between the rectangle of chairs, straight for the dais where my father’s throne sits empty. I do not sit, though. Rather, I stand looking down at my stepmother who waits before the throne, bound hand and foot. Her hair is loose and flows down her back. There is barely any color left. Her feet are bare. Her face is sunken, wrinkled, and patchy; she looks as if she has aged thirty years in one day. She glares at me as I lift my hands to quiet the waiting lords and ladies.
Alaric takes his place at my right-hand side, a foot back from where I stand, waiting silently.
“My lords, I’ve asked you to join me today to cast judgement on one who until recently sat on the throne but failed to serve the people of Erenvold.”
Melantha scoffs, but the guard stationed with her folds his arms menacingly, and she holds her tongue.
“Let me begin by outlining the case against her, and then I will leave it to you to decide her fate.”
Old Lord Gruyer seated at the front left clears his throat. “Highness, may I ask why you do not simply pass judgement yourself as is the usual custom?”
“It is the custom for the king or queen, but I have not been crowned.”
I wait in case they have more questions, but when the silence stretches on, I continue. “The first charge is that Melantha conspired to have me killed in order to usurp the throne. Sir Alaric?”
He steps forward.
“Please recount the orders given to you by the false queen as my father lay dying.”
“She ordered me to take you into the woods and ensure you did not return.”
I pause to give the lords a chance to take this in. “And what did you interpret that to mean?”
“That she wanted you dead.”
I dismiss him and look around at the nobles gathered before me. “I can offer no proof, but it’s my belief that she also poisoned my father the king in order to gain power.”
