Page 46 of Winter Queen
It takes all my willpower not to protest. Am I really letting three of my guys go into danger without me? After all our adventures on Earth – and a few assassination attempts here in the Realm – I feel like they won’t be safe without me, just like I won’t be safe without them. Splitting up seems like a bad idea.
* * *
Beira lookslike she’s getting worse, not better. Her cheeks are sunken in and her eyes are only half open while she listens to me. At one point, she takes my hand, but even that movement seems too much for her.
As soon as I’ve updated her on what’s about to happen, I leave. She didn’t have anything to say, and that scares me. It either means that everything we’re planning is good, or, more likely, that she didn’t have the energy to come up with improvements to our plans.
Crispin stays with her, making sure that there are no ailments affecting her body in addition to the severe lack of magic. He said something about her immune system being weakened by lying in bed for so long, but I trust him to do all he can for her.
From tonight, I’ll have to be worried for five people rather than my current two: Beira, my father, Storm, Frost and Arc.
Luckily, they all know what my dad looks like, so hopefully they’re going to be able to bring him home. Even if they aren’t able to disturb the Morrigan’s plans in other ways, that alone would be success enough for me.
I push the thoughts of my father far away. I can’t dwell on his fate just now. I need to be strong. As silly as it seems to throw a ball in times of war, I can see why we’re doing it. Gods aren’t like humans and Guardians. They’re not as concerned with the affairs of others, and far more interested in their own pleasures.
Tamara told me how Beira often entertains them with pretty Guardians, letting them have some fun before she starts negotiations with them. That way, their physical tastes are already sated and they’ll be happier than they were before. It makes getting what she wants easier.
I have no intention of providing prostitutes tonight though. That’s really not compatible with my morals. Once again, I’m reminded that I grew up in a very different place from the Realms. Sex is far more natural here, and it’s not unusual to see some of the Palace Guardians in various stages of pleasure, their bodies entwined, others openly watching. It’s not that I’m prude, but it takes some time getting used to. When I meet one of my guys and we have some time… well, we usually seek out an empty room, we don’t do it in the corridors. I don’t think that will change either. I prefer them for myself. Others aren’t allowed to see them. Not their good bits, anyway. It’s okay for others to see their faces. That’s kind of unavoidable.
I stop by the kitchens, getting myself a cinnamon bun for lunch. Everyone is busy preparing for tonight’s feast, so I leave them be and head to my own chambers. The new ones, since I destroyed my old rooms. Through some kind of magic, they’ve managed to make them look almost the same. Even the clothes in my wardrobe are the same.
Not quite sure what to do, I sit down on my soft bed. Everybody else is busy, but here I am, sitting alone in my bedroom. I could go to my mother’s study and look at more papers, but I might do that once my Guardians have left, to distract myself. Maybe I should talk to Flora, find out more about the Spring Realm? No, I can do that tonight, especially if I need to look busy and important. I don’t want the visiting Gods to think that I’m desperate for attention. If I talk to Flora and then have to excuse myself to talk to others, it might give them the impression that I’m doing them a favour by even chatting to them. That’s one thing I’ve learned here in the Realms: it’s all about appearances.
A blue folder on the small desk in the corner catches my eye. That wasn’t there before. I get up to take a look. It’s a list of all the Gods going to attend tonight. Tamara must have been busy. I smile. Her neat handwriting is full of little flourishes and playful swirls, as if writing this list gave her genuine pleasure. I certainly hope so.
She’s written a short commentary for each of the Gods we’ve invited.
Dagda – known as a Celtic creation God, but all he creates is heartbroken ladies. He’s got a small but efficient army. Not much powers himself but skilled diplomat. Charm and smiles will make him interested. Flirting always works.
Vulcan - God of Fire and Metalworking. A bit rough around the edges but inside he’s quite a nice fellow. Loves dark chocolate, I’ll tell the servants to give him some. His hammer is smaller than Thor’s, don’t comment on that.
Saturn - God of Wealth. He’s extremely proud, be sure to mention casually that a planet is named after him. Try not to stare at his hair… it’s lush.
I quickly flick through the pages. There’s at least fifty Gods to read about. Looks like I’ll be busy after all.
Chapter Fourteen
The nightmare has begun. No, nothing to do with the Morrigan or Angus.
I’m having to wear a dress. A monstrosity. Tight, frilly, far too large a neckline. My boobs are practically falling out of it, held back only by a small band of lace.
Why do Gods have such a terrible fashion sense? They’re all about showing as much skin as possible while also showing wealth and importance with the quality of the fabrics.
Tamara is giggling loudly while I inspect myself in the mirror.
“I’m going to flash Gods,” I mutter, trying to adjust the inbuilt – but almost non-existent – bra.
“It will help, they’ll like that,” Tamara snorts and I shoot her an evil look. I’m tempted to give her the finger as well, but I’ve learned they don’t have that gesture here in the Realm.
“I don’t like it though,” I protest.
“She’s not going to show our boobs to them.”
I whirl around and gape at Frost who’s entered the room without me noticing.
“Did you just say ‘our boobs’?” I’m kind of speechless.
“Of course. You’re ours, so they’re our boobs. And others don’t get to see them. Our Wyn, our boobs.”
