Chapter 8
I brought Nerissea's proposal to Father Sorin without delay, and he acted upon it at once. By the following morning, an announcement was placed in the local newspaper. By the fifth day, donations poured in, even from noble houses in other towns and beyond. The sum we had initially received had now multiplied sixfold.
What was first meant only for orphans and the slaves within our town had grown into something far greater. Letters arrived from neighboring towns, and even some from the capital, declaring their intent to send their household slaves to attend.
Sister Alethea and I could hardly contain ourselves. We hopped about the room like delighted little girls.
Princess Yseldra's name now graced every paper in town. Her reputation flourished. My heart fluttered as I read each mention. She deserved every bit of it. I resolved then to find time to thank her properly. And Nerissea, whose quiet brilliance made this all possible.
As Sister Alethea and I prepared for bed in the evening, Sister Juliara swept into our chamber quite suddenly.
"A letter for you," she said, placing it upon my nightstand before promptly leaving, the door closing behind her with a sharp slam.
I had just leaned toward the final candle to blow it out, but paused. The seal bore my family crest. My heart warmed at once.
I broke the wax and unfolded the parchment.
"To my sweet daughter, Naevia."
It was my father's hand.
"Your mother and I have read of this year's Fun Camp and wish to offer our warmest congratulations on your success. We must, however, ask that you keep your distance from the royal family at all costs. I remind you again, if you should require additional funds, you need only ask us. Though our arrival remains delayed, we promise to make amends in due time.
With love,
Your Father and Mother."
Keep my distance from the royal family?
I turned the letter over, hoping for some explanation. But the back was blank.
I folded it and tucked it into its envelope. Then I placed it atop my large stack of letters in the drawer, unsure what to make of the words my father had written.
I lay upon my bed, but sleep eluded me.
Did my parents bid me keep away from the royal family simply to shield me from entanglements in courtly affairs? That would not be unreasonable. It made sense. And yet… Princess Yseldra, though undeniably improper, was not unkind. Quite the opposite. She had offered me aid, had gone so far as to enlist Nerissea's help to solve a problem that might have otherwise overwhelmed me.
By her name alone, we were spared the exhausting task of calling from one noble residence to the next. Instead, they came to us. Even the Duke had written with approval, pledging not only to send his household's slaves, but to contribute funds as well.
My thoughts grew hazy from so much reflection, and so I tried instead to focus on the greater purpose. The event. With so many new attendees, more servants of Ombrithar would be needed this year. A smile touched my lips. I was quite certain Sister Juliara had already anticipated every need. She was ever efficient.
Morning arrived, and the temple was once again filled with movement and purpose. Carriages came and went, delivering supplies to the camp grounds. Men labored to raise tents and carry crates. The women planned our meals and stitched fabrics, each one working cheerfully, despite the mounting tasks.
"Sister Naevia," came Sister Mirelle's warm voice. "Sister Juliara asked that I find you. Her Highness has come to visit you. She is presently waiting in one of the private prayer rooms. Room two."
My heart lifted. At last, I could thank Her Highness properly for all she had done. But then I looked down at the cutting board before me. I had been chopping carrots with the others. To leave now felt discourteous.
"Go," Sister Mirelle said kindly, taking the knife from my hand. "I shall finish this. We all heard how you spoke with Her Highness and secured her support. Please, thank her on behalf of us all."
I looked about, and the other sisters gave small nods of encouragement.
"Thank you," I said softly, removing my apron. And then I turned and hurried off.
In truth, Sister Mirelle need not have spoken the number aloud. Even from afar, I could discern the chamber Princess Yseldra occupied, for her royal guards stood sentinel by a single door.
I took a moment to adjust my coif and veil before arriving swiftly, offering a gentle knock at the door.
It opened at once.
Before I could even catch a full glimpse of Her Highness, I was pulled inside with unexpected swiftness. She closed the door behind us.
"I see you have been quite busy," she said with a smile, seating herself upon one of the small velvet cushions reserved for prayer. Behind her stood the life-sized statue of Ombrithar, arms open in eternal welcome.
I lowered myself onto the cushion beside her, though with far less grace than she had shown.
"Yes," I replied softly. "It is all thanks to you. Truly, I am most grateful, Your Highness. If there is anything you wish of me, I shall do all I can to fulfill it."
Her lips curled. "Ohhh… then how about that pretty mouth of yours on my cock?"
My heart gave a violent flutter, and my face burned with heat.
I had said I would do my best. I had meant it. And though her request was wicked beyond imagining, I could not go back on my word. That would be unkind. Untruthful.
"A-alright," I whispered, my entire body warming in response.
It was not as though she sought to defile me. I had already seen her once, and her form had not repulsed me. Her length was pale, like the rest of her skin, and though intimidating in size, was not unsightly.
And compared to what she had done for the temple… perhaps this was not such a great cost after all.
"What?" Princess Yseldra looked almost startled, lifting a hand to rub her ear as though she had misheard. The gesture was unexpectedly charming. "This royal cock has not spilled a single drop since the day I laid eyes on you. There is quite the torrent built up in me. I may very well lose all sense and rut in your arse. Are you certain?"
I gave a meek nod. She oft spoke such unholy things, always with a playful, wicked smile upon her lips, but I was quite convinced she would be gentle.
But then she sighed. "Forget it," she said, almost dismissively. "How about a kiss instead?"
A strange pang of disappointment stirred within me. And the moment I recognized it, I felt horrified.
Disappointed? That I was not to take her into my mouth? Had I truly fallen so far?
I blinked the thoughts away and leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss upon her lips before drawing back in haste. That was my first kiss. I could scarcely believe it. Not in this life had I ever imagined I would share such a thing with anyone.
And I daresay… I liked it. Very much so.
She smiled. "That was too swift, my sweet."
Her hand rose to cradle the back of my head with gentleness. Her breath danced across my lips as she whispered, "I shall show you what a real kiss is."
Her lips touched mine.
Frighteningly soft. A delicate, reverent press that stole the very air from my chest. My heart beat wildly.
Her warm and damp tongue traced the edge of my lower lip before she drew it into her mouth and sucked, slow and sinful. She kissed me again and again, each one more wicked. She paused only to lick and tease, sending shivers down my spine.
Sweet moans spilled from her lips, unashamed. Then, oh mercy, one escaped from mine. A meek, broken little sound. I whimpered, overwhelmed by the heat that bloomed between my thighs.
Her tongue coaxed my lips open, sliding between them, filling me with sensation I could neither name nor bear. I gasped against her mouth.
"Stick out your tongue and let me taste it, will you?" she whispered between kisses.
I parted my lips and timidly extended my tongue.
She met it with her own. She suckled gently, then nipped, then glided over me with swirling strokes. My thoughts dissolved into a haze of pleasure. I was melting. My limbs felt boneless, my body feverish. My sex throbbed. I was undeniably wet.
Then she pulled back just slightly, her golden eyes gazing into mine. "Does it feel good, Naevia?"
I turned away, unable to meet her gaze. "Y-yes," I breathed.
But my eyes had lowered in the wrong direction. Upon her lap, the fine fabric of her gown strained upward in a lewd peak.
"Do you fancy the size of my cock?" she whispered, her voice curling like smoke, lips lifted into that dreadful, wicked smile. "I ache to split open your tight little arsehole, to stuff every inch of this fat, dripping prick into your virgin bum until you sob. Just imagine it… my cock, slick and hard, rutting in and out of your sweet little fuckhole, stretching you wide as I ruin you from within."
My hands flew to my face at once, my cheeks ablaze with shame. I could not bear to meet her eyes. My entire body felt aflame. I hid behind my palms, too flustered to move.
She laughed, rich and unrepentant, and gently pulled my hands away.
And then she continued.
For a whole hour, she teased me without mercy, whispering the most scandalous things to me. I was red-faced and speechless.
At last, she departed with a satisfied smile.