The Winter Queen (RH/Why Choose, MM, MF, MFM, FF) ✅

Chapter Four

Gwen

"Shit shit shit shit," I hissed as I closed the door to my very nice room in a very nice castle.

What was I thinking?

Risking my position?

Again.

I paced the floor in my room, trying to shake the desire that was coiled in my lower belly, the same kind of need that the soon-to-be queen had been feeling as I had touched her.

I had no right to touch her as I did.

Not just my soon-to-be-queen.

Not even my superior.

Or an innocent.

Or, well, a woman.

That was old news.

I had known since I was quite young myself that men did not have half the appeal as women. With their soft curves. With their soft hearts.

The main reason I had needed to leave several of my past positions was because things had gotten... passionate with the lady of the house. Or a fellow servant. Or a guest. Then things got... complicated.

I needed to get a hold of myself, no matter how beautiful the new queen was.

It disgusted me, to be sure, to imagine her with a man such as the king.

Sure, he was a good ruler, a good man, even.

But he was old and frail and had no right to put his skeletal hands on a woman such as the lady in the other room.

No matter how badly the kingdom needed an heir.

In the other room, the lady's whimpers were becoming louder moans, making me lean back against the door that adjoined our room, reaching under my skirt and touching myself the same way she was touching herself.

We started to peak together, then crashed down into the ecstasy in unison, leaving me panting for my breath and weak in the legs after.

I needed to force myself to get up afterward, fetching the towels, then going into the hall, nearly running right into the queen's personal guard.

"Gwen," he said, looking down at me. "How is the lady?"

"Bathing," I told him. "Seemingly much better. In need of food. If the doctor clears her to eat."

"We shall be lucky if he doesn't insist she be bled now that she's recovering," Warwick said, rolling his eyes, clearly having the same opinion of the palace physician as I did.

"What is this?" Cyprian asked, coming out of the king's room.

Both Warwick and Cy were good-looking men. Even if my interest wasn't directed toward their gender, I had to appreciate an attractive man when I saw them.

Both men were tall, strong, and dark-haired. Cyprian had a bit of silver streaking through his temples, though, where Warwick's was still all dark. And where Warwick had the dark brown eyes that were typical for our people, Cyprian had a deep green instead.

"She is awake. And well enough to be bathing. I am going to fetch the doctor to tell him to come check in on her in half an hour once I get her dressed," I told Cy.

"I am glad she is mending. We were starting to lose hope."

"I have informed her of the sleeping arrangements," I told them. "She asked," I clarified.

"That is good. Less for the king to have to fill her in about," Warwick said.

"I believe we are all going to need to do a lot of the queen's training," Cy said.

It was not what he said, but what he did not say. Loyal to the king he had served since he was barely but a boy fresh from the battlefield, Cyprian would never say something directly negative about the king.

But there were times when he implied things to those who needed to know. About the king's worsening health. About how we needed to help him keep up appearances for the sake of the kingdom.

It was why the next queen was so important.

The kingdom needed an heir.

True, the king would not live and reign long enough for the child to come of age and take over, but the law of the land stated that the queen—with direct help from the highest-ranking advisor—could rule until the heir was old enough to do so.

It was hard to imagine the lady on the throne. I half-expected the weight of the crown to be too heavy for her delicate neck to continue to hold her head up.

Would she even be strong enough to lift a sword?

"I worry for her well-being if she takes so ill in the early spring," Warwick said.

"That is a concern," Cy agreed.

"We will be sure to prepare her for the cold," I said. "Lots of hearty meals to put some flesh on her bones. Some fine cloaks, muffs, hats, and mittens. Plenty of wood on the fire. She will do just fine," I insisted.

"We shall make sure of it," Warwick agreed.

"That is our job," Cy said, nodding. "To help the king and queen stay safe and well."

Though, objectively, we knew that in a normal, functioning kingdom, the brunt of that burden would not fall on the private guards and the lady's maid.

But this was not a normal, functioning kingdom.

This was a kingdom with a failing ruler who needed to appear well, lest the rumors start, a rebellion build, or, worst yet, war descend from neighboring lands who saw a point of weakness and wanted to take advantage of it.

No one wanted that.

We all had too much to lose.

So the three of us would keep things together, would keep the king and queen alive, and whatever else was required of us to keep the kingdom running smoothly.

"I will fetch the doctor," Warwick offered.

"I will tell the king that he can meet his bride tonight, doctor's orders willing," Cy said, nodding.

Which left me to dry and dress the queen, a task made far too difficult thanks to my attraction to her.