*THIS NOVEL IS A SEQUEL TO WILD CARD & CANNOT BE READ AS A STANDALONE*
There is a legend that one in four royal advisor-mages will betray their monarch, overthrow them for power.
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Gwenore, the new Queen of Acewood, is on a throne most would kill...
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As I dressed for the coronation, my mind wandered.
I'd calmed my worried thoughts of Mother, at last, but now they grew worrisome towards Ysac, instead.
How serious things were getting between us. How attracted I was to him. So quickly infatuated, so enamored with everything he was. How I'd shifted my entire life around to be with him, not knowing how it'd affect me, affect us. Not knowing the consequences.
And the ways he pleasured me—I shuddered at the notion, still feeling his fingers digging into my waist, the slapping of his front against my back.
I adjusted my maroon breeches to conceal the bulge begging to be released.
Not that I needed another round. We'd had enough fun for the day, under and over the sheets, and we had too much to do to indulge again.
So we'd had to detach our mouths and put on some clothes and get ready for the ball.
My reflection still somewhat unsettled me. Not because I wasn't handsome—I found myself quite dashing most days—but because any mirrored surface now gave me the creeps.
Every time I looked into a reflective device, I panicked. I recalled standing in front of the mirror, that magical one, with Mother at my side. How it opened and swallowed her whole; how it took her away from me, again, and likely for good.
Even regular mirrors, like this opulent, copper-coated one in my guest suite, made me uneasy. I stood at a distance, close enough to see if there were any imperfections on my dark suit, but far enough that should the glass extend its icy arms towards me, I might be able to run away.
Might being the key word.
"Stop," I said to myself, shaking my head of brown curls. They'd gotten longer in the past few weeks, unruly in a sort of dapper way. Ysac certainly didn't complain; he loved tousling them and gripping them tight as I got to my knees in front of him.
Just the memory of his length in my mouth helped me relax from the visions the mirror provoked in me. The recollection of how he tasted, how he grew inside me; the lushness of his aroma and the smoothness of his skin.
He'd taught me so much lately—about myself, about him, about how to please a man.
"You're a natural," he'd said, after my first time attempting to take his girth into my mouth. I'd been nervous, shaky, and his gentle touch had guided me.
Again, my bulge swelled at the thought of a naked Ysac sprawled on my bed, so I shook off the fantasy. We'd have time enough later for our desires—or so, I hoped.
I nibbled on the cheese platter he'd brought me earlier. After what Gwenore said outside about watching my drinks tonight, I'd gone a tad overboard to protect my libations. I refused to eat in the dining room, and only allowed trusted folk to bring me trays of dishes tested by servants first.
