Mickey Reichert - The beasts of Barakhai

At that moment, a servant returned carrying a loaded plate, which he set in front of Collins along with utensils. It felt good to hold a fork again, even one as crudely made as the steel monstrosity he took into his hand. The plate contained a cooked fruit compote with sweet spices, roasted roots cut into cross sections, and a flaky fish chowder. Possibly hungry enough to even eat bugs, he devoured the food, unable to worry about manners. The king and Carrie Quinton exchanged glances that Collins believed were sympathetic. Likely, they believed the rebels had starved him. Though not true, the fare had been meager and coarse compared with what he had before him now. He could get used to food like this.

When Collins had devoured every bite, he finally turned over his attention to the king. "Please excuse me, Sire. I was famished. And the food…"He could not think of a suitably complimentary word. "Wonderful. Better than wonderful. Delicious." Oh, yeah. That made it clearer. He continued babbling, "Just the best."

"Thank you," Terrin said simply.

Needing time to consider strategy, Collins took advantage of his deliberately ragged appearance. "Would you mind if I had some rest before we talk?"

The king stiffened for a moment, then regained his casual demeanor. Catching Collins' eye, he explained his discomfort, "The sooner we get after those rebels, the less time they have to hide."

"I won't take too long." Collins bluffed a yawn, stretching sleepily. "But I really need a bit of sleep to think clearly." The absurdity of his own statement struck him; he remembered cramming till morning on some of his most important tests.

The king gestured at Quinton. "Would you mind, Carrie?"

"Not at all." Quinton rose gracefully. "Come with me, Ben."

Collins' heart rate quickened, and he could scarcely believe his luck. The king had arranged the exact situation he needed, some time alone with Carrie Quinton. He rose, almost forgetting to appear tired in his excitement. The torchlight struck silver highlights through the thick, golden cascade of hair, and he could not help imagining the silky feel of it through his fingers. He followed her from the room to the spiral staircase, and she started up.

Eyes traveling to the muscular roundness of her butt, it took Collins a moment to recognize their destination. "Are we headed for… royal chambers."

Quinton glanced at him over her shoulder. "Of course."

Remembering Zylas' warning, Collins remained in place. "Won't we be intruding?"

Quinton laughed. "Intruding? Intruding on what? We've spoken up here before, remember?"

Collins remembered. He also recalled swords hacking at him as he tumbled down the stairs. "Of course," he said. "I just didn't want to be presumptuous." He covered with a smile. "Being rude to royalty can be fatal."

Quinton dismissed the comment with a wave. She descended a step and offered her hand. "Come on, you goof. You're royalty."

"I am?" Collins accepted Quinton's smooth, soft hand.

"For all intents and purposes." Quinton started back upward, Collins now walking at her side. He studied her in the light of the bracketed torches, scarcely daring to believe a woman so beautiful would allow him to keep her hand so long. Too much protestation would raise suspicions, and it did not seem so dangerous to enter the warded areas with only Carrie Quinton. "You've heard 'it's good to be the king?' Well, it's even better to be the king's adviser. Same good food, same comforts, same deferences-none of the responsibilities. They don't even expect you to be right all that often."

They reached the next landing and continued upward. Collins digested the explanation. "But don't you miss chocolate?" His own craving for something sweet tainted the question.

"They have chocolate."

"They do?"

"The royals do. I'll get you some."

Nearly distracted from his point, Collins continued as they walked. "What about fast food?"

Quinton turned him a searching look. "You mean lumps of grease doused in ketchup?"

Collins felt his cheeks grow warm. "Well, yeah. Stuff like that."

"No." Quinton winked. "But I can get the cook to fry you up some salted lard and slap it between two hunks of white bread." She clapped her free hand down on their joined grip to simulate a sandwich. "Primitive Whopper."

"Gee, thanks."

"Seriously, most of the fun of fast food is speed and not having to cook it yourself. Here, I don't ever have to cook again, or I can if I want to. I get what I want when I want it. And I still get things 'my way' if I request them."

They paused on the next landing, and Collins noticed that the stairs continued upward for at least two more stories. Thinking back, the extension had been there the last time Quinton and King Terrin had brought him here, but he had not thought to question. He could not recall Zylas' explanation; their lessons on the layout of the castle seemed like a year ago, and he had taken more than one blow to the head since then.

Hand on the door latch, Quinton waited. "You're not expecting to sleep on the roof, are you?"

Torn from his scrutiny, Collins glanced at Quinton. "What?"

"Next stop's the roof ramparts, for the lookout guards. Then the top of the tower."

Now, Collins remembered discussing the fact that some guards might climb the stairs past the royal areas to access their positions. Zylas had even mentioned the steps ending in a trapdoor that led to the top of one tower. "Oh." Duh.

Quinton tripped the latch and pushed the door open to reveal a large bedroom. Tapestries hung from every wall. The first depicted a forest, with deer grazing placidly among a vast variety of trees, birds and squirrels cavorting in the branches, a rabbit peering timidly around a weathered oak. Another showed a pasture full of a mixed herd of animals. Horses raced regally through the background, a cow lumbering behind them. Sheep and goats filled most of the foreground. The third wall contained a picture of a young boy herding a flock of geese, ducks, and chickens. The last held a portrait of a ginger tabby cat stretched luxuriously on a canopied bed. A real bed, looking very much like the one in the picture, took up most of the middle of the room. Tied back with golden tassels, emerald-colored curtains surrounded a mattress clotted with woolen blankets. A blue ceiling harbored a realistic arrangement of painted stars. A beautifully carved wardrobe and a matching wooden chest completed the furnishings.

While Collins admired the bedroom, Quinton borrowed a torch from the stairwell to light the ones on either side of the room. She replaced the torch, closed the door, and sat on the bed. Shoving aside the bunched blankets, she patted a spot next to her. "Welcome to my room."

Collins approached. "It's wonderful." Wanting to remind her of their similar backgrounds, and his own sense of observation, he said, "I particularly like the night sky. I see Orion, so it must be fall."

"Yup."

Collins continued to stare. "You know, the pattern's a bit different here. How'd you get it so close to ours?"

"Kept making the artist do it till he got it right." Quinton pushed the covers to the floor and tapped the mattress again. "Went from memory, but I know it's not exactly right."

Only an amateur astronomer himself, Collins could not tell her how to fix it. He walked to the bed, not certain what Quinton wanted from him.

Quinton stood, gently straightened Collins' collar, then pressed her lips against his. Her large breasts conformed to his chest, and he thought he could feel the nipples against him. Instantly excited, he returned the kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips. She wants me. Oh, my God, this beautiful woman wants me.

Quinton arched her body against Collins' and whispered in his ear. "I want you." Her warm breath stirred something so primal, he groaned. His legs felt rubbery, unable to hold his weight.