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Ahead of Herself

Chapter 61

It amazed Corene how quickly the king came to respect her once he thought she was carrying his child. He took her to the court physician -- a short little terrier named Dr. Frit -- and as she sat naked on the examination table, the doctor explained that Corene was at least four weeks pregnant, by the looks of it. He indicated her sore breasts (which were swollen like ripe melons), her throwing up, her sporadic behavior related to stress (when she hissed for Candy Cane to shut up) and confirmed that she was indeed carrying the king's pup.

The king paced back and forth, and he looked so frightened that Corene sat very still, thinking that at least he wasn't angry. He pushed his red mane back from his face, and he was so beside himself, his clothes were rumpled and his shirt was hanging out. He had taken Corene from Si-si and insisted on carrying her himself, and once the doctor confirmed his suspicions of pregnancy, he went to the door and called for a wheelchair.

The doctor chuckled. "Your majesty. The lady _can_walk. She can endure a great deal . . . as you have only just witnessed while with her earlier this evening."

The king kept pacing. "How is this possible?"

"The lady has been here four weeks, your majesty," the doctor said, smiling behind his furry mustache. He was wearing a housecoat and stethoscope over his pajamas, as the king had dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night. His brown fur complimented the blue cotton nicely.

"Four weeks," the king moaned.

Corene stared at her knees, knowing that she was probably more far along than that -- and knowing that the doctor probably knew this as well and was trying out of sympathy to protect her. For the pup could have belonged to Jonathan for all she knew. . . or to Etienne, who had slept with her the last night before he ran away . . . or to Candy Cane, who had brutally raped her only the month before. She didn't know who the father was, and she suddenly started to cry. Loudly and brokenly.

The king turned to her and surprised her when he wrapped her in his arms. "No, darling, don't cry. Don't cry . . ." He smoothed down her mane and pulled back to peer into her face. "I'm going to take care of you, alright?" he said gently.

She blinked and nodded, blown over by his sudden compassion. He pulled out a kerchief and started dabbing her eyes, his paws frantic to smooth down her curls. She sniffled quietly as the doctor smiled at them.

"I thought she wasbarren," the king said wearily. "Donica told me she was." He shook his head darkly and backed away. "That stupid cow." He started pacing again. "And now I've got another child on my paws. It could be a threat to my other children . . . or they could threaten it. . ."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Your majesty, there are other ways to handle the issue -"

"No one," snarled the king and whirled, stabbing a finger at the little physician, "is going to harm my child. Do we understand each other, Doctor? That is not an option."

"Your majesty, it's not even a child yet --"

"I don't care what it is. It's mine."

The doctor shook his head and indicated Corene. "And doesn't the lady have a say in what happens to her own body?"

The king glowered. "No." He looked at Corene. "This is my child," he said to her, "and you are going to have it. You don't have to raise it. I'll make the arrangements, have someone bear it away, if that's what you wish. But you are going to have --"

"I don't want anyone to t-take it!" Corene blurted, her eyes large and frightened. Her voice cracked as she yelled, "Please, your majesty! Don't let anyone t-take it from me --!"

"Hush now. I won't," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "I'll have someone bear you away to safety, but you'll have to stay here until I've made the necessary arrangements." He released her and stepped back, looking at her anxiously. Then he glanced at the doctor, as if he had only remembered he was there. "Her . . . condition is a strict secret, Doctor. I'll give her a room and she'll stay in it until I arrange to have her taken from Wandourg. You will perform checkups on her in her room. She isn't to leave it to come here. She isn't to leave it. Under _any_circumstances."

"Of course, your majesty," the doctor said and inclined his head.

The king looked at Corene again. "As far as anyone else is concerned, she is very ill, and no one is to go near her for fear of catching it." He drew close to Corene, cupped her face, and peered into her eyes. "I swear," he said empathically, "I will do everything in my power to keep you and my child safe."

Corene spent the rest of her time in Wandourg locked in a bedchamber on the royal wing of the castle, not far from the king's private chambers. And whatever she wanted, the king gave it to her without question. She was given gowns, jewelry, books to read, pretty trinkets and expensive gloves and fans made of fox fur. She asked for Flavia, and the king bought the Beauceron back from Prince Graham just like that.

And it was more than doing whatever she asked him. He was affectionate, doting, devoted. He came to see her everyday and rubbed her shoulders and kissed her paw and sat with her on the balcony late into the evening. And it was such an incredible change that she wept, unable to believe that her deepest desire -- for him to care for her and respect her -- had come true. He may not have been in love with her, but she had won a king's heart. And all because she threw up after an orgy.

Sometimes Corene sat on her balcony with Flavia and stared out at the endless towers and rooftops of Curith, and she asked herself what she would do if the pup was born and looked nothing like the king. What if the pup was Etienne's and was born a King Shepherd, with black fur and a golden mane and beautiful blue eyes? If the child belonged to Jonathan or Candy Cane, she had a chance of passing it off as belonging to the king, as they both had red manes like the king of Curith. But Etienne's child? Not only would she be unable to hide such a likeness, but King Louis might use such a child to finally take the throne of Varimore. He would raise it as his son, then send to it to claim the throne of its blood, and once it was on said throne, he would be behind the chair, pulling the child's puppet strings. The very thought chilled her.

Corene knew she had to be away before the child was born, and in the meantime, she would enjoy herself, dinning on succulent meats and wearing fine things. Because he thought she was carrying his child, she had the king eating out of her paw, on his knees, and ready to do anything. She had power over him. And she quickly harnessed that power, manipulating him with false tears or smiles on a whim, slowly wrapping him tighter and tighter around her little finger.

And fully aware that he was being manipulated, the king let himself fall to Corene's control. Because he feared losing the child she carried more than anything. It was baffling to Corene, who would have expected him to have her executed, thus eliminating any threat her child posed to his other children.

According to Flavia, Princess Alexandria had been the first to propose such a thing. How she discovered Corene's condition, Corene could only guess. But once the princess found out, Corene lived in fear. Because Princess Alexandria had her father wrapped around her finger even tighter than Corene did, and if she appealed to him enough times, there was a chance he might heed her advice and have Corene executed. The king doted on his daughter shamelessly. It was the very reason she had gone so long without submitting to marriage; it was the very reason she was able to do as she pleased, personally executing those who had crossed her with a rifle to their faces. Alexandria wasn't just a conceited snob or a deceiver like Corene. Alexandria was absolutely horrible and someone to be feared.

Then came the day when Corene realized that Queen Yvonne also knew. Flavia brought Corene news of the queen having made a joke at a soiree about the king probably having "bastard mutts" spread across the kingdom. It was an established fact, however, that King Louis only slept with his spayed Akbash slaves, so the very idea of him having bastards was preposterous. The queen had chosen to publicly tease him because she knew the truth he was scrambling to hide and was not foolish enough to believe that Corene was simply "ill."

But Corene was pleased to hear from Flavia that the queen also didn't seem to care. Her time as queen was coming to an end, Prince Adrian would take the throne in his father's stead, and she was confident no bastard of Corene's was going to take it from him. Flavia heard the queen saying as much as she eavesdropped in the hall outside her chambers.

And Flavia was a godsend. Corene was angry with the slave for a long time and treated her horribly in the earliest days of her pregnancy. But in all honesty, she didn't know how she would have survived her long months at Wandourg without Flavia spying upon the royal family and working as her eyes and ears. Flavia was also the one who cared for Corene during her pregnancy, rubbing her feet and brushing her wild mane and helping her in and out of gowns that had been especially fitted for her steadily ripening belly.

Then the time day when Princess Alexandria demanded to have Flavia for her own, and one morning, Corene awoke in her bedroom alone. She wept. Because she knew immediately what had happened to Flavia, that Alexandria probably had her brushing her mane even as she lay there crying. The princess recognized immediately that Flavia was not only Corene's greatest comfort and friend but also her spy, and she appealed to her father that she should have the slave -- all in an attempt to disable Corene. She wanted Corene to be ignorant of what was happening in the castle, she wanted Corene to be helpless, and so she suggested at supper that Corene shouldn't have an Akbash slave either, as her "sickness" might spread to it. The king was forced to agree if he wanted to keep up the ruse, though it was fairly obvious his daughter made the suggestion for the sake of being cruel to Corene.

After that, Corene spent the long days alone, trying desperately to ignore the spirit of Candy Cane as it lurked in the shadows, tisking and mocking her. She remembered what the fox imposture had told her, that if she wanted the spirit to go away, it was best to ignore it. She had become rather good at ignoring it, too. She could make it go away for long hours at a time, but somehow, it always came back. And now, without Flavia to keep her company, it was an easy thing, letting the spirit haunt her.

One evening, Corene found herself sitting on her balcony, her white curls down, draped in a white nightgown as she thought of the fox imposture and what it was probably doing over in Varimore. News had reached Wandourg some weeks before that Queen Donica had gone mad, that she was passing decrees that were sympathetic toward foxes, that she was executing "spies" out of paranoia and fear, and that Wychowl ran with blood. Hellene was staying at Wychowl, as she was now betrothed to Etienne in the wake of her husband's demise, and the princess wrote her father letters, detailing her aunt's madness and appealing to her father for help.

Corene shook her head and silently wondered how the fox imposture could be so transparent. If she really_wanted to help her own kind, it would have been far wiser to do so in secret, while publicly sneering at foxes and pretending to keep them oppressed. She probably should have taken on a fox slave to further the ruse, or even swallowed her fury and wore gloves and wraps made of fox fur. But the vixen failed to fool the public that she was Donica when she outlawed the Hunt. It was so out of character for Donica to have done, that surely Hellene and the royal council had their suspicions. And what did the fox intend to do about Hellene's betrothal to Etienne? Etienne was dead. Did she really think she could pull off masquerading as _both?

Some part of Corene pitied the foolish fox, who knew nothing of dog politics or how to survive them. After what had happened to Etienne, Corene would have been happy to remain in Wychowl to help the vixen maneuver safely through the shark pool that was court life. If Etienne really loved the fox, then it was Corene's duty to help her. She owed that much to Etienne and more. But instead, she was here. Pregnant and trapped and now stripped of her greatest asset: her best friend. A tear escaped her eye and she ignored it, whispering, "Flavia . . . my darling fool."

Corene's heart skipped a beat when her bedchamber door opened. She had been living in fear for so long, that she expected the guards to come for her head any day now. Her heart was hammering: Dr. Frit never came to her this late.

Corene's mane was wild and unkempt, and she peered fearfully around it, her fingers curling tight to the armrests of her chair. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw it was the king. Si-si had come with him, and as he entered the room, she hung back, standing at the door with her paws folded.

The king came to Corene bearing a yellow flower, and she smiled when he playfully tapped her on the nose with it. "Thank you, your majesty," she whispered, taking the flower from him and smiling at it.

The king eased into a chair. "You are welcome," he said, peering out at the ever spreading rooftops of his vast kingdom.

Corene happily held the flower to her breasts, which were swollen behind her nightgown and pressing tight through the fabric. "To what do I owe this pleasure, your majesty?"

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, not looking at her. "Or it will be. In a minute."

Corene's heart skipped another beat. He hadn't forced her to please him since the night they discovered she was pregnant. But now he was going to. What had changed? Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, thinking she had him wrapped around her finger. She tried to still her thundering heart and swallowed hard, coaching herself to take little breaths.

"Sommmmmeone has come to seeeeee you," Candy Cane sang behind Corene's chair.

"Someone has come to see you, my dear," the king said, unwittingly echoing the spirit's words.

Corene's eyes darted. She dropped them to the flower and tried to sound nonchalant as she said, "Oh? Who could that be, your majesty?"

"Someone very concerned for your well being," the king replied. His finger stroked his chin as he peered out at the rooftops. "Very concerned. He gave a very passionate speech before my court. . . ."

Oh god, Corene thought.

". . . and it started me thinking," the king went on quietly. "Such things I thought." He turned his gaze to Corene, and though he smiled, his green eyes were biting.

Corene went very still under the heat of his gaze. "Oh, your majesty?" she said, more shrilly than she meant to.

He turned his gaze away again, but his big paw closed over hers, and she watched with a tight throat as she was forced to crush the flower. It stained her white fingers yellow as he said softly, "It got me thinking about time. Time is a funny thing, isn't it?" He frowned and jerked his head, "Especially_where pregnancy is concerned. And when I think about it, the _timing of your pregnancy is a little . . . off." He squeezed so hard on Corene's fingers, she felt the bones shudder and she whimpered.

"Your m-majesty --"

"If I ever find out," he hissed, suddenly snatching her close, "that you lied to me about this child, I will kill you with my own paws."

Corene trembled and kept her eyes down. He hadn't let go of her paw, and he was holding it so tight, she thought the bones would snap. His mouth was very near her ear, and the threat he hissed into it seemed to carry the heat of his anger, steaming her fur until she trembled and wept. She started to sob, and he let her go, watching silently as she bowed her head and shook with tears.

"Poor thing," he said after a while. "It's not your fault at all, is it? You suddenly find yourself in my court, my plaything, pregnant, and you never actually _said_it was mine. But you let me believe it."

"It could be yours, your m-majesty . . ." Corene whimpered.

"There, there," said the king wearily. He took out his kerchief and dabbed her face, lifting her chin with gentle fingers. "Stop your blubbering, little girl. Here, blow your nose."

Corene took the kerchief and did as she was told. He leaned back in his chair again, and she could feel his eyes on her. She didn't look over. She was still trembling. And so afraid. Her paw still hurt, and she knew he had almost broken it.

"For all we know," he said, as if to himself, "the child very well could be mine. In which case I should be kind to its mother. I was going to send you away next week as the opportunity had arisen. Now . . . now I think you'll stay here. Until the child is born."

Corene cried harder into the kerchief. If it came out looking nothing like the king, he was going to kill her!

"There, there," he said again, this time scowling in irritation at her crying. "Don't I take care of you? I could have simply had you executed. And any pragmatic king would have done so. But here I have let you live. And have pampered and spoiled you to boot."

Corene knew he was waiting for gratitude, so she whispered, "Th-Thank you, your m-majesty."

"There's a good girl," he said approvingly and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. "Chin up. And all that."

Corene lifted her face and smiled with trembling lips. Because he was waiting for it.

Satisfied with her forced smile, the king looked away. "As for your visitor . . . I believe Xandria has taken quite a liking to him."

No, no, no, Corene thought miserably. It had to be Jonathan. Who else would come for her? No one else cared.

"And the marquis," went on the king (and Corene's heart sank), "has taken quite a liking to her as well. He asks everyday to you see you . . ."

Every day? How long had he been there!

". . . but Xandria has him around her little finger. He just may forget you altogether soon."

Corene clutched the king's wrinkled kerchief in her lap and stared despondently at it. No. It couldn't be true. Jonathan wouldn't come all the way here for her, only to forget her for Alexandria!

"I was thinking of letting her have the boy," the king said and shrugged. "I was going to use her to gain a foothold in Poston, but claiming wee little Howlester Duchy out from under the wretched Kingsleys has its appeal. Imagine it. Carrington blood on the throne of Howlester." He smiled.

Corene glanced at him and had to wonder why the Carringtons hated the Kingsleys so. There was an old legend that the Carringtons' ancestor had fought the Kingsleys' ancestor for King Antony's favor, the Kingsleys won, and it was the reason bad blood had remained between the families ever since. But those were just legends.

"Well?" the king said into the silence.

Corene glanced over at him. He was waiting for her to respond but she didn't know what to say. She dropped her eyes to the kerchief in her lap again. "Your m-majesty?"

The king smiled and shook his head incredulously. "Don't you want to see your darling lover? Aren't you going to beg me? Cry from your pretty simpleton eyes? Perhaps call me Daddy?"

Corene dropped her gaze again. She didn't want to see Jonathan or for him to see her like this -- pregnant and crying and unkempt because she couldn't do anything without Flavia, not even brush her own mane. But she knew saying she didn't want to see Jonathan would only make the king believe she was acting, lying to further the ruse that she and Jonathan weren't lovers. He expected honesty and would be angered by anything that he thought was a lie. So she told him what he wanted to hear.

"Yes," Corene whispered to her lap, head bowed. "I would like very much to see him."

The king nodded and looked away. "He shall come to you tomorrow morning. And you shall tell him you want nothing to do with him. Drive it home for him that you belong to me now. I think I shall have him marry Xandria after all."

Corene blinked miserably. "Yes, your majesty," she whispered.

"Now . . ." He reached over and curled his fingers gently in her mane, and she could feel the cold brush of his rings. He squeezed her neck and whispered, "Come here."

Corene obeyed. She pushed herself up from her chair and came to the king and stood before him. He took her by the paw and pulled her on his lap. His eyes were on her breasts, and she cried silently as he unlaced the front of her gown. She couldn't stop thinking of Jonathan, who would come here tomorrow, who would look upon her and know what disgusting things she had gone for the king . . . and his brothers. He would think her a dirty a whore. Or broken. Or damaged. And he would leave her for Princess Alexandria . . . and she would cry herself to sleep every night.

The nightgown fell open, revealing Corene's swollen breasts. They were so plump and full now that her pink nipples were tiny as they jutted from the mounds. The king lifted her breast and massaged a moment, his eyes narrowed hungrily as they traced from her long neck, to her collarbone, and to the heavy breast in his paw. "I missed your tits," he whispered and buried his face to suckle her. She clung to him and her head fell back. She hadn't been suckled in so long, she had forgotten how good it felt, and when his careful tongue rolled her nipple, she shuddered and curled her fingers in his red mane.

His paw pushed up her nightgown and found the lips of her sex. He caressed gently as he continued to suckle. His large fingers glided inside, curling to coax her toward throbbing arousal, and her lips parted in a sigh. "Oh, Daddy . . ." she whispered in his ear and licked it. She heard his grunt and knew the licking had made him hard: his ears were sensitive. He pulled back to look at her, and she noticed he had indeed gotten hard in his pants. He was waiting for her to undo them.

Breasts trembling, Corene sank to her knees between the king's thighs and carefully undid his belt with her lips and tongue. He watched calmly as his large erection pushed free of the fabric, watched as she started dragging her tongue along the shaft. She stroked it with her little paw, and it was so thick in her fingers, it held them wide from her thumb.

Suddenly impatient, he took her by the head and guided her mouth over him. She sucked obediently, her head moving slowly up and down as he rubbed her neck with his big paw. Her fingers cupped and caressed his sack, and as she slapped his balls with a hungry tongue, she suddenly realized how much she had missed pleasuring him. And the scent of him . . . it made her wet.

He put her mouth back over him, forcing her head down until he was prodding the back of her throat. Her mouth hurt when he flinched inside, and then she was sputtering on his cum. Her throat flexed to take it down as he grunted to release. His fingers curled in her mane and he pulled, and as her mouth came away, his semen and her spit trailed from her mouth to his penis in a translucent string.

"Here," he whispered, throwing the kerchief in his lap. Corene obediently wiped his penis clean with it, then wiped her mouth, pausing only once or twice to look at him coyly. He was staring at her breasts still, but he laced the front of her gown up for her and waved her back to her chair.

"I have a present for you," he said as Corene sat down. "I know you were unhappy about my giving Xandria your slave and I wanted you to have company . . ."

"His majesty is very kind," Corene said to her lap.

The king smiled. "Of course I am. I asked Xandria to give your slave back. She agreed. But on one condition." He waved at Si-si, who opened the door.

In came one of the king's guards, bearing a jar with something floating inside. The guard set the jar on the table and backed away. Corene looked at the jar, and her heart stopped . . . as Flavia's floating head looked back at her.