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Undone

Chapter 39

"Evelyn is coming home safe?" Charles asked hopefully.

"She will be my princess," the king confirmed. "As you desire. . . . as I desire."

Charles sat back in his chair, relieved. He and the king were on the balcony of Charles' bedchamber, looking out over the castle grounds as they took tea. It had become something of a morning routine after a long night of sensuous lovemaking. The king had taken to coming to Charles every night as he slept, and without so much as a whisper, would peal off his clothing and make love to him. Charles was horrified in the beginning - horrified that he was cheating on Dick, horrified that he was entangling himself deeper and deeper into political mess. But the king was an incredible lover, and as the weeks passed, Charles gave away to it in sweet surrender.

A part of him wanted it to stop, at least for Dick's sake. Charles would see his lover during garden parties and luncheons and take him off to the edge of the gathering to beg his forgiveness, but Dick would only laugh. What could Charles do? There was no saying no to the king of all the land. And what was more, how many times had Dick himself cheated on Charles? Dick would then pat Charles on the cheek and return to the party as if all were well, but deep down inside, Charles knew Dick was not happy with the arrangement. It was then and there that he decided to tell the king the truth about him and Dick. And to hell with the consequences.

Charles glanced at the king and cursed him for being so damned handsome. He was clad in dark velvety blue, a color that brought out his gray eyes and golden mane beautifully. He stirred his tea with a careful elegance almost comical in a male of his size. When he caught Charles staring at him, he smiled fondly.

Charles adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. "How long before Evelyn returns, your majesty?"

The king looked away. "It should take a month at most . . . thank you, Decius."

The Beauceron slave smiled slightly as he refilled the king's teacup. He set the teapot down and stepped back, his paws behind him as he stood over Charles' chair, ever ready to serve.

Charles had taken a liking to Decius over the last few weeks. Sometimes in the evening before bed, he would allow Decius to brush his long white mane, and when he had finished, would hold him in his lap and stroke his mane in turn. Decius sometimes became hard from the nightly petting, and though his tight young body was all too tempting, Charles never let anything come of it. He felt too ashamed about the king. Doubling his betrayal with Decius would have been too much.

"And no one was harmed, were they?" Charles frowned as he blew on his tea. "I heard the queen talking the other day . . ."

Just the day before, the queen took lunch with her court in the garden and dropped several hints about expecting a large shipment of fox pelts soon. Sitting not far down the table, Charles had frozen in horror.

Still not looking at Charles, the king swallowed regretfully. "She wished to crush those remaining foxes who fled Crinnington. She also wished to capture our renegade soldiers."

Charles stared at him. "And you didn't stop her?"

The king cocked an eyebrow. "Why should I stop her? They were a bunch of savages. And the renegades should be brought in. If I let them get away with blatantly defying my orders, it shows weakness."

Charles set down his cup and his lips tightened. "But did the foxes need to die? That hardly seems necessary, your majesty. I have already explained that they were innocent. Those who harmed Evelyn were killed by Richard."

The king shook his head. "And they would have risen up in retaliation. Perhaps they would have attacked the duchy. You and Dick were in danger. I had to raze Crinnington." He frowned, as if he couldn't see why Charles was failing to grasp the difficulty of the situation.

"No, your grace," Charles insisted. "The foxes of Crinnington were peaceful beings. They wouldn't have attacked."

The king looked at him intently. "How do you know?"

Charles lowered his eyes to his tea. "I don't know."

"Exactly," the king said and gestured with a finger for Decius to come. Charles watched as pretty Decius sat on the king's lap, his lashes lowered, his long black mane flowing around him as the king smoothed a paw over it. "Look at Decius," the king said softly. "We know the Beaucerons will not rise against us. We know they have been tamed due to the careful breeding of centuries. They are beauty and perfection defined. . . . down, Decius."

Charles swallowed hard, watching as Decius obediently sank to his knees between the king's thighs. With perfect skill, he began to unbuckle the king's belt with his teeth and tongue. Charles adjusted his cravat uncomfortably and was exceedingly glad when the king waved a paw for Decius to stop. The slave dutifully re-buckled what he had undone with his mouth, then stood quietly behind Charles once more.

"Foxes," went on the king, "are not tame in any sense of the word. They are wild, bitter, and angry that their once glorious kingdom is now ruin and dust. And they will act on that anger in a heartbeat. Evelyn was beaten by one of those creatures, Charles. It's a miracle I haven't sent troops to rescue her long before now."

Charles couldn't argue with that: Evelyn had been beaten. Seeing his sister with a bruised and bustled face had left him no small amount of angry. He looked miserably at his tea. "Only she claimed she was happy," he muttered.

"I know," the king said with a sigh. "Your sister was always a bit mad. I think it's why I love her." He gazed off, blinking thoughtfully. "But she hasn't had the education you and I were afforded, Charles. She doesn't know any better. She thinks the foxes quaint curiosities for study. She can not know what horrific rituals the foxes of antiquity performed to their gods. She can not comprehend the danger."

Charles swallowed hard. That was true. He remembered going off to university at sixteen. He and Dick attended different schools, and the long separation was practically unbearable. But it made their reunion during the holidays all the more sweet. Stolen kisses in dark corners, quick sex in the garden, oral pleasure in the courtyard. Sometimes Dick would even get bold and slip into Charles' bed at night.

"We have unearthed their ancient ruins and seen with our own eyes what monsters they were and are," the king went on. "We know what chaos their magic of old has wrought. We can not risk allowing it to happen again."

"But not all of them were terrible," Charles insisted.

The king smiled. "You speak of Porden's Theory."

"Yes."

Porden was an old Dalmatian scholar who supposedly found an ancient ruin depicting foxes who ruled benevolent kingdoms. The foxes in particular were white and seemed to have been painted in such a way that they glowed from the murals. During the dog invasion, the white foxes surrendered and even made peace with the dogs for a time. Porden shared his discovery with the world and was exiled by King Bastian's ancestor for heresy. To pretend the foxes were ever anything more than bloodthirsty savages was a direct proclamation against the church and swift punishment usually followed in the form of the headsman's axe. King Mathias, however, showed Porden mercy and simply sent him away. Porden was later martyred by an angry mob, and by decree of King Bastian, was named a saint centuries after his death. His ashes rest in the church at Wychowl, and those who believe his theory make the pilgrimage to pray before his shrine.

"Surely his majesty must believe some of the foxes were peaceful," Charles pressed. "You made Porden a saint, did you not? And the vixen Aunt Giselle sent to you was evidence in itself that some of the foxes are not, in fact, savages."

The king slid a thoughtful finger along his lip. "That is true. I admit I hold some fascination with Porden's Theory. And perhaps the foxes can be civilized with the influence of our kind. But I could not sit idle while they posed a threat to Howlester, Charles. I could not."

Charles didn't know what to say. He couldn't very well accuse the king of acting on an imagined threat - insulting him would destroy what little progress he had made for Evelyn. And he had to admit that he'd thought the same thing: perhaps Evelyn's Lily had been civilized by their influence and had been little more than a savage beforehand. But it was still something. If foxes could be civilized, then it meant Evelyn was right: the hunt was wrong. He said as much to the king and looked at him in silent appeal.

The king sighed. "Perhaps you could convince me, Charles. But I wish you luck in convincing all the world. If you desire, I will take measures to show more . . . _lenience_toward the foxes in the future."

"That would relieve me greatly, your majesty," Charles said, but he thought of all the nobles who would resent him for his efforts and dreaded the day when he would find a knife in his back. It was quickly becoming known that Duke Charles Verneus had the ear of the king, and such influence - while it served his purposes - was likely to draw unwanted attention. From jealous nobles, from ambitious nobles, and from nobles who opposed his views. There were still many dogs who believed the foxes little more than savages and would loudly oppose any laws against the hunt. Fox pelts were still in fashion, and even now, ladies strutted the court with fluffy fox tails wrapped around their shoulders like shawls. After having known Lily and the happiness she brought Evelyn, the sight now made Charles sick.

"What will become of the renegades, your majesty?" Charles wondered.

"Justice shall become of them," the king answered.

Charles struggled to keep the anger from his face. The king's response otherwise translated to: whatever the queen wishes. And the queen would likely wish for their heads.

"And . . ." Charles set down his cup. He hadn't spoken to the king of Princess Corene yet. But the girl still posed a threat to Evelyn's child, and there was no way the queen was going to simply send little Corene away. The queen doted on the girl night and day. Frightened for Evelyn and her child, Charles had managed - after an hour of oral pleasure - to convince the king to make Evelyn his princess consort. It meant Evelyn's child would be acknowledged as an heir in line before Princess Corene. Charles was still waiting for the queen to move her chess piece in response.

"No harm will come to a child of mine, Charles," the king said before Charles could continue. "I have already sworn this." He smiled. "Look at you, sitting there fretting, charming me with your soft spoken concerns and your pleading eyes. I have seen those eyes of yours beg in ways that would bring me, a king, to his knees. You have me around your finger. And don't think I do not know it."

"Your m-majesty," Charles stammered as the king reached over and touched his face.

"You are so much like Evelyn," the king whispered. "Beautiful. Charismatic. Only you aren't fully aware of your charms," he said with a soft laugh. "And you lack your sister's acute deviousness."

Charles lowered his lashes as the king's large thumb caressed his lip.

"Where Evelyn's manipulations draw blood, yours are gently coaxing," the king went on. "You pull my heartstrings with a kiss and a look. And I admit, I am quite shaken. The queen enjoys it all. She enjoys the way you manipulate me like puddy in your clever paws. She finds it a splendid game, and she is enjoying her little chess match with you enormously. She prowls the shadows, wondering how and when you will strike next. But make no mistake, Charles . . ." He frowned. "Donica _will_win. At the end of the day, Princess Corene _will_succeed me. I can only promise that no _harm_will come to my child." He dropped his paw and returned to his tea.

Charles stared at him, taken aback: did the king really believe he was trying to get Evelyn's child on the throne? "Your majesty, that's all I ever wanted. For Evelyn and her child to be safe."

The king didn't answer. He sipped his tea and stared off, his gray eyes sad.

Charles frowned. "Your majesty . . .?" He hesitated but reached across the table and closed his paw on the king's. Bastian's cold rings touched him like ice, and he remembered all the times those same cold rings had touched his penis.

"You, Donica, and Evelyn have undone me," the king whispered. He sighed. "I am the slave of you all."

He looked so unhappy that Charles rose from his seat without thinking. He came around the table and kissed his cheek in sympathy.

The king laughed softly. "I am unworthy of such sweet concern, being your pawn as I am." He took Charles by the paw and led him to the balcony railing. Charles swallowed hard as the king turned him to face the railing. His cheeks flushed the tiniest bit when the king's paw yanked at his belt.

"Your m-majesty . . .?" Charles sputtered as his pants dropped around his ankles. The king bent him over the railing by the neck without a word. Charles braced himself, suddenly breathless as his tail was lifted and the cold air hit his backside. In the pause that followed, he gasped to feel the icy moisture of cream on his anus. No doubt Decius was applying it: he recognized the slave's careful fingers as they sank slowly inside. Charles moaned and bit his lip. The king grabbed him by the hip and slowly sank the enormity of his passion under his tail. Charles whimpered long and low as that thick erection pulled his anus taunt. His penis hardened as it happened, slapping the railing as it stood upright.

"Oh . . . your majesty."

The king slowly began to thrust, his soft grunts rising with the sound of morning birdsong. "Pretty thing," he whispered. "You have undone me. . . . you and your damned sister. . . . mmm. . . ." He reached around and fondled Charles, who rocked under him, white mane in his crooked glasses, breathless and gasping. Charles shivered when the king licked his ear and whispered, "I have come to need you. . . . so desperately."

Charles closed his eyes. And as the king made sweet love to him in the morning sunlight, he decided not to tell him about Dick. Not today.