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Words Spoken Too Late

Chapter 34

Azrian awoke with a start when someone knocked on her bedroom door. Her eyes snapped open and she stared at the ceiling. It took her a moment to remember where she was and that she still looked like Etienne. Beside her, Decius stirred, his long lashes blinking as he slowly came awake. He looked at Azrian fearfully: someone coming to her in the middle of the night could not be good.

"Get my housecoat, Decius," Azrian said calmly and got up.

Decius obeyed. Azrian pulled the housecoat tight over Etienne's muscular frame and went to the door. Decius opened it for her to reveal Corene, who fairly flew inside, her white mane frayed and flying, her eyes large and wet with tears. The princess stumbled into the room, brushing past Azrian and to the dwindling fire, where she paced back and forth, tugging at her wild mane. Azrian looked at the guards in the hall for an explanation, but the two mastiffs only shook their heads and shrugged, completely baffled. Azrian waved for Decius to close the door and turned to Corene as the slave obeyed.

Corene was trembling. She couldn't be still. Azrian went to her and took her shoulders. "Wait," she soothed the princess, "what's the matter? Talk to me."

Corene bit her lip and sniffled. "She's . . . d-dead."

Azrian stared. "Who?"

"I k-killed her," Corene said in a tiny voice that cracked. She broke free and started pacing again, her mane and tail flying at every turn. Azrian watched her a moment before she registered the movement in the corner of her eye. A shadow flickered beyond the edge of her vision, and she turned her head to see Candy Cane hovering near the wall. The spirit was flickering in and out, its sad eyes fixed in sympathy on Corene.

"Maybe you can translate?" Azrian said to the spirit. She noticed the baffled look that crossed Decius' face and remembered the slave could not see the spirit. He sat at the end of the bed, calm and concerned, watching with flat ears as Corene sobbed and paced.

"Miss killed the queen," the spirit answered. She smiled. "With a letter opener."

Corene let out something between a wail and a scream. Azrian went to her and eased her into a chair. The princess hugged herself and rocked back and forth.

Azrian looked at the spirit in amazement. "Killed the queen?"

The spirit smiled. It stepped forward from the shadows, and Azrian blinked as it changed from a short red dog in a tattered dress to a shining bird. A spirit. Lavender plume and eyes like white flame. Its beak was silver, as were its claws and taloned feet. It was very short and thin, the size of a child. Its lavender plume tumbled in a wild and mangled mane around its blank, haunted eyes. Its tail dragged the carpet, the feathers frayed, thin, and tattered. Azrian saw Decius go very still, saw the blood seeping from his ears, and knew he was hearing the voice of the goddess. Corene's ears also began to bleed and she scratched at them and whimpered. Neither of them could see the spirit, and they looked around in confusion.

"Your presence makes them ache," Azrian said. "Put the disguise back on, I beg of you." She dropped to her knees before the spirit. "Yfel, goddess of madness, of broken minds and broken hearts . . . please. Your very majesty can break mortal minds."

"Like straw," agreed the spirit and obliged, changing back into Candy Cane once more.

Breathless and frightened, Decius glanced around as the bleeding stopped. Azrian went to him and wiped his ears with a cloth from the desk, whispering that he should fetch water and cloths for the princess. Decius obeyed. Azrian watched a moment as Corene allowed the slave to care for her.

"Who the bloody hell," Corene said weakly, "are you talking to? Candy Cane is no goddess!"

Azrian ignored Corene and turned to the spirit, who had taken on the appearance of Candy Cane once more. "Why have you come here, Great Yfel Bird? Why do you haunt the princess of the doglands?"

Yfel looked at Azrian with her blank white eyes. "Her blood sings to me. As does the blood of all the mad. I haunt her because I am Candy Cane. Because I carry Candy Cane and the echo of her madness. As I carry all the mad. And all the echoes."

Azrian nodded. "Her madness drew you. You see her as one of your subjects . . ."

"Yes."

Azrian sighed: much like Zuu'ma, the goddess Yfel had lost her worshippers long ago. Her kingdom fell when Ayni waged war on Ti'uu and the other gods. It was said she spent her immortality ever after seeking out the mad and clinging to them. She was the goddess of future and past, for she could see the future and the past collectively, as if it were happening in the present. And it was believed that when blind fox Seers spoke, the goddess Yfel was speaking through them.

Yfel's sister was Maret, the goddess of death, and it was said Maret often flew where her sister walked. Azrian glanced out the window, half-expecting a black bird to fly across the moon. But nothing happened. Thankfully. She turned again to Corene, who was still sniffling with tears. "No one knows the queen is dead, right?"

Corene bit her lip and more tears came. She bowed her head. Azrian waved Decius aside, and taking the princess by the shoulders, she peered into her face and repeated her question.

"N-No one knows," Corene confirmed. "I pulled her away from the door . . . the guards think she spilled wine . . . that I went to fetch someone to clean it up . . . blood . . ." She blinked out more tears, staring unseeing at Azrian's concerned face. "So much blood . . . what am I going to do? They'll hang me." She bowed her head again and sobbed. "They'll hang me, they'll hang me, they'll --"

"Hush," Azrian whispered and squeezed her shoulders. "This is what we're going to do. You're going to go to your room, go to bed, and pretend this didn't happen. I'm going to go to Donica's bedroom . . . and become her."

Corene's head snapped up. She stared at Azrian with large eyes. ". . . yes. That could work," she said with a sudden smile. Her eyes stared at Azrian, large and doll-like in their blank joy. "Yes. You'll copy her. As you copied Etienne." She laughed hoarsely. "Hhahaha. Yes, that could w-work!"

Azrian nodded. "I'll have Decius escort you to your room. I'll become her, and we'll pretend as if Etienne ran away again. You just go to bed. Understand?"

"You have to get there before P-Primus," Corene sniffed. "She sent him for wine. He'll find her body. I stuffed it in the wardrobe. I didn't know what to do!" she protested, as if she feared Azrian would scold her, but Azrian only smoothed down her mane. "He'll . . ." She shook her head and her eyes suddenly sparkled with unshed tears. She frowned. "I don't know what he'll do. Perhaps he'll cry." Her lip trembled and she stared at her slippers.

Azrian looked at Decius. "Would you take her, please?"

Decius nodded uncertainly. He was watching Corene with concern, and it suddenly occurred to Azrian that he had probably watched the princess grow up from a little pup and no doubt hated to see her so distraught. His gentle paw touched her cheek, then he helped her to her feet and was leading her past Azrian when the vixen stopped him.

"And the next time we meet," Azrian said, putting her paw on the slave's shoulder, "I won't be Etienne, remember? I'll be Donica. Wait about half an hour, then come to the queen's chamber and announce that Etienne has run away. We have to give Primus a chance to be there. So he can witness it."

Decius nodded dutifully.

"Good," Azrian said and smoothed down his mane. "Now go."

***

Corene cried freely as she allowed Decius to lead her up the corridor. Donica was dead. Donica was dead. And somehow, she had managed to kill her without getting a drop of blood on her clothes. No one could connect her to the crime for the moment. If Primus returned and found the body before Azrian could get there, he would be as much of a suspect. Who would believe that sweet innocent Princess Corene had killed the queen and not big, lumbering Primus? The subjects had already concocted stories of Primus and his festering jealousy, of the slave being forced to watch over the years as the king made love to the queen, who he was secretly in love with. They would say the queen had refused the slave's love until one day he finally snapped and killed her. Yes. They would fabricate such stories. They were bound to hang the slave before they hung her! But she bit her lip and hated herself. She didn't want to die, but she didn't want Primus to die because of her.

They made quick progress up the corridor, and Corene knew Decius wanted to say something to her. It wasn't so much that Beaucerons weren't allowed to speak. Beaucerons were allowed to do whatever they wanted short of breeding beyond a certain age. If they pressed for equality, they would probably be paid as equal citizens for their work and not kept as pets and slaves. But they wanted to be pets and slaves. And they wanted to remain silent. And it was only when they felt strongly that they ever spoke. Decius spoke very rarely, but when he did, it was usually because he had been moved to compassion by his sympathy for another. He looked on the verge of speaking at the moment, and his eyes were sad with pain for her.

Finally, they came to Corene's bedchamber, and Corene stopped to face the slave. She wanted to say farewell to him. He had been a good and kind servant, and such a good friend to her Etienne. Before she could speak, however, Decius took her face and kissed her gently on the forehead. He smiled sadly into her eyes and whispered, "Take care, my princess."

Corene peered up at him sadly and closed her paw over his a moment. Then she opened the door and entered her bedchamber. Decius closed the door behind her, and she could hear his feet padding up the hall. He would return to the prince's bedchamber, tie some sheets together, hurl them out the window, and make it look like Etienne had run again. And who would question the lie? Decius would probably be paddled for letting the prince escape yet again, but that would be the end of it. The vixen would then send out mastiffs, and the hunt for Etienne would begin anew.

Corene stepped into the room and wearily allowed Flavia to take off her cloak. She hadn't been to her room since her arrival at Wychowl and had met Flavia in the corridor, while on her way to see Donica. This was the first moment she really stopped to rest, and she slid gratefully into a chair as Flavia massaged her shoulders. The fire had been stroked up, the bed turned down, and she was glad to see her bags were packed. She had told Flavia that they would sleep for perhaps an hour, and then they would leave and never look back.

Flavia didn't seem surprised or even happy about the news, which was baffling to Corene: how many times as they lay awake at night had Flavia begged Corene to run away with her? She didn't always beg with words. But she always begged. She wanted Corene to be safe. She had grown up with Corene, watching as Donica smacked her and belittled her. She had spent her life fearing for her lover's life.

But there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. The fear was dead. The fear died in a pool of its own blood. Corene closed her eyes and smiled as she realized: she was free.

Flavia smiled uncertainly when she saw Corene smile, her small paws working with quick fingers to untangle Corene's wild mane. Corene closed her eyes as the brush smoothed down her curls. She could feel Flavia's little breasts touching her back. The slave was small and short, with round hips and perky little breasts. Flavia had always been small, something that aroused in Corene a dominate fire she had never known when with Etienne. Flavia made her hungry. Flavia made her wild. Being with Flavia meant being herself, being the one in control, being . . . in love and utterly loved in return. Flavia was a precious thing that she needed to protect. Flavia was the quiet at the center of the storm. Her safe place. Her home.

But Jonathan. Corene burned with guilt to think of him. Because she knew that, somehow and someway, she loved Jonathan. And if not for Etienne, she would have said yes. She would have run away with him. But Etienne had needed her. And how could she conceive of leaving Flavia in Donica's clutches? Now she had Flavia safe again, and the thought crossed her mind that she should run to Jonathan. He would catch her in his arms, and they would run far, far away and never look back. And Flavia would stay with them. Always.

But did she have the courage run to him? After everything she had said? Could she go back to Howlester Duchy? Back to a place where she'd wandered for days drugged and dazed? Back to a place where she was brutalized and victimized? The very sight of the streets would send her to vomiting.

Corene closed her eyes and felt her frayed nerves soothing as Flavia lovingly brushed her mane. Being with Flavia . . . it was like she could breathe again. She caught Flavia's paw as the brush went down the tresses over her shoulder. "Let's to bed, darling. I missed you terribly."

Corene didn't have to look at Flavia to know she was smiling when she whispered, "Yes, my princess."

Flavia helped Corene undress, and they crawled into bed together, kissing as they fell to the sheets. Corene took down Flavia's long black plait, running her fingers through her mane as her hungry lips trailed kisses down her neck. Her careful fingers glided slowly in the wet sheath of Flavia's sex and felt it clench, felt the lips swell and the moisture slide warm down her paw. Her hot kisses found Flavia's nipple and suckled deeply, as between her thighs, her massaging fingers coaxed and caressed.

Flavia's breasts heaved breathlessly, her slender body rolling as Corene's kisses traveled down her belly to her sex. Corene spread the slave's lips and slapped her sex with her hot tongue, slowly and hungrily, her tongue curling with finesse on every lick. She buried her nose and breathed deeply as her head moved with hunger between Flavia's legs. Flavia's sex had always smelled so deliciously sweet and musky and Corene couldn't get enough.

The little slave twisted breathlessly on her back, and when Corene closed her mouth on her clitoris and sucked, her small paws curled tight in the sheets and yanked, her thighs almost bucked. Corene stroked Flavia's thighs to calm her, then pushed them wider apart and continued the slow assault. She glanced up every now and then to watch Flavia's little breasts heaving at the ceiling, and she wished she had four arms so that she could touch all of her at once. She caressed and squeezed Flavia's breasts as she licked between her thighs, then slid two fingers in Flavia's sex and two in her anus, and curled them, caressing the pleasurable spot in each sensitive place, both at the same time.

It was the easiest way to make Flavia wild, and it worked: the slave began to heave and buck, her breasts trembling as she was fingered, licked, and sucked all at once. Corene made love to her until she cried shrilly to the ceiling and squirted. And the princess gently ate her juices away, listening with wet thighs to Flavia's shrill panting.

Corene smiled to hear Flavia's trembling breaths. She trailed loving kisses up the slave's belly and breasts, crawling up between her thighs with her large breasts hanging to kiss her on the mouth. Flavia kissed Corene back, sliding her tongue in the princess' mouth as her small paws cupped and massaged the big breasts that were crushed to her own. She found Corene's nipples and caressed them, and as the princess kissed and nibbled her neck, her fingers found her sex and stroked the swollen lips.

"My princess is wet for me," Flavia whispered, pinching her fingers in the web of Corene's juices.

"Mm," Corene moaned, sliding her knees up the sheets and pushing Flavia's legs wider. She lay on top of the slave, holding her tight, kissing her neck as she gently rubbed her clit against hers. Flavia's lashes fluttered as her clit swelled to arousal once more, fluttered as she felt Corene's clitoris swell against her own. Corene rubbed the heat of her swollen lips against Flavia's swollen lips, and before long, they were both panting weakly.

"My p-princess . . ." Flavia whispered breathlessly as the pleasure doubled again toward another climax. "My p-princess . . .?"

"Oh, Flavia . . ." Corene whispered, blushing as her clit swelled thicker. Her mane was tumbling in her slanted eyes, and looking up at her, Flavia thought she was gorgeous. "What is it, darling?" the princess whispered and kissed Flavia tenderly under the eye.

"I love you!" Flavia blurted. "So much!"

Corene blinked at her. But her eyes softened with a smile. She moved her hips as deeply and slowly as before, rubbing their soft clits together until their eyes were glazed with the pleasure of it. She leaned down close and kissed Flavia warm on the lips, and as their tongues slid together, they squirted.

Flavia held Corene afterward. She always did. She wrapped the princess in her slender little arms and held her tight, stroking her white mane and kissing it. And Corene, tired and content, smiled at the ceiling as she listened to Flavia's heartbeat.

"My princess," Flavia whispered after a while, "do you trust me?"

"With my life," Corene said at once.

"Then drink this."

Corene glanced over. Flavia had reached for a glass on the bedside table. It looked like plain water. Corene cocked an eyebrow. "Drink a glass of water?" she said with a laugh.

"Yes," Flavia whispered, "and when you awake, we will be far from here. As you wanted. As we both wanted."

"Is the carriage waiting? Like I told you?"

". . . yes," Flavia whispered, though Corene didn't seem to catch the hesitation or the guilt in her voice.

"Good," Corene said, sitting up on her elbow. "Remember, I want to rest only an hour and then we are gone. Not a minute longer --"

"Yes, yes," Flavia scolded softly. "Hush now. And drink this, my love."

Corene obeyed without question, allowing Flavia to tip the glass to her lips. After all, it was standard for her to have a glass of something or other before bed. Sometimes it was vodka. Other times it was milk. Or just plain water. It was a normal enough ritual, Corene's nightly drink. Only . . . Flavia had never questioned Corene's trust before.

Corene gulped the last of the water down and licked her lips as Flavia set the glass on the bedside table again.

"Well," Corene said and cleared her throat. "That tasted . . . tangy?" She looked at Flavia. "What was in buh blah buh . . .?" she babbled herself silent and heard a laugh: over near the door, Candy Cane was standing in her bloody dress. She smiled at Corene.

Corene looked at Flavia, who was watching her apologetically. "Flavia . . ." she swallowed hard and placed her paw over the slave's. It was shaking. "What did you do?"

Flavia shook her head sadly. "I'm saving you from the queen. It's your only chance."

Corene went very still. Her nostrils flared angrily. "Flavia . . . Donica is dead."

Flavia's eyes fluttered wide. But before she could answer, Corene's eyes rolled back in her head, and as she slipped away on the coverlet, a pack of Great Danes entered the room, bearing the arms of King Louis of Curith.