Chapter Five

Erulia stood back from the lacquered timber armoire with a steaming cup in hand as a worried expression marred her otherwise arresting face.

She had slept surprisingly well and awakened in her faithful handmaiden's warm embrace as they snuggled together in dawn's forgiving light after the disturbing events of the night before. Breakfast had already been laid out on a side table; ripe seasonal fruits, fresh baked bread, purest honey and churned butter with a piping hot pot of the herbal brew scenting the room with the aromas of morning.

That was well and good but whomever had provided the enticing repast had also absconded with her clothing from the day before. There was probably a sub-clause in the diabolically complex betrothal agreement about her wearing the fine whispersilk dress from home.

Erulia really needed to read more of that dense tome of contract law to better comprehend her strange circumstances but that would have to wait…

Because Queen Annarosa wouldn’t.

“Any better wardrobe choices in your quarters?” She called out to Idril as she plucked at the draping sleeve of a cerulean blue gown. The fabric was wonderfully smooth to the touch but the gossamer skirts were nearly transparent.

Far too daring for an elf of her station and position.

“Not really.” Her friend called back through the connecting doorway. “I’ve found something really nice in jade silk but the small corset top is a no… just, no.”

“We don’t have time for this. Her Majesty expects us to attend her shortly and I suspect she is neither the patient nor forgiving sort.”

There had been a note delivered with breakfast, written in a curling cursive hand, courteously inviting the elven Princess and her companion to join the Sorcerous Queen in her atelier by the third bell, followed by some poorly veiled threats outlining the strict ramifications of failing to do so.

The woman was going to be a nightmare to deal with, though after what they overheard last night…

“Fine, how about this one?” Idril asked, trudging back into the room holding up a strapless, backless soiree dress weaved out of intricate lace. It was the color of burnt umber and sized for clingy. “At least it will cover my most delicate parts.”

Even as she spoke, Erulia couldn’t miss the way her friend’s bright hazel eyes kept flickering to the portraits of Prince Seberin covering every available inch of wall space around the airy apartment.

She couldn’t even find it in herself to reprimand Idril, there was something powerfully attractive about the painted likenesses and she had often found herself doing the same throughout the morning. Just kind of… spacing out and being soothed by the distant roar of the castle wards as she fell into those piercing amber orbs and big strong muscles.

“That looks like a good choice.” She said in a weak attempt at moral support. “I think it will make your eyes pop.”

“Just so long as nothing else pops out, if you catch my meaning.”

The platinum-haired Princess wasn’t sure why Idril was so worried. She wasn’t the one about to spend the day being grilled alive by the unhinged Regent of Bathard. But at the same time, the outfit she had chosen would undoubtedly capture the attention of any red-blooded male who saw her.

And by all reports, there was only one such male in the palace.

A slip of the flavorsome tea helped calm her rattled nerves and she turned back to her own questionable fashion options with new, mildly competitive, resolve.

“Okay, help me into…” She reached into the wardrobe and withdrew a particularly revealing garment that had initially offended her prim and proper high elf sensibilities “...this one. Hurry now, we can’t keep her royal Majesty waiting.”

Erulia didn’t miss the slightly sour expression that flashed over the beautiful wood elf’s face at her scandalous selection.

“Are you sure, Princess?”

“I am certain. Now perform your duty, handmaiden, and assist me in dressing.”

“Where are you taking us again?” Erulia asked, tugging self-consciously at the front of her skirts as she tried to keep up with the briskly striding maidservant. “The Queen’s receiving rooms?”

“Her Majesty’s atelier. The locus of her magical power and innermost sanctum. You are privileged to be amongst the rarefied few to be allowed entry to her most private chambers.”

The pretty young serving woman leading them didn’t look back or slow her trotting pace as she spoke in a cool, neutral tone. Like all the palace staff Erulia had encountered thus far; this fiery redhead represented an impressive combination of full curves, sculpted limbs, dazzling features and–in this particular case–was spectacularly pregnant.

The girl’s hugely swollen belly pushed out the front of her frilly black and white uniform as though she had swallowed a winter melon. Her big milky tits jiggled atop the prominent baby-bump, barely restrained within a swooping neckline which dipped so low that a deep enough breath would cause an embarrassing incident.

Not that Erulia was really in a position to throw stones concerning tastes in fashion. She was already beginning to regret her hasty choice of courtly garb.

The elegant sapphire gown she was wearing wrapped her lithe figure tightly with layered skirts that swept down at the back to tickle her ankles but were cut high at the front, meager inches below her narrow hips, exposing most of her sleek ivory legs.

She had thought the matching silk stockings would provide additional coverage but the gauzy bands and garters connected just short of the ruffled hemline, drawing even more attention to the slim gap at the topmost terminus of her bare thighs. At least it distracted from all the perky young Princess’s décolletage–humble though it was–on display due to the plunging nature of the exposing ensemble.

“Atelier… Do you mean her sorcerous workshop?” Idril inquired, as they turned down another grand hallway that was near identical to the last three they had traveled.

The castle interior was larger than it seemed from outside appearances. A sprawling labyrinth of corridors and rooms, lavishly decorated to showcase the wealth and might of the human kingdom, and its royal family especially.

Hunting trophies of fantastical beasts were mounted upon the cold marble walls alongside captured war banners, tournament prizes and, of course, the multitude of framed canvases featuring one or both of the two current rulers of the human kingdom. One of the receiving halls they had passed contained a full adult chimera–preserved through some miracle of taxidermy–suspended by chains from the ceiling with its giant bat wings spread as though frozen in mid flight.

…and under each exhibit was a small brass plate denoting the heroic manner in which they were won. Unsurprisingly, Seberin De La Sol’s name was featured with unerring regularity.

“You will understand when you arrive.” Was the gravid maid’s only response.

“Will the Prince be there too?” Idril pressed a little too eagerly. “We are ultimately here to meet with him after all.”

She sounded a bit breathless but that might have been because the snug fit of her barely-there lace dress constricted her usual stride to small half-steps, taking two for every one of their own. The absurdly tall drakeskin fuck-me boots she was teetering about in probably didn’t help either.

Erulia moved far more comfortably in her slingback pumps sparkling with azure crystals to match the color of her indiscreet gown. The stiletto heels were only three inches long, easily manageable with her high elven grace and dexterity.

“The Crown Prince–may his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years–will be preoccupied with taking audiences today.” The pregnant redhead replied, warmth entering her neutral tone at the mention of Prince Seberin as her small hand drifted down to rub her massively swollen stomach. “We will be passing that way shortly but cannot dally. Her Highness does not tolerate tardiness.”

No sooner had she said it, then they were entering a busy grand foyer with vaulted stone ceilings and varnished timber benches lining the walls on either side of a pair of elaborately carved double doors.

Four of the statuesque Amazonian royal guards barred the entryway with spears and bucklers at the ready. Their brief studded leather corsets and segmented skirts left a gratuitous abundance of full, pushed-up cleavage and muscular legs out on show.

The bustle of supplicants waiting to be announced were almost entirely female. Gorgeous young women of every variety sporting their finest–if somewhat undersized–attire with a few pallid sallow-faced men scattered amongst their tittering numbers.

Erulia spotted a powerfully built orcish shield maiden dressed in fur loincloth and a chainmail bikini top that struggled to contain her enormous green endowments looking coyly down at her nervously twiddling thumbs as she waited to be summoned.

A trio of lilac-skinned drow femme fatales whispered conspiratorially together in one corner, blushing and giggling like naughty damsels. Their deadly honed bodies criss-crossed in the thin strips of black leather they regarded as armor and braided onyx hair falling to the small of their trim backs.

The buxom serving girl didn’t waste time in guiding the pair of rubbernecking elves through the press, stepping around an eager-eyed group of young noblewomen in extravagantly brief evening wear, when the giant double door rumbled open just wide enough for two dazzling examples of human beauty to stagger out.

They were both tall, vivacious blondes who looked so alike they might have been twins. Their frippy little summer dresses were badly rumpled and their shining golden hair was in a frightful state of disarray. One fussed absently with a broken shoulder strap as they leaned heavily on each other for support and fanned their beaming faces with flapping hands.

“Thank you, Highness!” They sing-songed over their shoulders, stumbling a little on bowed legs. “May your glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!”

Erulia frowned as she noticed the wet sheen coating both pairs of flashing thighs before she was whisked away down yet another corridor.

“Next!” A guardswoman shouted behind her retreating back.

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