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At Last

Chapter 69

Prince Adrian sat on the balcony of his room at the inn, smoking a cigar with all the leisure of a gentleman on a vacation. For him, it sort of was a vacation. The last month had been bliss. No simpering wife, no whining son, no scheming courtiers, no bickering priests, no ass-kissing advisors. Just Prince Adrian, Pooki, and a nice view.

It seemed the search for his son had led Adrian no where. Now his spies were telling him Florian was in Wychowl, so it was just as well that he was already on his way. At the moment, he was in the town of Malowre, a farming community just outside Varimore's grand capitol. The inn was a small, crowded, filthy, and noisy place full of dirty farmers and peasants. It made Adrian's lip curl. But it was the only inn in town and he was exhausted: he would have to make do.

It was the middle of the night and the moon was bright in the sky. In the open country, the stars were scattered across the darkness like salt, winking bright and pure. One couldn't see the stars well in the capital and here, they were a welcome sight. They made Adrian feel oddly . . . at peace.

But the sight of S'pru now cold and dark was enough to make any peace in Adrian's heart fizzle out to bitter frustration. S'pru had stopped burning. Ayni would be unhappy about it - not that she'd had a part in it either way. No doubt Azrian and Etienne thought Ayni was behind S'pru's attack, but She of Fire could care less about S'pru. Ayni didn't want to rule S'pru. Ayni wanted to rule existence, and she had achieved that in a way, thanks in no small part to Jonathan and Corene's frigid daughter Robin.

Adrian smirked as he tapped his cigar in the nearby ashtray. To think, all these years, he had worried and schemed and spied, trying to find some way to manipulate Jonathan and Corene's child - if not for fear that she would usurp the throne of Curith then just out of pure spite. On her deathbed, Queen Yvonne shared her suspicions with Adrian, that she believed King Louis had a daughter - a god-child, no less -- sequestered away in Varimore. She asked Adrian to do everything in his power to stop that daughter from reaching adolescence.

Adrian, however, was content to wait and watch. After all, if the gods had some plan for Robin, there was little he could do to stop them. And if Ayni wanted him to intervene, then she would give him the means to do so. But Ayni never whispered a word, never uttered a command that Adrian should stop the life of Robin Kingsley, and so Adrian watched. And he waited.

Now Adrian understood why Ayni hadn't done anything about Robin's existence: she and Yfel had been working together all along. Who would have thought? The gods - who had been feuding for thousands of years - could overcome their differences, but mortals could not?

It was all about power. Mortals struggled against each other because mortals craved power, and mortals craved power because mortals had no power -- not even foxes with all their magic, or else they wouldn't have been reduced to living in the mud. Ayni and Yfel had learned to share power and now all the universe was at their figurative fingertips. Adrian thought dogs could learn from their example. He would have gladly shared power with Etienne if he weren't such a fool._And if his girlfriend - that bungler Azrian - hadn't _murdered his aunt.

There was no going back now. The world was better off with Adrian and his kin on the throne, he believed it completely. Now he just needed to find a more suitable mate to breed little kings with, someone who wasn't an utter bore. He smiled as he thought of his wife. Not that Sophie was boring anymore._One of his spies reported the other day that Sophie was pregnant. _Pregnant and scrambling to hide all evidence of the fact! King Louis passed away the month before, and Sophie almost vomited at the funeral service. She was rushed from the cathedral by her slave and spent an inappropriate length of time off alone with one of Adrian's uncles in her quarters. Adrian only needed the name of which uncle and he would execute said uncle alongside his darling wife. Adultery was the highest form of treason in Curith, especially among royalty, whose pure bloodline was so carefully cultivated century after century and could not afford to be sullied.

Better dead and intriguing than alive and boring, dearest Sophie, Adrian thought, pulling thoughtfully on his cigar and exhaling smoke through his pink nostrils.

Adrian had been waiting a week for his spy to get back to him with the correct uncle's name. The damned fool wasn't entirely certain which uncle's back he'd glimpsed going in the bedchamber! Why were his spies such incompetent morons? But at least the spy had been keeping an eye on Sophie at all: there was another spy Adrian had to quietly execute for drinking on the job and losing vital information.

Regardless, Sophie's death was certain. It was impossible that the child she now carried could be Adrian's. He hadn't touched his wife in several years and had only slept with her the month before, just before his departure for Wychowl. He had taken his time approaching the capital, allowing his spies to tail Sophie and track her behavior in his absence. Everything they reported only confirmed his suspicions: that she was fucking one of his uncles, not the servants. Sleeping with the servants was a trespass Adrian could have forgiven eventually, but his uncles? It was appalling. His own uncles -- who had petted his head when he was a boy -- were stabbing him in the back with his wife!

Adrian bitterly shook his head. If he didn't find a new wife, there would never be any chance of conceiving another heir. And then all his hopes - the kingdom's hopes - would rest on Florian and molding him for his future reign. Lord, help them all.

There was going to be _hell_to pay when Adrian returned from Wychowl. Oh yes. He would publicly execute Sophie and her not-so-secret lover, and he would make Florian watch. It would be a good lesson for the prince. Once Florian was king, he would have to be firm with his wife, keep her from straying, and make his punishment swift and hard should she disobey. There could be no room for fidgeting, hesitation, or soft-hearted mercy. A queen who strayed was a dead queen, and Florian would learn that lesson if Adrian had to beat it into him.

"Mmpfh - P-Pooki . . . take it in your mouth . . . your pretty mouth," Adrian whispered and loosened his cravat. He was fully dressed, but his breeches were undone, and his slave Pooki was kneeling between his thighs, obediently and passionately licking up and down his erect penis. Her eyes were closed and she was frowning and there was nothing indifferent about her now - she had always loved sucking dick. Fluffy and white and soft, all curves and submissive sweetness, her poofy tail waving back and forth as she pleasured him with abandon. Adrian's cock was throbbing with veins. He swallowed hard, and clapping his paw on Pooki's soft mane, he guided her head forward, until his cock had crammed deep in her mouth and prodded the back of her throat. He felt her tense as she fought her gag reflex, and then she was sucking him hungrily, slurping as her drool spilled over. Her small, soft fingers dutifully massaged his heavy sack as she sucked him, and her big, soft breasts brushed his thighs when she leaned forward.

"Put your tits on it," Adrian whispered with hooded eyes.

Pooki obeyed, gathering her big breasts in both paws and crushing them either side Adrian's cock. She bowed her head and sucked gently on the head of his penis as her big, soft breasts crushed warm around him. Her pink nipples were rock hard. Adrian wanted to suck them.

Adrian closed his eyes and drew on his cigar, willing himself not to release. "Good girl," he whispered, exhaling smoke. He found it annoying that the creature Guss was sitting on the opposite end of the balcony, watching it all with blank eyes and a hard-on.

Guss was clearly one of Etienne's, a mastiff from the Honor Guard in Wychowl, who had somehow come to be under Hawkeye's thrall. Hawkeye, the one-eyed witch, had come to Adrian soon after he left for Wychowl, begging to work in his service. Adrian never cast aside anything that was useful to him - even a fox -- so he agreed.

It immediately became clear to Adrian that Hawkeye had only come to him in order to take possession of her thrall. She was injured and weak and needed her little bodyguard - only her bodyguard was now bound to Adrian. Adrian knew she was gathering strength, waiting for the moment when she would steal Guss and run back to who knew where. So Adrian kept Guss with him at all times, and even now, his room at the inn was heavily guarded.

As a result of Edgar's foolishness, Adrian now had his own personal thrall and a powerful witch at his beck and call. He would have to reward Edgar for it somehow. Edgar still had his uses, after all. He was utterly loyal to Adrian, and such loyalty was not something that could be bought.

Even now, Edgar stood beside Adrian's bedroom door, paws behind his back, watching with longing as Pooki's hungry mouth smoothed up and down Adrian's rigid cock. The mastiff had come to announce Hawkeye's arrival, but Adrian had ordered him to stand and wait until he was finished. The hunger in Edgar's eyes, the lust, the envy . . . it was those feelings of desire that would keep him loyal. Fiercely loyal. He would never suck Adrian's cock or know the taste of it, but so long as he was a good little servant to the throne, he would always have the privilege of seeing it licked, sucked, and ridden by Pooki. It was the closest he would ever get. The closest any male in the kingdom would ever get . . . besides Guss Hoddle.

Adrian glanced irritably at Guss and told him to close his eyes. The thrall obeyed.

Pooki was still sucking ravenously, and Adrian thought he would erupt. Closing his paw on the back of her long neck, he guided her up and onto his lap. She knew exactly what to do, as she had been doing it for years: she sat in his lap, facing away from him, legs spread, and eased her tight, pink pussy down over his cock. Adrian moaned in her ear as she closed hot and clenching around him, and then he was snapping his hips, stabbing himself up and in so hard, her tongue rolled out, her breasts jiggled, and her back snapped. He grabbed her big breasts in fistfuls and humped harder, until her juices were oozing down their joined sexes.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

Adrian bit savagely into Pooki's neck, and her pussy clenched. She squirted as she came, oozing hot over him, and he grunted as he released inside her. She gave a choked cry as his hot seed rushed to fill her, seeping from the clenching, straining lips of her sex and over his sack. Then she sagged in his lap, and he stroked her long white hair, smoothed his paw down her slender belly and gently fingered her clit until she shuddered.

Fucking Pooki in a chair was always so . . . invigorating.

Adrian glanced over at Edgar and noticed the great mastiff watching them with a strained expression. Yes, Adrian thought in amusement, watch and fantasize that this is you in my lap, riding royal cock, taking it up the ass. . . . or whatever it is your kind does.

Adrian took Pooki by the hips and gently guided her off his cock. "Run my bath, Pooki," he said breathlessly and gave her backside a slap that left her cheeks blushing and jiggling.

Pooki bowed her head, letting her long white hair glide forward. "Yes, my prince," she whispered and left the balcony for the darker, firelit interior of the room. Adrian listened a moment as she left the room to fetch water, knowing two of his guards would escort her out to the well.

Breathless and suddenly very tired, Adrian buttoned his breeches and waved for Edgar to show in Hawkeye. Edgar bowed reverently and turned out into the hall. When the Great Dane returned, Hawkeye was with him, looking stiff and coldly bitter. Adrian held back a smile as he crushed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray: Hawkeye was furious that she hadn't been able to take Guss from his possession. The longer her attempts continued to fail, the angrier she became . . . and the more dangerous. She was practically at full strength now, and Adrian knew that if she unleashed her powers, there would be no stopping her. It was time to remedy the situation.

"Your majesty," Hawkeye said derisively and gave Adrian a sarcastic curtsy that made him smile. Behind her, Edgar stood at the door, watching her suspiciously, his gun held ready.

Adrian eased up from his chair and went to the balcony railing, where he looked at the distant moon and stars. S'pru hovered in the sky, cold and silent, and - according to Ayni - frozen like a glacier. Frozen in time.

Hawkeye came up beside Adrian, and the smell of her was as enticing as ever, though he had resisted taking her to bed as long as he'd known her. Hawkeye hadn't exactly made it easy, purring words of seduction in Adrian's ear, smoothing her little paws over his backside and down his tail. The first time she made a pass at him, he gave her a vicious backslap that sent her to the floor. She never did it again. Though the ease with which he could tame her made the thought of bedding her all the more enticing. Still. He abstained. A beast who slept with a powerful witch-vixen was a foolish beast, as the McIntyres had learned all too well.

Hawkeye was dressed, as usual, like one of the classical savages of old: a tight deerskin dress, low at the cleavage , very short, and dyed black. Her feet were bare and her nails and toenails were long like bear claws and black as night. Bones were around her long throat in a necklace, and another bone went through her dark, muddy-brown ear like an earring. Her black mane was a magnificent mess piled haphazardly atop her head like a bird's nest and falling long down her back. She was slender at the waist and curvy in all the right places, all breasts and ass and long legs. God, she was gorgeous. Adrian sometimes wondered how much of her looks were natural and how much of it was magic. Her bright, vicious eye was fixed with bitter frustration and hatred on Adrian, and he could feel it burning through the side of his face. She was wearing an eyepatch, a jilted female who'd been stabbed in the face by her own supposed lover. When asked about the injury, she'd made the confession with tears, as if admitting to her failures would have softened Adrian toward her. Unsurprisingly, she was manipulative that way. Indeed, Adrian thought she was pathetic, but his pity was born of disdain, not compassion.

"Report, little bird," Adrian said, not looking at Hawkeye as he pulled a long, red kerchief from his coat and dabbed his damp face. He saw Hawkeye glare at the kerchief and smiled to himself: the silk kerchief was hers and he had confiscated it upon their first meeting. It was a trophy, a reminder of his complete dominance over her.

"The Kingsleys wrote a letter to Etienne," Hawkeye said through her fangs, with all the malice of a viper ready to snap. She pulled the letter from a pouch on her hip and offered it to Adrian. "I . . . secured it from the messenger."

Adrian took the letter, opened it, and scanned it with narrowed eyes. "Ah, the grand slut herself, Corene, wrote this gushing letter." His lip curled. "So sappy it might as well be a love note. Nothing I didn't know," he said with a snort, tossing the letter at Hawkeye's feet.

Hawkeye glared at the letter on the floor, then glared in astonishment at Adrian.

Adrian ignored her and looked out at the countryside. "Anything else?"

"You knew your son was at Wychowl --!?"

"Yes." Adrian frowned as he lit up another cigar. "I said: anything else."

Hawkeye's breasts heaved angrily, and Adrian held back a smile: she had done all that work for nothing.

"I have one more thing to give you, your majesty," Hawkeye said, but her voice was suddenly wheedling and soft. "If I give it to you, you must promise to return Guss to me. You must."

"No," Adrian said, exhaling smoke, not looking at Hawkeye, "I mustn't."

Hawkeye clenched her teeth, but she was not to be deterred. "Please, your majesty," she begged, and Adrian was disgusted by the slight sob in her voice. She hesitated and touched Adrian's arm, and he looked at her indignantly.

"How dare you even --!" began Adrian angrily.

"I m-must have Guss returned to me! I need him to --!"

"To find that bloody savage, the one who stabbed you in the face, yes, I know!" Adrian snapped, slapping her slender paw off.

Hawkeye staggered back and looked at Adrian bitterly. He thought she looked like a sulking child, so used to having everyone in her thrall, to getting her way. She had been spying on Nkwe and his sister for weeks. She had even used magic to project herself so that she might kidnap the girl for her own. She had failed yet again, of course, returning to her body more broken and drained than before. Adrian had been content to let her try: each time Hawkeye used astral projection, she only made herself weaker, and thus, she remained in Adrian's service, helpless to fight him. The tide was turning, however. Adrian could see the strength returning to Hawkeye, and as much as it pained him to admit it . . . he was beginning to fear her.

"You will discover, darling Hawkeye," Adrian went on sneeringly, "that I can not be twisted around your little finger. I will respond mercilessly to your sexual manipulations. And I will not respond to sniffling and tears at all." He looked away.

"Beware, your majesty," Hawkeye said in a low voice. "What you will not freely give, eventually, I will take."

Adrian smiled wryly. "Why, Hawkeye. That sounded vaguely like a threat."

"A threat, your majesty?" Hawkeye said, smiling nastily. "No. I wouldn't harm you for the world. You would make a darling slave, though. You are so very handsome." She purred softly and touched Adrian's long red mane, stroking the back of her fingers down his cheek.

Adrian hissed and slapped her paw away, drawing a sad gasp from her. "Leave off me, I said. I can not be seduced like the other fools you've already ravaged. What was the other thing? Tell me and be gone."

"First, I must have Guss returned to me. Just give him to me, and I will leave here quietly."

"You really expect me to believe that? You wouldn't leave without first pushing a dagger through my throat."

"Why should I hurt you and draw the wrath of Fire?"

"You fear Ayni?" Adrian snorted. "I thought you cared nothing for the gods."

"True, I care nothing for them," Hawkeye said evenly. "But only a fool wouldn't fear them."

"Alright," Adrian sighed. He turned from the railing and sat in his chair again. Hawkeye watched as he set down his cigar and tiredly smoothed a paw back through his mane. "I will give Guss to you and you will leave here. And I am never to see you again. Understood?"

Bright eye fixed intently on Adrian, Hawkeye lowered herself between his thighs and looked up at him, her generous bosom swollen under neck. "Understood, your majesty." She graciously bowed her head, and Adrian tensed when he felt her lips kiss his thigh.

"Get away," Adrian said with a sneer and jerked his thigh, nudging her kisses off. He lifted his wineglass from the nearby table and took a lazy sip. "Like I want my dick bitten off."

Hawkeye smiled, showing her pinpoint fangs. Standing nearby, Edgar made a panicked grunt, as if he thought Hawkeye might attack. Adrian was half-ready to pull the dagger from his sleeve, but Hawkeye only reached into her cleavage and pulled out a small vial. Adrian went still. The vial was glowing with a bright red liquid, glowing like fire. He could feel the heat of it against his face, steaming his fur. It was mesmerizing. He couldn't take his eyes off it as Hawkeye placed it in his paw.

"What is it?" Adrian asked in a hushed voice.

"It is a drop of the most potent herb, distilled from leaves of fire, borne from the desert sands that once were scorched by Ayni's wings."

"The desert kingdoms," Adrian muttered, staring absently at the vial.

"It is poison. The one who drinks it will burn from within, until fire has consumed them."

Adrian's suspicious eyes snapped on Hawkeye's face.

"It is for Ettoras," Hawkeye said, staring at the vial, her voice a low and raspy whisper. "The bastard whelp of Antony and Nadheertia --"

"You mean Etienne and_Azrian_," Adrian irritably corrected.

Hawkeye smiled at his irritation, her fangs slicing down over the corners of her mouth. "But it is who they are, your majesty. As I have told you, my goddess has ordered the death of the prince of the sky. She mourns her son, who Azrian slew twenty years before. She cries for blood."

"Why give this to me? Why not kill Ettoras yourself?" Adrian demanded. "Can't do your own dirty work?"

Hawkeye smiled again. "I do not serve the gods, your majesty. But I fear them enough to let them _think_I serve. Zihma has decreed that Ettoras should die. So long as he dies, her bloodlust will be sated."

Adrian cleared his throat and tucked the vial away in his coat. "Alright." He jerked his head at Guss, who was sitting with his eyes still closed . . . and his dick still hard. "Take your drooler and get going. Continue your pathetic chase for a male who wants nothing to do with you." He lifted his wineglass again and eyed the contents.

Still kneeling between Adrian's thighs, Hawkeye's lip slowly curled.

"Don't give me that look," Adrian said with a disgusted wave of his paw. "My bloody wife - the simpering fool - is a stronger female than the likes of you! When I rejected her, she didn't waste away pinning after some male who didn't want her. She moved on with her life. Even at the cost of her life. She is braver and stronger than I ever realized." He looked off thoughtfully, then looked at Hawkeye again and sneered. "Which is more than I can say for you."

Hawkeye smiled contemptuously. "And yet Alexandria died trying to win the love of your rival, the mutt_Jonathan Kingsley. You loved your sister - over every table, every chair." She tipped her head back and laughed nastily when Adrian's eyes flickered discomfort. "Come now, _your majesty. Why the shame? Sibling love is a practice as old as the sun. You mongrels are more like us than you'd ever adm --"

Without warning, Adrian's paw snatched Hawkeye tight by the throat. Hawkeye tensed all over as the strength of his fingers slowly closed off air. Her eye went blank and her dark lips parted in a shrill and shocked gasp.

"Never," Adrian hissed, giving Hawkeye a little shake, "speak that way about my sister!"

Hawkeye's bright, golden eye watered up and she sputtered. In a sudden panic, she clawed at Adrian's thighs, begging in a broken whisper for him to release her. Adrian only squeezed tighter, watching her helpless sputtering with cold delight.

"Yes, you're very sorry, aren't you?" Adrian whispered, his eyes narrowing.

Hawkeye nodded weakly, her big breasts heaving and swollen behind her tight dress. Adrian's lips curled in a slow smile and he ripped at her dress, tearing it open to reveal her dark, shivering breasts. They were high and plump as a girl's. Good god. He watched them heaving as he strangled her, and the dark little nipples were rigid and hard, raisins jutting from the brown mounds of her teats. With trembling paws, she fumbled to clutch her breasts, as if offering them to Adrian in appeasement.

Adrian hesitated and let Hawkeye go. She knelt between his thighs with her naked breasts heaving, her dark mane in her face as she panted. But when she looked up at Adrian, her eye was shining with admiration. Adrian went still: she liked being choked? The sick whore.

Adrian sat back in the chair, thighs spread, looking down at Hawkeye. He was still tense with anger, and the rage was still pumping through his veins, but he wanted to see what she would do. He watched in amusement as she hesitated, then looked him in the eye and slowly unbuttoned his pants. His cock was rock hard when she pealed it out of the fabric. She looked at him again, and when he didn't stop her, she ravished his cock, licking and sucking until his toes curled.

"H-Ha . . . Hawkeye . . ." Adrian panted, fumbling for the mass of her black hair. He'd never been sucked so _well_before. Her wet mouth pulled, her lips caressed, her tongue teased, and she frowned as she pleasured him, smoothing her slender paws up and down his thighs. He thought he'd erupt when she sucked gently on his sack, only to start licking it with abandon.

In a sudden rage, Adrian curled his fingers in Hawkeye's hair and yanked her head back. Her scream of shock was cut short when his blade snatched across her throat. The blood splattered his face, and he let her fall to the floor in a staring heap. In the silence that followed, he buttoned his pants, adjusted his cravat, and took another sip of wine.

"No one," Adrian said darkly, "talks that way about my sister."

Edgar's cautious footfall proceeded the sound of his voice. ". . . was it true, your majesty?" he asked. "Did you . . . with the princess?"

Adrian glanced over his shoulder to find Edgar standing there, rifle in paw and cock hard behind his breeches. His breastplate reflected the moon like a watery mirror and his expression was one of sincere curiosity.

Adrian turned away again. So Edgar was turned on by violence too? "You dare?" he demanded indignantly. "You would dare to ask me --?"

Edgar bowed his head. "Your m-majesty, I . . ."

"Have you lost your mind? Would you speak to me as if we were friends? You are nothing to me. A bug. A sycophant."

"Yes, your majesty," Edgar agreed, and Adrian heard the jingle of his breastplate when he dropped to his knees. "I am a bug. I am your bug."

"You are," Adrian approved. "Now get rid of the body and prepare the carriage. We're setting out to Wychowl. At last."