A Modern Mind in Medieval Times

Laira’s POV

Laira felt Jack’s stare bore into her.

“Was this some sort of test?” he asked, anger beneath his restrained voice.

“Partly. I only knew the copper was missing, not who stole it, and needed proof to confirm my suspicion. I thank you for providing it.”

“And that maid?”

“I sent her,” she bowed low. “I apologize for that, but I needed to know if you weren’t easily swayed by such tactics.”

His glare did not soften.

“You have your proof and the results of your test. Is my work done here?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said softly. “That was an ingenious accounting method you used. Could you teach it to my scribes?”

“I’m not feeling very generous at the moment,” he said tersely. “I would be willing to help out my people. Others can pay for it.”

“I understand,” she said, and he briskly left the chamber.

Laira took a breath of relief. His anger was justified, but the test had been necessary. She only hoped he would pass Reshma’s test as well. Heat rose within her at the thought, but she pulled herself out of her fantasies to focus on the dirty business that lay ahead.

She summoned the Prime Minister, Ragenwald, not to the Council chamber or the throne room, but to the eastern balcony of the royal floor. It overlooked the eastern courtyard, a beautiful garden which looked like a mini-forest. A place where she used to hide from her tutors. Now she waited as a Queen preparing judgment.

Ragenwald arrived, old but unbent. He still walked without a cane despite his age. His eyes were warm; a man who did not fear consequences because he believed himself righteous.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed as deep as his old body would permit. “How may I aid you?”

She held a single piece of parchment in her hand. One of the forged withdrawals.

“Read this.”

He took it and scanned it. His eyes flickered in recognition. Barely.

“Heralding plate for the northern nobility. Approved months ago.”

“You approved it.”

“Yes.”

“The others withdrawals?”

“Your fath-”

“My father is dead. Do not use him as a shield. A great deal of copper has disappeared from the vaults.”

She fixed him with a stare.

“You gave the copper to Dukes Grauberg and Stormhaven, didn’t you?”

“To control them,” he said gently. “To keep a watch on their movements.”

“You’re not the Master Procurer. That is his duty!”

He folded his hands patiently. “You and your Procurer have done an admirable work in rooting out corruption in the court, but I fear you ignore the stability of the realm in your zeal. And now you plan on marrying a man who has even more radical ideas.” His tone softened to a paternal note, “I fear your good intentions will be the death of our realm, child.”

Child.

He had not called her that since she was sixteen.

“Its death is already creeping ever closer from south, Prime Minister. We will not survive as we are. You ought to know that!”

“No. We will probably fall before Zoran’s soldiers even reach our borders, at the hands of people hacking away at the pillars that have kept Nanon standing for centuries.”

Anger bubbled in her chest.

“So you agree with Grauberg and Stormhaven? That Linus should have been the monarch, and not me?”

“No. Your brother was not worthy, but you too undermine the realm, out of impatience.”

Laira controlled the impulse to push the doddering old fool over the balcony.

“Guards!”

Four guards emerged from the balcony alcoves.

Ragenwald bowed his head in acceptance.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No,” she whispered. “I am correcting one.”

The guards led him away.

Only when he vanished from sight did her breath shudder. Losing a loyal, trusted advisor, one who had taught her statecraft, hurt more than she expected. She pressed her hands against the balcony rail and closed her eyes. The garden below swayed in the wind, the same wind that once rustled leaves while Ragenwald taught her how to judge courtiers.

Later, Oberstein found her sitting on the seaside balcony, sipping tea.

“Your Majesty,” he said in his usual dry tone and sat down next to her.

“He admitted to stealing the copper. He hasn’t done a bad job of keeping track of wagon-masters and couriers tied to Grauberg, actually. I’m ashamed to say my men missed half of it. This confirms the Duke is indeed planning a rebellion.”

“So I was wrong to imprison him?”

“No. The theft is only a symptom. The true issue is him not trusting you. A fractured Council is a much more dangerous threat to our kingdom than some missing metal.”

“We need a replacement.”

“Your uncle is arriving soon,” he suggested.

“No. He has a Duchy to manage.”

“I’ll search for other candidates.”

He bowed and silently left her in peace, her mind still reeling from the betrayal.

With her obligations for the day finished, Laira withdrew to her solar. Reshma arrived a short while later, eyes gleaming, steps lively.

She put a hand on Laira’s.

“Sorry about Ragenwald, love. I was heading to have dinner with Jack. You still want me to continue?”

“Yes,” Laira whispered.

At the end, she would have at least gained a partner, or lost two men.

Reshma kissed her cheek lightly. “See you later.”

Laira nodded subtly, as her pulse quickened.

It would be a welcome distraction from the exhausting day, and perhaps the final answer she needed.

She quickly finished her own dinner, dismissed the servants from the entire wing, then slipped into the hidden pathway that ran between the chambers. Careful not to make any noise, she crept through the dark, narrow tunnel, suffocating in a way that mirrored the tension within her. She reached the lattice that allowed a perfect view of the room beyond, but built so that the occupants would have a hard time noticing the viewer.

She wondered which of her ancestors was a degenerate voyeur who had this feature built. The irony that she was the voyeur this time didn’t escape her. She pressed herself close to the lattice, heart hammering, when Reshma led a confused Jack into the room.

The tall woman began undressing, slowly but sensually, a beautiful view Laira hadn’t gotten bored of no matter how many times she had seen it. Desire and guilt warred as she watched that body being offered to another.

Her heart almost leapt into her mouth when Reshma looked at her. Somehow she managed to not flee and answered Jack honestly, her cheeks burning bright. She felt as though she might drown in shame, but the view of Jack possessively putting his big, strong hands on Reshma, pulling her into him fixed her to the spot.

Jealousy flared within her as her lover knelt down and took him in her mouth. Laira couldn’t tell whether it was from her woman submitting herself to someone else, or the fact that it wasn’t her worshipping his length. Jealousy, shame and lust intermingled within her as Jack grabbed Reshma’s head and forced his release deep down her throat.

It should have been me, not her.

She didn’t even realize when her hands began roaming over her body, pinching her sensitive nipples and caressing her skin. Reshma’s moans of pleasure, as Jack worshiped her, made Laira’s hand wander inside her dress, close to the core of her heat. She couldn’t help but put a few fingers inside as her lover climaxed at the ministrations of someone else.

Her eyes widened as Jack claimed Reshma from behind like an animal. He moved with the ferocity of a wild beast, while Reshma, looking so delicate and vulnerable in comparison, clung to him, taken apart and rebuilt under every thrust.

Laira’s fingers moved in sync with his every thrust.

Breed her.

Please.

She dared not speak those words out loud, but they thrummed in her mind like a heartbeat.

She lost herself to the pleasure, watching them rut. Her climax hit hard, sudden, wracking. She bit her lip to swallow her cry. Back to her senses, she was surprised to find a large pool of her own fluids beneath her.

She cleaned her drenched fingers discreetly on the inside of her dress and made her way back to her chambers, then bathed alone, scrubbing away sweat and shame until she felt whole enough to breathe again.

Some time later, Reshma came to her chambers, hair damp from a recent bath and a big grin plastered on her face.

“Enjoyed the show?”

Laira didn’t grace the smug clown with a response.

“So, what do you think?”

Reshma stretched out on a nearby chair.

“I don’t think he will hurt you. He is gentle, yet can be ferocious… just the right way.”

Laira decided to ignore the sultry note in her lover’s voice.

“So I can trust him?”

“One can never be completely certain, Liru, but my gut says yes. Truly cruel men rarely bother with restraint.”

Laira exhaled slowly.

This was the closest to certainty she was going to get.

Her decision, political, personal, and something deeper, was made.