Page 18 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Selene Borealis

My tour was to be brief, only stopping at the most important towns of Ardens. A chance for the people to see me interacting with their councillor, and a chance for their councillors to look like they have my ear for their causes. It would also allow me the opportunity to visit in person my extended family, those that posed the greatest threat to my title, crying injustice while they sat useless in the ancestral seats as lords of the larger regions of Ardens. Regions of once-important mining locations, now in poor economic states. Most importantly, it would be a chance to show my authority and control of the land to those who still wanted to wear the colours of Vouna and challenge my standing.

I watched from the drive as our vehicles were loaded. A relatively small motorcade. Six vehicles, all large, armoured SUVs for my guard and servants that would be travelling with us, and a large RV bus—not so much luxury, but practical, with eight bunks for sleeping and a small shower room. It would be cramped and with no privacy. I reminded myself that it was only for travelling. I would need to find alone time for Percy. She grew upset, downright bratty, when I did not provide her enough of my time.

Percy stood beside me, her hair blowing in the cold breeze. She shivered ever so slightly and I watch her curious gaze drift from servants to vehicles as they were prepared. I reached and took her hand.

“How many people are going on this tour?” she asked, curiously eyeing the bus with suspicion. “I don’t think there are enough people in this haunted mansion to fill a bus,” she spoke below her breath.

I squeezed her hand and resisted the urge to laugh. Ardens Estate was quiet compared to Sanguis and the Borealis Castle and estates. If this was to be our home, I would need to increase the population of the mansion and grounds for her benefit. Percy was social by nature. Perhaps start farming the land or take in a ward if the opportunity occurred.

Would Percy enjoy that? I remembered her reaction to the prospect of children when I mentioned the possibility on our first day at Ardens Estate. If anything, the responsibility of a ward would give some indication to her suitability for motherhood, or if it is something she might one day desire. I had never been overly warm to the prospect of children. I understood it was expected of me to provide an heir to the thrown, but it was nothing more than duty. That was until recently. Until I began to think and plan a future for us. A family with my pet—that wasn’t duty, not an expectation—it was something more, something warm.

“The interior of the bus is not what I believe you to be familiar with,” I said, and gave a squeeze of her hand to direct her attention to me. “There are not rows of seats, but there are eight bunks for sleeping and a small shower room.” I felt my lip twitch in disgust. I was not looking forward to the experience of using the facilities of the tour bus. It was my hope that each councillor we visited would offer up their hospitality. I would certainly remember any who did not.

“A shower? Beds?” She asked in astonishment. “And no seats?”

I laughed, “There is some seating in the back as well as two large fridges for blood and food storage,” I explained. “Come I will show you. I requested for the fridge to be stocked with a variety of fruit.”

My flower witch would consume only sweet fruits and treats if it was her own decision to make. Perhaps I spoiled her. I was inclined to indulge her in all ways. I knew that I had to have a stricter stance with my pet—not doing so created chaos and I wanted harmony between us—yet it was difficult to deny her anything.

I led her onto the bus. The servant making the beds bowed his head in acknowledgement and pressed himself against the wall to allow us to pass.

The back of the bus was split in half with a small seating area around a table to the one side and the two fridges, a sink, and cupboards to the other.

“I feel queasy,” Percy said, and I turned to her sharply. Her face was pale and she looked wide-eyed towards the clear fridges.

“That’s a lot of blood,” she stated.

“Enough for myself, the guard, and servants,” I told her. “You have seen bloodbags before. Why does this make you queasy?” I asked curiously.

“It’s just so much,” she said and looked away.

“It is legally sourced, pet. No one was drained; all were paid the standard fee for donations,” I told her.

“I know, I didn’t doubt that. It’s just… I’ve never seen so much, that’s all,” she replied.

“Where’s the fruit?” she continued and squeezed my hand.

I reached out to open one of the fridges. There were drawers at the bottom, below the rows of hanging bloodbags, where I could smell the fruit had been placed. Pulling open one drawer revealed oranges, large and bright in colour.

“Woah! I’ve never seen an orange this big!” she exclaimed and released my hand to reach in and take one.

“Look at this,” she continued and held the orange next to her face. “It’s the size of a head. How did they grow this? Did another Flores witch make them?” she asked excitedly. It was endearing to watch my pet be so easily happy.

“It is a common variety from the southeastern reaches of House Halverson,” I told her. Her face fell slightly, the upturn of her lips not quite as bright. Was it memories of the summer past, of the fool Oskar?

“I can’t believe this is naturally occurring. Nature is amazing,” she said, and began to dig her fingers into the fruit to peel the skin.

“You’ll make a mess,” I warned as the smell of the fruit filled the space and the juice began to stain her fingers.

She brought a hand to her mouth and dramatically licked a trail of juice that threatened to run below the cuff of her coat. I watched the way her lithe tongue trailed across her palm, up to her fingertip, and her lips enclosed around her finger with great focus.

“I don’t see the problem,” she continued and smirked as she went back to peeling the fruit.

She knew her behaviour was provocative, and I wished to put her greedy little tongue and mouth to better use. I growled in frustration. This tour was going to be challenging.

My little brat giggled in response.

“We will have little privacy in the coming weeks, pet. Tempt me, and I may just have to have you, regardless of the audience,” I warned, and was pleased when her eyes widened and her heart rate increased. The threat of others hearing, seeing, knowing what was happening between us always produced a curious response in my pet—a mixture of fear, embarrassment and arousal. Exhibitionist tendencies that I enjoyed toying with. Tendencies that the more primal, dominant part of me wished to indulge. I could show everyone who my pet belonged to, have there be no doubt that her body was mine, blood and flesh.

The scent of her arousal, subtle as it currently was, caused a burning within me, a smouldering fire desperate to be fanned. I inhaled deeply, unable to resit the temptation.

“If you would like, pet,” I said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I would keep you so completely aroused, wet, dripping and ruining every set of panties you wore for the entirety of this tour. I would have you painfully desperate for release until you openly begged me for relief. Your scent would be so potent not a single guard or servant travelling with us would be unaware of your state. Would you like that, pet?”

The fantasy of keeping her as constantly as I could on the verge of orgasm and denying her, until she begged—begged completely uninhibited for me—was so very appealing. I wanted to watch her squirm and struggle and be completely consumed with want, that all else was forgotten.

“I, uh, I,” she stuttered out. The orange fell from her hands and I caught the half-peeled fruit.

“W-what?” she swallowed. “I mean, I mean—"

I took her wrist and placed the fruit back in her hand. “As much as I do so hope that you continue to be a bratty tease, sweetheart, perhaps now is a perfect time to work on your self-control.”

She swallowed and nodded. Her scent of arousal had grown considerably, and I found myself summoning my own self- control not to see for myself how wet she had become at my suggestions.

“Sit and eat, pet,” I instructed, and guided her to the bench like seating. “I am going to enquire about our schedule.”

“When are we leaving?” she asked.

“We should depart in the next three days,” I informed her.

“Okay, can I come with you?” she asked.

“I will return for you. Become familiar with the bus in the meantime. We will unfortunately be spending quite some time here,” I said. While I enjoyed time with my pet, the preparations were tedious and I feared the dullness would bore her. The bus was a novelty—something to occupy her time.

The servant making the beds paused again to bow his head.

“Is there any further work required within the bus, once you have finished your task?” I asked him.

“Not within the bus, Ma’am. There will be further supplies and luggage to be loaded in the coming days, but the storage compartments are accessed externally,” he replied.

“Good. I do not want my pet disturbed before I send for her. Finish your task promptly and leave.” I instructed.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll make sure the others know. No one will disturb the flower girl,” he assured.

I nodded in reply. Flower girl . The name was sweet, an innocent sign of respect. I desired for Percy to be respected, but I found the title jarring, I couldn’t quite decipher why it irked me. There was nothing inherently wrong with it. It was a traditional title for Flores witches in the north of the kingdom, a sign of appreciation for the work they once performed.

Fotis was eager for Percy’s help as a flower girl. I didn’t enjoy others seeking my pet’s assistance. She was mine. And mine alone.

The title was a role, an expectation, and I decided that was what I disliked. None should have expectations of my pet but me. Still, I would not stop the people from showing respect to Percy. Even if it was done so in a way that I found displeasing, if the people accepted Percy, accepted her as more than my pet, gave her title and status without my command, it would be easier for them to accept her role beside me. One day, my pet would also hold the title of my wife. I would avoid our wedding starting a rebellion.

I took in a breath of cold air as I exited the bus, refreshing my senses from being almost overwhelmed by the scent of Percy. I adored her. I could understand if she garnered the adoration of my people too.

I went to find Adamantia and Sasha. Walking through the halls towards their quarters I passed Elise.

“Good day, Ma’am. All preparations for your departure are going well and on schedule,” she stopped to inform me.

“Excellent,” I replied, and she bowed and began to continue on her way, when I noticed the servant that had been with my pet the night before down the corridor—Katrina.

“Elise,” I said as I turned around to catch the head servant before she was out of sight.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she asked as she turned back to me.

“The new girl, Katrina?” I said. Elise nodded her head. “I want her on the tour,” I instructed.

“If I may, Ma’am,” she began and paused. I nodded for her to continue, “While Katrina is new to the estate and there is, of course, a learning period, I am afraid that she does not show much promise. I believe she will be of mediocre service to yourself and Ardens,” she told me.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns, Elise. You do have discretion to hire and fire as you see fit within my estate. I only request that you bring such decisions before myself or Adamantia in my absence,” I reminded her.

“Yes, Ma’am, and I am truly grateful for your trust in my ability to manage the estate staffs and servants,” she replied humbly. “I would not wish to let the girl go. While I wouldn’t put her on your dinner service, she is good for scrubbing the many bathrooms. The grittier side of service seems to suit her better than the more sophisticated roles,” she explained.

I nodded, but took notice of Elise tone. “All tasks performed by the estate servants and staff are important. The cleaning of a toilet bowl is as valued as any other task,” I told her, hopeful that she would infer my stance on such matters. The servant class were below nobility, but I did not want divisions among the Ardens servants. Each of my servants must feel valued—it was how one bred loyalty from one generation to the next.

The Borealis servants were among the happiest in the kingdom. Father had commissioned a survey which confirmed this, a number of years ago. I remember his excitement at the findings. As a result of excellent living conditions and generous pay, our servants often stayed with us long past retirement—generations lived on the castle grounds. To be a Borealis servant was a role held with pride.

Servants could be so easily overlooked. To do so could have deadly consequences. They had access which, in the wrong hands would be dangerous. A servant could overhear a conversation and provide intelligence to your enemies, or poison your food, or manufacture a fatal accident. Similarly, loyal servants could warn you of trouble before it arose. The number of assassination attempt foiled by Borealis servants over the years had reached double figures.

Not that such loyalty was any help to my mother. Bitterness made me feel ill. They were not watching Vasilios, and too scared to speak out against the Queen’s family even if they did have suspicions. If it were not for Amelia, I would not have gathered the evidence necessary to prove the treachery—it was a financial trail leading from Vasilios to Lady Sana in the purchasing of Triton’s Trumpet seeds and Hades’ Delight that proved my suspicions. Lady Sana’s cooperation in the criminal investigation of Vasilios after his death filled in the missing details.

In my short time within Ardens Estate, I had observed that Ardens did not foster such loyalty. The servants were not particularly happy. I wanted to change this, for the benefit of myself and pet.

“Certainly, Ma’am, and each servant should pursue their individual talents,” she replied. “May I enquire as to what role you require Katrina to perform?” she asked.

“I simply want her there. She can be of assistance to the others if required. We have room enough for one more to travel.”

I would not inform Elise of my distrust of Katrina. She was nonchalant in the ease with which she lied to me when appearing with Percy the previous night. Percy’s anxious scent at her words coupled with the slightest of increase in Katrina’s heart rate, confirmed the lie. She had not simply found Percy by chance.

Percy had spoken to someone—someone who could have only been a servant—who had soured her mood and contaminated her thoughts with doubts. Katrina was a slimy little thing. I did not like nor trust her.

Ordinarily, I would have her sent home—or better yet, I’d simply snap her neck—for having caused my little pet upset. Yet my intuition told me to wait. That there was something more than a nasty attitude at play. That she wanted something from Percy or myself. Percy’s behaviour the previous night struck me as manipulated. When Percy was upset with me, the source of her upset could always be uncovered—it was always solid. Yet she was unable to articulate what precisely had unnerved her, other than words from someone. Someone I believed to have chosen their words specifically to create such a response. Someone whom I suspected to be Katrina.

I wanted to keep her where I could watch her. At the very least, I wanted to keep her from having the freedom in my absence to poison the other servants of Ardens Estate. There was too little unity among them at present—one sour fruit could cause the lot to rot.

“Yes, Ma’am, I will inform her right away to begin packing,” Elise agreed, not attempting to question me further, and she turned to walk past me and in the direction towards the kitchen’s that Katrina had gone.

I continued to find Adamantia and Sasha. I would request that my aunts begin working on improving the morale of the servants during my absence. I would be gone from Ardens until winter had passed. The winter would arrive soon—any day—and the north of the kingdom was too cold, too harsh for my pet, who embodied the warmth of spring.

After the tour, we would return to Borealis castle for the Royal Conference, which had been pushed back considerably while my father recovered from the spring and the events of the summer’s upheaval within the kingdom. We would stay within Borealis until the first days of spring began to melt the snow and ice of Ardens. Upon my return, I wished to see improvement.

The halls were too dark, too quiet—the people, similarly. While I once associated such ambiance with peace, now I was painfully aware of how it unsettled someone like Percy. Ardens Estate required more life if it was to ever sustain my pet.