Passion of the Different (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen - The Queen

Queen Darya sat down at the head of the breakfast table in the small outdoor flower garden. Her long flowing auburn hair was streaked with blue, her sharp dark eyes as black as midnight. The silver lined black cloak was clasped at the base of her long neck and it covered up most of her body, leaving room only for her arms and face to be visible. She gestured to the servant and he gave a quick bow, then rushed off to get the food. The guards at the archway into the garden allowed him to pass unchallenged, the fellow was well known and trusted.

An armored man with dark blue hair stopped before the guards and regarded them. After a moment's pause, they let him through.

"Ah, will General Tiz'Ben be joining me for breakfast this morning?" Darya's smooth soprano asked with mild amusement. "Or is this just another boring report?"

"Nothing boring today, my queen," Tiz'Ben replied crisply. He stopped just shy of the large table. He knew better than to approach her too closely or to really assume she would want to breakfast with him. His queen was and is the most beautiful woman that had ever been seen in any realm. Elegance and style rolled into living flesh, many a suitor died for presuming she would be interested in their offers. As beautiful as she was, her disposition was equally deadly. Angering her was a death sentence. Even the slightest improper gesture was punishable by flogging. As her favored war general, he was permitted to speak to her a little less formally but only by a fraction. "My report may be of interest to you." Then he waited for permission to continue.

"By all means," Darya said, amusement vanishing. "Try and keep it short, I want to enjoy my coming breakfast with some measure of levity. You know I dislike business on an empty stomach."

"As you desire," Tiz'Ben replied curtly. "The giant may be headed this way. There are reports of assaults in the night, even while our hidden scouts still say they see him on patrol around Ocaza. It may be a deception of some sort." Then he bowed his head to show he was done.

Excitement flared in Queen Darya's eyes. "As soon as the sun is fully up, send out anyone you need to confirm these assaults are done by him," she ordered. "If he's really not in Ocaza and this is a ruse, we might be able to attack that place and sack it." She gauged the twilight in the sky and gave it about a half hour before the sun started to rise high enough to break free of the horizon. "Keep me informed the moment new reports come in."

"Very good, my queen," Tiz'Ben faithfully replied and went to turn away. He paused. A shadow appeared on the ground next to him and rapidly grew in size. Before he could react or look up, it was too late to do anything.

Ryan crashed down next to the armored general and smashed him in the face with the spear shaft. His original intent was to crouch and roll into the bastard, but somehow the drop wasn't as tough on his big frame as he expected. Bashing the idiot's face did feel good though, and then he turned his attention to the two startled guards at the garden's arched entrance.

Both soldiers hesitated at what they were witnessing, their minds trying to process his size which gave Ryan the few seconds he needed to take action. Any other type of normal attack would have gotten one of them to verbally sound the alert while the other would have defended his queen. Neither got a chance to do either one.

Using one hand, Ryan grabbed Tiz'Ben by his sword belt and hurled his staggering form at the left guard with all of his strength. One hundred and forty pounds of flesh and metal slammed into the farthest soldier. His large frame moved like quick silver and his spear lunged forward, hitting the guard on the right squarely between the eyes with the blunt end.

Two and a half seconds. Three unconscious warriors and a queen sitting behind him at the breakfast table. Ryan turned and faced her, his scowl designed to frighten and intimidate.

Queen Darya didn't move nor did she scream for more guards. Never before could she imagine such a large man moving so quickly. Her first thoughts upon hearing of this so-called giant rejected the notion of a monster. She felt he was like any other man - just overly exaggerated. She found herself admiring not only his speed and size, his features had a high level of appeal. He was more than just ruggedly handsome. No wonder that peasant tart fell for him. Exotic was an understatement, especially with those piercing light blue eyes. Angry eyes for now, but she could remedy that in good time.

Ryan strode forward and smacked the table top with the spear point in an effort to break her fixed stare on him. It worked but not as much as he hoped. She didn't jump, but she did blink quickly a few times. "Where's my wife?" he demanded in his most dangerous sounding baritone.

"You're loyal to her, an admirable quality," Darya replied evenly, then held up her hand. "Pause a moment, great warrior. Despite your rude entrance, you were invited here by me."

"Don't call me rude," Ryan stressed back to her. "How dare you. Burning my house to the ground and kidnapping my pregnant wife just to offer an invitation is
beyond
rude. You deserve every ounce of my retribution. I will ask one more time before I prove just how rude I can truly get. Where is my wife?"

"Safe," Darya said, giving him a brief large smile of perfect mini fanged teeth. "A mere two hour horse ride from here, in an apartment that's extremely comfortable. She has more than a dozen of my best royal guards protecting her. She's well fed and provided for, and I promise she will continue to be taken good care of unless my demands are not met."

"Your demands have no interest to me," Ryan replied, disgusted. "My own are simple. I can rid this castle and land of you with one quick stab of this spear. Or you can have my wife released back to me." To show his threat had meaning, he turned the steel spearhead and leveled the point at her mid section. She was unarmed and defenseless. She was also a highly beautiful woman. He shook those two quick thoughts from his mind. His honesty and honor both knew that no matter how pretty or defenseless she looked, her orders could send an army to kill everyone he cared about. He wasn't going to let that happen.

"Before you stab me to death," Darya said, as if the idea was boring to her, "you might want to consider a few extra thoughts. One, there are
listeners
everywhere I go." She gestured, and out of the corner of his eye Ryan saw a flutter of movement near an upper balcony looking into the garden. "Anything bad happens to me, they will light a signal fire well before you can stop them. When my watchful and loyal guards who look after your wife sees that blazing signal mere moments later, they will kill her without thinking twice about it. Do I have your attention now?"

The muscle in Ryan's jaw jumped and that was all the reaction he gave. After a minute or so of silent contemplation, his angry reply was sharp. "Yes."

"Good," she said crisply, flashing him another brief smile. "Then let's be civil about this from here on out. Join me for breakfast and listen to my proposal." Then a little louder to the
listeners
, "Collect his weapons."

A few moments later another guard appeared and stepped over the unconscious heaps by the entrance. He carefully approached Ryan and held out his hand, looked up at the large man under his helmet's short visor with dark green eyes. He gulped but didn't look relieved when the spear and dagger were surrendered. Something about the icy stare from two cold blue orbs in that chiseled face made him uneasy. He turned and left as the two guards at the archway were replaced by healthy and awake men. Even the unconscious injured general was dragged off carelessly.

"Sit," Darya said, gesturing casually to a chair close to her at the large table. "Food will be here shortly."

Ryan sat down on the opposite end in defiance of her simple wishes. Darya frowned a moment, then shook it off and returned to her bemused expression.

"You know," she explained to him as if he should know better, "making me frown is punishable by flogging. It's a national law here. For you, today, I'll make some extraordinary concessions since you're an extraordinary man."

"I don't care," Ryan replied coldly, his baritone lending the words additional levels of frost as he made his point. "I've been cautious not to kill your people on my way here. If anyone tried to hit me with anything, flogging or not, that policy will change. I'll kill the bastard."

"Really now," Darya exclaimed with high interest. "You've avoided killing people? How completely boring. Yet so noble at the same time. Are you
always
like this?"

"I like the idea of being honorable. Being fair," he evenly responded. No positive emotions rode his words as he regarded the woman in front of him, her measure of evil leaking out regardless of how she tried to adjust her expression. "It all depends on the actions of those I deal with. I find your actions despicable beyond measure."

Darya laughed. It wasn't the joyous happy laugh one would normally expect upon hearing something they found funny. It was calculated and ruthless which clearly showed him the dark soul of Queen Darya and the content of her true character. His face fell into a grim frown but she made no visible notice of it.

Two thin male servants delivered steaming plates of vegetables to them both. She inhaled the sweet odors and kept up her cute demeanor and then noticed his lack of reaction. "You know," she started, "Elerians tend to get upset when they see male servants. You don't. You're obviously no Elerian."

"What do you call your own people?" he asked quickly, not even bothering to look at his plate.

"My kingdom is populated with ancestors from the Sanego clan," she explained casually, regarded Ryan with increasing interest. She knew she was educating him, but didn't know the true depth of his lack of knowledge. "We don't have such a restrictive way of living. Aren't you hungry or is the food not to your liking?"

Ryan merely glanced down. Then with deliberate intensity he pushed the plate off the table. He regarded her expression as it clattered to the ground.

"You thought that would upset me?" Darya giggled back at him. "Oh, your Elerian friends put too much weight into such garbage, but not here, not in
my
kingdom." She took a bite of food and swallowed it quickly. "Absolutely delicious. You don't know what you're missing."

"You mentioned a proposal," Ryan shot back, then cooled his tone. "I'm listening."

"If this was any other business, I'd be upset to discuss it this early in the morning," she mildly complained, keeping her mood light and sassy. "For you, Lord Za'Ryan of House Ven'Krue, I will make another unique exception." She reached up and undid the clasp that held her long black cloak over her shoulders. The silver designs and lettering had no meaning to him, but as it slid off his eyes did a double take.

If any woman had ever owned a perfect body, Queen Darya would be at the head of her class. Her outfit wasn't modest. A dark blue bikini like top, a pair of shorts with a split up each perfect thigh, her toned and well portioned parts were a match for the lovely face and engulfing auburn hair that sported an occasional blue streak. Her stomach had that sweet line down the middle with small tight muscles on each side. Her thighs were also strong and firm, like that of a dancer. She stood up so he could see all her parts function in their perfection.

She would have been beautiful beyond all reasoning to Ryan except for one flaw. Her personality had all of the qualities of rotten dirt. No kindness radiated from behind those ebony eyes and sharp hawk like eyebrows, just shrewd calculation with hints of outright deception. If he had been a lustful man who enjoyed only one half of what women had to offer the opposite sex, he would have been highly turned on. That wasn't him nor was she his type. In fact, he'd rather eat the dirty food off the floor than to touch her. It was too bad his mind grasped onto that thought tightly, because her proposal
did
shake him up.

"Sleep with me this winter, give me an heir to my throne and you and your wife can return safely to your precious life," Darya offered, her sultry voice littered with the clutching hope of somebody spoiled for far too long.

"What?" Ryan replied, at a complete loss for a stronger reaction.

"I need an heir," she explained, then walked past him. Her slender hand slid over his wide shoulders, fingertips tracing his form as if she was measuring the value of a prized possession. "Prince or princess wouldn't matter, he or she would be
strong
like you. Able to rule this kingdom with a steel gauntlet. The cost to you is nothing but physical pleasure, daily, with a queen that others are killed for merely trying to court. No man has ever had me and you would be my highly privileged first. Say yes and all you ask within reason will be granted."

"I need a moment to think," he said, deeply troubled. She nodded, then traced his outer face with her finger tip before returning to her side of the table and sitting back down. She didn't bother to pick up and put the long dark cloak back on.

Many scenarios went through his mind, some coming from depths unknown and others from a more pragmatic sense of loyalty to his wife.
Tell her yes. Get her in bed, but before anything happens just snap her long graceful neck and rescue Myra in the middle of the night.
His eyes looked up at Darya and regarded that perfect throat. No. As evil as she was, killing a woman who was expecting a good time in bed with him left a sickening taste in his mouth.
Go ahead and bed her. Thrill her like she never thought possible and when she falls in love with you, exploit her and get what you want including Myra's freedom. Once my wife is clear and out of danger, then snap Darya's neck and fight your way out of the castle.
Then a really dark thought popped up.
Stay in the castle and rule it for yourself
. Those rapid and desperate ideas also soured his gut something awful. He didn't want to rule anything nor kill anybody, but this situation demanded consideration of all types. As hard as his mind worked different angles, there weren't any viable
short term
solution in sight for him.