Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbing July 3)

A knock came at the door.

Dero blinked awake. The lighting had changed from midday to the near dark of twilight.

Did I actually pass out after that last round?

The knocking came again.

Tybalt groaned from beneath Dero.

I guess we both passed out. Good job, fiance. She smiled down at the necromancer, whose eyes were still clenched shut.

“One moment!” Dero called. She pushed sweaty strands of hair away from her forehead and then rose to all fours.

Ouch. There was a very noticeable pain between her legs. Not bad - the sweet ache of sustained and pleasant exercise. She reached down and gently rubbed Tybalt’s flaccid shaft. She felt the urge to give it a quick kiss, then shook it off.

No time for more fun right now. She sat and pulled her skirt down over her bare ass, then fished around for her top for a few minutes. She finally found it, under the bed for some reason. Her underwear was on the pillow next to where she’d been laying her head, but she didn’t bother picking it up. At some point, in the midst of their passionate tangling, Tybalt had torn them in two.

He got more excited once he knew I was carrying his baby, she thought. A smile crept onto her face. The news had changed things for her too. Her feelings toward the necromancer were warmer than they had been when they got up that morning.

She slipped her top over her head, then covered Tybalt with a bedsheet and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Finally, she walked over to the door and opened it. She still felt that good soreness, and a little part of her wondered if Tybalt’s seed was visible where it had dried on her thighs. The idea that everyone could see and smell what they’d just been up to was a little more fun for her than she’d have admitted aloud.

As she opened the door, she saw a completely untouched tray of food - it must have been the one left hours earlier - still lying on the ground, beside a jug of wine.

Well, at least the wine won’t go to waste.

Standing beside the food and drink was the same servant as before.

“No wonder I’m famished!” she said. “We forgot to eat. Thank you for alerting us.”

He bowed and outstretched his hand down the hall, pointing - from what Dero remembered - to where the banquet hall was.

“Dinner time, I get it,” she said. “You can inform the master and mistress of the house that we will be along shortly.”

He bowed lower, then rose and simply stepped back against the hallway wall to wait.

“Not going to go tell them?” she asked.

He shook his head and bowed again, extending his arm in the same direction.

“Oh, I get it, you’re to wait for us,” Dero said.

He straightened up and nodded.

“They don’t want us to spend the whole evening rutting like animals.”

The servant’s cheeks reddened, he lowered his gaze, then nodded slightly once again.

“Fine. Wait here.”

She closed the door, raised one arm over her head, and wrinkled her nose as she smelled her underarm.

I need a long fucking bath, she thought, shaking her head. But I guess it will have to wait.

She walked over to a standing mirror in the corner and gave herself a quick once-over. Her eye was immediately drawn to the glowing tattoo on her stomach, and she smiled. She glanced at Tybalt - still lying still, eyes closed, but he’d curled onto his side facing her - and then she allowed herself to do what she wanted to do.

She placed one palm over her womb.

Grow, little bean, she thought. Grow big and strong.

She slowly rubbed the flat surface up and down. It had been a long time since she’d had something this big to look forward to.

Then she turned back to the bed.

“Tybalt, we have to go to dinner,” she said. “Or rather, you told our new friends the high elves that we were coming to dinner!”

“Fine,” he said.

“And I need new underwear. Could you get some out of your storage ring?”

Tybalt was carrying all of their luggage.

He grinned as he finally opened his eyes and saw her, obviously remembering how they had spent the afternoon. Then he pushed a little mana into the ring and grabbed her something even frillier and skimpier than she’d been wearing before.

“You’d better not tear these,” she said in a faux grumble.

She walked over and reached for them.

Tybalt got out of bed, knelt, and held the underwear out for her, holding each leg of them open, until she stepped into them. She could feel the heat between herself and the necromancer, still roiling the air, as he pulled the underwear up, his hands running along her thighs all the way to her ass.

“Save that for later,” she said, giving him a look that she meant to be slightly stern but that probably conveyed a lot more lust than anything else.

“As you wish,” he said, running his palm over the front of her underwear.

She turned away to grab her shoes, and he lightly smacked her on the ass.

Don’t do so much teasing when we have to go somewhere else, she thought. Touch me again, and we’re not leaving this room. See if I care if your diplomacy gets fucked up.

As if he could read her mind, he finally left her alone and put on his own clothes.

The servant was still waiting for them when they stepped out.

“Thank you for waiting,” she said. “Lead the way.”

He bowed deeply and then turned to walk ahead of them.

Dero cast Sound Void around herself and Tybalt again. The familiar violet haze filled the air. She made sure to keep the bubble tight, to exclude the servant from hearing anything.

“Was there anything else we needed to talk about discreetly before dinner?” she asked.

“Well, we already know how to answer the King’s proposal,” Tybalt said, wearing a grin like the cat that ate the canary.

“Yes, I meant stuff we didn’t address while you were inside of me.”

“Not much. We want his support, so let’s please play nice for now. I didn’t come here expecting a ruler who would be willing to help us, but it sounds like he might be up for providing some forces as long as I’m willing to make him an advisor or something. The alternative is that I try to keep him neutral for now, then side with his opponents and try to overthrow him in the future. Since I can’t have any rivals just wandering around freely.”

“Well, Colin does nothing for nothing,” Dero said, “Bear that in mind. I don’t know if an advisory role is all he’ll be after. But trying not to antagonize him more than necessary makes sense to me.”

Tybalt nodded, then gestured to the servant walking in front of them.

“Was that guy waiting for us the entire time we were getting ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Without any complaints. Servants in Lutnia certainly seem more… subservient than the living servants I’m used to.”

“That’s because their job is to do whatever we want and suffer whatever we deal out quietly and discreetly, even if we abuse them. He’s just trying not to draw any negative attention from us or his masters. If you were into men, and you pulled him into our room and told him to strip, he’d probably just do exactly what he was told and take the secret to his grave.”

Tybalt’s face contorted in disgust.

“I guess that probably helps keep the other high elf nobility happy, if they get… treatment like that whenever they come to visit the King.”

“Yep.”

The herald from earlier announced them as they entered the banquet hall, his voice loud, clear, and crisp.

“Beastking Tybalt Black, High Priest of Death God Mudo, ruler of the Salt Waste, the beastfolk, and the undead. Princess Dero Autumn, Queen-in-Waiting of the dark elves, King Tybalt’s fiancee.”

At least they’re acknowledging the fact of our commitment now, Dero thought.

The others who had gathered around the table rose at their arrival. It wasn’t just the royals gathered for dinner that evening. There were multiple other people seated around the King and Queen. From their clothing, it was obvious they were important.

Dero only vaguely recognized two of the men. Dukes who had already been within the King’s inner circle on her last visit.

“Con… gratulations,” said King Colin as his eyes darted to Dero’s gently glowing midriff. He looked at Tybalt. “You certainly move quickly.”

“Strike while the iron is hot,” the necromancer replied.

“What do you mean, congratulations?” asked one of the younger elves seated at the table.

“Oh, Dero, this is my son, Leon. Son, this is Princess Dero, who is now pregnant, based on the mystic runes currently glowing over her womb.”

“The same Dero—” the younger elf began.

“You may safely forget about our earlier conversation,” Colin said calmly.

My folks never thought that much of you, Colin, Dero thought. They considered you overconfident. Lazy. Complacent. Greedy. Now I think maybe only that last one was true. Once you see something you think is valuable, you don’t give up on it, do you? Not until the juice is no longer worth the squeeze. And you outlasted all of the other royals from your generation, easily. All the other servants of our god, too. What would it take… to actually take you down?

“I would also like to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Liora,” the High Elf King said. He stepped to the side, and a beautiful elven maiden dressed in expensive-looking silks curtsied to Tybalt and Dero.

“The pleasure is all ours, I’m sure,” Tybalt said, dipping his head slightly to both the Prince and the Princess.

Right, I have to remember my manners.

“Good to meet you both,” she said, smiling at the siblings before she sat down.

There was a little bit of awkward looking back and forth among the royals and nobility at Dero’s deliberately informal etiquette. Then they began talking again. First, the nobles introduced themselves to Tybalt, and then the dinner conversation evolved into the usual elven political tripe. Discussion about movements in the human Kingdom of Niet and the cities on the Gulf of Gold, the elves’ closest neighbors. Concerns about the wood elves not submitting to their betters. It was a boring conversation that just affirmed why she had never wanted to live among these people. Everything was about power over others or fear for their own sovereignty.

Then Dero heard them mention something about dark elves, and her ears perked up.

She turned to face the specific elf who had just spoken, and the others around the table took notice of her sudden movement.

“Expand upon that, Princess Dero will probably be interested in it,” said Prince Leon.

“There are a few new arrivals on Industrial Street, Princess,” said Duke Something-or-Other. “One of them is a blacksmith who claims he served the Dark Elf Royal Family once. Of course, none of my friends believed him, because a man with that sort of experience would have come to our attention long before now, or he’d be serving the contracts of some kingdom or republic.”

“Name?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Did this man have a name?”

“Um, it escapes me at the moment, I think,” the Duke said, scratching his head. “Deren?”

Beren? Dero thought. She shook her head. No, don’t worry about it. You are not his Princess or his Queen. Not anymore.

“I think he might be familiar,” she said nevertheless, her mouth slightly dry as she spoke. She tried to be diplomatic, for Beren’s sake. “Remember, those who still survive after my people’s tragedy will have passed through some serious hardships. He might not present as what you would expect from a former royal blacksmith, but if he is a dark elf, he would not be likely to claim such glory unless he knew no others would step forward to contradict him.”

A few others nodded in agreement with her, though the collective reaction to it was almost a shrug.

They returned to their political topics; discussion of interest rates on loans; a new church that had taken root in a major port city recently, founded to worship a sea god; and the minor matter of the anti-vampire conspiracy.

“Let’s have no more gloomy talk like that,” Colin said, just as Dero began to become interested in the talk around that last topic. “On a brighter note, I’ve thought of an alternative proposal to the one I made privately to King Tybalt and Princess Dero. I wish for us to be tied to your cause - don’t worry, either of you, these are my most trusted allies, and they are all like me - and I think it best if the connection be some tangible thing. That was the trouble between myself and the last fellow. He never felt that he had any reason to trust me and was always suspicious of counsel from one older than himself who had survived so much political turmoil.”

This previous High Priest sounds wiser and saner the more you talk about him. We’re suspicious of you for similar reasons.

“What sort of tangible connection were you thinking?” Tybalt asked. “If you’d be willing to come and personally lend us your support in the wars to come, along with however many troops you can spare, you would naturally sit on my councils and have some military title corresponding to your level of commitment.”

“Oh, no, I’m—” He interrupted himself with amused laughter—“I’m truly flattered that you would think of that, but the delicate political ecosystem here requires my direct supervision in order to sustain our efforts militarily. I will send you soldiers and mages to aid in the struggles to come, but the tie I have in mind is at once less risky for our political base - and more precious to me personally.”

“Our” political base, he says. Ha.

“More precious to you than yourself?” Dero asked curiously.

Colin nodded. “I suggest a betrothal between King Tybalt and my dear daughter Liora.”

To his side, Liora dropped her fork and made a choking sound as if a hunk of food had gone down the wrong pipe.

Clearly Liora wasn’t informed about this plan in advance, Dero thought. Interesting.