Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 20

The prince inhaled deeply; her unique scent overwhelming him. He had not believed that the mere smell of a woman could be so potent, yet here he was utterly at her mercy. He breathed her in again as he kissed her neck, hungrily he nipped at her soft, pale skin. She let out a barely audible moan – the sound of which left him reeling, wanting more. He felt her raise her hand to touch him but he held her arms firmly at her sides. His command was as clear as if he had spoken it: do not move. She, who was accustomed to calling the shots, would obey. She wanted this as much as he did – he could feel her body acquiesce to his touch. She leaned unconsciously in to every caress, every pinch. He could feel the heat of her longing rising from beneath her layers of clothes, clothes that were now delightfully in disarray; giving him access to her body. To her creamy shoulders, and with a slight movement, her plump breasts. She sighed into his mouth as he kissed her; her breath more addictive to him than any drug. He growled deep in the back of his throat, how long had it been since he had held her like this? How many times had he had to gaze upon her knowing that he could not touch her? Not have what should have been his? Meeting on her terms had proven to be unsafe and so she had agreed to meet on his; where they should not be interrupted.

He pulled away from her just long enough to gaze upon her face in the dim light. Even in this wanton state she appeared, to him, angelic. His eyes became greedy, taking in all they could while he could look freely upon her; his lover who was not his own, and in a moment of adoration he whispered her name. Gently caressing her face their lips found each other. Distracted as he was he happily let her hands wander, re-familiarising themselves with his taut body. Her feather-light touch burned his skin wherever he was exposed. He was prepared to move Heaven and Acclayne for this woman, and he intended to. His desire for her would be his undoing, and as he felt himself harden beneath her touch he knew he would happily let himself become undone...

***

It was actually a relief to be alone for a while. Since he had, in a moment of alcohol induced weakness, given in to Hazel, Cloy had found himself to be the near-constant target of her attentions. Rather than be put of by his reluctance it had appeared that their drunken tryst had only served to fuel the fire. Many men would have loved to have been in Cloy's position, (or in any position with Hazel), but unfortunately for Cloy and his would-be-lover; he did not feel the same. He was a solitary man – he enjoyed his own company above others and often chose to stay at home while his friends went out. It wasn't that he disliked the company of others, or or that he did not crave affection like so many do, but rather that he found people confusing and therefore frustrating. Everything seemed to have hidden meanings or agendas, nobody said what they were really thinking. This fact unnerved him. It unnerved him to the point where he chose to speak very little lest someone secretly judge him for saying the wrong thing, or misunderstand what he was saying altogether and interpret it as something that it wasn't. Ultimately it was this way of thinking that had led him to join the army. When you were told to do something there were no hidden meanings; a command was a command and that was that. No room for misinterpretation or confusion. Life was simpler, often-times shorter, but mostly simpler.

His current instruction saw him travelling towards the city of Cortharen. His mission was simple; to return to the palace and report back on the movements of “Lady Cholden”. He had no idea who she was and neither did he have any desire to know; as far as he was concerned it was way above his pay grade. What he did know was that this new information was of vital importance and so it was with urgency that he had hired a horse and was now making his way towards the palace.

Ferntill had talked a lot easier than Cloy had expected him to; he had told them that Cholden had in her company a descendent of the late Alaina Oakley. The Corporal had waved the claim off as nonsense but Cloy hadn't been so sure. He had followed all of her adventures as a young boy; commandeering his parent's newspapers so he could read about her latest exploits. The idea that, despite her mysterious disappearance, she had managed to leave behind an heir was very exciting. The outrageous claims had not stopped there; Ferntill had gone on to tell them that Cholden intended on reuniting the Oakley heir with the infamous Twin-Blade.

The Twin-Blade had been lost for so long now that most people had given up on the idea of it ever being recovered; they assumed that whatever had befallen Alaina Oakley had also claimed her weapon. Cloy had always been sceptical; believing that the weapon had far greater powers than anyone was willing to admit. This was extremely important news; assuming any of it was true, and so the Corporal had sent Cloy to take word of it back to the King – reasoning that some information was better than no information. In the meantime the rest of his squad would await his return and any further instructions in The Bloody Rose. This was, of course, met with mixed reactions and Cloy didn't envy the Corporal having to act as a buffer between all of those irritated women.

He reached the palace after nightfall. Having been trained in the science of Time-Burning Cloy was able to tap into his potential energy in order to expend his own time reserves. This enabled him to cut through the slow moving Acclaynian time waves and move through time at an accelerated rate whilst the world around him continued to travel at it's own pace. It was a tricky thing to master but it enabled people who had the ability to get wherever they needed to go in well-under half the time; depending on how much of their own time they were willing to use up. That was the drawback; using your own time would inevitably shorten your life span. Finding people with the Time-Burning skills and a willingness to use them was extremely difficult and so soldiers like Cloy were a terrific asset to any Intel gathering squad. Any Time-Burners that did sign up to the army were promised large compensatory bonuses when they retired. This was assuming that they ever reached retirement age.

He checked in with the guards at the main gate and within moments one of the royal guards was sent to escort him in. Cloy recognised the uniform the guard wore as the uniform of the Prince's own personal guard. Unusual, but as long as the message was getting to the palace then it didn't particularly matter who got it. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The guard led him up several flights of stairs; their footsteps echoing as they climbed. The entire building was silent – the majority of it's inhabitants fast asleep at this late hour. As they walked through the labyrinth of corridors Cloy wondered how the guard knew where they were; in the dim light every corridor looked exactly the same as the last. They finally stopped outside one of the many nondescript doors and Cloy was instructed to wait outside. The guard knocked loudly and slowly four times. No call came from behind the door but he proceeded to enter regardless; shutting Cloy out alone in the dark corridor.

***

She sprang away from him with the first knock but he kept his arm firmly around her waist. He groaned from anger as much as anticipation as he reluctantly let her go. He turned toward the door just as the guard entered. He made no attempt to tidy himself.

“This had better be worth disturbing me for.” He snarled.

“Forgive me your highness but there is a messenger here for you from Vallaylii.” The guard bowed low at the waist. Prince Fofana let out an exasperated breath and straightened his robes. “Well for The Mother's sake let him in!” As the guard turned to fetch the unexpected visitor Fofana glanced behind himself – she had already cloaked herself in the shadows; if she was even still there at all.

“Captain Cloy your Highness – his squadron is stationed in Vallaylii gathering intelligence.”

“Your Highness.” The man that bowed curtly before him was waif-like and had obviously never seen battle. Well, that may change.

“Yes yes,” he waved off the formality, “come, what news?”

“It concerns Lady Cholden your Highness.”

Fofana's eyebrows raised involuntarily; betraying his interest. From behind him came a barely audible intake of breath – so she had remained.

“What do you know of her?”

“Not much your highness, but our sources tell us that she may have with her the heir of Alaina Oakley...”

The prince laughed; the hollow sound echoed in the quiet room. “You interrupt me for this?” He snapped.

“Sorry, your Highness it is just that-”

“Just that you are proving to be completely incompetent?”

“Sir, she seeks the Twin-Blade.”

Fofana was stopped, momentarily, by those five little words. Five little words that could ruin years of planning. The full force of his anger was unleashed:

“She must be stopped!” He nearly screamed as he began to pace, “This was not how it was planned. Kill her!” he whipped around and glared directly at Cloy, “Get back to Vallaylii, to your squadron. NOW! And you kill her... KILL CHOLDEN!”

Cloy hesitated; confused, the man before him was hyperventilating, did he know his squad had not been constructed with battle in mind?

“Are you deaf man? Or just stupid? Go NOW! GET OUT!”

Cloy was nearly pushed out of the room by the force of the Prince's voice alone, and before he knew it he was heading back towards Vallaylii.

Now that they were alone again the Queen stepped out of the shadows. She was as calm and as poised as she ever was. Fofana barely noticed her emergence as he strode angrily around the room.

“How do I not know of this?” he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, “I am supposed to be kept informed!”

“We could use this to our advantage.” Her voice had taken on a soothing lilt but the Prince was too far gone to be aware of it.

“She is supposed to be watched, how was I not informed...”

“Calm, my darling – we shall just alter our plans.” She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, his muscles were tense with frustration. Her hand slipped down his back and he moaned.

“...another time my love.”

“Can it not wait?” she purred, “Just for tonight?”

“No, you are right, the plan needs to be changed. I need to kill her. Tonight.” and without so much as a glance back at his Queen Fofana swept out of the room and into the darkness.

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