The Key of Thorsten [Fiction]

His fingers crawled into her thick curly hair, giving her a tranquillizing massage. It felt real. Nicole moaned, slowly shutting her eyes. He stopped, whispering close to her ears, "all that fuss about pleasing the people…isn't it tiring?"

Nicole furrowed her brows for a second. The voice was soothing, compelling even, to bare herself unashamedly. "Yes," she whispered back, a calm settling into her inner being. "I wish there was some other way or someone else who could take this burden away…but mama…"

"Yes?"

"I want to be free to live like other maidens of my age. Free to love, laugh, attend balls…"

"To be normal, yes?" He prompted and massaged her scalp deeply, combing his long fingers through her thick black curls. Goosebumps erupted on her arms. Tingles of pleasure speared through her body so that she moaned louder. She yearned for more. A tiny part of her tried to alert her...His palm settled gently on her left bosom, warm.

The affection felt right, yet wrong.

"You could always tell me where the key is. Won't that be a relief?"

Nicole was silent. Her mind was torn in two places: yield to sensuous pleasure and be free or fight it?

"Nikky?"

A loud gasp and Nicole sat up straight on her bed, chest heaving and heart racing. Nikky? Only one person dared call her by that unacceptable nickname —Ron Ridgewood, son of high chief Tyr Ridgewood, leader of the Cult—her rival for her mother's throne. All he needed to achieve that was the Key of Thorsten.

Nicole massaged her arms as the bumps disappeared and her hard nipples settled. She pushed wisps of honey-blond hair away from her face and groaned. Ron Ridgewood would feel a taste of her wrath that morning. How dare he violate her, Princess Nicole, heir to the throne of Thorsten, like this?

After her bath, fully dressed in purple silk grown, a twin dagger knife sheath on both thighs, she marched down the corridors of the palace to the throne room. As the two tall guards at the door pulled it open, right beside her mother, the Queen, was Ron Ridgewood playing the comedian and making her mother laugh.

The queen, old and about to retire, sat regally on the throne surrounded by her guards and some councilmen. Immediately the door opened, Ron glanced up and winked at her, dimples surfacing on his bearded cheeks. Goosebumps rose on her arms as the memory of her dream flooded back. The nerve!

In a split second, Nicole parted her gown, drew a dagger and expertly flung it. Ron had raised a hand, gesticulating, when the dagger pierced through the center of his palm. The guards unsheathed the swords at the same time reflexively.

"Nicole!" The queen stood from her chair. Ron bit back a scream, gritted his teeth and growled instead. Blood trickled down the dagger handle onto the shiny marble floor. The guards sheathed their swords.

"Arrest and take him down to the black hole," Nicole ordered the guards without looking at her mother. The guards moved to obey when the queen spoke.

"You will do no such thing until I have full knowledge of what transpired between you two to warrant his arrest!"

Nicole could not help the blush that stained her face and neck.

To be continued…

^{Image by: Gianniskorentzelos Vis Pixabay, edited with Canva}