You, young King, hold all the strings."
"Not all, it would seem."
"Then be grateful to Sadye," the woman purred. "No, you do not control me, nor can you. With your great strength, you could ravish me, but that would bring you so much less of the sweetness I offer. With your mighty sword, you could execute me, and none would question, but even in dying, I would laugh at you, and you know it."
"Another once thought she controlled me," Aydrian warned, his tone suddenly ominous. "I am on my way even now to kill her for that."
"Ah, but Dasslerond controlled you for her purposes and her benefit,"
said Sadye, obviously not shaken at all. "I control you for the good of... you." She motioned again to the pillows, and this time, despite his obvious desire to resist, Aydrian lay down upon them.
Sadye continued her dance about him for some time, teasing him with different, almost complete views of her alluring body, and with the notes of her song and the scents wafting about the air, with the steam and the heat, and the moisture glistening upon her.
Gradually, so slowly, she went to him, and even then, lying beside him or kneeling over him, she took her time, teasing more than touching, bringing the poor young man to near insanity with desire.
Finally, she straddled him as he lay on his back and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, nibbling his lobe before she spoke. "You have earned me," she whispered. She moved her face back, looking down at him with an expression that was part smile and part serious.
And then she came down hard.
The room began to spin for Aydrian. He felt as if he was lifting into the air. He couldn't draw breath and he didn't want to. His legs went so taut that somewhere in the corner of his mind he feared the muscles would simply tear themselves apart.
Sometime later, Aydrian was still lying on his back, thoroughly spent, his mind whirling with the sweetest memories. Beside him, Sadye sat up against some piled pillows, her lute across her lap as she absently plucked at the strings.
"I never imagined," the young man said, his voice barely escaping his throat.
"Because you spend your every day in complete control - you even control the weretiger within Marcalo," Sadye explained.
"I am the king. I will rule all the world."
"Almost all," Sadye replied with a wicked grin and she pointedly crossed her legs. "You will never rule me. You will never control me. Understand that."
Aydrian's face went tight with anger.
"And that is why you will always appreciate me, and love me," Sadye finished. "You will always be a boy, Aydrian, if you are always in control of everything around you. I will teach you to be a man."
"What foolishness..."
"Because only in letting go of that iron-fisted control, only by letting your emotions step through your willpower, will you understand the other half of what it is to be human," Sadye explained in all seriousness.
"Only when you embrace this other side of you, this passion, this freedom from control, this danger of the unknown, will you be complete, and only when you are a whole human being can you truly be a man."
Aydrian blinked repeatedly, but did not rebut.
"Marcalo was much like you," Sadye explained, and Aydrian winced through a shot of jealousy at the mention of her other lover. "So many powerful men... no, powerful boys, are."
"What of Sadye, then?" Aydrian asked.
The woman looked at him as if she did not understand.
"If you go back to him, I will - " Aydrian started deliberately.
"Kill me?" she interrupted. "Kill him? Kill everyone?"
"Do not play this game."
"You please me, Aydrian, in so many ways," the woman coyly replied.
"Continue to do so and you have nothing to fear."
Aydrian leaned back and closed his eyes; all of it was too confusing to him at that moment, still basking in the loss of his virginity.
Sadye began to play again, then, and began to sing, softly, and her sweet voice was the perfect ending to a perfect night.
Aydrian drifted off to sleep.
Sadye sat there for a long while, looking at the beautiful young king, the beautiful young man. He was the most powerful man in all the world.
Except when he was with her.
Chapter 25 Missionaries
Brynn stood on the eastern wall of Dharyan-Dharielle, replaying the events of the last couple of weeks over and over in her mind. She couldn't shake the image of Abbot Olin in Chom Deiru, nor the