"I've three sisters and one brother, all of them years younger," Emma began. "The eldest, Jeanette, is nearly two years—my world's years, not your smaller ones—my junior, and she's a fool so intent on imitating me, she's no thoughts or desires of her own beyond the brainless pursuit of power, with which she believes me to be obsessed. Next is Sosanna, the most agreeable of the lot at nearly three years younger, whose world revolves simply around aligning herself with whomever seems most likely to ascend the throne—which, as I've said, had been me for quite a long while. Then there's Charle, my brother who would have just reached fifteen years by now, who had already shown an aptitude for bedding any woman keen on spreading her legs for him prior to my departure some two years earlier as well as a quite unhealthy fixation with attempting to bed me personally."

She turned to him with a wry look. "Not that such a thing had even the slightest chance of becoming a reality, our familial relation notwithstanding, if only due to my views on fornication with those younger than me."

"Very reassuring," Drake said. That crosses a lot of fantasy genre storylines out.

"As was my intent, of course," she said with a trace of a smirk. "Lastly, there was Isemeine, who's nearly four years younger than me." The half-smile that had curled her lips on one side fell, and her expression tightened. "Yes, Isemeine. I've no desire to recount the lengthy details of her past, but it's sufficient to say that we're nearly twins in both appearance and—to some extent—wit, though we've quite a difference in our ages, and she'd never seemed as keen as I'd always been with regard to becoming self-reliant."

Her hands gripped his more tightly, like she was holding on instead of just holding. "As I consider it now, having heard your story, perhaps we've some manner of commonality in this regard," she said in a thoughtful tone. Her hands grew slack around his, and she began petting his fingertips with her thumb. "While I was the elder, it was she who was always praised for her achievements, who was always looked upon fondly by the court in her youth. Though I'd displayed all manner of brilliance during my own years of upbringing, she'd always managed to exceed me in some small regard, whether legitimate or perceived by others. As such…"

Emma became silent for several seconds, her expression changing to annoyance and back to pensiveness. "Perhaps I'd simply grown jealous, if I'm to consider it objectively as I am now. She'd achieved such things, yet she was still capable of feeling, while I'd ventured onward without even being able to discern the temperature at which I'd safely be able to drink my tea." She shook her head slightly. "As you might imagine, my visits to the castle's healers were frequent in those earlier years before I gained proper sensibilities and caution for my ailment. But she'd possessed no notion of my struggles, no conception of the difficulties I'd endured."

"You didn't tell her?" Drake asked.

"No, such weakness in the throne's heir couldn't be widely known," she said with a small shake of her head. "None of my siblings knew, nor any member of the court save for my mother and father. If I'd agreed to remove myself from succession, perhaps I'd have spoken of the matter to others, but I'd never considered such a thing.

"With that said, over the years, I grew increasingly vexed with the perpetually successful, feeling Isemeine. At a certain time, that feeling grew to something stronger." She tapped her thumb against his fingertips and turned to look over at him. "Perhaps if I'd known of the potential for a cure I'd have made different decisions, but do you believe my hatred borne of jealousy wrong, Mister Storm?"

He considered it. This sounds almost exactly like my situation. With the added twists, that is. I hated Zack for years. It's still a little awkward when we meet up for holidays, though I never…did anything… He observed the creases in Emma's forehead, like she was thinking as deeply as she could. "I don't think it's wrong to feel any particular way," he said, paraphrasing the words of his therapist from so many years earlier. "It's what you do with those feelings that might be wrong."

"I've a similar belief," she said after a moment. Her brows drew down low over her eyes, and her mouth formed a tight line as she sat there, thinking. "How deeply vexing," she said after a longer moment. "I'd like to speak with her once more now, to ascertain my feelings on the matter, but it seems I've lost my ability to do so."

She sighed and leaned back against the sofa, then slowly sank over to lean against him again. "Still though, you've been quite a good listener, Mister Storm. Thank you for that." Her fingers played along the scales on the back of his hand.

"Feel any better?" he asked.

She tilted her head to look up at him, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Now that you've inquired, I believe I do. I've never confided in someone previously. You've the right to feel privileged, perhaps even slightly smug."

"Obviously I'd have to be the best at being confided in," Drake quipped.

"Ooh, perhaps I'll test that claim at some later time," she said, now plucking at the claws at the ends of his fingers.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while.

"You said you were interested in helping me keep Vol human," he said, finally taking a moment to check the clock. Wow, that's a lot. Time: set alarm for twelve hours.

Stolen novel; please report.

Emma started and blinked rapidly. "Yes, though we've different motives, certainly our objective is shared," she said once she'd regained her bearings. "Reluctantly, however, I'll need to request that we save such discussions for a later time, as I've a match upcoming." She raised her left arm a little and shook it, allowing the sleeve of her dress to drop down and reveal a golden watch with both its tiny hands nearly touching the top position. "A discovery I'd made upon returning to my quarters to fetch my book and something with which to quench my thirst."

"Alright, I'll see if I can find her and start figuring things out," he said.

She pouted a little. "Mister Storm, you wound me. I'd thought we'd reached an agreement regarding your desires for other women while in my presence, yet here you've already begun planning a dalliance in my absence. Am I not enough to satisfy you?"

Drake snorted a laugh. "I think we've hit the limits of that joke."

Her lips curved into a familiar smirk. "Joke, Mister Storm? I'd said that so long as I remained here, I'd obey your every whim, did I not?"

He felt his heart begin to beat faster as he stared into her teasing eyes. "Nice try, but—"

"Then if it's not me who's obeying you, perhaps it's you who's obeying me?" she said, reaching up to place a finger on her lips as her brows rose. "Shall we test this theory?"

"Why does it have to be one of us obeying the other? And test how?" he asked, frowning down at her as he pushed down on the excitement that had been building from her continued teasing.

"All groups must possess a leader of sorts, mustn't they?" she said as though it was obvious. "As for a method by which we might verify my supposition…" She sat up straight and turned at the waist to face him, the other side of her lips rising up to form a wide grin. "I'd quite like it if you gave me a proper send-off before my match."

"And when you say proper send-off…" Drake said as his thoughts threatened to boil over.

"Ooh, your resistance is admirable indeed." Emma's tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. "What I desire, Mister Storm," she began slowly, lifting his hand up with both of hers, "is to feel as I'd felt just prior to your disappearance," she finished, bringing the hand in to rest firmly on one of her breasts. She pressed down on his fingers, causing him to squeeze, and her teeth drew lightly across her lower lip. "Please?" she said softly as she stared into his eyes.

"If this is another joke," he asked, leaning forward slightly despite himself.

Her hands slid up his arm, leaving his fingers in place on her chest, and took hold of his shoulders, beginning to drag him forward. "I'd not tell jokes about such things now," she whispered as she tipped backwards against the armrest, sliding her legs up onto the sofa and onto his lap in the process. Her eyes dropped from his to focus on his lips.

I shouldn't, but… The fullness in his hand prompted his eyes to sweep down over her otherworldly beauty, and he felt his resistance crumbling as he further considered the slow simmer she'd kept her flirting at for the past however long. When he considered that this was almost certainly what success felt like, he reached a tipping point.

Her eyes closed, and her lips parted slightly as he neared.

Their lips met, and his restraint snapped. He moved his hand from her chest to plant it against the sofa and rolled to lay over her, holding himself up as he sought her tongue out with his.

Emma licked at him and let out a quiet moan into his mouth, her bare feet stroking against his from underneath. Her hands came up to cup his face just as he brought his other hand around to the back of her head, crushing her lips to his. She moaned a little louder as their tongues tangled, and her hands moved to twine in his hair, her nails stroking along his scalp and causing him to groan as the relaxing feeling from earlier changed to one that was far more sensual.

Drake wasn't sure what he was feeling at that exact moment other than that he wanted this. He wanted her. His free hand came out from behind her head and trailed over her, caressing her neck and down her chest as she began to shudder and shiver continuously.

As he took hold of her dress near her waist, she moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away. He moved his head back and stared down at her, his breath coming faster and uneven.

"We've not the time now," she said with her cheeks flushed, breathing heavily herself. Her fingers ran along his jaw, and she craned her head up to give him a quick kiss. "I'll ensure this becomes the swiftest match in history."

She vanished, and he fell a slight distance down onto the sofa with an annoyed growl.

A knock sounded at the door, and he rolled to his feet at once, growing more annoyed at the prospect of dealing with the only person who was likely to be knocking right now. He stomped over to the door and yanked it open.

"I've surprised you by knocking, haven't I?" Emma said, with a sly grin from just outside, wearing the same dress as a moment earlier. Her tongue poked out to wet her lips, and she stepped forward, pressing her lush body against him. "Where've we left off?" she whispered with her head tilted up.

Drake leaned down and scooped a hand under her butt, lifting her easily off the ground, and her arms rose up immediately to wrap over and behind his neck as she unhesitatingly brought her lips to his. His other hand pressed against her back, and her legs came up to wrap tightly around him. She cooed her satisfaction as their tongues wrestled, and he barely remembered to kick the door shut as his head spun.

She pulled her head back and grinned into his eyes, and her tongue flicked out to lick swiftly against his lower lip, retreating when he tried to capture it. "You've been pining after me in my absence, haven't you?" she said in a near-whisper.

He moved forward to recapture her lips, but she retreated, and her grin widened. "Why've you continued to stand in place like this, Mister Storm?" Her fingernails scraped along the scales on the back of his neck while her legs clenched around him, and his desire grew explosively. "We've a need for a bed now, do we not?"

Drake growled as he stared into her bewitching eyes.

The bed was too far away.