Today’s hike in the Unconscious Forest was spooky. It was much darker than usual, and there were many weird noises.

Usually, Baby Ori could decide what the forest looked like, but today she could not. It was strange. It gave her goosebumps.

“I done.” Said an Ori. “Too scary.”

The other children agreed and left together.

Only Baby Ori stayed. She had a terrible feeling in her chest. This feeling might be another child who thought it was a monster. She wanted to keep trying to find them. Yet no matter how long she hiked, she couldn’t find any more Oris.

The treeline stopped, and she reached the end. An iron gate rose before her. Curious, Baby Ori peered between the iron bars.

“Oh? Baby Ori?” said a voice.

“WAAAH!” Yelled Baby Ori, falling back on her bottom.

“WAAAH!” said the voice. “Hey! Why are you yelling?! You scared me!”

Baby Ori stood up, embarrassed, swiping dirt and clay from her bottom. She looked up at the boy behind the gate.

He had sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He did not seem to be much older than she was.

She squinted at him. “Are…you an Ori?”

The blonde child smiled, “No, not an Ori. I’m a Thomas. I guard the gate.”

Ori smooshed her face into the bars, “Why are you in the body?”

Thomas huffed, “I’ve probably been here longer than you.”

“No way.”

Thomas leaned over and poked one of her squishy cheeks. “Yup. I guard the gate. Which means you need to get off of it.”

Baby Ori backed up. “What’s behind the gate?”

“The Uppers,” Thomas said. “They’re the ones who decide everybody’s jobs, and who screen the thoughts.”

Baby Ori tilted her head. “What does that mean, ‘screen the thoughts’.”

Thomas tapped his foot. He wore cognac leather shoes that matched well with his smart outfit. “It means that when we think, the Uppers see it, then decide if we can hear it.”

“What?!” Baby Ori exclaimed. She pressed her face up against the gate again.

Thomas squished her cheeks. “Well, only if you’re conscious. You live here in the unconscious now, remember? You probably know a lot of things you didn’t before.”

Baby Ori pondered this.

He was right. “Oh,” tears began to fall from her eyes. “Julie―I mean Lady Ori―is crying. Jonathon’s been hung.”

Thomas sighed. “It’s complicated, being alive.” He shook his head woefully, “If only Jonathon had been a good brother, even once…”

Ori stood, hand on her aching heart. “I didn’t hate Jonathon.”

Thomas shrugged, “It wasn’t your job to hate Jonathon. I guard the gate, and now you take care of the Oris. Everyone has a job. That’s how the Uppers keep things working.”

Ori pulled a face, tears still streaming from her eyes. She had decided to find the other Oris all by herself, not because the Uppers told her to. She curtsied to Thomas, “I’ll visit you again.”

Thomas bowed, “I look forward to it, Baby Ori. Just be sure not to touch the gate next time!”

―-

Lady Ori grunted in frustration, poking her face in the mirror. Her bruise had healed four days worth, but since she cried all last night, she still looked terrible.

She felt disappointed in herself. How could she have grieved over someone like Jonathon? Or maybe she had grieved for herself. That would have been marginally better.

It was hard to live underneath the thumb of emotion. She thought of Baby Ori. At the very least, she hoped that her sister-soul’s days were spent happily. She put her hand on her breast and felt her heartbeat. The sound of it meant that Baby Ori was safe.

But, Lady Ori faced a huge problem. Now that she had finished getting revenge, she felt an emptiness and numbness where her rage used to be. Everyone she had been so angry at was now dead.

She closed her eyes. For as long as she could remember she had always fought to live. Sometimes because of desperation, other times because of frustration, hatred, or spite.

Now, everything was fine. Did that mean her body would throw her away and another identity would take her place?

The idea gave her chills.

Was she still…needed?

“Please don’t throw me away.” She said to the mirror. She hoped that everyone was listening.

―-

Vellim de Broglie’s father’s urgent letter had been short.

Contessa de Rohan dead; struck Lady Ori; suspected of murder. Will see the King tomorrow.

After reading it, Vellim had nearly thrown up. He’d left Kelksville that very hour. Still, he had been late for everything. It ate at him. For two days he traveled in agony.

His father filled him in on the rest. He could not believe it.

Later, Vellim watched Jonathon hang. He didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if Lady Ori had been there alone. She never came, and for that he was glad. Jonathon’s body twitched long after he was pronounced dead.

A persistent thought tugged at him: who had murdered Contessa de Rohan? He did not believe Ori’s confession.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Today, Vellim rode his horse from Broglie to Foix, as both estates were in the capital.

Vellim handed his horse to a servant and walked up the steps of Foix estate. His heart thumped in his chest. Even if they weren’t lovers in the usual sense, he had great affection for her. She was innocent and carefree—but now he knew that such a thing could not have been true.

A servant greeted him saying that Lady Ori had prepared a sitting room. A part of him lamented, dismayed that she had not come out to meet him. He could not imagine her angry, but she must be.

Foix was there. Vellim bowed and gave his greetings, but he could only think of Ori. Where was Ori?

He beat himself up: A real man would have noticed that his fiancé was being maltreated. A true lover would have taken the initiative to learn more about his future wife. His friends had been right—their relationship had been strange.

He followed a servant. Before he even entered the room, he felt he might cry.

—-

Lady Ori’s insides churned, all because she was about to see a man. It felt gross and unnatural. Did people live like this all the time—besotted and stupid? How long would she have to be in love with this creep, Vellim de Broglie?

She toyed with the idea of breaking up with him the moment he stepped into the room. Then maybe she really would go visit the Artois boys and snap them up one by one.

As if on cue, she heard murmuring and footsteps from the hall.

She sat up straight, blushing—she was furious at her own reaction.

Vellim’s low voice swam into her ears from the hallway and spun around in her heart. He entered the room like he a beam of light.

Lady Ori blinked, stunned. Vellim de Broglie was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Baby Ori’s memories hadn’t even begun to do him justice—she had missed all his best parts.

His trousers were tight from the swell of his thighs. The hug of his doublet over his shirt enhanced the lines of his body underneath. His shoulders and chest were broad and strong. Even the curve of his lips was masterful.

His lovely copper eyes met hers.

Lady Ori had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. She leaped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

He caught her and held her close.

They embraced, and Lady Ori wondered what the hell had happened. Her body had moved on its own.

—-

Vellim hugged Ori with all his might. He felt her release him first, but he held on. He was so thankful to see her. So thankful to hold her. It was the first time he’d ever held her.

He looked down at the frail woman in his arms. She looked undone. Her lip was trembling, and her right eye was swollen and purple. She looked as if she might faint at any moment.

He let her go and brought his hands to her face. He caressed her bruises, and tears fell from his eyes.

“Sweet Ori,” he whispered.

—-

Baby Ori’s feelings were so much stronger than she’d thought. They had taken over her body like a horse rearing back and de-seating its master.

—-

Vellim lifted her into his arms without effort. How had he never noticed how thin she was? His heart ached. He sat her on the couch as gently as he could, then knelt at her lap. “My God, I’m so sorry, Ori.”

—-

Lady Ori’s heart beat out of her chest. She grabbed the reins of her consciousness but her feelings shoved her to the side.

She sighed and gave up. She knew what her body was up to, and if she couldn’t beat it, she could at least join it.

—-

Vellim looked up into Ori’s deep blue eyes. Her body was shaking, but she raised her hands and held his jaw. He rested his face in the palm of her hands. His heart was breaking. This was the most she had ever touched him. She must have been so scared; so lonely. He wept.

She was bending towards him. He opened his eyes to look, and before he could react, she had lifted him to her lips. Vellim felt surprised, but he realized that he had yearned to do this. Her eyes were closed, and steady tears streamed from them. He closed his eyes as well, softening into her sweet kiss.

He loved her. He loved Ori de Rohan.

He felt the distance close between them. He felt guilt and ecstasy. Yet more shocking than her kiss was her tongue, which he felt flicker over his lips.

Vellim pulled back, clapping a hand over his mouth. He felt all his blood rush toward his face and neck. She was staring at him, and the passion of her gaze made his head spin. If only she would say something!

“Ori, are you not angry at me?” He buried his face into her knees, hiding his blush. “Why did you never confide in me? I would have married you immediately. I would have stolen you from that house in the middle of the night.”

Instead of an answer, she opened her knees and slid onto him. Surprised, he leaned back and caught her. She was straddling him now. Ori smiled at him. He felt the heat between her thighs touch him, and he gasped, eyes closed.

The loving touch of her arms around his neck, and the softness of her body—it was all too much.

Their eyes met. His heart stopped, trapped in the gaze of a tiger. She glanced away and began to kiss his cheeks. His heart began beating again, but he could barely think.

He did not have any experience in matters like this. What would she do next? He felt her touch and her lips become hungrier.

“O-ori?” He pleaded. My god, this was a sitting room. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

“I don’t blame you.” She whispered to him. He felt blessed by her words. His Sweet Ori. His beautiful Ori. He saw her eyes gaze at his lips and he wanted her to take them.

“I took care of it myself.” She leaned in, her eyelids dropping in anticipated pleasure.

He froze as she kissed him. Very lightly, he took her shoulders and pulled away.

She looked up at him, confused.

He searched her face for answers. “What…do you mean you ‘took care of it’?”

She fondled his ears lovingly. “Vellim,” she sliced up her cold eyes to meet his, “I won’t repeat myself.”

Vellim’s blood turned to ice. He shivered under her. “I don’t understand. We shouldn’t be doing this.” Still, his large, warm hands rested on the curve of her waist. “I wanted to ask you…” he faltered.

Lady Ori smirked and nuzzled his ear. He couldn’t help but enjoy it. His eyes fluttered. He felt her tongue lick the length of his ear and felt his blood warm again.

As he pondered when he would move away, she rolled her hips. He moaned as he felt hot, wet warmth spread over him.

Impossibly, amazingly, wonderfully, she moaned his in ear.

“Vellim,” she kissed him.

This time he was powerless to her whim.

He felt her tongue push into the depths of his mouth, intent to strangle him. “Vellim. I’m not helpless. You never have to save me.” she was whispering into his lips. How could she make him feel this way? How could her tongue taste so sweet?

He felt caught in a web, unable to move, unable to escape. She lifted her hips up, and he missed the feel of her. Before he could react, she slipped him out of his trousers and he grasped her waist in surprise. All protests died in his throat; he wanted to see what she would do with him.

Her smooth fingers angled him. “Let me ride you,” she told him.

His mind went blank. “N-no,” he said.

She tilted her head, “No?” she leaned in and nibbled his neck. “Do you know how wet I am, Vellim? Do you want to feel?”

He did. She took his hand and pulled it under her skirts. He moaned at the feel of her and she giggled in his ear. She pressed herself into his fingers. She was so soft and hot that his hand would surly melt in.

“Taste your fingers, Vellim.” Her words felt like the crooning call of the devil. “I need to see you taste me.”

Vellim brought a shaking hand to his mouth. He could not return to his former self. He was ready for the gates of hell to swallow him whole, and he would thank her all the way down. He closed his eyes and sucked. My god, the taste of Lady Ori. It flowed over his tongue and ignited his whole body.

Lady Ori took his hand. Would she permit him another taste? But no, she placed his hand in her mouth and drank the rest of herself off his fingers. Vellim was shocked with need. He pulled her into him and kissed her with all his heart.

Oh, she consecrated him with her body. “Ori,” he moaned into the space between her lips, “Ori, yes, please.”

Lady Ori bit the base of his neck and he growled in pleasure. Her teeth rolled over his neck. “Good boy, Vellim.”

Before he knew it, he was inside of her. She made love to him; he felt it all. Her feelings and her desire. All corners of his body connected to hers. She looked at him with her sharp eyes which rolled back when she felt him. He tried to bite back his moans but could not remember where he was.

He wanted her. She was touching herself with her eyes closed, and he needed her. Her breath was catching in her throat, and he’d die for her. She came like a crashing wave over him and he prayed for this moment to last forever.

He watched her face alight with ecstasy as she used him, and she came again, and again. He refused to come. He needed to see and know this side of his Ori. He bucked his hips and watched. He felt her body respond to him.

He cursed himself. “Ori,” he breathed, “I must…” What was the word for such a thing?

His Ori hugged him around his neck. “Come for me, Vellim.”

The sound of her order seized him, but it was her lower body that gripped him. She released him from the luscious torment of her moving body. Never in his life had he ever felt such things. Nothing could compare. He felt the crushing weight of his stress vanish into the air.