"The fentifeledes," Rhoethella whispered.

She studied the elixir in her hand with a tight, satisfied smile. She turned over the thick glass tube filled with a substance supernaturally pearlescent in her fingers with a slow twirl.

It held an emerald green tint enfolded in it's ivory sheen that separated light in mesmer inducing patterns.

"It attempts to beguile you," Rhoethella continued, "the elixir knows your presence nearby. You see how it seems to change when I roll it with my fingers? This substance is so evil it corrupts the very light it touches."

She placed it back on the felt board inside the metal box he had presented to her. She turned her gaze to him and she frowned.

"Sieur Kel Télsarràs, your boots reek of the shit of the roads. Gather yourself up to my quarters before anyone else sees what you are treading through Castle Barso."

With that order, he now stood in the foyer of her living quarters. Silent, alone, longing for a bed to rest his body and a pillow to rest his head. He would sleep eighteen hours if he could to make up for the slumber he lost on his vigil.

The servant girl brought in a whicker basket. She placed it to Télsarràs side. Rhoethella followed in behind her.

"Sit," Rhoethella ordered him. He immediately complied with his Queen's demand.

She kneeled before him.

"Give me your foot."

He raised his foot. She began to undo the straps of his hard leather boot.

"Oh, gods," Rhoethella stammered as she removed the boot.

From the wicker basket, the servant girl placed a squat ceramic vase and a pair of boots of coral snake skin on the floor.

Télsarràs noted the pair of boots were well-matched with his urban wear just as well as the mambo skin ones. They would not be of much use on an expedition, however. Rhoethella removed the other boot with a derisive snort.

She stood up and allowed the servant girl to remove the terry cloth bindings that padded his feet from the boots rough leather. Noting the girl squinched her nose, Rhoethella handed her a knife.

"Lizzi, just cut those free."

Once the servant-girl was done, Rhoethella soaked a wash cloth inside a pitcher vessel of water and she applied the cloth to his feet.

After she removed the lid from the vase, Rhoethella dipped her hand in it. In her palm she held an ointment whose aroma smelled of sandalwood and lavender. Rhoethella applied the ointment and massaged it in with an expertise that only a former haetera could provide.

He closed his eyes and relaxed for a rare time since the expedition began.

"Now, Télsaràs, report to your queen the findings of your quest and your service. I suggest you leave nothing out, or," she shook her black mane with exaggerated emphasis. "The Abysmal Mother may have mercy on your soul, but I shall not."

He began with the voyage across the gulf, and his association with Abicore.

"You, the battle-hardened knight became alefellows with an ardant?"

"With common purpose all fruitful things are possible."

Rhoethella finished the foot rub. She stood up and gave a nod to the servant-girl. Lizzi clapped her hands stridently. Seven servants marched in. Each man carried a large ten-gallon pitcher to the bath chamber.

Rhoethella ordered him to stand. Soon they marched back out of the chamber. The servant girl came back over to Rhoethella's side and bowed her head.

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"Lizzi. Those worn out boots of Sieur Télsaràs', place them in the wicker basket along with the bandages. Please see to it they are burned."

'With all due haste, Your Majesty."

"Return in four hours with a light breakfast, but not before then."

Lizzi left the chambers, Rhoethella threw Télsarràs a smile. She took his hand and led him to the bath.

"Proceed with your account, Sieur Télsarràs."

He started where he left off. While he recalled the events, she ordered him to raise his arms. Rhoethella stood two inches taller than the knight, so she had no trouble removing his tabard, his cauldrons, and his jerkin.

Though never having done so before she stripped him down nonchalantly, until he stood in front of his Queen entirely nude. Her eyes grazed over him appraisingly.

Her smile broad with sparkles in her brown eyes dancing in the lamp light. With her smile, fetching and bowed low; his excitement grew.

He felt conflicted. She had just completed her third month of mourning, and only after nine months more could he rightfully claim consort.

Her voice betrayed none of the longings the dark bronze of her face expressed so well.

"Turn around, Sieur Télsaràs. I must inspect for any damage to your person that you may have acquired while fulfilling your duties for your queen. I see you have on you bandages fastened around your right shoulder.

"Surely an incident that required care should have been given in your oral report. What say you?"

"I haven't gotten to the mêlée in the scrubland, yet, Your Majesty."

Rhoethella removed the bandage.

"A crossbow bolt would have likely gone all the way through. A dart?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

She pressed her fingers against the wound, spread the tender flesh out and brought her nose up to it.

"There is no infection I can spy. Though my nose may resemble my father's overcompensating arch, it is all my mother's heightened sensory perception inside of it.

"At least, one of the ardants is a healer, as is necessary for an expedition to possess. I can smell the medicines applied last week."

She kissed the wound, tenderly. With her canines, she pressed them down into the tendered flesh. She watched his reaction. He smiled, gingerly. Her tongue rolled over the scab sucking at the little punch her teeth just made.

"You've surely heard, Sieur, that the soul of one who is pure of heart is a demon's feast, and if a knight who is such escapes that fate, he will surely become revenant in his strident longing to fulfill his ultimate quest."

"I've heard such tales, Your Majesty."

"Would you mind if I open the wound a little farther?"

She wore a robe of thick brown terry cloth, and his glance spied pajamas and matching long shirt of silken purple; all bodice warmth when she leaned into him.

"I do not mind in the least, Your Majesty."

"Perhaps, a thousand years from now I will be a vampyress, and you will be my revenant death knight lover."

"An excellent lurid imagination you possess, Your Majesty."

She bit into his wound more intrepid this time. The canines like a hornet sting.

He gasped. She paused.

"Don't stop, Your Majesty, please keep on."

She sucked her canines deep into the wound. Her warm tongue rhythmically lapped at it. She did this for several minutes. Clasping his shoulders with her long fingers kneading his tendons like they were baguettes of raw dough while she kept at her blood feast.

Her cheek now smeared, her eyes and smile appeared frenzied wild with want. Only after the wound congealed did her bloodheat no longer have the best of her.

She relaxed her stance, held him by the back of his neck gently and cleaned the wound off.

"Sieur, can I be assured the people need not know their Queen has the appetites of a vampire? The Lords of Oblivion only know what my enemies would do with that rumor."

"Your Majesty, so long as I remain a brood of one in your thrall, there will be no one else to tell them anything."

Rhoethella giggled at his cheek. She cleared her throat. Her voice regal once more.

"Before the water turns cold, Sieur Télsarràs, take your bath."

He entered the water, sat down and rested his head down against the porcelain with his eyes closed. She rubbed his chest with the washcloth.

It had been dipped in a liquid soap. It smelled of florals of a tropical locale remote from Barso Castle. The suds built up as she scrubbed.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Sieur Télsarràs, or I'll let you drown."

"My Queen has little propensity towards mercy."

"Lean forward, Sieur."

He complied. Her fingers encircled his vertebrae and shoulder blades. She took a lava block and rubbed it in his muscles with her palm. With a small pitcher, she gathered a draught of water and poured down his back.

"Stand up, Sieur."

She helped him out of the bath, dripping wet on the ceramic tiles.

Rhoethella's eyes met his own. She smirked and giggled.

"Not a word, Sieur. Not a word. Just close your eyes and enjoy. This may take a long sweet moment of surrender."