The Duchess' Mother Ch. 07

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 7

"How could she-- Heresy!-- doesn't have a clue-- Witchery!-- father refused to-- Devilry!-- can't manage a court, let alone-- Traitor!"

I sighed, slouching back as the parasites barked and bickered. Foolish me, believing for a moment that I may have actually managed to please them. The altar was supposed to inspire hope. It was supposed to be an oath to set their blackened, shriveled hearts at ease--to scrounge together at leastsomeunity within this fractured city--but no. My court remained a place of festering paranoia.

Though, in fairness, they were unified on one thing:

I was the problem.

And why? Oh, all manner of reasons. Some claimed I climbed the steeple and lit the fire myself. Others called it an omen, a portent of me 'consuming Alia's grace' or some other vague bullshit. Some even whispered that I'd outsmarted the goddess herself, which, while flattering, proved that they'd believe anything if it painted me guilty. The idea that I might be even mildly competent was apparently too much to fathom.

My gaze fell to the pair of fang marks on my palm, still somehow wet and gleaming crimson after all these hours. I oughtn't be too harsh; I struggled to understand it too.

"They're afraid," said Seneschal Hawley as he sidled throneside.

"Of course they are," I replied, sitting up. "They've feared the day I drive this city to ruin since I first took this godsforsaken chair."

"But not today, Duchess."

I glanced up.

He wassmiling.

Hawley scanned the mob wearing a damn-near smirk on his face, the least dignified I'd ever seen the man. "Today, they fearyou."

"Why would they... Wait, you don't actually believe all this 'flame, claim' stuff, do you? You said it was just symbolic."

"And if you'd asked me yesterday, I would have said the same. Part of living a long life, however, is learning to discern the meaningful from the mundane." Hawley gestured toward the chamber windows, beyond which the cathedral still blazed. "Nothing mundane about that."

Maybe. I'd expected the fire to start dwindling all day long, but it didn't. If anything, it had grown. Shrugging, I said, "I don't think I'm some heaven-sent monarch, to be honest."

"Neither was Alia."

I frowned.

"Well," Hawley continued, "pleasant as this has been, I cannot help but feel that the remainder of our day could be better spent." He nodded towards the crowd. "Shall I?"

"If you'd be so kind?"

Another nod. The Seneschal cleared his throat. In an age-belying voice, he bellowed, "Gentlemen!"

The word echoed to the far wall and back, ringing in my ear and silencing the room.

"And ladies," Hawley added softly; a few of the noblewomen scoffed. He stepped down from the throneside with both hands raised, saying, "This court is concluded. Begone, and return tomorrow with a recollection of civility, hm?"

Nobody moved. A few voices murmured.

"Begone!"

One by one, the snakes slithered away until the throneroom was quiet. I smiled as Hawley turned around, saying, "I'll never understand how you do that."

He waved my comment away. "Bah, you'll learn. Just as they will learn to respect you."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"Adrienne, I have seen eight rulers of Old Teufelhof come and go before you. Many rises, many falls." Turning to the window again, he watched the distant flame igniting the skyline. "You are different. I don't know what it will take to fix this city, but it certainly begins with something different."

Hells, first Mom and now Hawley. They both sounded so confident, too. It didn't make sense--why me? What was I possibly supposed to do differently? I snorted. "Lucky number nine, huh? That's-- Wait, how oldareyou?"

"Addie!" Mom chided from nearby.

Hawley chuckled. "Quite. But do not forget the rather brief lifespan of a typical ruler of Old Teufelhof."

"I just... don't understand. I don't understand why you have this faith in me, I don't understand why nothing I do can please them, I don't-- I... I don't fucking get it."

My mother knelt beside me. "You're thinking too hard, darling. We're not telling you to be anything other than yourself."

"But 'myself' is--"

"Much more capable than you realize." Her lips grazed my ear, whispering, "You've done things I thought impossible over the last few days. Have a little more faith in yourself." She left a kiss on my blushing cheek, then stood.

Dammit. There was that uncanny ability of hers, making me feel like so much more than I knew how to be. Hawley, too. Believing all my doubts felt suddenly quite foolish.

"I-- Thanks, Mom."

She lay a hand on my shoulder; I tilted my head, pressed my cheek to the back of it.

"And to you, Seneschal," I added. "Whatever we pay you, it isn't enough."

Hawley's smile surprised me no less the second time. "I'll settle with whatever's left of the coin I gave you this morning."

"This morning? When-- Oh, right. Shit, I knew I'd forgotten something."

"You lost it?"

"No, no, I have it." I fished the small pouch from my bag. In all the chaos, I'd completely forgotten what was to be our last stop in the city. I stood and tossed it to him. "I wanted to deliver alms before we returned."

He caught it with both hands. Weighing the coinpurse for a moment, the man eventually asked, "To Father Dimitrov, yes?"

"Mhmm." He was the only one I trusted with that sort of thing. His parish was nothing more than a run-down alley crammed between an abandoned textile mill and the city's southern wall, yet his were the only hands that ever guided donations into the proper pockets.

"I can take it to him tonight, if you wish."

I cocked a brow. "You would? You hate it when I waste money like that."

"Advising against something is not the same as disapproval.

"Oh. Well, uh... Thank you. I appreciate that."

With that, Hawley stowed the purse, straightened his coat, bid us farewell with a tip of the hat and left my mother and I alone in the throneroom.

My eyes drifted once more to the window. Not even a day and that damned flame was changing things, warping perceptions, expectations, fears. Not just in others, either. The throne itself felt different today. A little comfier, a little more my size. I still didn't want it--a letter from Alia herself wouldn't change that--but looking down on all those sniveling, primped up rats felt a little less frightening. For once, court hadn't ended with me feeling like the most pathetic person in the room.

I didn't like it.

"Doing alright?" Mom asked.

I glanced over my shoulder, finding her lounging in the throne with both legs dangling over its arm. "I'm fine. I think. I-I don't know, honestly. I feel strange."

"Oh?"

"I feel..." I trailed off, scouring my head for the words to explain it. Newfound confidence, even a hint, should have been a good thing. For some reason it only added to the weight on my back.

"Anxious?"

I shook my head. "No. Well, yes, but it's more like... I've gotten used to messing up, right? Disappointing people doesn't hurt as much when you expect it. Now the whole city will be looking at that flame and expecting great things and suddenly I've got even farther to fall when I inevitably do. Does that make sense?"

She sat up, beckoned me near. I plodded over and she took my hands in hers, saying, "This is what 'thinking too hard' looks like, Addie. You lit the fire with your very own blood. It's not some standard to judge you against, itisyou."

Me. Me? But-- No, don't start with that.

Nodding toward the inferno, I said, "Well, I'm looking pretty hot, then, aren't I?"

Mom snickered and rolled her eyes.

In the silence that followed, I caught myself staring. As she gazed back with a sleepy-eyed grin, memories of our morning came flooding back. A now-familiar hunger stirred in my stomach. Mom had skipped the first bit of court to change into something 'less pedestrian', as she said, and now wore a billowy, burgundy halter gown that revealed a frankly scandalous amount of skin. An ill-timed breeze would reveal much more of my mother than a daughter should see.

I didn't need to see all she kept hidden, though. The rest was enough. The slightest trace of age around her eyes; her sweet, dimpled smile; the way she wove fingers through her hair, legs bouncing to a beat only she could hear. My eyes dallied over every inch, from head to...

"Someone's cheering up," Mom said, crossing her ankles. "What's got you so smiley?"

I shot her an impish look. Sliding a hand over her shin, I circled the throne and knelt before her feet, then gingerly loosened the slippers she'd traded her boots for. "I seem to recall us striking a deal, earlier."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What, you don't remember?Iagreed to stick my hand in a strange hole, andyou..."

One slipper came off, but she drew her legs in before the second.

Pouting, I asked, "What's wrong? Too much?"

"N-no, it's not that." Mom wrapped her arms around her knees. "I've just-- I've been walking all day, and... Tonight, okay? After I've had a chance to freshen up."

"I don't need you to be perfect for me, Mom."

"I know," she mumbled. "I like to be presentable, that's all."

That was her choice, disappointing though it may be. Crawling back around to rest my head in her lap, I said, "Fine, fine. But now what am I supposed to do with my mouth?"

My mother giggled and tilted my head back. Her eyes suddenly gleamed with nymphish lust. "Surely a clever girl like yourself can think of something."

So, so many things. Things she probably couldn't imagine. ThingsIprobably couldn't imagine, only conjured up by a sick brain after finally finding the chance to taste all she had to offer. Things the thought of which both quickened my blood and churned my stomach. Beautifully vile, sickeningly soft, and impossibly real--things we shouldn't do?

Lines we couldn't possibly cross. Right?

"Addie?"

I blinked.

"Everything alright?" Mom asked. She poked the tip of my nose, smiling weakly. "It was a joke, darling. I'll refrain."

A joke. Just a joke? Was that all this was--a bit of fun?

Hells, Adrienne, listen to yourself! What else was I expecting, a godsdamned wedding? A honeymoon, adopt an orphan, build a cabin in the woods and live happily ever after?

"I suppose we should probably talk," she sighed.

I looked up from my lap. "I thought you didn't want to."

"I wanted to think. I've... thought. Some."

Sitting up, I tried not to look too eager. My mind was already off spinning up new and depraved impossibilities. "And?"

Mom remained painfully silent for a long while. Her hand continued to stroke my cheek, but her eyes drifted elsewhere, glassy, unfocused. 'Some' apparently hadn't been enough. No doubt she was finding the strength to rebuff me and the words to make it permanent. Imagining that brought me a little peace; though I'd never stop wishing, her rejection might be the first step toward moving on.

"And," she finally continued, then paused again to swallow, shrug, and smile with a helpless shake of the head. "I've really enjoyed our time together, lately."

Enjoyed--there it was. We were over. As if we'd even been enough to call us 'over'.

"Me too," I replied sadly.

Mom exhaled softly, closed her eyes. "I'm glad."

More silence. Say it, I thought, and be done with all this beating around the bush.

But she said nothing more. My mother just doted on me with that same curiously comfortable-yet-confused look.

"But...?"

Mom cocked her head. "But what?"

"Oh. Is-- is that all?"

"Always unsatisfied," she teased. "What would you have preferred to hear?"

"It's not that-- I'm not, uh... I'm confused, I guess."

"I'm in good company, then."

Well, that helped. A little. Not much, since we'd somehow shared so many words without saying much at all. We'd seen and touched each other in ways once beyond imagination--how was that not being addressed? How was the fact that parts of my skin were still sticky from her release not the only thing to talk about?

Because she was confused. Like me. Maybe she was frightened like me, too. And ashamed. And surprised. And horny, and... happy?

Did she feel as good inside as I did? Aside from the mountains of panic and doubt, of course. Ignoring every glaring issue with our relationship, did it make her feel asrightas it did me?

"You've been so patient with me, Addie."

I frowned. "Me?"

"Whenever my heart falters, you're the rock that keeps me grounded. So tender with your words, so soft with your touch." Mom brushed her thumb over my lips. "I've never had someone like that."

"Not dad?"

Shrugging, she replied, "You jest, but believe it or not he knew how to be sweet, once." She paused. "He knew how to pretend, at least. Our first few months almost convinced me I'd married a good man. But, well..."

Not only a lifetime without orgasm, but one without even affection. Mom had spent her life without so many of the things which made hearts sing. So I had to assume, anyway; it wasn't like I knew how such things felt any better than she did. But while I knew little, I knew how to make her smile. I knew how to make her come. And now, I knew she'd been enjoying it. The sounds and faces Mom made probably should have been proof enough, though it still felt nice to hear her say it.

No, more than nice. It felt fucking thrilling.

She pinched my cheek and grinned, saying, "You're adorable when you do that."

"Do what?"

"When you get all lost in your head. It's cute; you start chewing your lip."

I instinctively touched my mouth. "Oh. Well... thanks."

"Mhmm. You're always adorable though, to be fair." Mom watched me for a moment, then clicked her tongue, adding, "So, um, doyouwant to say anything?"

I did, actually. As dried of words as she often left me feeling, there were a few that always came easily. Their meaning was simple and their truth needed neither doubting nor dithering.

Climbing onto the throne and into my mother's lap, I said, "I love you, mama." I wrapped both arms around her neck and claimed the kiss I'd been craving for hours.

She was long past feigning reluctance. Mom returned the kiss eagerly, shoulders loosening, hands anchoring themselves on my waist whilst she nipped at my lip between breaths. I half-expected to blink and find us both in bed beneath the Winnowing Widow; the rest of the day could be a dream for all I cared. The flame atop Alia's was neat, sure, but it was merely an ember compared to the one she lit within me.

I felt her palm on my chest, pressing gently until we parted.

She breathed, licked her lips. "Wait."

"Aw, why?"

"I need to ask you something."

"It can wait," I said, trying for another only for Mom to turn her face away.

"It'll be quick, I--" Her voice faltered as I turned my attention lower. Cheek, jaw, neck; her pulse beat faintly against my mouth. "Please..."

I mumbled into her skin, "I'm listening."

"I... I just--"

My teeth sank deep enough to leave marks. Her pulse fluttered. "Just what?"

"N-need to... to..." she choked back a squeak. "Fuck, Addie..."

I snickered. "Need to fuck Addie--did I hear that right?"

She pulled away with mouth ajar, crying, "Addie!"

Grinning, I nibbled my lower lip.

"You're a wicked little thing, you know that?" For a moment--not even that--Mom's eyes sparked with downright devilish intent. I'd seen her lustful and desperate, but never quite so lecherous. She seemed a mere second from fucking me senseless on my own throne when that look suddenly vanished and she cleared her throat. "Ten seconds, that's all I ask."

"Fine, fine." I gave her collarbone a final kiss and sat up, arms crossed.

"Thank you. I-- I wanted to ask..." Shutting her eyes and shaking her head, Mom was clearly searching for words. Finally, "Have you ever felt that I've pressured you?"

"How so?"

She gestured weakly between us. "This. Us. Have I ever crossed a boundary, made you uncomfortable, pushed too hard or too far--anything like that."

This woman really had no idea how much I wanted this, did she? I reached out to touch her face but she guided my hand elsewhere, to her lap. I asked, "Do you think you have?"

"My thoughts have been less than clear, lately. I don't know; that's why I'm asking. And I suppose I'm merely trusting you to be honest."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She hummed. "Maybe 'honest' is the wrong word. Objective?"

Well in that case, of course I couldn't be objective. She was my mother. She stirred thoughts both degenerate and innocuous, roused memories that tickled both a girlish innocence and a womanly desire within me--how the fuck could I be trusted to be objective when Iobjectivelyhad no idea what to do with feelings like that?

But, I didn't need every answer right now, and I knew the one she wanted.

"No."

"No?" Mom echoed.

I slipped my hand free and lay it between her breasts. "Never once have you made me uncomfortable. Not even in the slightest. Scared, sure."

Her face flooded with worry.

"Like any beautiful woman scares me, though," I said, laughing. "In that regard, you're more frightening than most."

My mother scowled, but a blush undercut her ire.

"But, no. I've never felt pressured by you to do anything I didn't want. Hells, if anything I pressured you!"

"You encourage me. There's a difference."

"And that's what you've done for me, isn't it?" Sliding the hand up her chest and around the back of her neck, I gave her halter's tie a gentle pull. The dress slipped partway down before catching on her erect nipples.

Mom didn't react, simply watched me, uncertain.

"And you've beenveryencouraging, I might add."

Her blush deepened. "I've not gone too far, then?"

Oh, she definitely had. Objectively. But again, objectivity wasn't my thing and there was no distance she could go where I wouldn't happily chase at her heels. And who decided what was 'too far', anyway? Whose right was it to say how my mother and I were permitted to love one other?

"You haven't," I assured her. "I promise."

"And you'd tell me if--"

"Yes, Mom. I'd tell you."

She nodded absentmindedly. "Even if--"

"Even if anything," I said, tugging the dress lower until one nipple popped out from hiding. Circling it lightly, "I really wish you'd trust me as much as I trust you."

Mom sucked her teeth as it hardened. She said, "I do, Addie. Believe me, I do." Her gaze flicked toward the window, the flame. "I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you aren't just my little girl anymore. You're an adult. A woman."

I shifted uneasily. "Did the fire prove that to you?"

"No, no, not at all. I don't care about the size of some flame. It's the fact that you lit it at all. That was brave. Braver than your father could dream of being."

Releasing a breath, I said, "Oh. Good. That's good." Thank the gods some vague symbol hadn't been the thing to finally convince her I wasn't a kid. "To be fair, I mostly did it for the feet."

She grinned, shook her head and brought me in for a kiss. At the same time, the squeal of massive, rusted hinges filled the room. I yelped and tumbled from my mother's lap and to the floor, springing upright in time to meet the confused stare of a young, armor-clad sentry. He approached slowly with mouth half-open, wide eyes darting between us.

I coughed and smoothed my hair, saying, "Is there a problem?"

"Uh..."

"Hello?"

"I, er-- Pardon me." The man squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, this time lingering on something over my shoulder.

I glanced backward. Mom sat stone-faced and motionless, holding her dress in place with both hands.

Turning back, I stammered, "We were just talking! About things. Duchess things--boring things, nothing important. You know, uh..."