Duality 31 Exposed

She made no attempt to get up from Jonathan, which seemed all the better to him. He rested one hand on the small of her back and the other on her b.u.t.t.

"You like that?" She asked with a giggle. A giggle. She really had been repressed.

"It was the best I ever had," he chuckled. "I wish we could stay like this forever, but..."

"...but we can't," Dene said, returning to reality. She sat up, taking the time to enjoy the view of him and his body. His two emerald green eyes were focused on her while his face displayed a smile. He had a short stubble that he would shave later, as he did every morning. He disliked his beard, said it made him look older. More handsome in her opinion.

His upper body was the same chiseled masterpiece that she knew and loved, but with a slight difference. There were two sets of four fingernail marks on his chest. Three of them deep enough to draw blood.

That explained his grunt of pain near the end. In one hand she felt bad for hurting him, even if just a bit. On the other hand, it was exciting to see her marks on his body.

"Admiring your handiwork?" He asked, wincing a bit when she traced a finger over the wounds.

"Yes, I am. Sorry for that, but you are supposed to bleed on your first time. It was actually your second time, but whatever."

"So that's the reason? You sure you weren't so into it that you didn't even notice?"

Dene faked an angry huff. "Don't get c.o.c.ky," her hand traveled from his chest, "you did well," to his navel, "but you still have," and finally rested on his shaft, "a lot to learn. If not for me, you would only be using this big boy to p.i.s.s. What a waste that would be." She gave it a light stroke as if hoping for it to get hard again.

Before Jonathan could protest, she cut him off and got up from the bed. "I know, I know, you need time to recover, but do get up from the bed. We're going out and we'll continue when we're back. I wasn't lying when I said we'll be doing it a lot more." While speaking she walked towards the washroom. Back then, in the heat of the moment, she had enjoyed the feeling of his seed filling her up. Having it trickle down her thighs as it cooled off wasn't nearly as pleasant.

When done washing up she came back to Jonathan not only still in bed, but now wrapped in the bedsheets, showing no intention of getting up.

"I told you to get up."

"What for?"

"To go to the market. I need to buy ingredients for tea."

"I'll ask a maid to make some tea for us."

"Not that kind of tea," she pulled the covers from him. "And no one can know about it. Neither can you drink it, else I'll have nothing to play with for the rest of the day."

Jonathan didn't seem convinced. "Can't we just stay in bed some more?"

"Listen," Dene whispered by his ear. "Let's go while you're still recovering. The sooner we do this, the sooner we'll be back in bed with you inside of me."

That got his attention. He was about to get up when both of them froze.

Multiple, rhythmic thumps sounded from the corridor outside the room, growing a bit louder with each new one. Footsteps, more than one person and getting closer. They turned to the door just in time to see it burst open. Two pairs of Paladins dressed in Olsen colors filed in and stood to either side of the entrance.

Dene remained frozen, not knowing what to do. Run? They could catch her even before she reached the balcony door. They were Paladins. Casting a spell wouldn't work for the same reason. A Mage spell would leave some soreness at best, while an Archmage one would require time she didn't have, with no guarantee of killing even one of them. It was over. She traded her only chance at safety for some pleasure.

With a half smirk on her face, the blonde Angela came into the bedroom.

Her gaze hovered on the naked Dene for just a second, and she could barely contain her satisfaction. "My lord," she addressed Jonathan with the customary respect, "your father ordered me to bring you and your guest to meet him in his private audience chamber."

"Understood," Jonathan answered. "Wait outside, we need some privacy."

"I'm sorry my lord, but," Angela started to speak but was interrupted by Jonathan.

"You will be sorry if you don't do as I say," he almost yelled, not masking his anger. Without caring for how exposed he was, Jonathan walked towards Angela until he was face to face with her. With the height difference, it was more accurate to say he towered over her. "I gave you an order, lady Mabbet. You better think very carefully about what you'll do next." He spoke as if ready to grab her throat at the first sign of defiance.

"Yes, my lord," she finally conceded, leaving the bedroom with the guards and closing the door.

"s.h.i.t," Dene muttered under her breath. Then again, a touch louder and faster this time, and again and again until Jonathan's embrace calmed her down.

"It's okay Dene, everything will be okay."

"No, it's not. It's been less than a day and we've already been exposed. G.o.ds, I'm so stupid."

"No you're not," he held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You're the woman I fell in love with. We'll get through this. Whatever happens, I don't regret anything that we've done."

Dene calmed down somewhat.

Now both dressed, Jonathan took Dene's hand into his and they both came out of the room. He took another look at Angela, who avoided eye contact, and they made their way through the hallways, followed by the n.o.ble lady and the guards.

Along the way, he questioned Angela about how his father found out, to which she answered, "one of the maids informed us. She came to your room to bring breakfast and found you two sleeping naked in the bed."

Of course. Like other n.o.bles, Jonathan was constantly attended by someone. Had she been thinking straight, Dene would have remembered it.

When they finally arrived, Jonathan and Angela entered the Duke's private audience chamber, while Dene had to wait outside. His father wanted to speak to him first.

The guards didn't speak, which left Dene alone with her thoughts. She managed to calm herself some more. This could be salvaged. Sure it looked bad, but if this was the end for her, then she would already be on her way to the dungeons or the executioner instead of here. Not that it couldn't change, but she preferred not to think about it.

She had been brought here, then it was likely she would be asked to speak. If so, when she was called in, she would claim it to be a moment of weakness. They were celebrating his victory and one thing led to another. Nothing too serious and it would never happen again. Maybe they would end separated, which would hurt her, but nothing unbearable. She hoped.

Dene's thoughts were interrupted by the pathetic excuse for a man that was coming her way.

"What a beautiful day this is," Richard spoke with an insufferable smile. "I just heard the most glorious piece of news. Care to guess what?"

Dene remained silent, deciding not to engage with the worthless little man.

He just continued talking, not caring if she spoke or not. "Apparently my dear brother was tricked, seduced by an evil witch!"

She continued to ignore him.

"If you ask me, it didn't take much effort. Not the brightest one, that brother of mine."

"Who are you to talk about who's bright or not?" Dene snapped at him without thinking. All it took was one insult towards Jonathan.

"Touched a nerve, did I?" He spoke as if already expecting her reaction. "You had your fun these past years; tainting our home with your detestable presence," he paused for a second, his smile growing larger. "But this ends today."

"You're wrong and you know it. Jonathan will stand up for me. He is a true man, an honorable man, differently from you."

His smile was almost maniacal now. "You think Jonathan and his honor are going to save you? What a dumb wh.o.r.e. Let me tell you, you're going to the dungeons in the best of cases, and dear Jonathan will be the one to send you there. Maybe I'll even pay a visit, so you can be where you were always supposed to be: On your knees while choking on my c.o.c.k!" He laughed.

One guard opened the door to the audience chamber for Richard to enter, then closed it again.

If his plan was to disturb Dene's calm, then he succeeded. 'Pathetic coward,' she thought angrily. He only dared to say such things because of the guards around. If it were just the two of them, she would beat him to a pulp.

As anger went away, fear came back accompanied by doubt. Would Jonathan really abandon her? He said he doesn't regret a thing, could it be because there'll be no consequences for him? Richard lived with his brother his whole life, maybe he knew something she didn't.

It took too long for her to think straight again. Richard's words were like worms burrowing into her mind.

All this while she heard nothing coming from the chamber. There were spells that could block sound, but such an important room was likely enchanted instead.

An enchantment to block sound would be cheaper in the long run, and wouldn't require a Warlock inside the room maintaining the spell.

When the door finally opened again a lean, chestnut-haired woman called for her. Cari Olsen, Jonathan, and Richard's younger sister. Unlike most n.o.ble women, her hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and she wore dark brown breeches with a white shirt. Dene could count in one hand the number of times Cari ever wore a dress.

She disliked Richard just as much as Dene and liked Jonathan... definitely not as much as Dene, but they were very good brothers.

Maybe she and Dene could have been friends if she wasn't a staunch follower of the Holy Flame.

The Duke's private audience chamber seemed to double function as a study. To the right of who entered, and away from the window, stood a bookcase that covered half of the wall, with a couple of velvet armchairs by its side. Richard sat in one of them with one leg over the other. He looked like a spectator watching a play.

In front of the room's only window was a large, oak desk. The d.u.c.h.ess was seated behind it, donning a fitted red kirtle and a golden necklace. Angela stood to the back and left of her.

Dressed in a red tunic, the Duke was leaning back at the front of the desk, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he stared at his oldest son. Jonathan stood in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back while matching his father's stare.

They were all silent.

Dene walked to Jonathan's side and his father was the one to break the silence. Addressing her, he spoke, "my son doesn't deny that he shared a bed with you. I take it you won't either."

"No, your Grace, but if I may," Dene began and after no order to stop, she continued. "For the last month, I've been helping Jonathan train for the contest against the Olsandres. Yesterday, he single-handedly defeated seven opponents, something that has never happened in past contests and will likely never repeat in the future.

"As such, during yesterday's banquet, we had to celebrate. We drank more wine than we should've and after a moment of weakness, we shared a bed. I a.s.sure your Grace that this was the first time it happened and that it will never repeat."

The Duke remained silent, but his furrow eased somewhat. He turned to Jonathan and asked, "is that true?"

Jonathan looked down, took a deep breath and then looked back at his father.

Dene also turned to Jonathan, waiting for his answer. From the corner of the eye, she could see Richard. He continued smiling.

And then it dawned on her.

At that moment, Jonathan's parents would want nothing more than to pretend this never happened. The smart thing to do, the same that Dene did, would be to try and minimize what happened as much as possible.

But love and pa.s.sion often caused people to do stupid things. Those were what led her to think it was a good idea to bed the Duke's son in his own castle, where a battalion of servants came and went, attending to all his needs. More stupid still was to remain in bed with him. And even more stupid was to forget to check if the d.a.m.n door was locked.

Add a rigid sense of honor to the mix and you have Jonathan. So when he declared his love for her along with a refusal to marry Estrid —the Wynne girl he was supposed to marry—, she wasn't totally surprised. Even less so by the Duke's order to confine Jonathan to his quarters and her to the dungeons.

And finally, Richard burst into laughter. "I'll be seeing you later," he said to Dene as the guards dragged her away.

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Dene was in complete darkness. The second level of the dungeons never received any natural light. She didn't know for how long she had been in the cell, but it had been long. Not even the bells sound reached all the way down here.

Her cell was in the deepest part of the dungeon, by the side of a door that seemed to go down to the third level. Maybe some light was able to creep through the door to the upper level, so they wanted her as far from it as possible.

She was the only one in this level, which only added to her torment.

Her shoulder still hurt somewhat. The guards literally threw her in the cell and she hit the rough stone wall with quite some force. Fortunately, her shoulder was the one to cushion the impact, instead of her shaved head. They locked the door and just walked away, carrying with them the lightstone they had brought, and leaving her in the dark.

Ever since then, no one came again, or at least not to this level. Once in a while, she heard movement from the level above. She tried to cast a night vision spell, but it was useless. The stone walls were mixed with triotium fragments, and the cell bars were made entirely of the metal.

Usually, the metal had to be in direct contact with the spellcaster to work, preferably in the form of a collar. But there was so much of the metal in the cell that it still managed to prevent her from casting spells.

Using her strength was just as useless, neither the bars nor any of the stones seemed to budge.

Therefore, all she could do was sit and wait. Hopefully, death would come before Richard could get his hands on her.

The creaking of a door opening brought her to attention. It was the door to the upper level. Whoever it was, they were here for her. The door was quickly closed again and she could hear footsteps approaching. It didn't seem to be more than one person, which didn't make sense. Unless…

Richard. So he had come. If so, she would go down fighting. The footsteps were approaching, so she had to move fast.

She used her hands to feel around the walls for any protruding stone. When she found a slightly sharp edge, Dene took a deep breath, placed the side of her head against it and dragged her head on the wall.

The pain was bearable and she could feel blood oozing from the wound. The cell was becoming slightly illuminated as Richard approached. He was carrying a lightstone, no doubt.

Dene sat on the ground with her back against the wall. Her head was down over her left shoulder so that her wound was fully visible.

She didn't know why Richard thought he alone could beat her, but it didn't matter. As soon as he entered the cell, she would fall upon him with everything she had.

As the footsteps approached, she slowed down her breathing until Richard finally stopped in front of her cell. Instead of the sc.r.a.ping sound of the key entering the lock, what came next was a loud clatter of keys. .h.i.tting the ground, which sounded even louder in the dead silence of the dungeon.

It took all of her not to flinch at the unexpected noise, but this did work in her favor. He was probably drunk, which would make her ambush even simpler.

Richard picked the keys from the ground and proceeded to fumble with the lock. When he finally opened the cell and rushed inside, Dene attacked. She opened her eyes and aimed her kick on his foot.

It connected, causing him to fall to one knee with a grunt of pain. She was about to follow up with a punch to the groin when Richard cried out, "Dene, wait."

That wasn't Richard's voice.

She looked up to see Jonathan looking back at her.

Without thinking twice, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.