The Princess and The Pirate
Chapter 22

Lillian was sitting across the table while her mother, the Queen, and the King sat on the other side. They excluded her out of the conversation for now, idly chatting amongst themselves.

They had literally been talking all day with Lillian actually being asked very little. The sun was now gone and servants were lighting the palace candles. Stacks of signed parchment sat under the King’s quill and everyone was happy with the new agreement. Lillian was, for all intents and purposes, to be treated as the monarchy’s own flesh and blood. She’d eventually be groomed for leadership while designing a power marriage would be the first order of business, after the pirates were dealt with, of course.

The only thing that rang in Lillian’s ears was the dastardly word “eventually.”

Drumming her painted nails, the new princess looked at her three elders across the table. Wheels started turning in her brain.

Maybe the King and Queen had fifteen years left, God willing? Christ, she herself would be thirty-three before having any actual influence, practically an old maid! Lillian was many things, but patient was not one of them.

“Lillian. Stop drumming your nails. It’s giving me a headache,” snapped the Queen. She only shut her eyes in annoyance and then opened them, resuming a conversation with her sister.

“Oh. Forgive me.” She quietly placed her palm flatly on the table with no readable facial expression. Fifteen years would be much too long to wait.

“So it is settled. After the mourning period, we will hold a coronation. It will be something subtle, nothing too flashy. Maybe a fine silver circlet; It would go well with your hair,” the King said, scratching the quill tip quickly against the bottom of a paper. He began melting a piece of wax to lay his seal into.

“That seems appropriate,” Lillian replied blankly. What, no tiara? That minuscule fact cemented her decision. Lillian knew just the plant that could help her climb the royal ladder much faster than ripe old age. It was everywhere, too, which was convenient.

“Also, we are promoting a new Captain of the Guard, Vincent Versetti. He runs the tolls and manages both armed men and tax collectors. Quite a ruthless bunch, which I believe speaks for his qualifications. He will be your personal bodyguard as well, Lillian. Obviously, we must be more careful with our children,” the King continued while placing his ring into the hot wax, confirming his word as law.

A slow smile crept to her pale, porcelain-like face. Everyone had assumed it was about her recent elevation to her new station, but in reality, Lillian was thinking about apples and the cyanic compound found within their seeds. As for the bodyguard, men were never a problem for the raven-haired, fragile-looking woman.

***

A few absolutely boring days passed. Numerous funeral marches, a ceremonial burial of Jacqueline’s prized things in the family crypt, too many damn church services with their bells, and the movement for her canonization was gaining momentum.

Lillian needed to get away. Jacqueline was the past, dead and over. Why were they lingering?

Now, she found herself deep within an apple orchard excluded from the constantly ringing bells, mourning peasants, and blaring trumpets. Following in tow was Versetti. He roughly smacked away foliage from his presence and had a hard, arrogant feel about him. Finally, the countless years of managing the tolls had paid off to a more respectable position.

He watched the new princess, cloaked in rich navy to protect her from the elements. The captain’s new position had a much better view as well.

Lillian looked over her shoulder at him, coyly. When he caught her glance she quickly looked away, going back to collecting brilliant red apples. Her demure demeanor only brought a half smirk to his face, continuing to follow his charge.

“So many apples, Princess! You planning on making a pie?” Vesetti asked amidst the rustle of the leaves as a warm gust scented with apple blossoms filled the orchard air. What would a woman do with so much fruit, anyway? Bored, he put his elbow on his sword hilt lazily; there’d be no beasts to fight here.

She rejected an apple, throwing it out of her way. Her basket was beginning to get heavy. “I suppose I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but I do enjoy fruit.” Lillian turned to her guard, holding a large, bright red apple in her thin fingers. “They are sweet enough in themselves, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked while putting the mature fruit to her lips while looking at Versetti through a curtain of black lashes.

Not one for personal space, especially with women, he approached her with little formality. He looked down at the glossy skin of the fruit and then looked at her pale lips against it. “I guess I’m not much of a fruit person, more of a meat and potatoes type of guy.”

Versetti watched as her pearl white teeth dug into the apple, its pale juice spraying against her chin and cheeks. He had to work very, very hard to suppress the wicked grin building in his muscles. Just beyond the apple was her smooth chest. Her blue corset was much too cruel to her supple, blushing flesh.

Holding the meat of her bite within her cheeks, Lillian held the bitten apple out to him, though there was little room between them, and offered a bite. “Are you excited?” she asked lowly, leaving the apple juice on her lips. They sparkled in the sunlight, the moisture and sugar shimmering away.

He was, but he couldn’t very well tell her that. “About what?” Versetti asked, ready to take the apple from her.

She quickly curled it back towards her face, keeping it from him. Lillian rested the fruit against her milky cheek. “Don’t simply grab it with your filthy glove, you barbarian. You have to appreciate it. There is a whole experience in eating it, dear captain.” The juices slid down her flesh effortlessly and rested on her jaw line, “It’s smooth, alive, and warm.”

Versetti quickly took off his rough leather glove. He wanted that…apple.

Now, appropriately ready to appreciate the life force of the fruit, the Captain put his clammy hand on hers. “What am I supposed to be excited about, my Princess?” Versetti asked quietly, while taking his hand, hers, and the fruit away from Lillian’s face. His attention was fixated upon the natural sugar highlighting her pink lips.

“You’ll be serving a queen one day. We have what seems a lifetime in one another’s company. Isn’t that exciting?” the princess asked as the orchard leaves parted, the sun lighting up her pale face. She held the apple as he took a generous bite from the fruit. His bare hand slipped from hers to her wrist and gently down her bare forearm.

“See? Isn’t it sweet?” She closed the distance between their bodies, pressing her fine royal clothes against his armor. Gently placing her apple basket on the ground, with her free hand, Lillian raised her fingers and went to wipe away the lingering apple juice that decorated her lips. Versetti forcefully grabbed her wrist with his other gloved hand, stopping the process. He wanted to look upon her beauty some more.

Lillian had a blush in her cheeks, bashfully looking down, parting her mouth in a soft gasp at his brutish action.

“Yes, my queen.” Yes. Yes, on all accounts! He muttered through the food in his mouth. First, Versetti placed a very gentle kiss on the tip of her apple-coated fingers, staring into her icy blue eyes for permission. She didn’t waiver and his kisses then moved to the side of her hand. Lillian’s eyes had a glossy look about them, shutting slightly at his touch. She needed his loyalty; she needed a strong right hand.

Versetti pushed the bitten apple from her hand and it fell to the grassy orchard floor. He moved his kisses from her arm to Lillian’s sweet lips. The new captain of the guard was not one for self-control. She didn’t say “no,” which he interpreted as an obvious “yes.” As tenderly as a rugged knight could, he pushed the princess up against the nearest tree. She and all she had to offer would be his.

They were in the middle of nowhere.

Lillian returned Versetti’s kiss with the same fire and passion. Her hands were busy trying to undo the small clasp that held his armor together, trying to peel him from the can. Versetti’s large arms came under Lillian’s legs, propping her up between his wily self and the apple tree’s bark. She bit at his lip, egging him on, so brave and strong, to match her intensity. Lillian wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping them in the sweet-smelling maze that was the vast orchard.

The taste of her nectar was intoxicating. Versetti would do just about anything for such a sweet, supple flower like the future Queen Lillian.