Yes Majesty

By Vivian Andre

A lonely queen falls prey to temptation when her absentee husband leaves her in the care of a handsome guard.

This work contains references to sex and adultery. All characters in this work are aged 18 and over. This work is intended for Adults only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian Andre
• Release date: May 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310673627

Book preview

Yes Majesty

by Vivian Andre

Copyright © 2014 Vivian Andre

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

The blade misses my throat by an inch. A gust of air summons goosebumps and stings my skin - an immediate reminder of what I have just escaped. Hearty chicken and potato scents linger in the air. The evening meal was served minutes ago. I fall from my seat, taking a plate setting down with me and hitting the rug covered stone floor with absolutely none of the grace of royalty. Around me the room comes to life. Chairs squeal and fabric swishes. Guests are coming to my aid. Cool air tickles the hairs on my skin, contouring my tensed muscles. I am still but for the gasps dragging in and out of me, and the force of my heart rattling through me.

My attacker is a fit man, beefy muscle gleaming from his efforts. His sweat and stench dripping and wafting over me. His chest and sleeves bare the mark of our kingdom, but he has made his allegiance painfully clear.

Before I can back farther away from my attacker, before the assassin completes another swing, and before my king comes to my aide, a bang rattles through the hall. Three soldiers slam through the tall red wood doors, sunning and jumping at the enemy. I can see the whites of his eyes. The assassin's manic gaze mirrors mine. I wonder, are they also wide with fear? Or concentration? Or resignation.

It happens in an instant. His sword arm thrusts at the ceiling, a salute, and he cries out. Then he looks at me, a fierce determination flowing from him. It's in his posture, his words, and his voice. We both know he's finished.

In a moment of disillusionment I give him my sympathy. To be so impossibly close to a goal, to relief, and to then face failure. How heartbreaking. We watch each other, eyes still wide. His dirty, shining face holding a peculiar expectancy. Does he expect me to help him? By cutting my own throat?

The strangely intimate moment passes and the soldiers grab at him, twisting his limbs and shoving the assassin to the ground. His weapon and armor dent and clack as they wrestle him away from me, hair and fists flying. The men grunt, wheeze, and twist, quickly overpowering the assassin. His head knocks against the floor. The soldiers excuse themselves and drag his body out of the dining hall. The heavy doors swing shut. We are as we were before - savory meat and boiled vegetable smells palpable. My breaths reverberate around the room and my eyes stay at the door.

That man is gone