Amarantha's Court of Horrors

Time seemed to stop when he was in the room.

Those luscious yellow locks that moved against his mighty shoulders as he walked up the pathway to my raised dais. He had always been cut like a beast, he was the beast, is the beast, and I like my lips as he gets close enough for me to smell him. He is misty pine, fresh cut grass, and something sweet, honey, that's right, honey. My big bear-lion man.

"Tamlin."

Those feral emerald eyes meet mine, flecks of gold, flecks of primal hate that no longer lurks on the surface, but takes residence in his very soul. Delicious.

"Tamlin, welcome." I feel like snubbing him, and saying something like his time is up, and now he is mine, but he knows it. I have respect enough for him to know that I can celebrate for myself, especially when I can have him all to myself.

He can sense my conquering delight, and the growling rumble through his chest says exactly what I always admired.

Rebel.

Handsome devil of a rebel was more like it.

"Sit Tamlin." I demand, and he does so after refusing to meet the equally judgy and hateful gazes from my Court.

Little else matters when he sits beside me, not because he has the decency of respect or the cleverness to know power when he sees it, but because I hold the keys to his Court, and every Court in Prythian. I have him by the balls, and I love it.

He doesn't say a word as he sits on the throne beside mine in my Court Under the Mountain.

Despite the weight of his circumstance he remains cool and aloof in a room of shameless idiots and gullible peasants. The perfect partner, to my perfect crimes. I quiver in excitement, and he turns his head just a fraction away from my enthralled gaze, as if it is too much for him, and I know that is going to be the least of what I do to him tonight.

"Well, my my my you have not changed from your time away from me. Good, I prefer you just the way you are." I chuckle, turning my ire at my Court, "has no one offered the High Lord of Spring some food, some refreshment?! Get some!" They scatter like vermin and insects, "and the music! This is not a tomb, I will have some celebration!" The music goes up again, and so does the uneasy chatter, and a delightful buzzing tune in my pointed ears that flicker for some reason.

We drink our wine, and still Tamlin won't meet my gaze.

I clap my hands, and the Attor dares near to hear my words, he addresses me with a bow of his ugly head, "My Queen Amarantha." At least some still had respect enough to use my title.

"I want you to bring our guest out, Tamlin is getting bored, and I would hate to make a bad impression." Tamlin did not stir, did not even deign to pretend like he wasn't spying on me.

"Yes My Queen, I will bring her."

Now that draws interest from one of my more clever High Lords, especially from my violet eyed pet that left so early this morning.

I motioned him too forward, "My lovely Rhys," he clasps my hand in his as a sign of greeting, and sits on the arm of my Throne daring to look over my shoulder at Tamlin, and I wrap my manicured hand around his face, reminding him whom was still in charge. "Stay focused Rhys. Your Queen was about to ask you a question?"

"Of course," is his sexy drawl, "as you command me." He always knows what to say, his violet eyes giving me their attention.

"Remember how I sent you to visit Tamlin and his new little pet?" Now I get both of my High Lord pets severe attention, I preen under it. "Guess what I did?" I can't fake the enthusiasm now, or the silly glee that a female three centuries younger should feel. "I invited her to come and stay with us."

I can see the light leave Rhys' eyes, as if he truly fears what I am capable of for the human child.

I don't get the chance to see Tamlin reaction, as I raise my hand, "Clare Beddor!"

My hand still raised the moment the Attor brought in Tamlin's little human whore, and of course I can feel the tension grow with the High Lord males trapped beside me. That was half the fun.

"There you are!" I grinned with all the malice and happiness inside me at the human girl in rags, limping as she was pulled forward, and shivering like a lamb to the slaughter. "Welcome to my humble Court Clare!"