Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

Rissa couldn’t help noticing that without the high, buckled shoes he had worn at the ceremony, he was barely an inch taller than her. Also, when his breath blew in her face it had an oddly familiar scent. Under the expensive chocolate of the bonbons was a faint smell of…

“Were you smoking a cigarillo just now?” she blurted.

“I went out on the balcony for a smoke—indeed I did.” He nodded at the tall glass doors which were still open to let in the evening breeze. “What of it?”

“Nothing.” Rissa shook her head. “It just…reminded me of someone.”

“Someone nice, I hope.” He smiled at her.

He had not yet taken off his wig—they still wore them, apparently, in the Second Court—and now a sting-fly came buzzing in through the open doors to hum around his head. Such insects were common enough—they were attracted by the sweet, perfumed powder used on the elaborately curled wigs. But if they lighted on one’s exposed skin, they often gave a painful jab with their barbed stinger.

“Oh, look out!” Rissa exclaimed, batting at the fly. “Do be careful—they sting!”

She succeeded in knocking away the fly but at the same time, she accidentally knocked the powdered wig off her new husband’s head.

“Watch out, you little fool!” Lord Shammington exclaimed. “You must be careful!”

But even as he spoke, his whole appearance changed.

The moment the wig came off his head, he lost his youthful look. Wrinkles grew around the corners of his eyes and mouth and his formerly white teeth went yellow. He no longer looked like a fine young man—he appeared, instead, to be a man in his late forties…a man Rissa knew.

“Oh!” she gasped, putting a hand to her cheek. “Duke Grabbington!”

51

“Yes, my dear, it is I.” Duke Grabbington advanced on her, grinning evilly as he did so. “I was going to try and preserve the illusion a little while longer, but now that we are married, I suppose there is no need for secrets between us.”

“But you…how did you…?”

Rissa shook her head, so horrified she could not even go on.

“How did I give myself a whole new appearance? Simple my dear—with a bit of alien technology. See this?” Stooping, he lifted the wig she had batted off his head and pointed to a small white sphere embedded in the very front of it. “This is a Likanthian projection bead. It projects a three-dimensional image which completely covers one from every direction, providing seamless camouflage for the wearer. In this case, myself.” He grinned toothily and put a hand on his chest. “Turning me into a dashing young Lord from the Second Court and a perfect suitor for the hand of the Princess.”

“You…you cannot do this!” Rissa still felt stunned. “You cannot get away with this deception!”

“Ah, but I already have, my dear! All the world now knows me as Lord Shammington, Royal Consort to Princess Ka’rissa—soon to be King to her Queen, as soon as I convince that fool, the Steward, that I possess enough Royal blood to be more than just a consort. He should be easy to convince—he would much rather have a man ruling the planet than a woman, anyway—which is why he dillydallied in finding your mother a suitor until she self-immolated.”

“That will never happen—you will never rule Regalia Five!” Rissa protested.

“Indeed I will.” He took a step towards her, grinning even wider. “I shall have everything I ever wanted—power and wealth beyond measure. Not to mention a lovely bride.” His eyes roved over her body greedily, making Rissa feel sick.

“Stay away from me!” She took a step back from him. “We…we are not properly married, since you took your vows under false pretenses and a false name and appearance,” she added, wrapping her arms around herself to try and hide her points.

To her surprise, the Duke didn’t try to pursue her.

“Very well,” he said and shrugged, as though it didn’t matter a bit. “I shall leave you quite alone, dear Princess, as that is your wish.”

“You…you will?” Rissa didn’t trust this new magnanimity one bit. “But I thought you wanted to…to…”

“To fuck you? To impregnate you with my child? Well, yes—that would be lovely. Especially because I am quite certain you wouldn’t enjoy it one bit.” The Duke smirked at her. “But, no. I choose not to. After all, there are plenty of maids to spend my lust on and I think I would rather let you burn.”

“I…don’t understand.” Rissa shook her head.

“I am speaking of your Heat Cycle, of course.” He strolled back to the couch, the wig still in one hand, and picked up the small black remote that Lady Mildew had presented to him earlier. “Did you think I would use this?” he asked, pointing it at the Chastity Device clamped around Rissa’s waist and hips. “Did you think I would take it off so I could fuck you and slake your Heat, Princess?”