Chapter 890 - 889- State of Eldoria Kingdom

Chapter 890: Chapter 889- State of Eldoria Kingdom

She blinked. He was right. She kissed his forehead and corrected the line, and her heart folded warm in her chest at the absurdity of being audited by someone born four weeks ago.

The other twin padded over from the window seat, holding a picture book upside down, and asked the first great question of the morning.

"So father is in the capital. He is searching for another mother for us?"

The first twin adjusted his tiny spectacles with one tiny hand, an entirely unnecessary gesture he had picked up from somewhere and refused to surrender, and nodded gravely.

"Indeed. Indeed."

Mira sat back and looked at her sons. One month old. One month old and correcting ledgers and speaking of their father’s marriage habits with resignation.

’These are not babies. These are small monsters wearing baby skin. My monsters.’ She sighed at the ceiling, half pride, half terror, and decided as she did every morning that she would not trade them for a quiet normal life for anything.

In the garden behind the tower, Helena sat with a teacup.

The garden was a jewel box of foreign flowers, and above it, hanging in the morning air like ornaments on a terrible tree, three lords of nearby territories dangled wrapped to the neck in living green branches. They thrashed. They cursed. One swung a sword in furious arcs that parted nothing but air, the vines simply flowing around the blade like water around an oar.

"Young lord! Young lord, please! The village crossed the border, yes, but they are refugees of the kingdom, small people, they harmed nothing, you cannot barge into our territory over small people, there are accords, there are... please! Forgive us! Forgive us!"

Helena sipped her tea.

"You ruined my garden," she observed, in the tone of a woman remarking on weather, and snapped her fingers.

The branches flowered. Beautiful blossoms of white and violet burst along the vines, and the lords’ screaming reached a brief bright pitch before the parasite flowers folded over them entirely, and then the vines simply let go. Three bodies dropped to the lawn like overripe fruit.

Helena rose, brushed her skirt, surveyed the crushed rose beds, and shook her head with genuine sorrow.

"Young lord is not here, and still you cannot help yourselves," she told the bodies sadly. "This is why we cannot have nice things."

A hand closed around her wrist from behind.

She was pulled backward, spun, and mashed flat against a broad naked chest before her mind caught up with her skin, and though she had felt the presence coming, she still winced and gasped with a theatrical flair that was only half performance.

Her eyes flew wide. Her word died in her throat.

"Young lord," she whispered, and her eyes brimmed instantly, and when she surged up to embrace him his hand caught her face instead, palm cradling her jaw, and he kissed her. Deep. French and shameless. She sucked his tongue into her mouth with a slurping hunger, a wet, messy, starved sound, and her free hand roamed down his body, relearning the terrain, ribs, hip, thigh, missing him after mere days like an addict missing the vein.

Her fingers found his cock and wrapped around it, and she felt the shape of him, hot and thickening in her grip, and she gasped into his mouth.

"Please," she breathed, the moment their lips parted. "Let’s do it."

His mouth twitched. "You have become too greedy, my nanny."

"I have been greedy for you since the day I met you, young lord, and old age has not cured me of..."

"Young women! You are busy fucking young women, huh, husband!"

The shout came from above. Mira dropped through the open window of the tower, landed in the flower bed in her nightgown, and stalked across the grass toward the group by the roses, and behind Viktor, three very confused women stood clustered in the wreckage of their dignity.

Sophia and Yuki had arrived naked, and had discovered it at the same moment the sun did. They crouched together, hands clamped over breasts and pussies, heads swiveling, searching the strange garden for watchers. Lyssa stood apart from them fully clothed, arms crossed hard, eyes darting between the hanging corpses, the ruined lords on the lawn, the tower, and the wall of naked man in front of her, visibly failing to file any of it.

Mira reached the two naked women and, without preamble, put a hand on each of their breasts, weighing them like a merchant inspecting melons.

"Kyaa!!" "Who... who are you?! What are you doing?! Leave us!"

"It’s fine," Viktor said mildly. "Sophia, Yuki. Meet my first wife, Mira."

Both women froze. They looked at the woman in the nightgown, then at him, then at the noblewoman lurking clothed by the roses, and their brains visibly surrendered the task of assembling the situation.

Mira pulled her hands back with a small sigh. "I am sorry. I just got jealous." She lifted her own heavy breasts in both hands, presenting them like evidence. "See how yours got pocketed by my husband? Look at mine. My husband used to enjoy these same ones before he went wandering."

Viktor chuckled, stepped over, and took over the job, both hands sinking into her milk-heavy tits and lifting them, kneading, thumbs rolling the fat nipples. Her milk came instantly, beading and dripping, her body answering him before her pride could object.

"Husband," she moaned, arching into his palms. "Let’s have it. Right here. The garden is already ruined anyway."

He laughed, bent, and sucked a thick nipple into his mouth while she cradled his head, and then his eyes lifted, over the swell of her breast, to Lyssa standing rigid by the roses.

"What the hell," Lyssa said flatly. It was all she had left.

He released the nipple, wet and stiff, and carried both women to the garden chairs. He sat. Helena settled onto his right thigh, Mira onto his left, their plush, thick bodies sinking against him, soft breasts and soft bellies pressed warm to his chest and shoulders. His hands slid inside their gowns and found their breasts, kneading one of each, and both women nuzzled into his neck, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his ear, purring like cats in cream.

"So," he said, comfortably, as if seated at a council table, which in a sense he was. "What is happening in the border towns?"

Mira moaned softly as his fingers milked her. She spoke anyway, because a ruler does not stop ruling for a little nipple torture.

"Mm... after the last engagement, ahn... we finished their field army, so we went active. We are capturing territory, husband, not defending it anymore. Three border towns in a month. Ah... Eldoria is trying to react, but..."

His fingers rolled Helena’s nipple, and Helena took over the thread, breathy against his throat.

"The king has fallen... ridden, puppeted, whatever word you prefer. So the court and the royal faction have pulled everything back to the capital to fight over the corpse. The provinces are naked. Which gives us all the leverage in the world out here. Mm, and yes... the civil war has started. Openly now. Two factions, both calling the other traitor."