Alistair, still feeling the lingering heat between them, whispered against Emilia's ear, "I need a little more."
His breath was heavy with desire, his tone soft but filled with conviction. The man knew her well enough to sense her hesitation, but also the girl's inevitable surrender. Emilia let out a soft sigh, giving him a playful nudge.
"Fine," she muttered. "But make it fast. We both need sleep after the long journey."
Alistair wasted no time and positioned Emilia on her stomach, her face nestled against the pillow while he straddled her from behind. With a teasing kiss to the back of her neck, he trailed his lips down her spine, his hands firmly gripping her hips while he squeezed her soft curves. Slowly, the man spread her legs wider, allowing better access to the girl's wetness, already damp from their earlier session.
His cock, still hard and throbbing, slid easily inside her again, their slick juices making the connection seamless. Emilia moaned softly into the sheets, her body relaxing under his weight. Alistair thrust deeply, groaning as her walls welcomed him, tightening around his length.
"You're perfect like this," his voice rough with admiration. "So warm, so ready."
The man leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back while his lips found the side of the girl's neck again. "Turn your head," he whispered. "Let me kiss you."
Emilia complied, turning her face slightly to meet his lips, their kiss hungry yet tender. At the same time, her hands reached for the metal bar of the headboard, gripping it tightly as her body arched a little off the bed.
Alistair took full advantage of her position, his hands slipping beneath her to cup her breasts, massaging them in his large hands while he continued to thrust. Each movement of his hips was met with her quiet wails, the sounds of their bodies colliding filling the room.
"Do you need help with the Queen's upcoming birthday?"
Between kisses and thrusts, the man's voice broke through the haze of pleasure. His tone is both serious and teasing. Emilia let out a small laugh between breaths.
"I'll handle it," she replied confidently, her voice strained with pleasure. "But… Your support in the shadows is always welcome."
Alistair responded with a proud smile, whispering his encouragement as his pace quickened. He knew exactly where to thrust, the angle that would drive her wild. Each plunge hit the girl's sweet spot, making her body shudder beneath him.
Emilia clenched tighter around him, her body instinctively responding to his rhythm, her hips meeting his thrusts as her walls contracted. This time, their pace became rougher and faster, both of them too heated to hold back. Alistair groaned when he felt her juices coating his cock, their bodies in perfect sync as they raced toward another climax.
The girl's grip on the headboard tightened, her back arching while she gasped, reaching her second orgasm. The man wasn't far behind, releasing inside her with a guttural whimper. Yet even as their bodies convulsed with the intensity of their shared climax, Alistair wasn't done.
His desire still burned hot, and despite their juices flowing between them, he kept going, thrusting harder and determined to take them both to a third peak. With one final surge of energy, the couple's third climax hit, bodies shaking as they reached the height of their pleasure. Alistair collapsed against Emilia, his breath ragged while he kissed her neck lovingly, his lips brushing her skin.
"I'm so proud of you," the man's voice filled with both exhaustion and affection. "And so thankful, for everything you do."
Emilia, still breathless, smiled faintly, her body spent but satisfied. She closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the warmth of his praise, feeling utterly cherished in his arms.
***
The next morning, Emilia woke to an empty bed, the warmth of Alistair's presence replaced by the cool sheets. She knew he was already off handling his duties as the Crown Prince. The girl stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in her body from the night before, and got dressed for the day.
When Emilia made her way to the dining room for breakfast, she found Prince Dorian already waiting with his usual easy smile.
"Good morning, Crown Princess." The man greeted and took a seat across from her. "It seems Crown Prince is already off running around, so I thought I'd join you for breakfast, if that's alright?"
Emilia nodded with a smile, "Of course, Prince Dorian. It's always a pleasure to have company."
As they began eating, their conversation naturally shifted toward the Queen's upcoming birthday celebration. Prince Dorian started, cutting into his food. "What are your plans for the Queen's birthday?"
Emilia took a sip of her tea, thinking carefully. "I've been preparing the guest list and handling the arrangements for the banquet. However, with the added tension surrounding the recent issues with the nobility and taxes, I want to ensure everything goes smoothly. But I've been wondering, should I take a more direct role in managing the seating arrangements?"
Prince Dorian raised an eyebrow, "Seating arrangements? You mean strategically placing certain nobles together?"
"Exactly," Emilia confirmed. "There are a few factions within the court that need a bit of… encouragement to cooperate. If we can foster some positive connections during the event, it might help ease some of the tensity surrounding the tax reforms."
Prince Dorian leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "That's quite a shrewd move. The Crown Prince's reforms have certainly ruffled a few feathers, but if you can get the right people talking, it could help build the support he needs. Do you think it'll be enough?"
"I'm not sure," Emilia admitted. "But it's worth a try. The Queen's birthday is one of the few times where most of the nobles will be in the same room, and if they're focused on celebrating, they might be more open to discussion."
Prince Dorian nodded slowly, impressed by her insight. "It sounds like you're thinking ahead. But, speaking of the Queen, have you thought about the gift? I've heard she's been particularly interested in some rare artifacts lately."
Emilia smiled at that. "Yes, I've heard. But… I'm thinking of adding something more personal as well."
"Personal?" Prince Dorian asked, curious. "What do you have in mind?"
"A handwritten letter," Emilia said, her tone softening. "Thanking her for her guidance over the years. It's not grand, but sometimes the Queen values sentiment more than material things. I think she'll appreciate the gesture."
Prince Dorian's smile widened. "That's a lovely idea. The Queen may come across as stern, but she does have a soft spot for those who show genuine care. I think you'll make quite an impression with that."
They continued their breakfast, discussing other minor details about the event. Before long, Prince Dorian leaned in slightly, his tone more serious.
"Just be careful, Crown Princess. The court isn't always as straightforward as we'd like. Some nobles might take your actions the wrong way. You're not just the Crown Prince's partner anymore, you're part of the royal circle, and that means every move you make is watched."
Emilia met his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. "I know, Prince Dorian. But I'll do whatever it takes to support the Crown Prince. He's worked too hard for our people to let anything jeopardize his position."
Prince Dorian nodded, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a rare moment of seriousness. "If you ever need help navigating the more… complicated aspects of court, don't hesitate to ask."
Emilia smiled warmly. "Thank you, Prince Dorian. That means a lot."
When they finished their breakfast, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but the underlying tension of the upcoming celebration and the political maneuvers around it remained on Emilia's mind. She knew the Queen's birthday would be an important moment, not just for the kingdom, but for Alistair's future as well.
***
The two wander through the bustling streets of the mid-low area, where vendors sell modest goods and simple delicacies. Emilia is drawn to the unpretentious charm of the place, recognizing that the Queen would likely appreciate something from here. As they walk, the scent of freshly baked bread, sweet pastries, and savory street food fills the air.
She begins by inspecting small food stands, picking up local snacks. "The Queen has always preferred simple things. I think she would love something like this, a genuine taste of the kingdom's people, rather than the extravagant dishes they serve in the palace."
Prince Dorian watches her thoughtfully. "You're probably right. The Queen never was one for ostentation, despite her status. Most of the courtiers don't understand that about her."
"This," Emilia handing a piece to Prince Dorian, "is perfect. We should have this as part of the Queen birthday banquet, a reminder that the best things come from humble beginnings."
Prince Dorian nods, taking a bite. "You really do understand the Queen better than most. It must be difficult navigating all the political pressures, yet you stay focused on what really matters."
Emilia shrugs lightly, gazing at the busy market around them. "The Queen has done a lot for this kingdom, and people forget that sometimes. I just want to make sure she feels appreciated, not smothered with things she doesn't care about."
Prince Dorian glances at her with newfound respect. "You're quite remarkable, Crown Princess. It's not often someone in your position takes the time to see the kingdom like this, let alone think of its people."
She smiles at him. "Thank you, but it's just common sense. The Queen's birthday should reflect who she really is, not the image others have of her."
They continue their walk, discussing which foods might work best for the celebration and talking to the vendors to understand the stories behind the dishes. Emilia even suggests incorporating a few vendors into the event, giving the Queen a real taste of the kingdom's diversity.
As they near the end of their survey, Prince Dorian says, "I think you've got a natural gift for reading people and situations. It's no wonder the Crown Prince trusts you so much."
Emilia laughs softly, shaking her head. "Trust is a delicate thing. I just hope I don't let him or the Queen down."
Prince Dorian gives her a warm look. "You won't. I can see that already."
When they stroll through the streets, a commotion erupts near a high-class restaurant. Emilia and Prince Dorian pause as they witness a young girl being thrown out of the establishment, her chef's uniform dirtied and torn. A few harsh words are exchanged between her and the staff before the doors slam shut behind, and she sits on the ground, looking dejected and humiliated.
Without hesitation, Emilia steps forward and offers the girl a hand. "Are you alright?"
The girl nods, wiping her eyes quickly. "I'm fine, just… some issues with the owner. It's nothing."
Emilia, with her ability to read the situation, knows it's more than that. She gestures toward a nearby café. "Why don't we sit down for a bit? I think we should talk."
As Emilia and Prince Dorian sit down in the café, they take a closer look at the young pâtissier, Lia. She has a small, delicate frame, standing no taller than Emilia's shoulders. Her light brown hair, tied back into a messy bun, is frayed from a long day's work, with a few rebellious strands framing her face.
Despite the dirt on her uniform and the redness around her eyes from being thrown out, there's a certain strength in her expression, a determination that hasn't been completely dimmed by the harshness of the others. Her skin is pale but has a warm undertone, with a smudge of flour still visible across her cheek, a mark of her craft. Her eyes, a soft hazel, glimmer with a quiet resilience, though they are shadowed with the weight of exhaustion.
Her fingers are calloused from hours of kneading dough and handling work, yet they twitch slightly, as if they are always ready to craft something beautiful. While Lia sits nervously across from the two, she fidgets with the edge of her apron, which hangs loosely around her waist, clearly a size too big. Her uniform, though once pristine, is now rumpled and stained from the day's labor, the white fabric streaked with chocolate and cream.
It turns out that despite her exceptional skills, the owner had taken advantage of her talent and treated her poorly, she just was dismissed after an argument. Emilia discreetly uses her mind-reading ability to understand more about Lia's skill set. What she finds surprises Lia has a remarkable talent for creating delicate, flavorful desserts, far beyond what she had expected from someone so young.
Emilia leans forward, "I have a question. The Queen's birthday is coming up, and we're looking for someone to make desserts that are both simple yet extraordinary, something that reflects the Queen's true nature. Would you be willing to create something special for her?"
Lia's lips part in astonishment, revealing a slight gap between her front teeth that adds a hint of innocence to her youthful face. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and for a moment, she's speechless. "Me? Make dessert for the Queen?"
Emilia nods firmly. "I believe in your talent, and from what I've seen, you're exactly what we need. If you agree, you can start preparing some samples tomorrow. My staff will pick you up, and you'll have everything you need."
Lia stares in amazement, her hands trembling slightly. "I don't know what to say… I've never had such an opportunity."
"You just need to do your best," Emilia gave her an encouraging smile. "The Queen deserves to see real talent, and I have no doubt you'll impress her."
In the café's warm lighting, she seems to glow with newfound hope, her hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. Though her physical appearance is humble and unassuming, there's an undeniable energy about her, an artist with a passion that's just been reignited.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Lia finally nods, excitement lighting up her face. "I'll do it! I won't disappoint the Crown Princess or the Queen!"
Emilia exchanges a look with Prince Dorian, who smiles approvingly, and they both know they've just found something special for the upcoming celebration.
***