The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There was a smile on his mother’s sweet, round face. But her tears worked to undermine and confuse her expression. Vel stood awkwardly as she buttoned his robes just right. “Are you okay, Mother?”

“I’m fine.” Cassia sighed and did her best to keep her smile going. “I’m fine. It’s just that the queens regent wasted no time in naming you the new duke. Your brother may still be traveling, or spending his time on one of his … hobbies, or …” Weeping threatened to overtake her so she forced her mind to change course. “I’m just so proud of you. My Duke.” She finished with the buttons, patted his chest, and looked up at him. “A man of nineteen years and so handsome. I remember when you were just a little thing at my breast, and you’ve sprouted like a weed.” She reached up and lifted his chin so that his face struck a more regal pose. “Now remember, as duke, you are responsible for your people’s happiness. Not the other way around. Many would treat such a position as a luxury, but you—”

“I know, I know, Mother.” Vel didn’t mean to cut her off, but he’d heard the lecture aimed at his older brother many times. How odd that those words should now find him. Vel was the brother who was supposed to inherit his name and nothing more. “I will be good to Ostia Novus, just as she has been good to me. And you will help me rule.”

“I hope you will listen to my advice, darling. But I am nothing more than a dowager duchess. To be replaced when we find you a bride.” Cassia wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand and waved the servant girl over to affix Vel’s cloak. Sage charred in the nearby brazier, and Cassia breathed in its sorrowful scent. Had she really lost her husband and her first-born in such a short span of time? “Brynhild would like to speak with you before your journey. Your father trusted her, so listen well. But …” Cassia’s stomach turned over as she thought of the tall sorceress and her unnatural eyes. “But you may take your own counsel in all things. You do not have to do what she says.”

“Yes, Mother.” Vel watched his mother closely as she stood with her back toward him by the brazier. The maternal hourglass of her figure was not well hidden by her stola. Vel longed to curl in her lap and listen to her songs like in the days of his youth, burrowing into her bosom. But he was a man now, and he could no longer hide behind her skirts. “I love you, and I will make you proud.”

“I love you too, little sparrow.” She turned back to him. The tears had stopped and the smile widened. “You have the perfect temperament for what lies ahead. But you must steel yourself against those that would steer you wrong.”

“I will.” He bowed, a gesture no longer befitting his position, and turned to go. He would find the sorceress, Brynhild.

“You may leave us.” Brynhild waved her servants out of the room and watched the young man stand uncomfortably in her doorway. This would be all too easy. “Come in, Your Grace.” She smiled warmly and offered him a cushioned chair. The Duke took a few steps into the room and stood, waiting. “Congratulations on your ascendancy.” She languidly walked over to him, keeping her eyes locked on his. She was one of the few who could do this at his level, they were almost exactly the same height. She ruffled her northern dress, well aware of how much cleavage and leg it left to his viewing. So unlike the prim women of the Surround. “I have a request for you when you visit the Palace.”

“Yes, of course.” Vel nodded. The woman’s smile was warm, and she was very pretty. Her face looked like it was only a year or two older than his. But something about Brynhild had always put him on guard.

“After you meet with the queens regent, you will seek out a young woman in the company of the princess.” She pushed her power through her gaze. The people of the Surround had little belief in magic, which made them quite susceptible to its workings.

“I will?” Vel raised a blond eyebrow.

“The princess is taking suitors now, but spurns Ostia Novus.” She slowly walked around the duke. He was scrawny, but handsome. He bore himself well enough, with just the faintest hint of a slouch. And she had heard from the servants that he carried a similar package to his brother. He would do well enough. “You are to take one of her courtiers into your bed and gain her confidence. And then you will have access to the princess’s ear.”

“As you say.” Vel nodded. He thought about what his mother had said.

“Very good.” Brynhild walked back in front of him and kissed him on the cheek. She reached down and pulled her dress so that the milky skin of her breast was further exposed. “And you may claim a reward in advance, if you so desire.” She gave him a daring smile.

Vel cocked his head and a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Was she offering what he thought she was? His cock gave a lurch. He had never been with a woman, and this powerful, beautiful creature was offering herself. Things would be different as duke, he realized. “Um … thank you, but my carriage waits.” He turned and made for the door.

“Oh. Very well.” Brynhild’s face fell. “I’ve selected a valet for you. He’ll be waiting by your carriage.” She needed someone to keep an eye on the duke, just as she had had men with his brother and father in their time.

“Thank you and good day.” Vel opened the door and hurried from the room. His mind a cloud of confusion.

“I find it odd that the queens are building such a monstrosity.” Vel looked out at the palace from their carriage window as the wheels under them bumped along the narrow ribbon of the Hawk’s Road. Even with his poor vision, he could see the nascent tower rising above all others. “Should they not wait for the queen and her new king to ascend? It is her palace after all.”

“The princess has been of age for a long time. It may be that the queens regent seek to rule in their own right.” Naevia pressed her small hand into her brother’s large one and squeezed as they gazed out the window. A breeze swept in and blew a strand of copper hair into her face. She pushed it away and pressed her side into Vel’s oversized frame. The two youngest Tullius siblings had always been close. Often ignored as their older brother and sister took the center stage, Naevia and Vel relied on each other for companionship. She adjusted her shoulder to move her right boob away from Vel’s lean body. How ever close they were, she was a grown woman, and her brother a young man. The last thing this family needed was the false accusation of impropriety, as Fortinbras had leveled at them not long ago. “Why bring me, Vel, instead of your valet? Brynhild selected him.” She looked up into his narrow, squinting face as he dared his eyes to see into the distance. He looked almost comically adorable when concentrating.

“Do you trust the sorceress, Naevia?” Vel looked down into his sister’s open and honest face, dappled as it was with freckles, and he smiled at the frown he saw there. She didn’t need to answer. “Me either,” Vel nodded and then looked off to the sea. It was mostly a fuzzy haze to him. “I’ve been thinking about sending her back north. But she’s been with our family for a long time. I’m not sure how I might relieve us of her service.”

“Tread carefully there.” Naevia closed her eyes and leaned her head on his arm. The carriage rocked and helped settle her mind. “Have you told Mother?”

“She seems to trust Brynhild.” Vel shrugged. The tower grew as they drew nearer the palace. His first summons to court since becoming a duke. All things equal, he’d rather let others carry out the tasks that were now laid out before him.

“How was it?” Naevia jumped up from the marble bench when she saw her brother’s long form stride down the hall. His shoulders seemed to droop. She frowned at him and took his hands in hers when he stopped in front of her.

“It was cold.” Vel shivered, dropped her hands, and turned his sister away from the throne room. “I said my oath and that was it.”

“Can we go home now?”

Vel took a step and paused. “I feel compelled to do another task while here. You should wait at the carriage.”

“What is it?” Naevia looked up into her brother’s blue eyes. So unlike her own. So unlike most anyone in that palace.

“I cannot say.” Vel walked down the hall, and took a right down another corridor.

Naevia lifted her formal stola and hurried her legs to keep up. “You cannot tell me? That seems improbable.” She tried to smile.

“Go back to the carriage, sister.” Vel didn’t look at her. His feet seemed to move on their own.

“Vel. Tell me.” her voice carried a sharp note. She grabbed at his wrist and stopped him in his tracks.

Something about her sweet voice shook his brain out its fog. “Brynhild wants me to …” He was embarrassed to say it, especially with the realization that he would have complied with the sorceress’s wishes but for that fierce, little hand on his wrist. “She wants me to bed one of the princess’s maidens. She wants me to be a suitor for the throne.”

“Oh, my.” Naevia put her free hand to her mouth. “But what if you’re caught?” She looked around them down the hall. It was empty but for the taxidermized corpse of a moose standing high, its antlers almost brushing the vaulted ceiling. “And why? You’re already a duke. Who needs to be king?” Naevia thought it over some more. “Do you even know how to … um … do it? With a woman, I mean.”

Vel’s pale cheeks turned scarlet at this last question. “Let’s go home, Naevia. We’ve done all we need to here.” He took her hand and backtracked toward the palace exit. They squeezed each other’s fingers tight.

“You didn’t find the maiden, Your Grace?” A flash of confusion, followed by anger swept across Brynhild’s unlined face. Then her familiar, calm smile reappeared. A rainbow after a quick summer storm. The young man had refused her body and then ignored her plans. His brother and father had been quite suggestible. What was different about this one? “Did you look for her in the arboretum?”

“I did not.” Vel puffed out his chest, ready to send this woman on her way. “Naevia and I left after the oath.”

“You didn’t take my … I mean, your valet, Your Grace?” She eyed him closely. He looked almost to fit his station with his fine cloak and robes. But Brynhild could see the teenager underneath his accoutrements. “And now, I feel, you mean to send me away.” A most vulnerable sorrow spread across her face. She didn’t wait for an answer. “I beg you to keep me here with the Tullius family. I am sworn to help you achieve. The Peaceful North should not lose its most powerful foothold in the Surround.”

“What do I know of the North?”

“I will teach you. I will guide you. I am your friend, Your Grace.” Brynhild curtsied to him. She felt the change in the room and watched his young shoulders slump. She’d bought some time.

“You may stay. But no more missions. I will not bed women for you.” Vel turned and quickly stormed from the room. He thought of his mother and sister. He would find one or the other. He needed their gentle compassion. It had been a rough couple weeks.

Brynhild watched him go and then glided across the room to close her door. With a flick of her wrist, she locked it. “I fear he would never be king. What do I do?”

“He is more of a king than his brother or father.” The wind, in a soft whisper of a voice, answered her. It spoke in the most beguiling feminine tongue in the language of the polar circle. “You think too small.”

“I work with what I’m given. Fortinbras and Vel have the gifts of their ancestors. They cannot spy and cajole like their Lilliputian father.” Brynhild slowly lit her circle of candles by the window. As the wind spoke, the candles flickered. She knew she needed strong magic and quickly.

“I said you think small, not wrong.” The wind laughed, a fluttering cascade of ringing sounds. “You promised you would not make him bed more women. Keep your promise. Instead, send the women to him.”

“Am I to meet with each woman and push them one by one?” Brynhild sat cross-legged in the middle of her flaming circle with a sour expression on her face. “There is no magic in this world that would do as you say.”

“You think too small, child,” said the wind. “There are many worlds a hair’s breadth away from our own. I will now tear the slightest hole in this world so that you may reach through to a place that has what you seek.”

Brynhild felt the wind move into her and she gave her body over. Through the haze of magic that coursed through her like a wild blaze, she felt herself rip at the fabric of their very existence. And then, she reached her slender hand into … somewhere else. The place was so unlike the Surround, yet she recognized the land and the air. She pulled from that alien world a small stone. The rend in existence sealed back up as if it had never been there. She gasped as the wind left her. And then held up her hand. She held in her palm fine black dust that seemed to faintly pulse with some secret scarlet purpose. “All that for dust?”

“A pity,” the wind hissed. “I have not tried to bring such a rock through before. This one seems to have collapsed from the journey. But …” The wind picked up and swept around the room, careful not to disturb the dust. “… there is still power left. Infuse the dust in your duke. Bind it to him. This will achieve your aims.” The wind whistled out the window.

“But what does it do?” Brynhild felt the power in that dust. A part of some great being had been trapped inside. She was sure. Was this too blunt a tool? Was it too raw a power? A warmth spread down left her arm from the dust and moved to her heart. No, this would work well. She made a fist around the dust and felt quite lovely. She stood to prepare a way to get this powder into the duke, but then she felt a bit lightheaded. She steadied herself on a nearby table. Before she knew it, her free right hand was under her skirt. Fingers slid into her waiting gash. Had she ever been so wet? All she could think about was her stupid young duke and how terrible a thing it was that he’d refused her body. They would make such sweet music together. As she stood there frigging herself furiously, she started to make very fine solo music. Indeed, it sounded like she was singing her heart out as one sweeping orgasm followed the next.

The duke’s guards would not let Brynhild pass. Especially not while the young lord was sleeping. She laughed and flattered the men. She pushed them with words toward sleep themselves, until both men slumped back against the stone wall. Somnolence reigned and their snores followed her into Vel’s chambers.

The powder now resided in an enchanted leather pouch. Brynhild thought it wise not to touch the stuff again. She crept to the great four-post bed and looked down on Vel. He slept well, his chest slowly rising and falling under the blankets. She hoped the foreign dust wouldn’t kill the young man. Opening the pouch, she held it above his slack face. “Andlinnr ok khange,” she whispered and turned the pouch over. The black dust hung in the air still pulsing red with beats as even as a heart. Then, as Vel breathed in, the dust turned to two little cyclones and disappeared up his narrow nostrils. Vel coughed, snorted, and rolled over onto his side.

The wind blew in from the open window, carrying with it the sea’s salty depth. The breeze happily tugged at Brynhild’s dress, spun about the room, and exited the way it had come. Brynhild turned and left the young duke to sleep. He would need his rest.

Something wasn’t quite right. Vel blinked his eyes open. He ached. Not all of him, no. His balls ached like they hadn’t been drained in weeks. And he was incredibly hungry. He reached down under the blankets. The familiar steel of his morning tower met his grip. He knew he was bigger than men from the Surround, but that wasn’t saying much. And now … now he was sure he’d never been this large before. And his balls felt overripe.

Torn between two kinds of hunger, Vel stroked himself madly. He needed to eat. But first, he needed to cum more desperately than at any point before. The blankets flapped wildly as he brought himself as quickly as he could to a climax. Even so, it was more than a half-hour before the bedding was soaked in a deluge of cum. He’d never suspected a man could produce so much. What was happening to him? He felt bad for the servants that would make his bed that day as he dressed and raced off to an early breakfast. And then he felt for the cook, because he knew that he would be eating near their entire larder.

After his morning episode, Vel felt the day fall into line. He had some awkward moments adjusting to his swollen package, especially at fencing. He thought about requesting a healer, but everything in his body seemed to be working. Maybe working too well, if anything. He was just so hungry.

There were long silences at the supper table as the family ate. This was by far the most uncomfortable moment of the day. Usually, Vel enjoyed family time. But now he shoveled food into his mouth as they sat in quiet. “What did this day bring?” Vel said between bites. He looked around the table and suddenly realized that with his brother and father gone, and his new valet dismissed, he was the only man in the room. How odd a position for a duke.

“Archery lessons,” Naevia mumbled. Followed by more silence.

“We would much like to hear about your day, Your Grace.” Brynhild seemed cheery as ever as she fixed her gaze on him. She brought the smallest bite of scallop pie to her pink lips and nibbled on it.

“I woke early.” Vel shrugged. “I met with the tutor, the marshal, and the seneschal.” As he thought it over, he realized that he’d spent most of the day around men. And now it was women as far as the eye could see. “And your day, Mother?”

“It was fine.” She looked up from her pie to her son and she could see that he did not miss the tears in her eyes. Immediately, a look of concern spread on his face. “I attended to the gardens, mostly,” she said.

“What’s wrong, mother?” Bantia, now the oldest of the Tullius siblings, reached out and patted her mother’s bare left arm. “Maybe Fortinbras will return. It hasn’t been that long.” She glanced quickly at her younger brother, but he had taken no offense. He never did.

“Something in the stars has turned against this family, I fear.” Cassia wiped at her tears. “I don’t think your brother or father are coming back.” She reached with her right hand and held Bantia’s hand. Taking a deep breath, Cassia looked around the table. “I am sorry. I’ve felt odd all day.” She fixed on her brightest smile and looked at her children. Bantia as soft, and solemn as ever. So tall and lithe like her brother. Naevia looking back at her mother with those big, innocent round eyes. Short and round like her mother. And then Vel. Vel … something ancient stirred inside Cassia as she gazed at him. It was the mother’s love that had always been there since his first days. But something more wild moved inside her, too. A vertical line formed on Cassia’s forehead as she tried to place that feeling. She couldn’t do it. “I do not mean to bring you all down.” She stood, not looking over at the other person sitting with the family. The sorceress.

“Wait.” Bantia stood too, as her mother moved toward the exit. She quickly followed and bent down to take Cassia’s hand. “I’ll go with you.” The pair left the warmth of the dining room.

“Goodnight, you two.” Vel called after them. Such a strange day. He shifted in his seat. An aching made itself known between his legs. He knew he would have to relieve himself again. And soon. He stood, adjusting his robes. “I’m tired myself. Goodnight, Naevia.” He smiled at his sister. “Goodnight, Sorceress.” He nodded to Brynhild, wondering if maybe he should confide in her his new condition. Her power might be limited as magic drained out of the world, but she did seem to have some tricks left. She might be of help.

“Not so fast, Vel.” Naevia stood and looked up at her brother. His posture was the same, his face the same, his eyes the same stormy blue they’d always been. He looked every bit the teenager he was. But also, he didn’t. There was something more compelling about him. “We haven’t seen each other all day. Would you have a few moments for me? I very much would like …” She touched his arm as she spoke and lost her train of thought. A tingling warmth spread from her fingertips down her arm. For some unknown reason, butterflies flapped in her belly. “… to talk.”

Uncomfortable as he was, Vel couldn’t say no to Naevia. His cock would just have to wait a few hours more. They held hands, as they often did, as they walked out of the room.

Behind Brynhild the fire roared. She nodded to herself as the servants moved in to remove their dishes. The wind was wise. Things were already in motion. She made a fist with her left hand where the powder had touched her skin. Her palm throbbed and tingled with warmth. How odd.

The library stood at the top of the east tower. The stairs spiraled up and up to reach it. The rooms up there had once been part of a fortification, but the previous lineage of dukes had not seen a need for defense. Of course, that was one of their failings.

“Let me read to you.” Naevia let go of Vel’s hand as they entered the library and walked off to fetch a book. The warmth in her arm lingered. The library shelves went up several levels, with platforms and ladders to help browsers find their selection. But Naevia knew what she wanted. A tome on a lower shelf. She retrieved it and on her way back she closed the library door. It didn’t matter. Vel and Naevia were usually the only ones interested in reading. “The Beating Heart of Elltreus.”

“Ugh. A romance?” Vel sat on the sofa, removed his sandals, and kicked his feet up sideways. He watched his sister jump up with him and sit with her legs perpendicular to his, her knees bridging over his thighs. She opened the book, bit her lip as she searched for the right chapter, and then flipped the brittle old pages. Much to his horror, Vel felt his cock rise as the bottoms of her curving thighs rubbed against the tops of his. He should have excused himself before this for some relief. But it would be okay. His robes would conceal him.

Naevia read, but her mind was elsewhere. She was intensely aware of the heat rising up from her brother. Something was definitely happening. It was like the night before the Liberalia Festival the year she’d come of age. Her tummy churned with pure excitement. But she didn’t know why. It was the same old brother below her. After a while, she became aware that the book had turned racy. As a man escorted a woman toward a protected glade in the story, her vagina gushed. Why had the story affected her so? One hand left the book and settled on her brother’s thigh. She gasped and put down the book.

“What’s wrong?” Vel had been trying to think of his favorite ball game, Harpastum, to ignore the aching in his balls and what felt like a massive erection. When she dropped the book, he looked down. His mouth dropped when he saw that his robes looked like a tent. Apparently, there was no hiding his cock anymore. He looked up to Naevia’s wide eyes and saw that, never the fool, she’d noticed his cock, too.

“I’ve … been thinking.” Naevia gripped his thigh tighter. Nothing had ever made her feel how she felt at the sight of the outline of that thing under Vel’s robes. “If you … um … need to bed a woman as part of some … noble duties, would you know what to do?” The book slid off her lap and hit the tile floor with a thud. The torches guttered in their sconces as a breeze moved through the library. “I mean … I have no formal training. I’ve kissed boys … and fooled around some …” She leaned closer to him and reached for the fasteners on his robes.

“Naevia … don’t …” Vel’s lungs burned as he held his breath. He watched her fingers work on his clothes, and her pretty face go limp.

“If I can help you, Vel. If I can … oh, my.” She spread his robes wide and found the thing pressed against his tunic. There was a wet spot on the fabric above where the head pulsed. She could see the thing bounce slightly to Vel’s heartbeat. He offered no further protest, so she lifted the tunic. “Oh gods, Vel. It’s beautiful.” The head curved out quickly to its flange and was an intense, pinkish red. Clear fluid slowly leaked from the top. The shaft was long and thick, crisscrossed with purplish veins. She could see the whole thing move with Vel’s heart. “What should I do with it?” Her hands moved toward it, but stopped and rested on his hips instead of doing what her impulses commanded.

“The gods wouldn’t … I mean, can you imagine if our poor mother saw us?” He couldn’t think straight. The aching intensified. He needed release, and Naevia, with her freckles, innocent green eyes, and adoring expression, was the most beautiful thing in the world. “What do you want to do?” He watched her pale hands inch toward his cock.

“I’ll just touch it. I know how to do that.” Her hands felt so small as she ran her fingernails gently over his veins. Little shocks of electricity nearly made her cry out. She then wrapped her fingers as far round the thing as they’d go and pumped him. She could fit both hands easily on the shaft with room for a third, and maybe even a fourth. “This is a leviathan, Vel,” she whispered. Her hands became slick with his fluid and she now noticed the wet sounds they made in that vast circular room.

“Is my cock … so … odd?” Looking down at her work, he barely recognized his sweet sister or his cock. His penis had always been a long, pale slender thing. Now it was both colorful and fat.

“Yes,” Naevia breathed. She glanced up at his face and saw concern mixed with pleasure there. Her body vibrated with the knowledge that she was giving him this pleasure. Even if he was her brother, she wanted to be the one to do this for him. She had always been tightly tied to his happiness. “I mean … I’ve seen a few and they were like yours. But much … less so … if that makes sense.” She smiled when he nodded and his face eased into something that looked like pure elation. “Are you close?” Her hands pumped harder. “I want to make you do it, Vel. With my hands. In my hands.” She looked down at his swollen balls. They seemed an order of magnitude bigger than those of anyone else she’d fooled around with.

“I want that, too. Oh … Naevia … your hands are … perfect … but I’m not yet close.” He leaned back on the sofa, his head propped on a pillow so that he could watch her work. Her stola was modest, but he found himself watching the slight jiggle of her boobs under the fabric as her thin arms worked him hard.

“Well, then …” A smile crept onto her pink lips. “I shall redouble my efforts, Your Grace.” She said it with a playful, sarcastic lilt. Mighty cock or not, this was still her gentle Vel. And she did enjoy ribbing him from time to time. Even with her hands on him, it seemed.

Naevia worked him for a long time. Her arms grew tired, but she persisted out of sheer joy and dedication. She needed to see him explode.

“Perhaps … your mouth … Naevia?” Vel was beside himself with pleasure. He wanted the moment to go on into eternity, but he also wanted to reach the ecstatic promise of the end.

She glanced up into his eyes, cocked her head at him like he was crazy, and then looked back down at the pinkish head. An awful lot of that clear precum leaked out of him. Did she really want to touch that stuff with her tongue? Her pussy turned from a spring to a geyser at the thought. “Maybe … just … a little.” She stopped pumping, held him fast, and licked along the curve of his head. It was salty, pungent, and delightful. Her hands resumed pumping, and she licked again and again. If the Naevia of yesterday could have seen herself twenty-four hours later she would have fainted, she thought. Then she realized Fortinbras had been right about them after all. But she pushed that thought far away. “Finish for me … Vel. I want to feel it … please,” she said between licks.

“I’m … close.” Vel’s whole body tensed. He gripped the cushions tightly. He watched his beautiful sister lean back from his cock, but continue her pumping. He knew she wouldn’t want to get covered in his stuff, but still he was disappointed she wasn’t closer to receive at least some of his cum. “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.”

“Oh, my.” Naevia had thought she was safe at arm’s length, but the eruption, like the rest of Vel, far surpassed her experience with men. Long white ropes shot into the air again and again. The hot, salty stuff landed on her arms, on her stola, and her face. She closed her eyes and let it fall. She had never felt closer to anyone than she did as she let Vel cover her with his stuff. It was a while before he finished, but eventually he quieted, although he was still hard in her hands. She marveled at that, but released him and wiped at her eyes. When she’d cleaned them enough, she opened her eyelids and was greeted by the happiest smile she’d ever seen. She beamed back at Vel. “You’ve made a mess of me.”

“Oh … sorry.” Vel’s smile faded.

“No, silly.” She wiped the stuff from her nose and upper lip. She could taste the salt on her lips. “It’s okay. I mean … it’s not okay. But …” She searched for some way to fit this into the general contours of the world she knew. “But was this helpful for you? In case you should need to please a woman?” Her face fell a little. “Or, I mean, let her please you?”

“Very helpful, yes.” Vel nodded his head earnestly.

“Okay … okay …” She looked around, getting her bearings. “Okay, I’m going to race to the bath.”

Vel realized the problem. What a shocking scandal should anyone see her. And she had such a long way to go. “How can I help?”

“Clean up here.” Naevia stood on shaky legs and tried not to touch anything. She trotted to the door and stopped. “And never tell anyone about this.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Naevia.” He watched her round, shapely backside swish away in her stola. Vel leaned back and exhaled. Crazy on top of crazy. Something had clearly been done to him, and Vel was no fool. He would confront the sorceress as soon as he had a chance. In the meantime, he needed to clean the evidence of his misdeeds with his sister.

The Port Syndicate stood in a line in the duke’s reception room. Seven bulky men in stained tunics making their case for control of the fifth pier. Vel sat on the olivewood seat that had been his brother’s and father’s not long ago. The chair was intricately carved with kraken, ships, and giant stingrays. To his left sat the duchess, his mother. She poked him when it looked like he might doze off. The lead man for the syndicate drawled on and on about ancient dockside rights and precedence.

Vel’s head lifted when a servant raced in carrying a roll of papyrus. The syndicate man stopped his petition and turned to look. The servant delivered the roll to Cassia, bowed, and stood by.

“Who delivered this?” Cassia examined the seal. It looked very much like a crude rendering of the Tullius sign of cephalopod and spear. She showed the wax mark to her son.

“It came by pigeon moments ago, Your Grace.” The servant looked at the ground, her dark hair shielding her face.

“We have heard your words and will consider the matter of the fifth pier closely,” Cassia’s brow knitted as she stared at the seal.

“But, Your Grace …” One of the syndicate men started in again but no one listened.

Vel let the man drone on. He looked over at the concerned look on his mother’s face as she broke the seal. He looked back to the men. It was clear Vel needed to say something. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have heard enough today. You will have our … I mean, my answer soon. Now, excuse us.”

The men bowed grumpily and left the room. With a nod the servant followed them.

When they were alone, Vel turned back to his mother. He stood immediately when he saw the tears had returned to her eyes as she read. He put his hand on her trembling shoulder. “What is it?”

“Your father, Vel.” Cassia looked up at her gentle son with her soft, brown eyes. “He’s alive. He’s alive and hiding in Kart Hadasht.”

Vel slumped back into his carved chair. Was the seat still his? He could see the joy on his mother’s face. This was good. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be a duke after all. A smile spread on his face, too.