Note: All characters are 18 or older.
***
The next morning passed with tedium and ceremony, listening to reports from his ministers on the goings on throughout the Empire, hearing Ordran drone on about what his Aunt and sister were doing at home, meeting with local lords and ladies who would dine off their minutes spent with regality for years to come.
He sat through a particularly boring review of the following Kingdom -- the last -- that they would be visiting, their ships setting sail the following morning. It was the first of two Royal Tours that would take them to all eight Kingdoms in the Empire, electing first to visit those that had weak ties to the crown through either loyalty or blood.
The final Kingdom -- the mountains of the King's Continent -- was cold as it was forsaken, with a sparse, hardened population who spent most of their time preparing to weather the winter storms. It would be a far cry from the time they had enjoyed in the Isles.
And then they would return to the Capital, his home, where he would begin the process of creating his own heir. When the expectation had first been explained to him, Entega had balked and protested, insisting it was too soon to consider his successor. His advisers -- Ordran chief among them -- had pointed out that a simple accident would spell the end of his rule. Better to have the heir apparent rather than leave the Empire to infighting as his female relatives battled for control.
They would fight enough when it came time to determine who he would take to bed.
The two Royals who had accompanied him on the tour -- his mother and younger cousin -- sat in on the meetings with him. The Queen gave no indication that anything had changed, treating him no different than she had the previous day. She sat across the table from him, contributing her normal advice and context, not so much as holding his eye with a knowing smile.
He had no way of knowing what was crossing her mind, but his was transfixed on the night before. She wore a long blue dress that ran up to her neck, with sleeves covering down to her wrist. It mattered little -- the King was stuck on the curve of her breast, always apparent in his periphery.
His cousin sat beside his mother, her dress far less modest. She was dressed in a similar blue, yet the dress cut off just above her ample breasts, a line of cleavage between the two drawing him in whenever she leaned across the table to ask a question or make a comment.
Unlike his mother, Entega's cousin spent the morning casting sideways glances and flashing her tongue across her lips whenever the two made eye contact. She was just a few weeks younger than the King, but played the game far better than he did. It was clear there was an understanding, her little birds listening in to his chambers the night before.
What did she make of it? Entega had hoped these games would wait until he had returned to the Capital, but it seemed his cousin had other thoughts. Twice throughout the morning he felt her foot gently caressing his inner thigh under the table.
After a midday meal, the meetings adjourned and preparations began for the coming of age ball that would precede the final feast of their visit later that day. The Queen excused herself to meet with the Siobhan family, planning to review the upcoming transfer of power once Leanna was confirmed to be with the King's child.
Entega was set to make a trip to the local Shrine. One could be found in the Capital of every Kingdom, and though each now bore the names and likenesses of Entega's conquering ancestors, they had all begun as places to worship local gods.
The Shrine of the Isles was set up in the cliffside, a small plateau looking out from the ocean towards the Continent, the ridgeline of the landmass supposedly visible on a clear day. The King was expected to pay his respects at each Shrine at least once during his visits.
As he mounted his horse and left the walls of the Island Fortress, he was surrounded by a half dozen of his House Guard, and another score of local Lords and Ladies. They made their way down the path, and as they turned to begin the climb up into the mountains, he heard a set of hooves fast approaching from behind him.
"Your Grace, it is such a beautiful day," his cousin Kylie said as she pulled up alongside him. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you to honor our family."
"Of course dear cousin," he said, smiling warily. "Who would dare decline your company?"
"Weak men, my King," she said, leaning in close to give him a view of her bosom, whispering so only he could hear, "and those who fear a little fun."
She had changed since lunch into a well fitting riding outfit -- simple brown pants, and a tight white top that the King thought was set to burst at any moment. The top buttons strained against her pressing breasts.
"Luckily, I am neither of those things," the King said.
"Lucky for who?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before trotting ahead to travel with the handful of local lords who had accompanied them.
It took just less than an hour to travel up the switchbacks to the mountainside Shrine, most of the time spent discussing local affairs and how the King had enjoyed the Isles with the local nobles.
He spent the time distracted by his cousin who rode ahead, mind drifting as she stood in her stirrups time and time again, showing the curves of her body, her beautiful rear that begged his attention. Not once did she turn to look back, but the King felt she knew he was watching.
What was she playing at? It was clear now that she understood what had happened the previous night with his mother. The two had grown up side by side, and there had been an undeniable attraction since the moment Entega started to notice women. She had not been shy with her body around him but had kept her distance since his coronation.
