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The bower was rather empty for its size, filled only with blankets, a tea set, and Pearl’s varied collection of jewelry. The grown shell of a bed swayed back and forth from the ceiling, set high enough that only a Line Grandfather might hit their head on it.
“See my son hasn’t made Ember’s heart give out yet,” Malachite said. Her teacup hung with odd delicacy from one of her claws, without even an occasional clink to hint at movement.
“Collapsing at whatever new state Moon’s gotten himself into would be considered rude.” Pearl shook out her spines, let them rest at an angle of amusement..
“The rest of you seem to have gotten used to it.”
Pearl sipped at her tea and declined to snap at that bait, despite the abundant temptation.
After a long silence, Malachite set down her teacup and tilted her head. Her frills splayed out across her shoulder. She didn’t speak, merely continued to stare as if she thought Pearl would melt apart beneath that gaze.
“If Ember keeps giving him lessons he’ll start exploiting your reputation whenever someone tries to stop him.” Pearl said, and the tilt of her spines was wry at the thought. “Let’s hope Moon’s clutch learns more sense.”
“Yes.”
“The consorts will have no trouble finding courts, at least. There’s plenty of time for planning,” Pearl said, tapping her claws against her own cup.
“That isn’t why you asked me to your bower.” There was a weight to how much Malachite kept any warmth of tone from those words. And even more to how her hand raked over the strands of gold that covered Pearl’s shoulder, drew uneven noise from the smaller queen’s scales.
Pearl rustled her spines. “This is why you asked me to handle diplomacy.”
“Let me thank you for it.”
Pearl took a sip of her tea as an excuse to contemplate that for a moment. Their alliance with Opal Night had been rough in its establishment. Crucial in its importance. And far more interesting than she'd expected in its company.
“When did it stop being just about your son?” Pearl said, finally. She did not add ‘and the Fell’, despite how strongly she thought of it.
“You didn’t ask me here for conversation.”
“In that case,” Pearl said, as she hooked her claws around one of the dark green spines of Malachite’s mane, “stop being insufferable and bite me.”
Malachite twitched several spines at that and bared her teeth. Her claws caught on Pearl’s scales as her tail twitched, twisted to wrap behind Pearl’s waist. The bite that followed was sharp and aching, something more than the gentle nips usually offered as signs of interest. With such pressure Malachite might have torn open any flesh not guarded by scales.
Pearl leaned into the other queen’s chest and bit in turn, more gently than Malachite had done. Her claws raked down through the verdant expanse of Malachite’s frill, caught in the strands of silver about her waist.
Malachite ran her mouth up the side of Pearl’s face, across softer scales and the edge of an ear. Another bite, lighter now. Still hardly gentle. A faint trickle of blood, dark against golden scales.
“I do not value you for being gentle,” Pearl said, and shifted. The sudden expanse of her wings blew fragments of dust and leaves to the corners of the bower, set the hanging bed to swaying. Her claws, sharper now, edged forward around Malachite’s waist, then down. Down until she could press the edges of them inside, until their scales rustled against each other.
Malachite laughed, and knotted her legs together around Pearl’s waist. Another bite, teeth scraping across scales, her tail hanging beneath the weight of her as all of it was held by Pearl’s one hand.
Pearl stumbled backward as that tail pushed inside her, the spade-shaped tip warm and sharp-edged as any claw. They were not consorts to be soft, or warriors to be foolish.
Queens would test themselves upon each other and grow stronger for it.
She didn’t see when Malachite moved. Just a blink and then the other queen was behind her, a deep green shadow still leashed to Pearl by her tail, her previous stance evidenced only by something wet upon Pearl’s claws. It felt as if even Malachite’s tail had not moved, as if she were such a force, a statue that shifted only when it could not be viewed.
But her breath was warm on the back of Pearl’s shoulder, claws sharp on scales, wings spread wide to envelop them both. Pearl shifted back, let herself fall into Malachite’s grasp. The pressure of it pushed the other queen’s tail further inside her.
“You don’t need to sneak about,” Pearl said as she caught her teeth on her lips. Her own clawed hands reached backward to again explore the scarred expanse that was Malachite, gray etched over vibrant green. And yet even her scales grew a little softer between her legs; even she gasped and then bit Pearl’s shoulder as the hand crept inside.
It was only a little of who she had been before the Terror of the Western Reaches. The queen who had carved tragedy into a weapon, whose vengeance they said could never be sated.
Pearl bristled her spines at that thought, snarled as if it would chase the memory of loss away.
Malachite said nothing, just pulled her to her chest, as if spines were nothing to the weight of her scales. This trapped the hand between Malachite’ legs as well, and Pearl groaned, twisted it to push the sharpness of her touch deeper inside.
She caught the back of Malachite’s ear with her other hand, pulled her face closer to nip at neck and cheek, to run her tongue over uneven scales.
“I don’t ‘sneak’,” Malachite said, and held Pearl’s mane with her teeth.
“What, you just order everyone not to notice you?” Pearl asked, the words a snarl as she turned her hips, impaled herself further on the strength of that tail.
The grip of Malachite’s teeth tightened further; she shook her head and Pearl shook with it. First only in echo, and then from her own delight. For a moment she shifted, wings buffeting Malachite, hand and claw pulling upward. Then she fell back to her Arbora form and twitched her mane free.
“I would not wish learning such things upon you,” Malachite said.
When Pearl turned to look she could see a few of the other queen’s spines inclined with pleasure. “So you’ve learned some diplomacy after all. I’ll inform the Arbora to now rate you above a rock.”
Malachite did not speak, but she twitched a spine in seeming amusement.
“The mentors would appreciate more visits from your court,” Pearl said, continuing on calmly as if she hadn’t just had the breath driven from her by pleasure. “As would I.”
“It can be arranged,” Malachite said, and she reached out for Pearl again.