"Let me know when you find the right shepherd."
"Oh, I already have. Someone of skill, cunning, matchless resilience and fearsome reputation. Someone loved in Talins far more than Orso himself. Someone he tried to kill, in fact… for stealing his throne…"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't want his throne then. I don't want it now."
"But since it is there for the taking… what comes once you have your revenge? You deserve to be remembered. You deserve to shape the age." Benna would have said so, and Monza had to admit that part of her was enjoying the flattery. Enjoying being so close to power again. She'd been used to both, and it had been a long time since she'd had a taste of either. "Besides, what better revenge could you have than making Orso's greatest fear come to pass?" That struck a fine note with her, and Rogont gave her a sly grin to show he knew it. "Let me be honest. I need you."
Let me be honest. I need you." That rested easily on Shivers' pride, and she gave him a sly smile to show she knew it. "I scarcely have a friend left in all the wide Circle of the World."
"Seems you've a knack for making new ones."
"It's harder than you'd think. To be always the outsider." He didn't need to be told that after the few months he'd had. She didn't lie, from what he could tell, just led the truth by the nose whichever way it suited her. "And sometimes it can be hard to tell your friends from your enemies."
"True enough." He didn't need to be told that either.
"I daresay where you come from loyalty is considered a noble quality. Down here in Styria, a man has to bend with the wind." Hard to believe anyone who smiled so sweetly could have anything dark in mind. But everything was dark to him now. Everything had a knife hidden in it. "Your friends and mine General Murcatto and Grand Duke Rogont, for example." Carlot's two eyes drifted up to his one. "I wonder what they're about, right now?"
"Fucking!" he barked at her, the fury boiling out of him so sharp she flinched away, like she was expecting him to smash her head into the wall. Maybe he nearly did. That or smash his own. But her face soon smoothed out and she smiled some more, like murderous rage was her favourite quality in a man.
"The Snake of Talins and the Worm of Ospria, all stickily entwined together. Well matched, that treacherous pair. Styria's greatest liar and Styria's greatest murderer." She gently traced the scar on his chest with one fingertip. "What comes once she has her revenge? Once Rogont has raised her up and dangled her like a child's toy for the people of Talins to stare at? Will you have a place when the Years of Blood are finally ended? When the war is over?"
"I don't have a place anywhere without a war. That much I've proved."
"Then I fear for you."
Shivers snorted. "I'm lucky to have you watching my back."
"I wish I could do more. But you know how the Butcher of Caprile solves her problems, and Duke Rogont has scant regard for honest men…"
I have nothing but the highest regard for honest men, but fighting stripped to the waist? It's so…" Rogont grimaced as though he'd tasted off milk. "Clichй. You wouldn't catch me doing it."
"What, fighting?"
"How dare you, woman, I am Stolicus reborn! You know what I mean. Your Northern accomplice, with the…" Rogont waved a lazy hand at the left side of his face. "Eye. Or lack thereof."
"Jealous, already?" she muttered, sick at even coming near the subject.
"A little. But it's his jealousy that concerns me. This is a man much prone to violence."
"It's what I took him on for."
"Perhaps the time has come to lay him off. Mad dogs savage their owner more often than their owner's enemies."
"And their owner's lovers first of all."
Rogont nervously cleared his throat. "We certainly would not want that. He seems firmly attached to you. When a barnacle is firmly attached to the hull of a ship, it is sometimes necessary to remove it with a sudden, unexpected and… decisive force."
"No!" Her voice stabbed out far sharper than she'd had in mind. "No. He's saved my life. More than once, and risked his life to do it. Just yesterday he did it, and today have him killed? No. I owe him." She remembered the smell as Langrier pushed the brand into his face, and she flinched. It should've been you. "No! I'll not have him touched."
"Think about it." Rogont padded slowly towards her. "I understand your reluctance, but you must see it's the safe thing to do."
"The prudent thing?" she sneered at him. "I'm warning you. Leave him be."
"Monzcarro, please understand, it's your safety I'm—Oooof!" She sprang up from the chair, kicking his foot away, caught his arm as he lurched onto his knees and twisted his wrist behind his shoulder blade, forced him down until she was squatting over his back, his face squashed against the cool marble.
"Didn't you hear me say no? If it's sudden, unexpected and decisive force I want…" She twisted his hand a little further and he squeaked, struggled helplessly. "I can manage it myself."
"Yes! Ah! Yes! I quite clearly see that!"
"Good. Don't bring him up again." She let go of his wrist and he lay there for a moment, breathing hard. He wriggled onto his back, rubbing gently at his hand, looking up with a hurt frown as she straddled his stomach.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Maybe I enjoyed doing it." She looked over her shoulder. His cock was half-hard, nudging at the back of her leg. "I'm not sure you didn't."
"Now that you mention it… I must confess I rather relish being looked down on by a strong woman." He brushed her knees with his fingertips, ran his hands slowly up the insides of her scarred thighs to the top, and then gently back down. "I don't suppose… you could be persuaded… to piss on me, at all?"
Monza frowned. "I don't need to go."
"Perhaps… some water, then? And afterwards—"
"I think I'll stick to the pot."
"Such a waste. The pot will not appreciate it."
"Once it's full you can do what you like with it, how's that?"
"Ugh. Not at all the same thing."
Monza slowly shook her head as she stepped off him. "A pretend grand duchess, pissing on a would-be king. You couldn't make it up."
Enough." Shivers was covered with bruises, grazes, scratches. A bastard of a gash across his back, just where it was hardest to scratch. Now his cock was going soft they were all niggling at him again in the sticky heat, stripping his patience. He was sick of talking round and round it, when it was lying between 'em, plain as a rotting corpse in the bed. "You want Murcatto dead, you can out and say it."
She paused, mouth half-open. "You're surprisingly blunt."
"No, I'm about as blunt as you'd expect for a one-eyed killer. Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you need her dead so bad? I'm an idiot, but not that big an idiot. I don't reckon a woman like you is drawn to my pretty face. Nor my sense of humour neither. Maybe you want yourself some revenge for what we did to you in Sipani. Everyone likes revenge. But that's just part of it."
"No small part…" She let one fingertip trail slowly up his leg. "As far as being drawn to you, I was always more interested in honest men than pretty faces, but I wonder… can I trust you?"
"No. If you could I wouldn't be much suited to the task, would I?" He caught hold of her trailing finger and twisted it towards him, dragged her wincing face close. "What's in it for you?"
"Ah! There's a man in the Union! The man I work for, the one who sent me to Styria in the first place, to spy on Orso!"