“Will you be staying on the island?” Dark asked, and she shook her head.
“No. I’m going to look in the library for those cave symbols and unless the answer immediately presents itself, I’m going home.”
“Elvyrn?”
“No,” Kett said patiently. “Home home. In the mountains, with the dragons. They don’t ask annoying questions,” she added in an undertone.
“They don’t speak at all,” Chance said, rolling her exquisite eyes.
“Thus the basis of their appeal.”
As they grew closer to the beautiful tower, to the still rocks, to the chattering water of the courtyard’s fountains, Kett heard the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves and the cries of unsuccessful opponents.
“You know, if you wanted us to track down Bael,” Chance began, and Kett shot her a venomous look.
“I’d honestly be quite happy never seeing him again. Besides, given his penchant for princesses, he’d probably go after Eithne or Beyla, and then Tyrnan would kill him. Actually…” She trailed off, considering.
“Have you considered that he might have something to do with why you were strung up in that cave?” Dark asked, and Kett shook her head.
“No. Well, I mean yes, I considered it, but I just don’t expect he’s got the brain power for it.”
“Harsh,” Chance said.
“Or the motivation. He don’t know me.”
“He could be an agent for someone else.”
“Someone else stupid,” Kett opined. “He was strung up with me too.” She chewed her lip, wishing she had a cigar handy. “The only starting point I’ve got is the Federación.”
Thunder crossed Dark’s face. Even Chance’s radiant countenance dimmed a little.
“And there ain’t a lot of information on them,” Kett said. “And frankly, right now I’ve half a mind to just forget about it.”
“You could have been killed,” Dark said, and Chance nodded vigorously.
“The Kett I used to know would never-”
“The Kett you used to know got herself whipped and beaten and divorced and jailed and killed,” Kett snapped.
Silence blew about them. Kett stomped ahead down the hill, her voice nearly lost in the wind.
“I just want a quiet life.”
“So what I want to know is, how good are your girls?”
It wasn’t a question Bael had ever figured he’d be asking. He’d never actually had to pay a woman to sleep with him before. Well, not with actual money. And yet here he sat, discussing terms with a woman who amounted to a pimp.
A very ladylike, elegant and well-spoken pimp, but a pimp nonetheless. Although she probably called herself a booking agent or something.
“I assure you, Monsieur Var, that each and every Associée is well schooled in the arts of pleasuring a man.”
“Right,” Bael said, not correcting her on his name. Var wasn’t his surname, it was his animal twin. But he really didn’t need to get into that with her now. “Well, so is BonBon LeSalle, and she could get an erection out of a stone. And yet…”
And yet busty, cute, giggly BonBon had been faced with a limp-dicked Bael. And it wasn’t just her, either. She was simply the latest in a long line of unsuccessful girls. After he’d gotten home from Nihon-narrowly avoiding the Emperor and his entourage-he’d gone for a quick pint or two at a local bar and, feeling a little crappy over stealing away from Kett with not so much as a goodbye, he’d tried to distract himself with some female company.
And got nowhere. It had never happened to Bael before, but he’d shrugged it off as the result of too much alcohol or not really fancying the girl enough. But it nagged at his mind, and the next night he’d found himself with another girl. And the same problem. Then another and another. And no matter how much stroking, licking, stripteasing, breast-wanking or deep-throating they tried, his uncooperative penis hadn’t even twitched.
Bael was so alarmed he’d asked his father’s old friend, Albhar, a man with a library full of magical knowledge inside his head, if he could find any problems. But all Albhar had done was wave a few crystals at him, tell him he was fine and mutter on about Bael’s lack of magical ability.
“Your father could have done this for himself,” he said, and Bael, as he always did when his sainted father’s research was mentioned, stopped listening.
After that he visited a doctor, who gave him a totally clean bill of health.
Which meant there was really only one answer. And that terrified him even more than the thought of a useless penis.
“Do not worry, Monsieur. You have assured me there are no medical grounds for your,” the tiniest pause, “condition, and I am confident that any one of our girls can help you.”
“One? No no, I want two. Or three. At least. The more the merrier. The best you’ve got.”
“Monsieur, that will be quite an undertaking-”
“I can pay,” Bael said.
“Oh yes, I am sure of it. However, I mean that an assignation of this type will take time to coordinate.”
“No,” Bael said, desperation rising. “I don’t have time. I need to know now. I need to know.”
The lady took off her spectacles and regarded him. “Monsieur, have you considered that this could perhaps be the result of…anxiety?”
“I am not anxious,” Bael said through gritted teeth.
“Forgive me, but you seem a little…desperate.”
“Well, I am fucking desperate! I have to be able to fuck another woman.” His fingernails were digging into his palms. “It can’t be her.”
“Who?”
The last woman he’d slept with. His mate.
Kett.
He shoved that thought away. He couldn’t take a mate. Just couldn’t. What the hell was he supposed to say to his men? To his advisors? That he just felt like getting married?
Not for the first time, Bael cursed his heritage. All the secrets. All the conspiracies. All the fucking rituals and prophecies. He couldn’t bring a woman into that. Even a woman like Kett, who’d never be intimidated by a bunch of spooky old men with beards.
Especially a woman like Kett, who knew he was Nasc. Putting her together with the men who knew he was a Mage…well, hell, he trusted his men, he trusted Albhar and the other advisors, but news like that surely wouldn’t stay secret for long. If the Federación knew there was a Nasc Mage out there, they’d be on him like vultures on a carcass.
And he really would be a carcass.
Someone had already strung him up in a cave to die. It sounded like one of the Federación’s rituals to him. Which meant he needed to keep a really low profile, forget about the cave and try to live as normal a life as possible.
Which ought to involve sex at some point.
“Look,” he said in a quiet, desperate tone. “If all your girls are so damn skilled, there’s got to be one available who can help me. I just need to prove this. It’s not a psychological thing,” he held up his hand to stave off her protests, “it’s not performance anxiety or stage fright or whatever the fuck you’re going to politely call it. I need the best girl you’ve got, someone who makes men come in their pants just by breathing. I don’t even need to actually have sex with her. I just need to get a hard-on.”
The booking agent blinked at him, then put her spectacles back on. “Don’t need to actually have sex?”
“No. Not really.” He just needed to know if he was able to.
“Hmm.” She turned in her chair and extracted a file from the cupboard behind her. “Well, strictly speaking she is retired, but…”
“But?”
“But if you’re not actually going to…engage with her, then perhaps an arrangement can be made. Are you willing to travel?”
“Sure.” He felt a surge of hope.
“Excellent.” She read the file then smiled. “You will need to cross the Wall into Peneggan.”