“Look out,” the woman at the railing calls.
I look toward the door and see the fifth man has returned, and he’s brought companions. Ten, perhaps more. I smile and raise my sword to the woman, thanking her for the warning; she goes back to getting fucked against the railing. I ready myself for the men and hope one amongst them isn’t too drunk, at least one who will provide me the challenge and practice I crave. They spill down the stairs and sparks fly as steel pounds against steel.
The worms will eat well tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
The chill wind stroked her flesh, hardening her nipples and spilling goose bumps down her arms. From the window, she saw little activity in the fortress; a few men wandered the courtyard, but the atmosphere lacked the revelry normally accompanying the end of a battle. To the Erechanians, the battle likely didn’t feel as though it had ended, and the Archon’s soldiers mistrusted them for it. No one truly felt this thing was done yet.
There was much work still to do, but she found patience difficult. Every day the power within her grew; she could use it to make things progress more quickly if she wanted but knew doing so would jeopardize everything.
A group of loud and garrulous men strode by and one of them looked toward her window. His gaze lingered upon her nakedness, his mouth fell open; he prodded his companions and pointed. They all looked up to ogle her, friendly arguments put aside. In the dark, she couldn’t tell whether they were Kanosee or Erechanian-more likely soldiers of her own army-but one of the men must have recognized her. After a harsh whispered word from him, they averted their gazes and rushed past, suddenly with other places to be.
It hadn’t always been like this. Once, she was like other women, a time when men didn’t fear her. Sometimes she missed those simpler days, but she hardly remembered them now, they were so long ago. Only remnants of feelings remained, so few it never took long for the power brewing inside to overcome sentimentality. Despite occasional regret or longing, she’d do nothing differently, given the choice.
“Come away from the window.”
She faced the man in her bed, the red duvet pulled up to his chest against the chill air. His eyes dropped from her face to her breasts and lower, then back to her eyes. A wave of nausea and regret washed through her. She hid it expertly.
What must be done, must be done.
She strode to the side of the bed and looked down at the man.
“What are you whispering to the people, Hanh?”
Hanh Perdaro smoothed a stray hair back from his high forehead. “Exactly what we talked about. The king is dead, long live the king. The message is unchanged.”
“And the council?”
She sat on the edge of the bed and he reached out to stroke her arm with his fingers; she subtly leaned out of his reach.
“They have it in their heads to secretly rally the kingdom and banish their Kanosee foes. I’ve told Therrador to do as he’s told so you won’t catch on.”
She nodded, blond hair caressing her back. “We must be careful. If he organizes the people behind him, it could mean problems.”
“He won’t. That isn’t the whisper reaching the ears of the people, he only thinks it is.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the arm. When she neither reacted nor looked at him, he paused. “Why not be done with him and put me on the throne now?”
Why are men so stupid when a woman drops her dress?
“Therrador must remain on the throne until things are done.”
She turned her head to look into his eyes. They were not the eyes of a stupid man; Hanh Perdaro had lasted too long in the political arena of Erechania to be considered unintelligent. His eyes strayed to her breasts again, reminding her where his brains had gone.
“We have only taken one fortress. There is a kingdom yet to conquer. If Therrador is dethroned too quickly, the people will not submit to my control. He must put the knife in his own heart.”
“Our control,” Perdaro corrected.
“Yes, yes. Our control.”
She waved her hand at him and looked back to the window, wistful. She liked nothing better than the feel of wind in her hair and soil beneath her feet; a tent was usually the most she could stand. She’d felt such since childhood. How she longed to get up off the bed and rush into the night, to let the darkness embrace her, to dive into the cold water of the Sea of Linghala. That’s what freedom felt like.
“You should have told me you abducted Graymon.”
His words pulled her out of the cold autumn night and back into the bedchamber.
“What?”
“I said, ‘you should have told me you took Graymon’.”
She shook her head. “Why? The less you know of what I am doing, the easier it is for you to keep it from Therrador.”
“I wouldn’t betray you.”
She heard his offended expression in the tone of his voice. Part of her wanted to smack it from him, remind him who she was and that he shouldn’t be so comfortable, so expectant, but she held herself in check. She had further need of the Voice of the People.
“I learned long ago the best way to keep from being betrayed is not to share your plans.” She smiled a fake, sickly-feeling sweet smile. It was enough for him and the stern look melted away like ice on the first day of spring. “Do not take it personally, love.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. His breath sighed out through his lips and past her ear, stirring her hair. Hanh Perdaro was still fit enough and handsome enough for many women to find such a breath stimulating, but not the Archon. Her heart, her soul, belonged elsewhere, to no man on the earth. She did these things because they were the best way to get what she wanted from a man.
Make them stupid and they will do your will.
Perdaro lay back, head on the pillow, and she pulled the duvet off him, exposing his lithe body and the touch of gray hair on his chest. In one graceful movement, she swung herself onto him, straddling his hips. His expression went from taut, to surprised, to relaxed. A pressure grew between his legs, pushing against her, and she made herself smile at him and giggle like one of those women men didn’t fear. She wiggled her ass against the pressure until it slid inside her and the tautness returned to his face. He closed his eyes. She stared at him as she rocked back and forth, stealing his brains and his loyalty even as she loathed both him and the act.
One day soon, he’d have served his purpose. When the day came, she’d finally stop pretending and show him how she really felt. She smiled and closed her eyes, taking herself back to the cold sea as she waited for him to finish, then she would climb off, go to sleep, and dream of her empire.
Chapter Fifteen
The day had been very much like this one: clear and cool, the colors of autumn hanging from the trees and the taste of winter threatening on the wind. They weren’t at the Isthmus Fortress that day as Therrador was today. That day six years ago, he’d been camped with his troops in a muddy clearing at the foot of the mountains bordering Erechania and Estycia.
One of the mountain tribes had been sacking villages, killing good Erechanian citizens and plundering good Erechanian crops in the process. Braymon insisted Therrador lead the party to put the raiders down because his presence would show the king cared equally for his entire kingdom, no matter how remote. Therrador didn’t ask if he sent him with Seerna so close to giving birth because he forgot or because it didn’t matter to him. Either answer would have equated to the same thing: he didn’t care.
On that day, Therrador led one of the scouting parties himself. They found a couple of abandoned short-term camps, their burned out fires long dead, and nothing else. Twilight painted pinks and oranges across the tops of the mountains as he led his soldiers back to camp, the colors calming some of the frustration of a fruitless ride and his annoyance that his king had sent him. When he found Sir Matte Eliden awaiting his return, he knew something must be amiss.