Caiso laughed. “I thought the same thing, once. No. Watch your tongue like you were in front of a high priest if you want. But I won’t be able to protect you like I just did every time. You have to do it yourself. Make them think twice about you. Make them understand that if they dare cross you, you wouldn’t hesitate to stick a knife in their ribs.”
“But I wouldn’t—”
“There,” Caiso said. “Right there. Stop it. You can’t choose this life and expect not to have to embrace it. Don’t you understand? That monster you faced in those woods is nothing compared to this. Learn to dance to the music, or you’ll pay the price.”
Chapter Eleven
The rest of the march back to Blackwood happened without incident. They saw the city gates on the afternoon of the third day, and the squabbling disappeared in anticipation for a warm night at the inn, tavern food, and drink. Luc allowed them all to walk ahead a few steps before stopping at the fork on the road and clearing his throat.
They turned to him, scowling.
“I’m going up to Duke Blackwood with our good friend here,” he said, nodding at the confused villager. “You all have fun.”
“Now hold on a minute—” Jona started, snarling.
Luc’s hand dropped to his sword. He thought of the monster, how he had been able to kill it and walk away alive. “I’ll take care of everything,” he said. “Make sure we all get paid, and all of that. Would you rather go and risk offending Duke Iorwin with your breath?”
Jona stared at him incredulously. Everyone fell silent.
Someone laughed.
It was a short laughter, one that seemed to bubble out involuntarily. But it broke the tension. “No wine at Blackwood’s, that’s for sure,” Caiso snorted. “None that the duke will share with the likes of us, anyway. Come on, Jona. Let him do the boring stuff. Agartes knows, he’s more than welcome to it.”
“If you dare run off with our coin, I will beat your brains bloody,” Jona growled.
Luc wiped his face. “Learn to talk without spitting.”
“You little shit—”
“Keep an eye on him, will you, Tasha?” Luc asked. “Chain him up in the alley if he doesn’t behave.”
Tasha’s lips twitched, though her face remained expressionless. “You know where to find us.”
Luc nodded before turning off towards Blackwood with the villager at his heels. He couldn’t explain it, but chastising Jona in front of everyone felt good. Hana and Treda were clearly trying very hard to contain themselves, and Luc thought he even caught a hint of amusement in Demon’s eyes.
When they got to Duke Blackwood’s castle, they learned that he and his soon-to-be son-in-law had gone hunting. “Come back in a few days,” the guards suggested. “They’ll be home then. They’ve got a wedding to attend to, after all.”
“Master Landor?” Luc asked.
“Off on some business in the city. He’d explicitly asked not to be disturbed.”
The last thing he wanted was to return to the mercenaries empty-handed. “I’m just here to make a report. This poor man is here to provide proof. Didn’t they leave anything? Instructions, a note…”
“Come back at a better time,” one of the guards said.
“We finished the job. We need to get paid. Our coin runs out in a day or two.”
The guard drew his sword partway. “Don’t get testy.”
“I’m not,” Luc said. “I just—”
“Let him in,” a voice called from the courtyard.
The guards bent their heads and stepped back.
A woman walked up to them. She was small—a great deal shorter than Luc, anyway, which seemed to be how he was starting to think after spending too much time with women like Hana and Tasha. Not thin, but lean. Pretty. Her hair was tied up in a bun, allowing loose, brown ringlets to fall over her face. She was clearly a noblewoman, dressed in tight riding clothes that made Luc suddenly very uncomfortable.
He glanced away, up, and then down before he decided to let his eyes settle on a glob of snow on her shoulder. “I’ve come to report on the conditions at Toskthar,” he managed to say. “If you remember, a few weeks ago Duke Iorwin sent out mercenaries, and…”
“I remember what my father did very well,” the woman said. She reached out to touch his arm for a moment before drawing away with a smile. “Please, come in.”
The guards stepped aside to let them through the gates. Luc followed her into the castle, marvelling at how he could still remember to walk. He glanced at the villager, who seemed unaware of his difficulties. Undone by a woman. He started to pray to the gods that he not make a fool of himself before they got properly compensated. He wasn’t a pre-pubescent boy, but the last few weeks had taken a toll on him, and something about the way she moved—the way her hips shifted—seemed impossible to ignore. Perhaps he should’ve taken some of the village boys’ advice years ago and gotten it all over with in town. But that was the sort of thing his father frowned on, and Alun had been convinced it only made things worse. Hopeless, lovesick Alun…
Thinking about his family did it. He missed them more than he cared to admit. By now, the entire argument should’ve blown over. Surely Ceri would’ve explained to Alun what was really going on?
The woman—Lady Roena, he suddenly remembered her name was—gestured towards the table. He realized they had gone all the way to an enormous dining hall, one that would’ve fit at least three of Luc’s family’s farmhouse. “The servants will bring out something for you to eat,” she said. She must’ve meant him and the villager from Toskthar, but she was only looking at him.
Luc sidled down into a chair. “Where do I start?” he asked.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking me?”
The villager placed a bag on the table. “He killed the beast that was terrorizing our village. That’s about all there is to it,” he said.
Roena grimaced. “That’s…”
“It’s just hair,” Luc grumbled. “That’s all that was left. We wanted to bring the whole head, but that’s hard after the damn thing disintegrated in sunlight. Do you want to see it?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, nodding at a servant, who swooped in to retrieve the bag and wipe the table seemingly all in one breath. “And this fixes the problem with this village, then?”
The villager glanced at Luc warily. “Yes,” Luc said. “With the creature dead, we’re hoping the village is safe.” He saw the village give a small sigh of relief—no one needed to know what they had been doing out there. Even the mercenaries didn’t.
“On that matter,” Luc continued, turning his chair so he could look directly at Roena. “The village is in need of supplies. The harsh winter, on top of the monster’s attacks…it’s taken most of their livestock.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Roena replied.
Luc scratched his cheek. “Is there anything you can do about it?”
“I believe Duke Iorwin has a fund for such events, but I wouldn’t know anything about its condition. It’s been a harsh year for everyone. I wouldn’t be able to promise anything.”
“Five sacks of grain and a donkey,” Luc said.
Roena blinked at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“They’re starving there. Just lend them the donkey—I’m sure they’ll bring it back. Won’t you?” He glanced at the man, who nodded eagerly.
Roena frowned. “Maybe when my father returns…”
“Take it out of our pay,” Luc continued. “You were planning on paying us, right? We’ve gone and done this thing for your father and have yet to see a single coin.”
She stared at him for a heartbeat, fingers tapping on the desk. Eventually, she nodded at the servant. “Prepare five sacks of grain,” she said. “If my father questions it, tell him to take it up with me.”
The servant gave a brief nod.
“Thank you,” Luc managed. He realized he had gotten partway up his seat, and pushed himself back down aga
in.
Lady Roena smiled. It was normally the kind of smile that made Luc feel uneasy—a thin, stretched-out sort that could mean anything—but somehow, he decided to take it. He cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, two other servants arrived with the food. All attempts at conversation disappeared at the sight of platters heaped high with shaved beef, along with hot bread still steaming from the oven.
Luc ate as neatly as he could given he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent meal. The beef was mixed with a buttery-soft mixture of onions, mushrooms, and carrots, and there was cool, malty ale to wash it down with. After the meal, the servants returned with a basin for him to wash his hands with, and one took the villager away to where the grain and the donkey waited for him.
“The matter of the rest of the payment…” Luc began.
Roena nodded. “We can discuss the details in my father’s office.” She brushed along his arm as she went past him.
He stumbled after her. The hip-swaying again…he was almost sure she was doing it on purpose. But what was he supposed to say? He found himself in a room with her. She gestured for him to sit, which he did. Behind him, she closed the door. He thought he heard it lock, but he wasn’t sure…
She walked around the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment from the drawers. “Your name is Luc, isn’t it?” she asked.
He looked up in surprise. “How did you know?”
“You did sign yourself in as the representative. It’s all written out here.” She tapped the paper.
“Yes, but—”
“But they call you Lucky. Why is that?”
He stared at her, wondering what her game was. “Not strange for a mercenary to have a name other than his own,” he mumbled.
“I’ll give you that,” she said with a smile. “You must know that you’re not the first group who’s returned these past few weeks.”
“I guess that’s not surprising.”
She nodded. “We expected all sorts of stories. One brought their version of a creature—a thing that, on close inspection, happened to be a bear with deer antlers attached to it. We had the guards arrest them for fraud. A week in the stockade should remind them not to test my father’s goodwill. Others claimed to have fought off dozens of the beasts long into the night, with nothing but a story and a song as proof. You’re the first to have brought not just an actual resident of the village you were assigned, but also didn’t bother fabricating an elaborate story. Hair.” She pressed her lips together.
“Is something funny?”
“Nothing. I’ve read about these things. We know the true ones don’t linger under the light. Something to do with the spells that brought them to existence in the first place. And so…” She pulled out another piece of paper. “I’m convinced you’re telling the truth, or at least as much of the truth as you’re willing to say. I’m sure Toskthar won’t be complaining any time soon. My father’s bequeathed a certain amount of ril for your company, as well as a contract for further services should you so desire.” She handed him the parchment.
Luc looked over the numbers. It was nothing to write home about, but breaking it out between all ten of them, what he made with one job alone was more than he could chopping firewood every day for the rest of the season. Not that you could even find enough people to sell that to if you went on like that. Most people in the village chopped their own firewood—the added expense of buying it could just as easily be used for dried meat, or an extra sack of grain, or…
His mind was wandering again. He didn’t notice Roena leaning on his chair, reading the document over his shoulder. “I know it’s not a lot,” she whispered.
“My lady, it’s more than enough,” he grumbled, knowing the other mercenaries would probably scream bloody murder if they heard him right now. “Your father is a generous man.”
“It is just one job,” she continued. Was he supposed to feel her breath while she spoke? He glanced at the tapestries on the wall, and then the window. It was sunset out there—the sky was crimson red. “There are others available—others that we don’t give out to just anyone. We need to make sure that we’re procuring the services of people who can be…trusted.”
With that last word, she drew her hand over his neck and then up, cradling his cheek. He turned. Her lips drifted towards his.
His second kiss was different than the first. That one had filled his heart with the soft, butterfly-like fluttering of inexperience and youth. This one rushed up at him like a stampede of horses. Her tongue brushed up inside his mouth as she pushed herself deeper towards him, darting out and then in again, her lips all but consuming him…
He managed a low groan. She lifted her head up for a moment, as if pleased by his reaction. “My lady,” Luc managed to gasp. “Is this…”
“Appropriate?” Roena asked.
He could feel his cheeks burning. He didn’t know what to say.
She kissed his neck, her teeth grazing his skin all the way up to his ear while her other hand went down his thigh. He realized against the haze of his own thoughts exactly what she intended to do. The part of him that was raised by a father as sensible as Jak told him he needed to run screaming from that room, but the other part of him that was a man, that was starved for a woman his whole life, told that first part to shut up. He felt her fingers over his hardness before she slid them into his trousers, flesh to flesh, and then up again. She knew exactly what she was doing.
He yanked her hand away.
“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m not sure—” he began. He looked at her now, at the curve of her bare shoulder. When had she bared it? He found himself drawn to it, and before he could stop to ask himself what the hell he really wasn’t sure of, he was tracing his lips over it, her scent flooding his nostrils.
“That’s more like it,” she murmured, drawing her fingers through his laces and freeing him at last.
They somehow made it to the floor. On top of her, she allowed him to take off her vest and shirt. There were freckles down from her collarbone. Luc stopped to kiss them, and she took one of his hands and placed it over her breast. He stared at her for a heartbeat.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Do you not…”
His silence must’ve given it away. She smiled before she closed her fingers around his, showing him how to touch her. He wasn’t sure what to think when he got her to gasp and felt the wetness slide over his fingers. He could feel himself struggling, but he restrained himself until she finally reached down to guide him into her.
Even when he wasn’t sure, his body gladly took over. She made noises that encouraged him further, drowning out all reason and thought and leaving nothing but the act, the way she moved under him, the softness that enveloped him until it all spilled out…
He quivered in her arms, his head dropping to her chest. A moment of clarity. What had he done? His eyes drifted to the door, which she had locked. Was she expecting someone to walk in and catch them? She was supposed to be married off soon, to some Lord Draigar or another. She was using him, somehow.
Slowly, he extracted himself from her.
“And is this how you know that you trust someone?” he asked. He wasn’t really angry. Just…perplexed.
“Did you not like it?” she asked, pulling herself up and drawing her clothes to cover her. Gone was the temptress, leaving behind a quaking maiden. The transformation was enough to make his doubts take root. He shook his head.
“That’s not…it’s not…” Were you supposed to praise women after it was over?
Roena’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”
He mumbled something under his breath.
A smile crossed her lips. “Oh, Agartes. I didn’t think…”
“It’s all right,” he grumbled. “Had to happen sooner or later.” At least it’s not a toothless wench in a back alley, he wanted to stay, and stopped himself in time. It would’ve been rude, and sh
e didn’t think she was the sort of person who would’ve appreciated such a crude joke.
She laughed. “I’m not apologizing! I just thought…well. You’re a mercenary leader.”
He wondered whether he should admit he wasn’t. He slowly got up to retrieve whatever clothing he’d discarded during the frenzy. Was this what his father had warned him about? He had always insisted his sons watch themselves around women. And even with that—the whole thing with Ceri, and now this…
“You’re more interesting than I first thought you were, Lucky,” she continued, oblivious of his discomfort. “Perhaps this wasn’t as big of a mistake as I thought it would be. I was afraid you’d take advantage of me, and here it seems like the opposite happened.”
“If you were afraid I would, then why…”
She pressed a finger against his lips. “A test.” She pointed at a bell on the far corner of the room. “I ring that and every guard in the castle will come running.”
“But instead, you got carried away.”
“Carried—ah.” She snorted. “You don’t look like it, but you have a way with words, too. Let me guess. You’ve not been with your band for very long, have you?”
“This is my first job with them.”
“Yet another first. Seems like the gods favour you.” She cocked her head at him.
Luc frowned. “I don’t know what game you’re playing.”
“Why do you think this is a game?”
“I didn’t think noblewomen did these…things. Especially not with someone like me.”
“You know less about noblewomen than you think.” She started putting her clothes back on, false modesty forgotten in an instant. Luc turned away, blushing. Even after everything, the sight of her naked was still doing things to him. “Do you honestly think we’re some sort of prized possession, to be kept locked away in our fathers and husbands’ homes?”
“So you were bored. You would’ve done this with anyone?”
“And now you’re insulting me.”
“I’m not trying to insult you, my lady. I’m just trying to…understand.”
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