Lost Moon

by Dana Davis

  Pity to lose such a skilled craftsman.

  Patrice had grumbled about wearing skirts but Kepriah’s stern look and a threat to use the scepter on her put an end to that nonsense. She was a civilian woman, not a warrior, and she should be in a skirt. Anything else might cause a male warrior to start a fight or try to take her to his bed using a popular method among soldiers, one that Patrice would find extremely unpleasant.

  As warrior and First Noble, Kepriah had vowed to keep her sisters safe. In fact, she felt very protective of them now, despite their quarrels and differences. No man would touch them without their permission, not if he wished to remain whole.

  No one took much notice of her small group and soon they stood at the gated entrance to Damon’s estate. The place had not changed much, except the grass was brown, not the brilliant green it had been last time Kepriah stood here. The gilding had worn a bit on the gate’s metal spikes, and rust had taken hold here and there. Guess Damon does not have the funds. No one else seemed to notice or care.

  An older guard stepped out of the gatehouse and walked up to the gate, peering at Jakon through the iron slats. “Who is calling?”

  Kepriah noticed three blades on him and suspected more. Damon paid well, evidently. I would love to know where he is getting coin to pay all these guards.

  “We have a message from Warrior Kepriah of Landerbury.” Jakon had carefully memorized the statement, since warriors often hired travelers and tinkers to deliver messages. “For Royal Damon, Landlord of the Cities of Sleep.”

  “Wait here.” The guard behind the gate said something to a skinny, middle-aged man who then proceeded to sprint up the stone path to the grand house. The guard stepped back inside the gatehouse, out of earshot.

  Kepriah waited anxiously for Damon’s answer. She felt a sudden weariness from her youngest sister and focused on the woman. “You all right?”

  “Yes.” Patrice’s face was tight.

  Kepriah actually felt the lie, like a pinprick to her skin. “That’s a first.”

  “What?” Jakon said in a low voice.

  “I felt her lie to me just now.”

  “She has lied in the past,” Larisa reminded. “To both of us.”

  Patrice started to object but Kepriah cut her off. “Yes, but this time I felt it. It pricked my skin.”

  Larisa shrugged. “I felt nothing.”

  They had no more time to discuss the matter. The skinny man returned, breathing harder than Kepriah would have expected for a runner, even in his middle years, and the guard ordered the gate opened. A few creaks and groans from the old metal springs then the guard waved Kepriah and the others inside and ordered them to stay on the stone path.

  “Patrice, release your camouflage on me once we reach the door. Just me. Keep Jakon looking like a farmer.”

  Once they reached the large door, Patrice nodded that she had released the camouflage and Kepriah pulled the bell cord. A scrawny man opened the door and waited for them to enter. Her sisters’ nervousness pushed against Kepriah’s senses but she did not dare say anything to them just now.

  “Royal Damon will be with you in a minute,” the bony, sallow man uttered. “He wants you to wait in the parlor.” One arm pointed the way. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

  “Thank you.” Jakon bowed his head and led the group into the parlor as Kepriah took the rear.

  Wine, cheese, and bread sat on a small table with six chairs around it. Hungry, they sat and nibbled as they waited, discussing the weather and other unimportant things in case someone listened. Royal homes were notorious for spy holes.

  “Where are you going?” Kepriah said when Patrice got up and started toward a far wall.

  “To look around. I’ve never seen a real palace before. This place is huge.”

  “No. You need to stay close. Remember?”

  Patrice nodded. “Oh, right. Come with me.”

  Kepriah shook her head. “Sit down. My feet hurt and you are tired.”

  Patrice pursed her lips and crossed her arms as though she would argue, but she did not. Instead, she sauntered back to the table and sat, closing her eyes.

  They waited several more minutes before another man, even thinner than the first, announced that Damon was ready for them. Kepriah pulled her hood up and kept her head down, so as not to give herself away just yet.

  They followed the emaciated-looking man down the hall, past several rooms, and through a large doorway. Damon sat in a gilded chair elevated on a platform against one wall. The nearly identical chair next to him was empty and Kepriah hid a smile. The man still cannot seem to get a wife. Well, no woman in her right mind would take on this house. When he leaned forward, Kepriah noticed that the large ruby was missing from the back of his chair. Probably used it to pay off his father’s debts. The thin, gold wreath on his head accentuated dark, unruly curls that poked out from beneath. It looked much smaller than she remembered. Perhaps things were worse for Damon than they appeared from the outside and it was just a matter of time before he melted the rest of his gold into coins.

  Kepriah genuflected to one knee, keeping her head low, and placed her wrapped scepter on the floor. Jakon had knelt without prompting but she motioned her sisters down. They waited as a young girl, who looked no older than fourteen, and one of the youngest Kepriah had seen here, entered with a silver tray, curtseyed, and offered the contents to Damon. He took the scroll from the plate and read it with a sour look then tossed it onto a small pile of other scrolls that lay on a nearby table.

  The girl kept her eyes down, so Damon lifted her chin. She swallowed hard as his eyes moved up and down her body. “Wait in my chambers.”

  “Yes, Royal,” the girl uttered. She curtseyed and scurried out.

  Damn you. She is not even a woman, yet. I think I need to teach you a few things. Disgust and anger touched her senses from Patrice and Larisa. She just hoped they would keep their mouths shut.

  Damon’s eyes moving seductively across her sisters before landing on Jakon. “You have a message for me?”

  Kepriah wanted to pelt this ungrateful boy royal. Instead, she composed herself and stood, motioning her sisters up with a cautious flick of a hand behind her back.

  “We have a message from Kepriah of Landerbury,” Jakon said as he took a single step forward.

  Kepriah kept her hood up and waited for Damon’s reaction. Would he honor his promise to her? He might take advantage of young girls but she had never known him to go back on his word.

  “Of course. What does my friend, Kepriah of Landerbury, have to tell me?”

  Well, friend is a good start. Kepriah pushed back her hood and gave him a smirk. “That you should take a real woman to your bed, not some girl-child, Royal Damon.”

  “Kepriah! You old snit! How in hell and Hollow are you?” He bounded from his chair like an excited adolescent, and the two embraced long enough to exchange a couple of back pounds. “Last I heard someone wanted your head.”

  “That is why I am here.” She wanted to show him just who the snit was but she kept her temper close.

  “Ah. To collect that debt I owe you.” He seemed disappointed.

  “Exactly.”

  “Who are your friends?”

  “These are my sisters, Patrice and Larisa. And our Uncle Jakon.”

  “You old sneak. You never told me you had sisters. And so lovely.” He took each woman’s right hand and kissed the back of it.

  Kepriah felt a surge of attraction from both sisters, squashed immediately by disgust, and wondered whether it had been a good idea to bring them here. Damon was not Kepriah’s type, too young for one thing—she liked her men seasoned—but he was far from ugly. He had similar coloring to Kepriah’s with dark brown hair and tanned skin. No royal man worth his coin stayed inside during hunting season, and pale skin was only acceptable for royal women. Damon’s features were somewhere between a pretty, adolescent boy and a handsome man.

  Jakon looked as though he might s
lice the boy open so Kepriah reminded Damon of his presence.

  He peeled his eyes off Larisa. “Ah, Uncle Jakon. May I call you uncle? Of course. Good to meet you. All of you. Let us go into my anteroom.” He led them to another room just off this one, where they took seats on various high-back chairs. Of course, Damon had the tallest chair with the highest cushion, putting him above the rest once they sat down.

  Kepriah shook her head as she adjusted her scepter. Bloody royals.

  “So. What can I do for you, Kepriah of Landerbury?”

  “We need a place to stay for a short while, fresh jabbers, and directions to the Sacred Eye.”

  Larisa had gotten another vision of the Sacred Eye on their way here and insisted, quite adamantly, that they head there next. Soon afterward, Kepriah’s scepter and Patrice’s ring confirmed what the talisman had shown their middle sister. Only royals and the true seer knew The Sacred Eye’s whereabouts. Royal soothsayers, many of whom were mere puppets, performed tricks to keep their royals happy and followers boondoggled. But the real seer received veneration from everyone, including royals. The seer could hide his existence whenever he needed to disappear, so no one could enslave him. But more importantly, it was widely believed across all of Selenea that if royals crossed the seer, he would alter their future and make sure they never achieved greatness. Bards wrote many stories and songs about that very subject.

  The surprised look on Damon’s face was worth the trip here, Kepriah decided, and she smirked.

  “Oh, you do not want much, do you?” He thought a moment. “Well, you did save my life.”

  “Twice.”

  He grinned and showed off slightly crooked bottom teeth. “Yes, twice. And the Sacred Eye means nothing to me. I do not even have a soothsayer anymore. Cost too much to feed and shelter her so I had to send her away. Though I do miss her company.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.” Kepriah raised a brow at the young man and he grew pensive. “Very well,” Damon finally said. “I will honor your requests as my debt to you.” He held out his right hand. The family ring still had its ruby but silver now replaced the emeralds.

  Kepriah stayed her ground. “One more thing.”

  Damon pulled his hand back. “Oh, all right, Kepriah. What is it?” He sounded like an impatient adolescent.

  “That girl, the one you sent to your chambers. She is too young for what you have in mind, Damon.” She spoke to him as an equal, forgoing his royal title. He would not dishonor her current position now that he admitted owing her a debt. Only a stupid royal would break his word to a warrior, even one with a bounty on her head. Kepriah still had friends who carried blades. Though they would not interfere with bounty hunters, they could certainly make a royal very uncomfortable for breaking his word.

  I cannot save all young girls from idiots like Damon, but I can at least spare one a humiliating night. The man-boy actually rolled his eyes and she wanted to slap him. Royal, indeed.

  “She is almost fourteen. My ancestors married younger than that.” When Kepriah raised a brow at him he whined, “Just what do you expect me to do? There are not many companions around here. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “I noticed. And I do not care what your ancestors did. I will not allow you to rape a child.” Her sisters’ anger tapped against her senses.

  “Wha—rape—no!” he sputtered. “I would not hurt her. She will feel only pleasure, I assure you.”

  “She is too young, Damon. You will ruin her. And for what? Because you cannot keep your manhood locked up for a few days?”

  “Try months.”

  “You have a hand. Use it.” Kepriah held her temper when he lowered his head and sighed. “No girls, Damon. Not unless they are at least the legal age of seventeen and they agree to be with you.”

  “Where am I supposed to find a girl that old? None here.”

  “You could actually bed an older woman. She might even be able to teach you a few things.”

  He thought a moment. “You think so?” Pale blue eyes lit up as he ran them over Larisa and Patrice, and Kepriah fought the urge to punch him. “All right. I will search for someone older.” He held out his hand again. Kepriah touched his family ring this time with her forefinger, as was tradition. “You and your lovely sisters must have dinner with me to complete the deal. And you, Uncle Jakon.”

  Kepriah gave him a slight bow of her head. “Thank you, Royal Damon. We accept.”

  He pulled on a rope and the skeletal servant man showed up again. “Take my honored guests to the best accommodations we have.”

  “Yes, Royal Damon.” He bowed and motioned them out.

  ****

  That night after supper, Kepriah escorted her sisters to their apartments and headed to Damon’s chambers as per his request. After knocking twice, he opened the door. She gave him a smirk. “No chamber doorman, Royal Damon?”

  “Gave him the night off. Permanently.” Damon laughed, ushered her in and shut the door. “And call me Damon in private.”

  “Things are tough?” She had seen signs of it all around his property.

  He offered her a seat. “Promise you will not spread it around?”

  “I promise.” She took the high-backed chair nearest the door and rested the now unwrapped scepter on her knees. His gaze ran over its length then lingered on the large blue gem at the top. “Damon?”

  He peeled his gaze off the scepter to look her in the eyes. “Where did you get that magnificent staff?”

  “It was left to me.”

  He looked like he wanted to ask more questions about it but refrained. “You worked here, Kepriah. You know all about my father’s debts. The villagers seemed content after the winter solstice feast.”

  The roads were still clear so she had stopped here on her way east to meet up with Manry, not long before Nyanan murdered Rochar’s family. “You had enough to feed an army.” He grinned and poured her a glass of wine. His eyes drifted over the scepter jewels again and he gave her a curious look, but she offered no explanation. “Thank you.” She held the goblet up and sniffed the pungent liquid. “Winemaker gone, too?”

  Damon shrugged. “Bought this from one of the villagers.”

  Things must be desperate for a royal to let his winemaker go. She shook her head then took a long drink. She had tasted better wine, but she had also drunk worse. She noticed several darkened outlines on his walls, where tapestries or other valuable hangings once existed. “So, what is going on with the villagers?”

  “They are wondering when their landlord will take a wife. Seems they are not content if there is no little Damon to take my place after I’m gone.”

  “You have years left.” And she still would not abide him going after girls, even if he agreed to marry one.

  “I am already twenty-two. By the time I find a wife, father a healthy son, wait for him to grow up and train him, well....”

  “I see your point.” She knew that was just an excuse. Damon did not really care about having a wife or son just yet. He just did not want to lose any more followers. Not good for business, especially for a landlord. Royals love their luxuries.

  “I would like you to be my son’s mother.”

  Kepriah nearly choked on her wine. “Uh, that is a grand offer, Damon. But I am not the marrying type.”

  “Exactly. You are strong. A warrior. My son just might need that, especially if this war in the east continues and spreads here.”

  Kepriah hardly thought that was the truth. Wars on Selenea did not spread after that many years, unless a royal wanted them to, and the eastern war was now sputtering battles here and there. Most everything had been destroyed. No royal would jump at the chance to revive a wasteland. The original area where it started was renamed Abandoned City years ago.

  And Damon is hardly the warring type. Most likely, he will cower in a broom closet until the danger passes. “I’m not a royal, Damon.” Though she knew good and well that made no difference. Any royal would take a mate from commoners when the nee
d arose.

  “You have seen who makes up my tenants. A warrior is the closest thing to a royal around here in a long time.” He waved a hand at her when she started to protest again. “I know you have a bounty on your head but I do not believe you killed that family. We have known each other too long. My father trusted you. And I have never known you to kill children, Kepriah, even in battle.” He took a sip of wine, frowned, and put the goblet on a nearby table. “I can get your bounty waived if you marry me. Something for both of us.”

  That took her back a moment and she stared at him before she finally said, “Since when did you become so damned insightful?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “You know me too well.” Then he drew in a long breath. “I’m serious about needing a wife. I could have waited on the children but my bed gets cold at night. And I am expected to marry sooner, rather than later.”

  “I see your predicament.” To have the bounty lifted gave her pause but she finally said, “I’m afraid I must decline the offer.”

  “What about one of your sisters? We could make some handsome babies fit for a royal nursery.”

  She wanted to smack him. Instead, she raised a brow. “They have other obligations.”

  He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, not royal-like at all. “Very well. I suppose I could take that girl as my wife.”

  “Damon.” Kepriah kept a warning in her voice, warrior to royal.

  “Well, you are giving me little choice.” He sounded like his old, insolent self again. “I cannot marry some old woman, now can I? No children happening there.”

  “You promised to leave that poor girl and others like her alone.”

  “But you never said anything about marrying her.” Kepriah gave him a cold stare and he actually squirmed. “Oh, all right. I will keep searching.”

  “How would it look if you took a child bride? Besides being frowned upon by the other houses, you would have to wait until she was older before she could bear children safely. Even you know that.”

  He sighed. “Yes. But there are other things we could do right away besides make babies. I mean, as a warrior, you must appreciate the alternatives.” That familiar grin lit up his face again.