The King and the Courtesan

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The King and the Courtesan Page 25

by Angela Walker


  I gulped and turned back to the TV. Ezekiel seemingly knew the future now. “Can the police pin this on him?”

  “Probably not. They haven’t yet. Ezekiel runs a pretty tight ship. And he pays his people well.” At this, Osric grinned and flopped down onto the couch. “Look at this place. I have everything I want. And could I have the same if I turned him into the police? No way. And what’s gonna happen if he does get caught and goes to jail, huh? Some other guy is gonna take his place, someone even worse than Ezekiel. The drug trade is inevitable, and I think Ezekiel is the best guy to do it.” He pulled a cigarette from his front pocket and slipped it between his lips. “Why so judgmental, Melissa, huh? You work for him, too.”

  “I don’t help him hurt people!”

  He shrugged. “You still spend his money. Money he earned by hurting people.”

  I sighed heavily and sat on the couch beside Osric. I didn’t know what to think. I’d seen so many people hurt, including myself, for the street dust. But Osric was right. As long as people were unhappy, there would be a drug trade. Did it matter in the end who ran it? And I’d heard that before Ezekiel, times had been even more turbulent. The Metro newspapers’ obituaries were longer, too. Maybe Ezekiel was the best for the job.

  Osric glanced down at his phone again. “You’re needed in Kafattan tonight.”

  “For what? Wait, what’s Kafattan?”

  Osric lifted an eyebrow. “It’s the capital.”

  “Well excuse me for not knowing the capital of a country run by crazy drug lords and terrorists.” I paused. “What do you mean I’m needed?”

  “Ezekiel needs you for something.”

  I couldn’t imagine what something was, considering my only responsibility was keeping Ezekiel sexually satisfied. Why had he left me here if he needed me so soon? I figured I’d never understand the complex workings of Ezekiel’s brain, so I took Osric’s word for it.

  “It’s not like you have anything else to do,” Osric said like a smart-ass, taking a drag from his cigarette.

  “Will we be back by tomorrow?”

  “If Ezekiel’s fine with that. Honestly, this is all out of my hands.”

  “Some evil sidekick you are.”

  Osric reached over and patted my leg, the contact brief enough to be friendly. “Ezekiel has a smaller house in Kafattan where you can stay. It shouldn’t be a big issue. Not many people get their own defense convoy, so you’ll be safe.”

  Right. Safe. Surrounded by twenty men in military fatigues, most likely working for both Ezekiel and the Yentis. What could I do if they decided to turn on Osric and Ezekiel for their own amusement? I shuddered thinking about it.

  “Are you sure?” I asked slowly.

  Osric rolled his eyes. “Obviously, or Ezekiel wouldn’t have asked you to be transferred.”

  “But what does he need me for?” When Osric gave me a look, I frowned. “I mean, outside of the usual.”

  “Maybe the guy got horny. I don’t ask questions, I just follow orders. Go upstairs and grab some clothing. We leave in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  The two-hour ride probably would have only taken an hour if the roads were in better condition. I was motion sick within ten minutes. They threw a tarp over the back of the truck to keep curious pedestrians from looking in. Surely people would be suspicious of a woman who was obviously not Jahralian. In Kafattan, people would be more accepting of foreigners, but out here in the boonies, people only trusted their own.

  About an hour after we left, it began to pour, which made the drive even worse. At least the bugs decided to leave. Their buzzing was replaced by the drone of rain on the tarp above me. The driver was getting soaked but he didn’t appear to care.

  I saw a curlicue of smoke in the distance. I touched Osric’s arm.

  “What is that?” I asked, squinting.

  “Probably just a camp fire or something.”

  But when we pulled up to an intersection, we saw two abandoned jeeps on the road leading toward the fire. The street seemed empty for a moment, but then I spotted a figure sprinting through the mud and rain, a dog trailing behind him.

  Osric didn’t seem interested, so he tapped the driver and jerked his head, a signal to keep driving. But when I heard the figure cry out, I said, “Stop!” The driver halted, surprisingly, even though I didn’t think he understood my language.

  “Melissa, it’s nothing—”

  “What if he’s in trouble?” I saw it was a boy, probably no older than eight, dressed in rags and bleeding heavily from the side of his head. His eyes were wide in terror. “Osric, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Osric grunted, then ordered the driver forward.

  But I opened the door and stepped out before the truck could move. Osric growled something, but the hum of the rain drowned it out. My heels sank deep into the mud, yet I was only worried about the little boy running and crying.

  “Melissa,” Osric hissed, jumping out of the truck and grabbing my arm with a firm hand. “Get back in the car.”

  The dog slowed as the boy approached. I saw his one arm was bloodied, too, and the skin looked charred, like he’d been burnt. He was hysterical, bowling into me and wrapping both arms around my waist with such force he practically knocked me over. He began to shout in Sehitian, but I wouldn’t have been able to understand him even if I had known the language. He was sobbing pretty hard.

  Osric grabbed the back of the boy’s tunic and shoved him off me, growling something in Sehitian. I pushed Osric back with a glare.

  “Can’t you see something is wrong?” I shouted over the rain. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “This is none of our business. Get in the truck!”

  “What is wrong? What is he saying?”

  “Nothing. Get in the truck.”

  Osric grabbed my arm, and I shoved him off. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

  The boy was hugging me again, screaming now. The rain fell harder than ever. I heard a scream in the distance. Then, rapid-fire gunshots and an explosion. A red mushroom cloud blossomed above the trees. More gunshots. Another scream.

  “Is that a village?” I asked.

  “Get in the truck,” Osric ordered.

  “At least help the boy!” I shouted as he held me tight. “He’s bleeding! H-he’s in bad condition.”

  “No. We’re not taking him with us to Kafattan. What the hell would we do with him?”

  “Take him to a hospital! Ask him where his parents are. I don’t know! We can’t leave him bleeding and wet like this. He’s just a little boy.”

  Osric stared down the road, and so did I. Something was coming toward us. Another truck.

  “Oh, shit. Melissa, get in the truck. Now.”

  “But—”

  “If they see you, they won’t be asking questions. Not after just setting a whole fucking village on fire.”

  “I can’t just leave—”

  Gunshots stabbed the earth around us, clumps of mud flying. I screamed and ducked, and I heard the boy cry out. I reached for him, but Osric physically picked me up and threw me in the vehicle. Before I could scramble back up, Osric shouted at the driver and we were off, leaving the gunshots and the boy’s limp body behind.

  Chapter 33

  Osric had to pin my limbs to my body for a few minutes until I stopped struggling and submitted to his superior strength. The truck was really rolling now, soaring over potholes and vibrating so hard it was a wonder the frame held together. When I went limp, Osric cautiously released me, though he still kept a hand on my arm, as if afraid I’d leap from the truck. Instead, I twisted around and poked my head outside of the tarp, looking down the road and past the tree canopy to the thin plume of smoke stretching toward the gray sky.

  Osric yanked me back into the truck.

  “Stop it!” I snapped, wrenching my arm from his grip. “Don’t touch me!”

  “If you had stayed in the truck—”

  “We could have saved him!”
<
br />   “What do you know about saving anyone? You’re such an idiot! Were you going to face down the Yentis for him, hmm? If you’re going to stay alive here, you do what you’re told, do you understand? You don’t fuck around with the Yentis. They already hate Sumerthans—they don’t need a reason to put a bullet through your head. There’s nothing you can do for the people here, and the last thing they all want or need is some outsider swooping in and being a martyr.”

  “I could have saved one.”

  “He’s Hatchi. He was doomed anyway.”

  “What the hell does that mean? What’s a Hatchi?”

  Osric stared at me a second, as if he didn’t quite recognize me. Then he shook his head and looked away. “Just stay in the fucking truck and keep your mouth shut.”

  The sky had darkened by the time we reached Kafattan, which wasn’t a city in the sense that I was used to. There were no tall buildings or parks, only congested traffic, clumps of pedestrians, and street after street of adobe hovels, some of them patched with corrugated metal and faded blue tarps. Several times, we pulled up beside a man driving a donkey cart or herding a dozen cattle across an intersection. I found it as bizarre as it was fascinating, and while the little boy’s death still weighed heavy on my mind, at least the scenery was a distraction.

  We drove through packed, meandering streets for about an hour before finally pulling onto a steep, cobblestone road. It led to the top of a hill surrounded by thick walls and metal spikes. We had to pass through two gates in order to get to the entrance of the house, which was smaller than the one I’d left but no less elegant. I noticed the presence of armed guards here, too, but they stood like stoic soldiers as Osric guided me past them and into the quaint foyer. I found a sitting room to the left, and in one of the short, squat chairs sat Ezekiel, sipping from a tumbler and looking straight at me. I hadn’t noticed that I was wet and muddy from the drive until that moment, and I feared how Ezekiel might react to seeing me.

  Ezekiel was dressed in an immaculate ivory suit with silver tie and shoes. I practically didn’t recognize him. I wish I could have said he looked less threatening in white, but he seemed even worse in this color. On him, it was like a lie.

  “Hello, Melissa,” he greeted, in a seemingly fair mood. He waved me over. I moved forward cautiously, waiting for him to ask me about my state of dress or the scuffle with the Jahralian boy. Surely one of his men had already told him.

  Ezekiel patted the spot beside him and I sat. He plucked another tumbler off the tray on the coffee table and filled it with scotch before handing it to me. Sipping delicately from his own glass, he crooked a finger at Osric. Osric bent closer, and Ezekiel whispered something to him. Osric nodded and left.

  “Um, Ezekiel—”

  “Yes, Melissa?” He stared ahead, appearing thoughtful.

  “I-I’m sorry I’m a bit of a—of a mess. It was raining—”

  “Don’t stutter, Melissa. It’s very unbecoming.” He took another sip and I shut up. “I’ve been told about your little misadventure. Such things happen—it’s why I gave you your own convoy. There will be clean clothes upstairs for you.”

  “But…why am I here?”

  “Sometimes unforeseen situations arise,” Ezekiel said. “I have something I need you and Osric to do for me.”

  “Yes?”

  “There is someone I need to meet, a Zarek.” Ezekiel stared into his glass, swirling the ice lazily. “He’s what one might consider a competitor. He used to be a negligible gnat, but now he is threatening my operation and my deal with the government—neither of which I will tolerate. He’s a greedy bastard, but luckily he’s also a stupid one. I need to find out his plans. If he knows as much as I think he does about my own arrangement, he needs to be gotten rid of. He’s such a public figure in this place that I have to be careful. I don’t want to waste the time and effort taking him out if he’s not worth it.” He stood. “You need to go upstairs and get ready. Meet me outside by the car in ten minutes.”

  I struggled to stand, nodding obediently. Ezekiel turned and left the room, Bruce in tow. I headed upstairs to the bedroom, nerves tingling.

  * * *

  “What did you tell him?” I hissed at Osric when he stopped by my tiny room to see if I was done with my makeup. I wasn’t sure where Ezekiel had found it, but such questions were not worth asking.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You had to have told him about that little incident on the way here.”

  “I told him there was a small scuffle, that you saw an orphan boy and got all maternal.” He waggled his fingers sarcastically. “I didn’t mention the gunmen, and I suggest you don’t, either. No one was hurt. Time to move on.”

  “Your attempts at reassuring me aren’t working very well.”

  Osric stood closer, crossing his arms over his chest and lowering his voice. “He hasn’t doled out punishment to either of us, so he’ll probably let it go. Ezekiel’s not really one for drawing out conflicts. I don’t need shit from him, and I’m sure you don’t.”

  I shook my head, but I still worried.

  “He’s not a mind reader.”

  “Sometimes it seems like he is.”

  “Yeah, he’s good at that.” When I put down my lipstick, Osric uncrossed his arms and raised his voice to its normal level. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Why do I have to be there tonight?”

  Osric raised an eyebrow.

  “What? What use am I going to be?”

  Osric shrugged. “I really don’t think it’s that big of a deal, Melissa. Zarek is a dumb-ass. The only reason he’s gotten this far is because he’s rich. And he’s got a huge family that monitors everyone. Believe me, it wasn’t brains that got him there. And trust me when I say women are his huge weak spot.”

  “Awesome,” I muttered sarcastically. “I don’t have to touch him, though, do I?”

  “Not unless you want to.” Osric smirked.

  “Forget it.” I stood up and slipped on my clean shoes. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  Osric accompanied us to our destination, dressed in a dark gray tunic that looked traditionally Jahralian. My bodyguard drove us in a regular sedan, since the majority of Kafattan streets were paved. Osric and Bruce rode in the car behind us. Even though Osric and Bruce made me nervous, I preferred they ride along. Being alone with Ezekiel in this sort of atmosphere, him looking so nonchalant and me practically bathed in sweat, made the state of my nerves worse.

  Ezekiel reached over and put a hand on my thigh. “You’ll be fine. You need not say anything, since Zarek’s Sumerthan is mediocre at best. This is why I brought Osric. I’m decent at Sehitian—I couldn’t have come this far without being semi-fluent—but I need him to translate any of the words I don’t understand.”

  “So no one will be speaking Sumerthan?” Wonderful. As if I needed to look like more of a clueless idiot.

  “Rarely. Zarek may attempt talking to you. Like most men of his breed, he’ll turn into a slobbery moron in the presence of a pretty woman. Especially a foreign woman. He’s known to indulge in the sex slave trade, shipping them in from whatever country he can get them from. However, there is no significant sex slave trade in Sumertha, at least not one that works overseas. He desires what he can’t have.” Ezekiel’s sharp gaze was unwavering as it settled on me. “I have no doubt he will be interested. Keep your distance. Stay by my side the entire time. Zarek has no respect for another man’s—I shouldn’t call you property, should I?” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let’s simply say he has no respect for women, even those claimed by enemies. You’ll intrigue him. You’re allowed to indulge him to a degree. I realize he may say things to you that he wouldn’t say to a man, because he believes all women are brainless. If it comes to this, flirt and stroke his ego. But don’t touch him.” Ezekiel’s eyes grew hard. “He won’t accept a no after that.”

  I nodded, gulping. Ezekiel
curled his forefinger and thumb around my chin, matching my gaze with his.

  “Melissa, you’re in no danger. I wouldn’t bring you if I thought so. Your job has always been to be my consort. Stay with me and nothing will happen. Are we clear?”

  I nodded, biting a lip.

  He leaned in and kissed me, a strange gesture considering he never kissed me outside of his house or bedroom. When he slipped into mission-mode, I might as well have been invisible. I didn’t know if this surprising behavior comforted me or scared me more.

  “Tomorrow morning you will return to my country estate and spend the last few days in comfort and luxury. Then we’ll fly home. Does this please you?”

  I nodded.

  “Very good.” He turned from me, lifted his hand from my leg, and stared out the window, slipping back into his usual brooding silence. I sighed and straightened any wrinkles in my dress. It was still weird seeing us both in white.

  We arrived at another large, luxurious house, this one lighter on the guards, but surrounded by walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. We were all led into the house and through the courtyard to the celebration within. I figured it was some kind of party, judging by the dancing lights and heavy bass. I wasn’t the only scantily clad woman there—that was for sure. I was, however, the only woman there with red hair and hazel eyes. Every time I caught someone’s eyes, purple gleamed back at me.

  I hated the attention I received from the moment I walked in. No one even tried to hide the fact that they were staring, which wasn’t something I was used to. Here, I was the foreigner, the exotic one.

  We didn’t bother with the courtyard or the people congregated there. Ezekiel headed straight for the veranda doors, which took us into a large sitting room circled with plush couches and elaborately crafted rugs. There were more men here, all wearing traditional Jahralian dress like Osric. Two of them held semi-automatic rifles. I slipped my arm through Ezekiel’s, more for comfort than for affection. Osric was close behind me, and for the first time, I felt better with him there.

 

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