by Mike Truk
“Let’s just say I’ve not yet decided what’s best for Erro and Stasiek,” he said, taking a step back. “The obvious course of action isn’t always the best one.”
A flicker of confusion crossed her angular features. Not what she’d expected. She sat back on her heels, lips pursed, and then rose to her feet. “Very well. I’ll do my best to merit your trust and sway your mind.” A quick decision on her part, followed by a flicker of calculation that was followed by a flirtatious, half-lidded look. She placed a hand on his chest. “But if there’s anything else I can do to persuade you…?”
Hugh clasped her hand gently with his own and removed it. “I’m sure you’ll find occasion.”
Footsteps on the narrow stairwell leading up from the tavern below. Hugh turned to see Wlad, face pale. “My lord. Apologies for the interruption. There’s a lady below. I think she’s one of Aleksandr’s.”
“A lady?” asked Branka. “Use your tongue, Wlad. What kind of lady?”
“Very fancy, very fine, dressed all in black, miss. Long black hair. She’s… there’s something uncanny about her.”
Hugh looked to Branka. “So soon?”
“I told you, he operates a very tight network. Istlav’s death no doubt reached him yesterday. What’s this woman doing?”
“She’s drinking a glass of wine, miss. Sitting by the fire like she’s just passing through. But…”
Branka could barely disguise her impatience. “But?”
“But… she’s very fancy, miss. Dressed all in black.”
“Fuck. Sounds like Katharzina.” Branka gathered her mane of golden hair behind her head and pinned it with a clasp so that it fell in a more orderly wave down her back. “She’s a witch of some kind, important to Aleksandr. If he’s sent her, then he’s taking this situation very seriously.”
“A witch?” Hugh paused. “You’ve seen her do magic?”
“I’ve not, no. But she’s said to cross the valley with impossible speed, and to be feared by animals and monsters alike. That and she always harbors bad luck. She’s worse than seeing three ravens.”
“Then we’ll deal with her carefully. Wlad, when we descend, you’re to cross to my estate and summon my companions as quickly as you can. If this Katharzina wields magic, I want them with us.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Wlad, bobbing his head.
Hugh settled his hand on the pommel of his blade and lead them below. Katharzina was seated in an armchair before the crackling fireplace, its flickering light causing tints of blue to flicker in the locks of her lustrous black hair. She was at ease, one black leather-clad leg crossed over the other at the knee, her elegant boots somehow clean of all mud, a ruff of black fox fur thick about her shoulders. She didn’t turn at the sound of their approach, but rather remained still, swirling the wine contemplatively within her goblet and staring into the flames.
Hugh moved to stand beside her chair, crossing his arms and staring into the fire as well. Her silence bid him speak, so he remained silent, allowing her presence to wash over him.
His arrival went unremarked; she remained relaxed, poised, ineffably elegant in her finery. Her confidence was arresting. She sat as if in a throne, and when she turned her face to consider him, he felt the weight of her gaze.
“Lord Hugh of Stasiek,” she said, her voice a smoky, shadowy purr. “Is it true that you killed Istlav and his men single-handed?”
Hugh smirked, resisting the urge to look at her. To resist doing so somehow felt like retaining an advantage, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. “No. I used both hands and had help.”
“Such modesty. I must admit I disbelieved the report, but here you stand and Istlav sadly gone.”
“Not many here will lament his passing,” said Hugh. “He hung the mayor and three others, made free with Erro’s property and goods, and insulted Duke Annaro with his claims. He was a dead man the moment he emerged from the forest.”
“Few things are so certain as that. And Duke Annaro is so very far away from Erro and these mountains. I can almost sympathize with Istlav and his ambitions. But alas. He has gone the way of all flesh to the Ashen Garden. And what now, my lord? Do you plan to remain, or will you sally forth, your shining deed done, to return to more civilized climes?”
Her mockery was impossible to miss, yet there was also genuine humor in her voice, as if they were old friends and she but gently teasing him. “I find myself enjoying the mountain air,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll stay a while.”
The fire crackled. Branka had opted to move behind the bar on the far side of the room. Of Wlad there was no sign. Katharzina swirled her wine once more. “You do not look at me, my lord. Do you fear what you might see?”
Hugh glanced down. She was as strikingly beautiful as he’d guessed. Her pale skin contrasting with her deep raven locks, her eyes alive with intelligence and humor. She wore a slender black velvet choker about her neck, and black calfskin gloves that reached up to her elbows. Her boots were thigh-high and belted above the knee, and everything of the finest cut. A heavy, hooded cloak was draped over the shoulder of her armchair, and she bore no weapons that he could see.
Her smile was lopsided. “You go from ignoring me to staring like a village boy. You are a man of extremes, my lord.”
Hugh smiled in return. “Something tells me you don’t mind being admired.”
She stretched, twisting slowly in her chair, eyes closing as she extended her arms and gave a slight moan of satisfaction. She held it for but a second, then relaxed and curled back up, eyes opening but remaining heavy-lidded. “Not by so handsome a man. That is true. Your physique is startling. Were you always muscled near to the point of deformity?”
“No,” he said.
“Hmm.” Her gaze took a lazy stroll down his form and back up. “Don’t pout. I said ‘almost.’ Were this not a business trip, I’d ply you with wine until you agreed to take off your shirt and dance around. It’s so rare to find a man such as yourself this far up in the mountains. You would think the locals feared soap more than a chimera. But never mind.”
“A business trip,” said Hugh, latching onto that phrase like a drowning man might a branch. Katharzina was as beguiling in her own way as Zarja; her sultry voice was mesmerizing, her confidence profound, her body alluring to the point of distraction. Was she using magic on him?
“Yes.” Katharzina sighed and sipped from her wine. “Prosaic, I know. I’m to learn what your intentions are and see how pliable you might be to alternatives. You plan to remain in Erro, then?”
“I’m not used to being interrogated by strangers,” said Hugh, “regardless of how attractive they are. Who are you and whom do you represent?”
“Formalities? Very well. Though I’m sure you already know.” Katharzina rose from her seat to execute a mocking curtsy. “Katharzina of Glěbko at your service, my lord. I represent a certain business interest that is curious as to how amenable you are to financial inducements.” She sat down once more, tucking her boots under her ass as she curled up in the chair. “This is, of course, a delicate matter, and one that should be approached with indirect hints and innuendoes. But I find myself too lazy to do so. Instead, I’ll deliver his proposition, and then allow you to mull it over.” Her eyes gleamed. “But please. Don’t feel obliged to roar your indignations if you don’t like what I say. That would be so tiresome, and I’ve just begun to form a positive impression of you.”
Hugh crossed his arms and rocked back onto his heels. “Your proposal, then?”
“Simple. There is enough gold flowing through this valley to make any man rich. You, despite your lineage, are anything but. In exchange for keeping these activities secret, my employer would be willing to pay you a generous cut from the profits. You’ve no doubt seen how Erro has prospered. You could do much better. Stay, leave, it matters not. Your cut would be delivered to you regardless, and with it, why. You could do whatever you choose.”
“How much are you offering?”
She
smiled. “Oh, I do like you. I was told to begin with an offer of five hundred crowns a month, but after much protesting allow it to rise as high as two thousand. More, if you proved yourself an avaricious but pliable brute.”
“Two thousand crowns.” That was a fifth of Aleksandr’s total monthly gross. Add in Erro’s five hundred, and Aleksandr was consenting to a twenty five percent tax so as to do business. Given the quantities at play and his investment in the infrastructure, it was hardly a damaging sum.
The door to the tavern opened and Morwyn strode in, eyes flashing as she stared at Katharzina. Nobody else followed. The captain moved to stand beside Hugh, hand on the pommel of her blade, her whole body near vibrating with barely concealed distaste.
“It would seem our pleasantries are drawing to a close,” said Katharzina, her voice losing some of its sultry undertones. She stood and collected her cloak.
Morwyn went to speak but Hugh raised his hand. “Four thousand crowns.”
Katharzina swept her cloak about her shoulders and fastened it. Despite its weight it draped her like liquid shadows, hugging her form and making her hard to discern, even in the firelight. “Four thousand, my lord?”
“The price of my silence.”
“A princely sum. You are, alas, no prince. I’ll put your request to my employer. I do not have high hopes of his agreeing to it.”
“I’m sure he understands exactly what he’s buying with that sum, and what will happen if he fails to meet it.”
“Very well.” She flipped her hood up over her raven locks. “Meeting you was an unexpected pleasure, my lord. I’ll send word when my master has chosen his response.”
Hugh gave a shallow bow. Katharzina turned and walked away, the heels of her boots giving sharp retorts against the wooden floor. She pushed open the door and stepped out of sight.
“Four thousand?” Morwyn turned on him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Obviously not. But Aleksandr wouldn’t take me seriously if I didn’t make an outlandish request. This way he’ll think me a greedy fool and underestimate me.”
“And your plan? To negotiate with him and…?”
“Accept whatever he actually offers me.”
Morwyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re joking.”
“Come, Morwyn. Think it through. Wlad? Wine!” Hugh sat down in the same armchair Katharzina had occupied. It still bore her scent, a delicate trace that he couldn’t quite pin. He closed his eyes and inhaled; smooth leather, creamy but bitter almonds, perhaps? Something akin to magnolia…
“Here, your lordship,” said Wlad, and Hugh opened his eyes to see a brimming tankard filled with wine.
“Sharp lad,” said Hugh, taking the tankard carefully. Wlad bowed and backed away.
Morwyn was seated on the edge of her armchair, knees on elbows, glaring at him. “Explain, Hugh.”
“Aleksandr is accustomed to buying people off. I imagine in his world view everybody has a price. I’ve set mine at four thousand. He’ll come in with a hard counter and congratulate himself on reeling me in just like any other mayor or paltry town official. He’ll relax a fraction and begin contemplating how best to spring his trap on Annaro. In the meantime, we’ll have the opportunity to learn more from him; his numbers, his plans, his secrets. Then, when we decided we’ve learned enough, we report back to Annaro and prepare ourselves for war.”
Morwyn sat back, mollified. “A ruse, then.”
“Aye. But a dangerous one.” Hugh sipped from his wine and stared into the fire. Katharzina’s scent was fading, or perhaps he was getting used to it. “If Aleksandr is determined to provoke Annaro, then he’ll want to kill me regardless of what I say.”
“Then you shouldn’t meet with him. When the time comes, I’ll go in your stead.”
Hugh didn’t answer at once, but instead sipped his wine, losing himself in the flickering leaps of the flames. “No. Thank you. We’ll all go. It’ll be dangerous, but the odds of our surviving if we go together are exponentially higher. Where are Anastasia and Elena?”
“They went for a walk.” Morwyn said this with some measure of contempt. “Wanted some time to talk alone. What did you say to Anastasia that shook her up so?”
“I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready.” Hugh felt captivated by the flames. Unable to pull his eyes away. “Just as I haven’t told anybody about what happened on the bridge last night.”
Morwyn stiffened. “What’s there to tell? We had an agreeable exchange. You did passingly well. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Really?” Hugh’s voice had grown soft. “So your attempts to cut me down don’t figure into your account? Your refusal to discuss your secret?”
Silence from Morwyn.
“Which, now that I think of it, you never shared.” Hugh looked over to her. “One might even say you covered your moment of vulnerability by getting physical with me. As far as ploys go, it worked.”
Morwyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re insufferable. Can’t you content yourself with fucking me as hard as you wanted?”
“No,” said Hugh, feeling himself cold, almost cruel. Katharzina’s scent was almost gone. Did he even smell it now, or was that but his imagination? “But I’ll settle for that in the meantime.”
A dangerous gleam entered Morwyn’s eyes. “You’ll settle for fucking me?”
Hugh lifted his tankard and drained it of what little wine remained. “What I really want is to know what you’re hiding. But I’m curious as to what lengths you’ll go to keep it hidden. A deal, then: fuck me now, and I’ll stop asking. Won’t bring it up again unless you urge me to.”
Morwyn shifted in her seat. “How fucking generous of you.”
Hugh shrugged and leaned back in the armchair. “You told me sex was a means toward an end for you back in the barracks. So this is your language. You want me to leave you alone? Prove it.”
The last of Katharzina’s scent. Leather, yes. Almonds. He thought of how her thigh-high boots had hugged her legs. Her mockery. The knowing gleam in her eye. As if it were all a game, and she couldn’t be quite bothered to take any of it seriously.
“Very well,” said Morwyn, voice tense. “Fine. I agree.”
“There’s a pantry behind the bar. Wait for me inside. Hands on the wall, your breeches around your ankles. Go.”
He could sense her furious glare. Didn’t look away from the fire. Waited, unsure if she’d comply or draw her blade. Then she stood, movements stiff, and stalked away across the room.
He heard the pantry door open and then click closed.
Branka was behind the bar. He ignored her. Continued staring into the fire. What would it be like to fuck Katharzina? What would it take to break her composure? Something told him simply fucking all night wouldn’t do it. No. There was a decadence to her that spoke of far greater experience.
Feeling almost sullen, Hugh stood. Inhaled deeply, feeling his musculature swell across his chest, shoulders rising. Slumbering strength within him awakening. He wanted to dominate something. Break something. Moved over to the bar and placed his tankard before Branka.
She glanced at the pantry door then over to him. “She’s waiting.”
“I know. Wine.”
Branka took up a bottle, uncorked it, poured.
Hugh raised it to his lips and drained it dry. Couldn’t even feel the slightest effect.
“Another.”
She complied.
He drained that as well, then stared past Branka at the wall. Had Morwyn lowered her breeches as he’d demanded? Was she standing there in the dark, shaking with indignation, waiting for him?
“Why are you treating her like this?” asked Branka, voice almost a whisper.
“None of your business.” He pushed away from the bar and strode to the pantry door. Paused, hand on the knob, then turned it and stepped inside.
It was a small space. Shelves on all sides. The scent of spices and cured meat. Dark but for the crack beneath the door as he closed it. Morwyn was a presence
before him, her breath shallow and fast. He could smell her sex, her arousal.
Moved closer. All it took was one step and he was behind her, looming over her body. She was leaning forward. Hands on the wall as ordered. He reached down and cupped the swell of her ass. The skin smooth, the muscle taut.
She’d done as ordered.
A thought occurred to him: how far could he push her before she broke?
Gently, slowly, he slipped his fingers around her neck, cupped her chin, pulled her head back. Felt her shoulder-length hair against his cheek as he leaned down. Slid his other hand down over her ass, pulled her cheek aside, ran his thumb down her crack and felt her puckered asshole.
“Not there,” she whispered.
“You telling me what to do?”
He felt her swallow, the convulsion of her throat against his hand. Gently, slowly, he rubbed his thumb about her asshole, feeling the smooth skin, the tight clenching. His fingers slipped down and under to cup her sex. She was wet, so wet her lips were slick.
“This what you want?” he asked, voice little more than a rasp, his lips against her ear.
She moaned as his fingers slipped inside her, exploring her folds. She was hot, slick, and when his fingertips ran up alongside the hood of her clit, she gasped and startled.
He held her steady with his other hand. His cock was straining against his breeches. But still he moved slowly, as if disinterested.
Would Katharzina allow him to control her like this?
The thought only made him harder.
“Is this how you want it to be between us?” he whispered, slowly working his fingers back and forth, tracing the cleft between her outer and inner lips, thumb pressing inexorably against her asshole.