Rogue's Pawn

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Your children, dear,” Blackbird explained gently.

  Ah. Firstborn child—right.

  “So, since I have no children and probably won’t have any, do I give her my life by dying?”

  Rogue shifted beside me. I probably should have pretended to know that answer.

  “Servitude, Lady Gwynn.” Lord Falcon glowered at me. “Don’t play dumb. You owe Healer a life of service. You owe Rogue for food, lodging and protection, at such price as he values it. Though we can guess at what he truly wants you for.” Darling sidled up the table to me, picking delicately through the dishes and goblets, and trailed under my chin, then sat and looked pointedly at Falcon. “Yes, Lord Darling has a claim of service as well.”

  I took a deep breath. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home. Didn’t work. Where were the magic slippers when you needed them?

  “So, how can I serve more than one person at once?” And how does one serve a cat?

  “Oh my, what a thought!” Puck laughed with gay abandon.

  “I am willing to cede my owed service to Lord Falcon, in payment to him for previous debts, if he finds that acceptable.” Healer looked smug.

  Though Rogue didn’t move, I felt his tension in the back of my mind.

  Falcon nodded slowly at her, once, grinned at Rogue, then slid his eyes to me with a rapacious stare that made me shrink away inside the lumpy clothes. Suddenly I was glad for them.

  “Puck may see to training her for the war—perhaps she’ll be more useful than not,” Falcon said, with a dismissive wave of his hand that belied his fixed and predatory gaze.

  “I accept.” Puck snapped up that ball. “I propose to put Lady Gwynn into immediate training, to quickly bring her into the war effort.”

  “I would argue,” Rogue drawled, trailing a hand down Darling’s back, who curved into him, purring, “that Lady Gwynn also owes me a life, beyond hospitality. Without my intervention, she would have died.”

  “Agreed,” Pinkie said.

  What? I was stunned.

  He raised an impassive ebony eyebrow. He had told me not to mistake him for a friend. “Lady Blackbird was also owed for services, but has been offered a boon, which was accepted.”

  Jesus, was nothing free around here? Blackbird beamed happily at me. I’d have to find out from her what the boon was.

  “Okay.” I put up a hand. “Let me get this straight. So far, for Lady Healer’s healing, I get to serve in the military performing magic for Lords Falcon and Puck—is that right?”

  “Is that your proposal?” Lord Falcon pounced, his face clenched

  Okay then. Be careful of the wording. Why didn’t I go to law school?

  “Let me rephrase. To cancel all liens created by Lady Healer’s service to me, I will attend magical training under Lord Puck’s direction, perform magical military service for Lord Falcon, and no other services.”

  “Agreed,” Falcon said, while Puck nodded enthusiastically.

  I didn’t look at Rogue, but I could feel his displeasure. Hey, he was the one who wouldn’t explain what I was up against.

  “Now, how do we decide how long a lifetime is?” I asked.

  “Until death,” Falcon offered.

  “But Lady Healer says she extended my life—shouldn’t I only owe until when I would have reasonably died before her intervention? Wasn’t my life worth fewer years then than it is now? And, if I learn magic, what if I learn to extend my life even more—wouldn’t those years be mine, not owed?”

  “Healer,” Pinkie asked, “how long would Lady Gwynn have lived before your work?”

  “Seven years,” Healer answered. Seven years? I must have looked shocked, because she added, “There were several conditions progressing that would have led to her death in that time.”

  Wow—I guess I really did owe her.

  “Lady Gwynn?” Puck prompted me.

  “Okay, I propose that the term be seven years.” That didn’t sound like so much now, compared to the rest of my life. And then I go home. Maybe I’d luck out and time would move differently here.

  “Given the brevity of service,” Falcon said, “I ask for intensive training.”

  “Yes.” Scourge hissed the word, snake-eyes gleaming. “Marquise and I would be most willing. For the usual side-benefits, naturally.”

  Without thinking I dug my nails into Rogue’s forearm. “What does that mean?”

  “Is that necessary?” Rogue demanded.

  Falcon smirked. “You’ll get yours later. Presumably. I’m within rights, here.”

  “Agreed,” Pinkie ruled. “The stipulation is within the parameters of Lady Gwynn’s proposal. Continue, lady. How do you propose to satisfy Lord Rogue?”

  About ten smart remarks flew through my mind. I restrained myself. “Maybe I could give him something of value and then I go home?”

  “Not acceptable.” Rogue pinned me with his stare. “Lady Lillibeth, I put before you that only a firstborn child will satisfy my multiple claims, given that all claimants labored under my aegis.”

  Falcon sat up straighter, eyes firing.

  “It’s not ideal,” Scourge growled, “but I accept the condition.”

  “Agreed,” said Pinkie.

  “Wait a minute!” I would have jumped out of my chair if I could. “That is not acceptable.”

  “Lord Rogue can set his terms,” Puck said and they all nodded.

  Well, shit.

  “I don’t have a child and don’t plan to.” I drew the line at that.

  “It will be arranged.” Rogue smiled at me and placed his hand over mine, thumb rubbing my palm so that the heat flared in me. I yanked my hand away. Unperturbed, he raised his long fingers up to the nape of my neck, lightly tugging the shorn lock that had escaped Blackbird’s braids.

  “Oh no,” I gasped. I was not signing up to be impregnated like some brood cow. Though I didn’t like the plummy wine, I grabbed my goblet still sitting mostly full and drank some down.

  “You refuse the terms?” Falcon demanded, with an edge of excitement.

  “What happens if I do?”

  Lady Lillibeth shrugged. “Execution.”

  Their answer to everything.

  Rogue quietly watched me, as if I were deciding which kind of ice cream to buy.

  “You said never to accept a first offer,” I whispered to him.

  His eyes were sober indigo. “Sometimes, one has no other choice. I’ve done all I could.”

  He had me neatly trapped. But I would find a loophole. Seven years to do it. If I was a freaking sorceress and would be trained, then I could find a way out of this deal and a way back home.

  “Fine.” I raised my voice. “To cancel all debts I might owe you, after I finish my service to Lord Puck, in seven years, I will give you my firstborn child, at such time as I may have one.” Since I didn’t plan to have any kids, that should be easy to deal with.

  “My child,” he stipulated.

  I stared at him. Completely aghast. Oh, I don’t think so. “How exactly would that occur?”

  Rogue stroked long fingers down my cheek and over my throat. “Oh, my lovely Gwynn, I would be delighted to demonstrate.”

  “What if I have someone else’s child before then?” I tried to shake off his effect on me.

  Something blazed hot in his eyes. “To do so would void the agreement.”

  “Let me guess—defaulting to death?”

  Rogue nodded, lips thinned.

  “How do you even know we can interbreed? I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but we’re not exactly the same species here.” I was forgetting to pretend. I put a hand to my temple, my thoughts muzzy.

  This observation prompted great hilarity from the group. They laughed, rep
eating my words to each other. Lady Blackbird went to fetch a pitcher and circled the group, refilling goblets, including mine.

  “I may not even be fertile—the women in my family tend not to be.”

  “Oh, you are now,” Healer assured me, smiling sweetly at Rogue. Of course.

  “Trust me to handle the rest.” Rogue took the goblet from me and set it on the table, keeping hold of my hand. I tried to yank it from him again, but he held it firmly, eyes sparkling dark as star sapphires. He never broke his gaze, even as he kissed the back of my hand. The barely banked heat in me flared.

  “You know, I really don’t think ‘trust’ is a good word choice right now.”

  Rogue looked grim. “Trust in that fact, if not in me,” he said, stroking my hand. “Trust that the response of your body will make it pleasurable for you. And that this protects you from far worse things.”

  “I really do not want to have a baby.”

  “You don’t want to die, either.”

  “What I want is to go home.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Can’t because it’s not physically possible or can’t because you won’t allow it?”

  A shadow crossed his face, darkening the lines even more. What would it be like to see that mask above me in bed? Shadows upon shadows. A shiver ran through me, composed of as much chill as heat. Rogue felt it.

  “You are not the only one out of choices, my Lady Gwynn. You have seven years to get used to the idea.” He released my hand and seized his own goblet. “The terms are set and agreed upon.”

  The others were watching us with avid interest, Healer standing behind Falcon, caressing his neck. I just loved being the floor show. A headache throbbed behind my eyes. So much for all that expensive healing.

  Darling chirruped and Rogue nodded in my direction. “Lady Lillibeth, we’d best complete the proceedings.”

  “Only your service to Lord Darling remains, Lady,” the pink woman—Lady Lillibeth, apparently—reminded me.

  I was exhausted. What else did I have to give? “Okay, what bargain does he offer?”

  “Ask him,” Rogue said, not looking at me, but rather up to the shadowed depths of the vaulted ceiling.

  “What? How?”

  Falcon slammed his hand on the table. “Enough with playing dumb, foreign sorceress. Let’s get this done with.”

  Darling sat on the table in front of me. He blinked at me sweetly, swelling a purr. I saw him in a classroom with me, riding on the back of a horse during battle, then standing at my heel.

  “He wants to be my Familiar?”

  “Agreed,” Lillibeth said.

  The cat rubbed his cheek against my chin and padded back down the table. I wanted to ask exactly what I had agreed to, but my thoughts slipped away. Falcon and Healer wandered out of the hall, arm in arm, heads bent together as they laughed merrily over some private joke. Scourge rose to leave.

  “Remember what I’m owed, Scourge.” Rogue lounged back in his chair, the indolent lord of the feast. “I expect my merchandise returned in appropriate condition.”

  Scourge stilled. Then gave Rogue a curt nod and left.

  “Lord Puck, you will miss the festivities, but you’d best convey your charge to her new home,” Lillibeth said breezily.

  The bowed-head lads pulled my heavy chair away from the table. Even looking up at them, I couldn’t quite get a glimpse of their faces. Was I supposed to stand now? Rogue and Puck pulled me to my feet, so I supposed so. Puck pulled my wrists behind my back, fastening them together by my silver bracelets, then did the same with my feet. I couldn’t seem to resist. Why couldn’t I think? I teetered there while Rogue steadied me.

  “The wine?” I finally got out and Rogue touched my face in that way of his that seemed to be tender.

  “Magic can’t touch you while you wear silver, but it can touch something you then touch. You could never have protected yourself against it.”

  “It’s better for the journey,” Puck added. He clipped a leash to my collar.

  For the first time, I really processed that I was going somewhere else, in someone’s custody. Damned if I would cry again though, despite the aching emptiness in me that was the loss of everything I’d ever known.

  “A moment, please, Lord Puck,” Rogue said.

  He held me by the shoulders, looking down at me, gaze inscrutable on the placid unmarked right side, intense, almost harsh on the left.

  “A deposit on my debt,” he said, then pulled me hard against him, one arm sliding around my waist, the other hand cradling my head. His lips touched mine, a soft brush at first. Then moving deeper, parting my mouth with a burning heat, soft and hard at once. Cinnamon, sandalwood and something more. With my hands chained behind my back, inclined against him, nearly off my toes as he held me up by the waist and skull, I had no power to pull back from him.

  I couldn’t return the kiss. Tried not to.

  Tried and failed.

  The edges of me blurred and I became the kiss.

  I became a goblet held in his arms that he drank from, while the longing in me throbbed, pounding in my breasts and between my legs, melding with the horrible keening loss that also grew.

  I knew then, profoundly, that nothing was under my control. Maybe never had been.

  Rogue released my lips, eyes fulminous, like the blue flame of a Bunsen burner. He seemed about to say something. Then didn’t. Through my haze, I caught roiling regret. He set me down, giving me a little push so that Puck caught me.

  Puck tossed me over his shoulder. Upside-down and through the blur of drugged wine, I saw Rogue striding off toward the dancing.

  Part II

  Higher Education

  Chapter Ten

  In Which I Discover There Is Something Even Worse Than Grad School

  I didn’t remember any of the journey. Dimly I recalled arriving at yet another castle, this one silent as stone. Puck carried me down winding stairs and set me with odd gentleness on a hard bench of a bed and clipped my leash to the wall. I blinked at him, bleary, wanting to beg him not to leave me there, though I didn’t know what would be inflicted on me.

  My blood ran cold with dread.

  Puck patted me on the cheek, his green eye slightly luminescent, the brown vanishing in shadow, and whispered in my ear. “‘If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here, while these visions did appear.’”

  I may have dreamed that part, my drugged mind giving him Shakespeare’s lines.

  They left me alone for the first few days. Completely isolated. I paced my little cell as far as my leash would allow. Though shadowed and windowless, the stones themselves gleamed with an icy gray light, keeping me in an eternal twilight. They’d taken my awful clothes and left me naked, with no blanket to use, but I was neither hot nor cold.

  I loathed that cell. I counted the stones that made the walls and flung the most vile wishes against it that I could think up. The silver stopped me of course, but I mentally dismantled that room time and again. Exploding it away.

  And that was just the first few hours.

  Those hours strung out into formless time. I had a bucket of water to drink from and an empty one to void into. No one brought me food. I slept restlessly, wishing for darkness, and woke disoriented, craving true light. Boredom and despair ground into me.

  Over and over I replayed the negotiations at the feast, reviewing the bargain points. They wouldn’t just leave me here. I was to be trained. Rogue wanted me back intact. They wouldn’t let me starve.

  Though I knew in my head that this was likely just the first lesson, as time wore on, the fear that I would be forgotten wormed into my heart. I’d maybe been already forgotten back home. A hundred years could have passed and everyone who knew me was
dead. I could starve and waste away in this little cell and no one would ever miss me.

  I thought about how they were doing it. If you subjected a person to complete darkness, the retinas became so sensitive they could detect a single photon of light. With the unbroken silence, the featureless stones, the unvarying light, my senses were becoming more and more frantic for input. I craved any kind of contact. Anything at all.

  By the time the door opened, I keenly felt my own desperation. Starved in both body and mind, I welcomed the sight of Scourge’s cruel ebony face.

  “Kneel,” he said, in his quiet hiss of a voice. I hesitated and he turned to go, pulling the door behind him.

  “Wait!” I cried out. It would do no good to fight this. Clearly no one would rescue me. I knew the terms full well. I would be trained and only then could I return to a semblance of life. I didn’t want to die here in this unchanging, claustrophobic room. Scourge watched with cold satisfaction as I knelt.

  “You will not stand upright,” he explained. “You will not speak. Should either of those things occur again, you will be punished. It will be painful. Understood?”

  Taking away my humanity. Check. I nodded, unable to tear my gaze from his matte black eyes.

  “Marquise? Come meet your new toy.”

  With a coo, she came sweeping around him. Marquise was Scourge’s alabaster twin. Floor-length white hair blended into the silky sheath she wore around her slender body. “Ooh,” she exclaimed, dropping before me in a cloud of mint and fresh air, cupping my cheeks, “she’s so cute! You’ll be a good widdle girl for Marquise, won’t you? Never disappoint me, yes?”

  I stared into her exceptionally lovely eyes, layers of white on white, only subtle shadings showing the difference between cornea, pupil and iris, feeling another layer of myself crumble in the face of her attention. The unreality of it all took me just another step farther away. Kneeling there naked, while she petted me, I couldn’t quite recall who I was. I only hoped she wouldn’t let Scourge hurt me. And that they wouldn’t leave me alone again.

  “I have something for you.” She smiled, white lips curving with joy. She held out a little plate with something resting on it. Something gray and flat. My stomach lurched, desperate for even that unappetizing food. I reached for it.