by Annie Eppa
Adelai laid a hand against his cheek, her touch cold and soothing against his hot skin. “But what have you already done?” She asked, and he plunged on, emboldened by the sympathy in her gaze.
“There are many others who feel the same way. Not just in Arbentide, but in many others - from the poor farmers to the merchants to even some members of the nobility and the royal military - all the way up to the highest ranks. We would like Atalantea’s help, and other kingdoms besides - but they will always suspect a trap.”
“To say that there are rebels there might only be hearsay,” Adelai murmured, trying to quell her own emotions. “Do you know of any names?”
“I do not,” he confessed, and she hid her relief. “I am but a lowly member of these groups. It is necessary for me to be so, as my father is an avid supporter of King Garrant, so I may sometimes come under suspicion. Truthfully, I wish I can do more, but the best that I can do is to spy on the earl whenever I am able, but he is a wily bastard, and I do not find much.” He laughed. “It is a load off my mind, telling you all this. I have kept it hidden for so long, that it feels almost cathartic to have someone else know of my troubles. Will you promise me, Adelai? That no word of this shall ever reach my father? It will be my head on the block, and all his influence will not save me from the ax.”
“A shrinemaiden’s word is binding, milord.” Adelai said tenderly, forcing back the guilt she felt. Her words were true enough without being forced to lie to him. She did not want to put Daken in any further jeopardy than he already is.
“I was angry when he bought you, at first,” The kisses on her shoulder turned into playful bites. “I thought that you must have liked the same perversions he had. In all the time you stayed here you had said nothing about him, had given no other indication other than that you enjoyed his company. If you were disgusted, you hid it well.” There was a question in his tone.
Adelai pressed closer to him. “I am afraid you are in error, in at least one assumption, milord. The earl had never taken me to bed since I arrived at Arbentide.” She smiled at the shocked expression on his face. “I speak the truth. He has been nothing but kind and gracious to me, and I suspect that one of the motivations for buying my contract was so I could serve as a companion to you.”
“He never touched you?”
“Is it possible that perhaps your opinion regarding him has been colored by your relationship?”
Daken frowned. “You do not know what he does, Adelai. I have seen what he has done to slaves priced too low to be placed at auctions. I am glad he has not taken you. In many ways I was angry at you as well, but I know now you are innocent in all this. Forgive me.”
“I can forgive you almost anything for your talented tongue, milord.” Adelai teased.
“Almost anything, you say?” His mouth moved past her shoulder, now poised against the tip of a nipple. His voice was low, seductive. “Perhaps I can convince you to forgive me everything, then.”
A tongue circled the pink bud, and Adelai cried out softly. Before long, Daken was laving and sucking, his hands already stealing down to part the curls in between her thighs, preparing her for entry. A long finger slid in to the depths, and Adelai’s hand found the back of his head, hips moving in time with his.
“My father was right in one thing,” Daken groaned. “I want you, Adelai. I wanted you since that first day. The way you looked in that dress, so beautiful….”
He withdrew his finger, forced her to turn over again on her stomach so she was on her hands and knees before him, her sex presented to his gaze. He pushed her legs further apart. “All those days spent in the city, unable to keep myself from lusting after you, and blaming you and my father for it.” He surged into her without warning, and she gasped at the sudden thickness of him filling her, her walls clenching around his shaft.
“Your excursions in the garden, making me watch - you knew I was there, didn’t you? Knew I was watching you pleasure yourself, wishing it was I between your thighs, plowing into you.” He suited those actions to words, as he began moving in earnest, driving into her body with long, sure strokes. Adelai clutched at the bedsheets. With Daken’s hands on her waist, he was preventing her from moving against him even as he teased her, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. “Please,” she panted, trying to quicken the rising pleasure that he was deliberately circumventing.
He built up speed, pounding into her for several more minutes before spewing his seed inside her with a low groan, just as her body shook, finding her own release. Adelai collapsed onto the bed, Daken’s hard body nestled beside hers as he followed, his breathing hot and heavy against her neck. After a minute, he moved closer, a hand thrown possessively over her waist.
“Daken?” She murmured, curling beside him.
“Hm?”
She laid a hand on his chest, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. “You say that the other kingdoms will not believe the rebels if they ask for help.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But they would believe a shrinemaiden, wouldn’t you think?”
Daken looked at her. “You would do that for us? What about your oath?”
“Our personal safety always supersedes any oaths we might make, especially in war. If I have any reason to believe that Sarcopia is gearing for war, then I have the right to ensure I and my other sisters are safe - if only for us to get out of harm’s way.” It was not the best of excuses, but the boy seemed to believe her.
Daken’s smile was wide. “I promise to see what I can do.”
He was asleep within minutes. Adelai found a more comfortable position against his chest, and studied his face. In sleep, Daken looked younger and more vulnerable. He was an excellent lover, but she always found that in the aftermath her thoughts would constantly return to the captain, and resisted the urge to cry. It hurt to know that he could be out there with someone else as well, though Adelai’s own emotions stemmed more from sadness than from anger or jealousy, or anything else. She had no right to dictate his actions and choices, after all. She could not shirk from her responsibilities as a shrinemaiden, even though she would have pledged fidelity to Thornton if it had been possible.
Even now, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about Daken. She was raised to entertain men who were wise in the ways of the world. For all his expertise in bed, she sensed that Daken was still rough around the edges, still too inexperienced and too innocent in comparison, especially after all his talk about patriotism. She had thought to seduce him only because he seemed the only link she had to any rebel factions in the city, where she could find out more.
When the earl of Sevigne returned from his business trip, he was pleased to discover Daken no longer sulking and angry, was quick to realize Adelai’s intervention. “I had not expected results so soon,” he admitted to her in private, “but Daken no longer looks at me like I am about to kill a favorite pet of his. I presume you are to be commended for all this?”
“I only took the liberty of spending more time with him,” Adelai admitted, with a small blush.
“I see.” Allan said, knowing. “And what of his sneaking out into the city?”
“He asked me to accompany him this time. He wanted to show me around, as I have had little chances of doing so since arriving. His association with any rebels in the city might not run as deep as you first feared, as all he seems to be is interested, at least in my opinion.” She shrugged. “It might be wise to keep a guard on him when we both venture out into the city, if it would help to ease your mind.”
Allan thought about it. “If you are accompanying him, then I do not think he would be brash enough to seek them out in any case, even if he still continues to consort with criminals. I hope I didn’t put you in a compromising situation, Lady Adelai. I know that you are prohibited from divulging any secrets. Even, I suppose, a son’s secrets.”
“Your son said very little to me,” Adelai assured him, “Most of what I say are based on my own observations. I would b
eg you not to ask me of what he thinks about your earlship, on the other hand. I’m afraid it does not bear repeating.”
The earl laughed. “I will respect your privacy. I am only happy his behavior has improved.”
Daken’s words had put Adelai on her guard against Allan, if only a little. She still had trouble imagining the kindly earl as having a sadistic streak. His dealings with the slavery trade did not always mean a deviant, merely someone who was taking advantage of a lucrative business. Priestess Saleia had always told them never to trust anyone, not even one’s patron. When one resides in a world of intrigue, where most of its inhabitants can make or break nations, there is much reason to heed her words.
Adelai knew that Allan was still sending spies to keep watch on Daken’s comings and goings, and it was her idea to keep him from meeting with his co-conspirators for a few days. “If you are to bring me into the city,” she explained to him, “then it would do well to convince the guards tailing you that you are showing me around, instead of using me as a disguise. I do not think your father would take my word on its own. You must also prove to him - or to his spies, anyway - that you have rid yourself of any influences against the crown.”
Daken had grumbled but eventually complied, bowing to the wisdom of her words. They spent many pleasurable days in the city instead, and Daken was careful not to contact his rebel friends during that period. Instead, they visited the local marketplace, and Daken was amused by Adelai’s delight, having never seen a place so bustling and alive with people before. “I would not have expected one like you to be so sheltered,” he noted, when she persisted in spending a few minutes at every stall that took her fancy, from those that sold exotic fruits like pomegranate and mango, to those that offered perfumed vials and rich silk.
“I am only used to courts and politicians,” Adelai admitted.
“Do you have any regrets? If things had been different, you could have been like any of them.” Daken gestured at some of the sellers.
“None whatsoever,” Adelai said, simply. “I am glad to have had this path to walk.”
It was easy enough to spot the guards the earl of Sevrigne had placed to follow them. Given the sometimes secretive nature of her position, Adelai had been trained to be observant in such matters, though the primary reasons for such training had often been to ward off the jealous wives and lovers of patrons wishing to cause mischief. For two weeks they wandered the city, and Adelai continued to convince Daken that establishing any kind of contact with his fellow rebels would be detrimental to their purpose. She had also taken the opportunity to memorize the city’s layout, and poor Daken was dragged, in her enthusiasm, through practically every corner of Arbentide, in ever road and side street she could find.
It was a few days later that Adelai saw that the earl no longer placed men to watch them whenever they would go into the city. Allan had left again on another trip, and would not be due back for another week. Even then, she knew she must remain watchful. The earl may have his own spies already in the city, in place long before they arrived. The solution Adelai had thought up, to avoid being followed, was a simple one.
For two more days they continued to explore the bustling city, its bustling shops and markets. On the third day, she persuaded Daken to take her to a local tavern, one of the most popular in Arbentide. “I hope you know what you are doing,” the young man had muttered, as he pushed the door to the small inn open, where the strong smell of beer and fish wafted out.
“No,” Adelai confessed, smiling at the stricken look on his face, “But I think it will work.”
Unlike the other previous occasions, where she had taken care to don a simple dress and hood to prevent her from being recognized, Adelai wore one of her best gowns under her long cloak - an aquamarine color that suggested little to the imagination, hugging her curves. Her back was bare, a strip of sheer lace around her waist, tied lower than she should have. Daken’s eyes started out from his head when she removed her cloak, and talk inside the tavern ceased as heads turned in her direction. Adelai paused only to ask one of the tavern girls a question and, finding her answer, straightened again, turning to the crowd with a smile.
“I’m very new to the city,” Adelai said, in her softest, most suggestive, voice, “and I’m afraid I’ve gotten lost. Would any of you men like to assist me back to the castle?”
The response was overwhelming. A few men sitting nearby immediately sprang up to assist her, but were stopped in their tracks by others who thought they were more qualified. Several arguments erupted, and it was not long before the first punch was thrown. Adelai had thrown her cloak back on and stepped back as soon as the violence began, moving quickly behind a handful of barmaids who were gaping at the sudden ruckus. She tugged Daken away, toward the side of the room where another door was barely hidden. In the ensuing fight, no one saw them leave.
“How did you know that this tavern had another door?” Daken whispered, after they had made their escape down an abandoned alleyway, emerging back into the thick of the marketplace, suitably disguised once more.
“That tavern would not have gotten to be so popular if it had only one exit,” Adelai whispered, “And I noticed that it adjoined several alleys when we last visited. And there was one other thing.”
“What was that?”
Adelai’s laughter was infectious. “I asked the barmaid before I began.”
The tavern brawl, she was certain, would have prevented anyone else from following them. She asked Daken to lead them to their secret rendezvous - a brothel on the outskirts of the city, Adelai realized much to her amusement.
“It’s always too noisy inside,” Daken had explained to them. “And a lot of the whores are on our side. The madam certainly is. It helps to ensure no one is eavesdropping.”
They were let in by one of the prostitutes, who led them to the brothel owner. She was a middle-aged woman with a motherly air - the kind Adelai would never have expected to be involved in this kind of trade. “And how may I be of service to you, good sir?” She simpered.
Daken cleared his throat. “I would like Marjorie today.”
“Ah, Marjorie! Quite a popular lass today,” the madam smiled at Adelai, “And what of you, my dear?”
Adelai found herself blushing. “I’m only accompanying him, milady.”
“Milady, she says! Goodness me, duckie, I haven’t been called milady by anyone in my life. Second floor, third door on the right for the both of you.”
Daken hesitated, shooting her a glance. “Would it be possible for my companion to wait in another room?”
“And might I have a glass of water while I’m there?” Adelai chimed in.
“Oh, dearie,” the madam chuckled, “she can have the room beside yours, if you want! We always clear out the rooms on either side of you, in case it gets too noisy.”
“That way, she can make sure no one else can spy on us,” Daken explained to Adelai, as they moved up the stairs. “I know you have an oath not to break confidence, but I do not believe my friends will like it. I am sorry. Maybe I can still - ”
“No. I don’t want you to lose their trust,” Adelai assured him, “It would be better if they do not know anything about me. It would be safer for us both.”
Daken hesitated, and nodded. “Thank you.”
The room Adelai was shown into was bare, save for a small wooden bed and a sickly-looking plant atop a rickety table. She poured the water into the pot, and waited. Soon she could hear voices coming through the wall, but they were too muffled to make out any of the words. Adelai marked out the spot along the wall where the sounds seem to be at their loudest, then carefully placed the rim of the empty glass against it, pressing her ear at the other end.
“…must have spies everywhere,” a voice was saying, “King Belair is a shrewd man. Becky says at least three assassins have been sent to Atalantea, but they’re not having much luck getting past King Belair’s defenses.”
“Captain Alamar makes for an ex
cellent commander,” another voice agreed, “on a par with Thornton or Kazer, even.” Adelai’s heart leapt at the mention of her captain’s name.
Someone else snorted. “Don’t speak to me of the Jackal. It is his brutal campaigns that leads the king to believe he is invincible.”
“It will be much more difficult to declare war the longer Belair is alive. Cut away the head, and it would be easy to dispatch of the body. His continuing health is vital to our cause. We could warn him, I suppose, but they have no reason to believe us.”
“I might know of someone who could convince him,” Daken said slowly.
“Who is it?”
“I cannot say. I do not want to drag her name into this without endangering her as well.”
“A girlfriend, Daken?” A girl’s voice asked with a laugh. Daken sputtered out a reply too low for her to hear.
“We need documents as proof,” the first voice continued, “Becky knows of one with proof that the king had ordered King Belair’s execution, and it is one with his own royal seal. Belair is a just ruler. If he knows that many Sarcopians are dissatisfied with King Garrant’s rule, he will come and aid us.”
“Do we have people in court who will move when the time comes?”
“Yes, there are many. Powerful people, those you would have thought loyal to Garrant. Not even I know all their names, but there are enough to successfully pull a coup if needed.”
“Then why don’t they?” The girl asked. “We could start a revolution tomorrow, if there are as many as you claim. Why wait to become the next Highrolfe?”
“There are complications, Sana.”
“What complication, Nemar? We ask Atalantea for help, the king is overthrown. Sarcopia is saved.”
“Because Garrant may be mad, Sana, but he is still a mad king. If we kill him over negligible reasons, they will avenge his death. We will have brought about Sarcopia’s doom ourselves. It is why we need those documents, first - not only as proof to Atalantea of the king’s machinations, but also to the people. It is why you are here, in fact.”