Otis was angry, even more so when James behaved extra nice with him, always smiling, patient, indulging. Melville was confused, but he, too, got pampered. James facilitated their business deals, made sure they got an extra cut. Despite their suspicions, their greed got the best of them. It sparked a new hope. Perhaps this puppet could be swayed; perhaps he could be controlled. Perhaps, James might eventually come to his senses. They were wary, but he was as sweet as a lamb.
Whenever he lacked diplomatic leverage, he would bring in Sebastian. The man’s charm worked like a crossbow bolt through cloth. It was obvious there was deep distaste between James’s benefactors and the Eybalen guild master. But while Sebastian had fully embraced James as his savior and partner, he kept aloof and icily angry around the councillors. James still mulled how to make the best out of this situation. For now, he used Sebastian as a counterweight to whatever trap Otis and Melville were springing for him.
The man was true to his word. Soon after the revoking of his death sentence, Sebastian made sure the Eybalen impostor called Vere was gone. He vanished just as quickly as he’d appeared, dead, imprisoned, banished, or simply removed from the political scene. Soon thereafter, another contender withdrew his claim. The bloodless resolution suited James well. He had two enemies fewer to fight now.
But his real breakthrough came when he made Otis’s captain of the army his captain of the army.
It had been a stroke of brilliance.
Captain Xavier was a pure by-the-book bastard. He was a drunkard, and he beat women. He used live animals for archery practice and gambled with money stolen from servants. He ran his own private racketeering business, waylaying travelers and robbing them. James hated the man, hated his disdain for people’s property and freedom. But he admired his combat skills and the air of charisma that drew soldiers to his side. Destroying Xavier would be a pleasure, but first he needed him on his side. A butcher, Nigella had said.
James had spent almost two weeks tailing the man, studying his habits. Finding the servants who would report on this bastard had not been easy, but people found hidden reserves of courage in return for its weight in gold.
For all his violent, savage nature, Xavier was a careful and intelligent man. He never let his temper go wild with his superiors around. He was punctual despite his extracurricular activities. Well, he had risen through the ranks of the highly competitive, merciless private army business, becoming Otis’s favorite and leading the man’s army for nine years. James almost lost hope. But then one night, Xavier slipped.
Getting him extra drunk had not been difficult. Finding the women had been easy, making sure Xavier did not scar them for life more challenging, but it had worked. Then, the next morning, the captain of the army had woken in a bed soaked with congealed blood, sprawled near the beaten corpse of Councillor Lilian.
With a heavy heart, James had commissioned her death. She had been one of his secret opponents, all smiles and waves while she plotted his demise. Her attempt to poison his food had not worked. His attempt had. Then, it had been a simple matter of hauling the unconscious Xavier into her chambers and lavishly spilling a bucket of sheep’s blood all over the place.
Being a boisterous, abusing coward, Xavier had borne the sight of his supposed murder rather well. He had not panicked. But he did know that he would not be able to hide this one, especially not after having no recollection of what he’d done or where he’d been. It was pure luck and coincidence that James happened to meet him in the canteen.
The man had been drinking coffee, trying to sober up. There was a speck of crusted blood on his chin, unnoticed. He was sitting with one of his lackeys, trying to figure out what to do. His soldiers were guarding the chamber and holding two of Lady Lilian’s maidservants hostage.
“I know you have a problem, and I can make it go away,” James said.
Xavier was silent for a while. “I’m listening,” he ceded finally.
It was a deal no man could have refused. Even if Xavier might have suspected James had framed him, the lucrative proposal more than offset his feeling of being fooled. Xavier was a professional man, an animal, a survivor. He was pragmatic. Becoming James’s captain of the army was a serious promotion—extra money, even more men to command, the prospect of becoming a general of all the legions in Athesia one day.
And so it had happened.
When Otis had finally learned the truth, he turned livid, cursing and fuming and breaking things, but there was nothing he could do. For a stone-faced merchant, that was quite an outburst, but James was pleased.
Whenever James and Xavier met, James regarded the man with respect and listened carefully to his advice. He felt his stomach tighten with disgust every time he did, but he never let his emotions bubble up to the surface. One day, Xavier would die. Till then, he needed the bastard on his side.
Xavier was no fool, either. But there was nothing he could do to sway James. With a dozen witnesses to Lady Lilian’s untimely demise, including some of the more prominent businessmen, James held his life in his palm, fluttering like a newly hatched chicklet, all slimy and furry and so easily crushable.
The councillors still commanded most of the armed forces, but James’s horde was growing bigger. Sebastian had transferred the control of all of his troops to James. Mercenaries and freelancers came by the manor house in Pain Daye, inquiring about the charming Athesian king in exile, trying to join his service. After all, he paid better than any of the rivals.
Xavier made subtle yet significant changes in the chain of command, moving units around, giving James more and more power. There was an unofficial defection from the private armies as soldiers flocked to his side. They did not quite leave their jobs; they just worked for James overtime. Within days, James had almost five hundred armed men at his disposal, a mismatch of fickle allegiances, all bound by one common goal—greed. James made sure to offer as much of it as possible. In time, he might even command their respect and loyalty.
He pacified the angry nobles and businessmen against the silent rebellion with gold. Most of them cooperated, even some of his staunch opponents. James had no doubts they plotted against him, probing for weaknesses, trying to bring him down. Not so much to topple him, more like make him their forever-indebted bitch. He just made sure he was one step ahead. Being the self-proclaimed emperor of a nearby realm helped. It sounded grander than councillor.
The success of his coup made James feel cheerful and vigorous. People around him picked up on his energy. It was intoxicating. But he never overstepped himself. He might be their superior, but he never tried to rub this big, insurmountable fact in their faces.
“You will have to stop your, uh, outside activities,” James said to Xavier as they sat down for a quick briefing. He had just returned from a visit to Lord Cedric, Lady Lilian’s widower, to express his condolences, and he was frustrated. For three straight hours, the man had cried like a child.
They were sitting in an armory near the practice yard, surrounded by the smell of leather, sweat, and old hay. The captain was cleaning his weapons.
Xavier put the oilcloth down. “What do you mean?” he said in a low voice. He blinked hard. The man had that involuntary blink that spoke of great stress or childhood abuse.
James smiled. “You know what I mean.” He imagined slicing the man’s throat, letting him bleed onto the straw. “You’re the future warlord of the Athesian Empire. You can’t be waylaying peasants for coppers. This has to stop.”
The soldier squinted. He didn’t like being disciplined. And his little odd jobs earned him a whole lot of gold in the end. It would be a big loss in his earnings.
James watched him carefully. He must never forget this animal was smart and full of tricks. He may appear just a brute, but he was a calculating and experienced leader. It would be a mistake to underestimate him. Worse yet, James did not really know what he thought of Lady Lilian’s incident. Was he relieved to have avoided the scandal? Was he furious for exposing his weaknesses?
Did he hate James for besting him and was just nursing his revenge?
Until Nigella prophesied a future for him, James decided to assume the worst. He must believe that Xavier would try to double-cross him one day. He had so easily left his former employer, it didn’t speak highly of his loyalty. But he might be actually warming up to James. The brute might actually believe the murder was just an innocent mistake. There was nothing to do but wait. He would slowly, carefully gain the man’s trust. Hating him did not really help.
“Instead,” James continued, “you may want to consider a legitimate business.”
Xavier grunted. He would have to retire one day. Having a retirement plan sounded good.
James wiped sweat off his brow. “I will give you lands,” he said. “What you do with them is entirely up to you. Sow them with salt, for all I care. But if you’re smart, you could start turning profit in a few years. An arable plot not too far from here.”
Again that nervous blink. Xavier inspected the blade, inclining his head. “Why?”
James was ready for the question. “You’re the best soldier I’ve got. And I can’t have you fooling around like some forest bandit.” He remembered the sort of people he used to fight against in Windpoint, poor, scrawny versions of Xavier. Little had changed, he thought sourly. “Your scandals become my scandals. So, the next time I hear you were out robbing farmers of their pennies, I’m gonna hack your left nut off and mount it on my sword hilt. Do you understand me, you son of a bitch?” James had not even looked at Xavier. He had not raised his voice. The captain kept stroking the blade, rubbing the flecks of rust off the metal. After a long pause, he snorted, but James knew he had scored a point with the bastard. Intimidation was his middle name, and he could appreciate a decent threat.
“All right, sir. Those lands sound like a good idea.”
“Excellent. Now, Captain, what I need from you is the following.” And he laid out his newest plan, which included incorporating even more units into his own force. Xavier interfered a few times, offering his own suggestions. Winning soldiers over was easy. You just needed money and women and some charisma. Making them stay was tougher. Usually, it was the bond of war that tied soldiers together. However, in times of peace, he would need a lot of everything else. But it was working. No councillor was safe anymore. They were no longer sure if their men served them or James. Doubt led to mistrust. Mistrust led to indecision. Which is exactly what he needed.
Quite often before bedtime, James would think about his father, the man he had never met. Not the lie of a ranger his mother had spun to protect him, but the real person who had sired him, the most dreaded soldier in the last century. He wanted to be angry with his mother for deceiving him all these years, but all he felt was sadness. He tried to imagine what it would be like to raise a child in the shadow of a ruthless emperor. He couldn’t really blame her for making the choice she had.
James had heard stories about Adam’s legendary rule, about his lightning-fast rise through the army ranks, his almost godly charisma. Emulating his example was almost impossible, but James tried his best. Caytorean private armies were comprised of well-fed, well-paid gangs of skilled warriors and soldiers of fortune. They were not easily swayed by speeches or gallantry, but they liked power. Come the end of the year, James hoped every soldier in Caytor would know his name and respect him.
Sometimes, though, he just wondered what the man had been like. Not as an emperor, not as a conqueror, but as a father.
James left Xavier to ponder what his new employer really wanted. He was in a cheerful mood. He liked what he had accomplished so far. He was walking down one of the side corridors that led to the lavish baths when he saw Rheanna. She spotted him and changed her course to intercept him.
For a moment, James slowed his pace, thinking. And then he decided.
So be it.
“You look happy, Your Highness,” she hazarded when she approached.
He smiled. “Yes. I am happy.” He looked at her. As usual, she looked ravishing. Her hair was pulled in a tight, severe bun. She was wearing a brown dress, which hugged her shape snugly, emphasizing the curves underneath, teasing. James felt a twinkle of arousal in his member.
His mind emptied of thoughts, and his eyes filled with Rheanna. He felt his heartbeat accelerate. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, part excitement, part fear. He knew that after what he was about to do, there would be no going back. He knew that he was committing himself to the world of politics and lies for as long as he lived. But he’d made up his mind.
“Your Highness?” Rheanna said. Strangely, she looked a little uncomfortable with his deep, steady breathing and a long, penetrating gaze. She arched a brow. And then, she said nothing else.
James led her to his chamber. He walked slowly, with purpose. She followed. Guards saluted when he passed. He acknowledged them with imperceptible, official nods. They entered. Outside, on the balcony, Timothy was lounging in a chair, sipping wine. When he saw his lord, he sputtered and sprung to his feet.
“I will not be needing you for the rest of the evening,” James murmured.
The boy gathered his things and rushed outside, bobbing his head awkwardly, closing the door behind him.
Inside, James made a hurried, nervous step and then turned to face his guest. She stood by the entrance, hands folded demurely in front of her.
He spent another moment thinking. Yes. So be it. He reached with his right hand and laid it on her nape. She did not resist. He kissed her on the mouth, biting her lower lip. His body turned into molten, quivering fury. They inched back toward his big four-poster bed. He sat down and pulled her toward him.
Rheanna bit his neck playfully, then retreated slightly. Her eyes were glazed, but there was confusion there. James stared carefully, intently. He noticed the tiny freckles, the thin wrinkles, the small imperfections of skin and age. He noticed the modestly expensive jewelry that could buy a small estate.
He slid his hands up her waist, kneading supple, warm, yielding flesh. Blood thundered in his temples. He could hardly swallow. Rheanna moaned and submitted. He buried his head between her breasts. They rolled over.
James had heard plenty of stories from his friends and comrades in Windpoint about what came next. He knew how things worked. And tonight, he would not longer be a boy. He let instinct guide him, acutely, painfully aware.
James’s hands roamed. He was edgy, bursting with just barely controlled lust. He was sweaty and dirty, smelling of leather and tack, but she did not seem to mind. She rippled beneath him, every tiny movement a tease. He was hard as a rock, and it hurt inside his leather trousers.
James laid a hand on her slim neck. And squeezed.
At first, she did not object. But then, his grip grew stronger, firmer, more painful. Her look of cool pleasure became one of fear. Still, even now, she controlled her emotions, showing only slight discomfort with his powerful, dangerous gesture. James pressed harder.
Her eyes turned moist with tears. Gently, she reached up and grabbed his muscled forearm. She did not try to move his hand away or scratch him, but her gesture indicated she was not quite comfortable.
James applied even more pressure until all she could do was breathe very slowly. Her face reddened. She was genuinely afraid now, he noticed.
“Are you for real, my lady?” he asked, his voice hoarse with lust and violence.
She blinked. Tears brimmed over. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m yours.”
James considered his next move. No going back.
“Would you die for me?” It was a dangerous question. What would he do if she answered wrongly? Would he live up to his decision? Would he strangle a helpless woman?
Rheanna groaned. James released his grip just a bit. “Yes, Your Highness,” she whispered.
James let go. He rolled away and sat up, inhaling through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. A wave of shame washed over him suddenly. What in the name of Abyss are you doing, fool!
&nbs
p; Rather than fleeing, Rheanna moved close, hugging him. Her firm bosom crushed into his back. She smelled of lemon and almonds, with a soft underlying scent of ripe womanhood. It filled his nostrils, making him dizzy.
“James,” she said, “I am not trying to take advantage of you.”
He did not turn around to look at her. “You smelled like a cheap whore when I first met you.”
She sighed. “I thought you were going to be a pushy, lying, manipulating bastard like the rest of them. But you are different. I realized that I was mistaken. I tried my best to amend my ways. I’m sorry.”
James tried to raise his shield, but it would not obey. He felt empty. He felt stupid and ashamed. He was losing it. Rheanna stroked his hair. Her fingernails raked his scalp. Goose bumps rippled down his back. Careful, James, careful, he warned himself. But it felt silly.
“I am sorry,” he mumbled.
He turned to face her. She was bearing up well for a woman almost choked to death. Worst of all, there was no animosity in her eyes. Fear, yes, a bit of confusion, but she did not regard him as some sick pervert or a murderer. She saw a proud, honest man. He so badly wanted to believe her.
She kissed him lightly. This time, she took the initiative. Her touch was soft and teasing. James sat stiffly, trying to ignore the fiery pleasure. This woman was surely manipulating him. She must be. There was no other explanation. There was no other reason why she would stay now. Only a madwoman would tolerate a near murder with such sympathy. There was no way this wasn’t a big trap. There was no way.
He surrendered.
He let her take his shirt off. She bit his nipple. He gasped. In seconds, they were naked. He was shivering with desire. Skillfully, she guided him in. His mind was blank, swimming in pleasure. Raw bestiality engulfed him.
The Broken (The Lost Words: Volume 2) Page 34