Wicked Charming Cruel

by Emmy Chandler

  “No," she agreed. “Nothing has changed. I don't want you to invade my homeland, but I still don't know how to make my body oblige your sperm. And as for Jaarod, if you listened to the whole conversation then you understand that he officially advised me to get pregnant and let your wife kill my child just to protect Bannon. That can hardly be called conspiring against you.”

  Jude sighed. Her words were accurate, yet they didn’t ring true. “I think you've been spending too much time with both Orlann and Jaarod.” One—or perhaps both—of them had obviously taught her some oratory technique. “Get cleaned up. Clare will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Jude,” she called, as he headed toward the door into the second-floor foyer. “You've never threatened to spank me before. I didn't think that was your kind of thing."

  He turned and leaned against the door frame, pleased when her gaze was drawn to the chest exposed by his open shirt. “I don't consider it a recreational pastime, like Orlann, but I certainly know how to administer a good spanking. I learned from my father.”

  “He spanked you?”

  Jude snorted, then he pushed off from the door frame and pulled her close. “No, he taught me.” She hissed as he rubbed her raw, bruised backside through the thin material of her dress. “Using his concubine’s ass as a canvas.”

  “Your father let you watch him spank Cecily?” She stared up at him in horror.

  “He insisted that I learn technique. And not just for spanking.”

  “Gods below. You watched them have sex? Did she know? I mean, were you openly watching?”

  “Of course.” Jude let her go and turned again to take his leave. “But Malac has no idea. And he will not find out.”

  16

  Maari

  A knock came at the door, and Maari rose from her seat on the sofa as Annah—who had returned as soon as Jude left—answered it.

  “Your highness!” Annah dropped into a curtsy in the foyer, revealing Clare’s face over her bowed head.

  “Not anymore. Please, stand up,” Clare insisted. “I was told you would be able to arrange for some tea to be sent up? Or perhaps a bottle of wine?”

  “Of course.” Annah dropped into another curtsy.

  “Well?” Clare looked past her, to where Maari now stood in the living area. “May I come in?”

  “Of course. But I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to get out, once the door closes.”

  “I disabled the locks for your visit,” a familiar voice said, and Malac stepped into the doorway behind her sister-in-law.

  “How kind of you to escort Clare,” Maari said, trying to assess his state of mind. He’d seemed as angry as Jude had, after her conversation with her brother.

  Malac lifted one eyebrow at her. “I'm staying."

  “That really isn't necessary," she said.

  “King’s orders."

  Of course it was. Jude wouldn't take any chances, after she’d “conspired” with Jaarod.

  “I’ll be back shortly with your tea,” Annah said as she stepped into the hall.

  “Make it wine and cheese, please,” Maari called, and Annah nodded as she squeezed past Malac and disappeared into the hall. He stepped into the apartment and closed the door, then took up a position in front of it. “Please have a seat.” Maari gestured to one of the sofas, and when her guest sat, she sank stiffly onto the cushion next to the widowed queen, careful of her tender backside.

  Clare glanced around the first floor of the apartment, evidently oblivious to her hostess’s discomfort. “This is nice,” she said as she tucked her knees to the side and crossed her ankles. “I have to admit, I was afraid they might keep you chained to the wall in some dungeon.” She smiled, as if she were joking, but her eyes did not crinkle with amusement. “I was afraid you’d make them do that.”

  “I don’t make them do anything.”

  Malac snorted, and Maari resisted the urge to glance at him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn't phrase that very well,” Clare said. “I was afraid they wouldn’t be able to keep you here, without chains.”

  “So far, locks have proved just as effective,” Maari informed her.

  Clare took her hand, but rather than squeezing it, she lifted it and extended Maari’s arm, studying the hand-shaped bruise wrapping around her bicep, from when Jude had grabbed her to prevent her from leaving the guest suite the day before. Then her gaze flicked to the other arm and its coordinating bruise. “Those will be gone in under a week, I’d guess.”

  Maari’s gut twisted with the realization that her sister-in-law was speaking from experience. She didn’t want to think ill of the dead. Or of the brother she’d worshiped as a hero. Then as a martyr. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t make appearances.” Not anymore. And never in Loborough.

  “But he probably won't like to see those. Does he bring flowers?”

  Maari frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “When confronted with the evidence of their own bad behavior, some men get angry.” She spoke as if Malac weren't listening. As if Jude weren't watching on the cameras. Maybe she didn't know, or maybe she was using the illusion of ignorance as an excuse to air her true thoughts directly to the king. “Others feel guilty. The ones who feel guilty bring flowers. Does Jude bring you flowers?”

  Maari frowned while she considered. “It’s more complicated than that. We're more complicated than that.”

  Clare nodded. “Yes, I suppose that's true.” She exhaled slowly, then she took Maari’s hand. “I’m not going to pretend to believe you have it easy here. Nor would I ever try to make light of the sacrifice you’ve made for us. And I know that it is a sacrifice. I know that you could have married Elan and been safe in Stead Edgar when the allied army marched over Bannon.”

  In truth, that hadn’t occurred to Maari. But it wouldn’t have mattered, if it had. She could never have abandoned her kingdom—her entire family—to the slaughter.

  “And I know that I owe you a visit with the children, if that’s what you want. I hope you’ll forgive me for not bringing them. I assume you understand why I couldn’t do that.”

  “Of course I understand. I don’t want them here. You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “I had to see you for myself. I had to know that you were okay.” Clare exhaled slowly. “Are you okay?”

  Again, the question was too complicated for simple or a quick answer. “I—”

  “She's fine," Malac said. “She's great."

  But Clare didn't acknowledge that he had spoken. She never even looked away from Maari's face.

  “I—” the princess began again. “I have good days. Annah is a constant comfort and a blessing."

  As if she’d heard her name, Annah opened the door and came into the apartment pushing a cart. “That looks delicious," Clare said as the handmaid began unloading trays and arranging food on the coffee table. She’d brought a selection of gourmet cheeses, displayed inside a ring of several kinds of crackers. There were also slices of smoke-cured salami, bite sized tomatoes, and an assortment of roasted nuts.

  Maari snagged a slice of salami while Annah poured two glasses of Cabernet. “Let's talk about something pleasant," she said she lifted her glass. “Has Jaarod settled on a wife? I’d like to help with that effort, of course, but…" Maari shrugged.

  “He's narrowed the selection down to three. Two princesses and the niece of a king.” Clare didn’t offer names, and Maari didn’t ask for any. Polite conversation was one thing, but details would make it difficult to pretend she wasn’t missing out on the planning.

  That she hadn’t missed her own wedding.

  “He’s promised to have a name for me by next week. Although this trip may have delayed that a bit. But I’m nearly finished planning the reception, and of course, no matter who he chooses, none of that changes.” Clare smiled. “My children will be in the ceremony, of course. The girls are very excited about their dresses…” Her smile faded as she watched Maari drain her first glass of wine. “I
wish you could come.”

  “Me too.” Maari frowned. Then she suddenly twisted on the couch to look at Malac. “May I?”

  “May you what?” As if he weren’t listening. As if he hadn’t heard every single word spoken since he’d stepped into the room.

  “May I attend my brother’s wedding?”

  “In Bannon?” Malac scowled. “You know you can’t leave Loborough.

  In fact, Jude hadn’t yet let her leave the palace grounds.

  “I could if you let me.” If Jude agreed. “I could if you come with me. What better way to illustrate the new alliance I’ve sealed than by making an official state visit for the new king’s wedding? Also, it would be like a date weekend. For us.”

  “Just the two of us?” Malac looked intrigued by the idea, and Maari knew she’d taken the right tactic. She’d need at least one of the Camden princes in her corner in order to have even a chance of convincing Jude.

  “Yes. Unless you’d rather I go with Orlann. I assume Jude can’t take his concubine on an official state visit?”

  “No, that’s definitely one of Geneva’s duties.” Malac frowned again as he appeared to realize they were getting ahead of themselves. “We’ll discuss it in private.” But he looked a little less gruff than he had before, and Maari considered that a win.

  “Hey,” Clare said, lifting her glass. “I have yet to see the famous Loborough garden. Will you give me a tour?"

  Again, Maari turned to look at Malac. “Are we allowed to go outside?”

  He frowned over her phrasing. Evidently the princes didn't want her emphasizing the prisoner aspect of her captivity. “I'm happy to escort you both to the gardens."

  “I don't suppose the chaperone is negotiable?” Clare asked.

  "It's a security issue, ma'am,” Malac informed her. “If you ladies will follow me…”

  Malac led them through a labyrinthian series of halls, and Maari counted the turns, trying to learn the way to the garden from her new suite. But most of the hallways looked the same, and she soon lost count. When her surroundings finally began to look familiar, she stepped forward and took the lead, guiding her guest toward the atrium that opened into the garden.

  “It's beautiful," Clare declared, staring through the tall glass walls onto the manicured grounds. “We have a beautiful garden at Bannon of course, but I can see that our gardeners have something greater to aspire to."

  That was kind of her to say, and it was possible that Loborough had a slight edge over the palace grounds at Bannon, but if that was true, it was only a slight edge.

  “Wait until you see the topiary.” Maari pushed open the door into the garden and Malac let her escort the widowed queen onto the grounds. He fell back into the role of discreet bodyguard, as if he were happy to follow a couple of defenseless women around the garden. As if he were not the Defense Commander, in charge of an entire kingdom’s armed forces.

  When they’d managed to put some distance between the bastard prince and themselves, Clare took Maari's arm and pulled her close, as if they were two old friends sharing a stroll. “How are you, really?" she whispered.

  “As fine as can be expected.”

  “You're well cared for? Fed and clothed? That opulent suite isn't just an illusion? Do you actually live there?”

  “As of last week, yes. And I have to admit, it's quite on par with my quarters in Bannon. I am well fed, and they've offered me the best of medical care, though I haven't had need to use it yet.”

  “So, they don't hurt you? You aren't being abused, really? I can't get your expression out of my head,” Clare said, her voice tight, her words clipped. “From yesterday, in the guest suite. You looked so heartbroken. So devastated to realize we had not come to rescue you.”

  “I was, but not because I'm being abused. They’re not always gentle, but I've suffered no injuries, assuming indignities don't count, and I have not been denied any necessities since my first week here.”

  “You shouldn't have been denied anything then either.” Clare’s jaw tightened. "I'm not even sure why I'm asking. It's not as if I can affect your circumstances. I guess I just— I'm hoping to hear that you're truly okay.”

  “I am lonely, and homesick, and frustrated. I am angry most of the time, and I don't feel like I've truly had the opportunity to grieve, considering that I'm stuck in the company of my brother’s murderers. But I really am okay." She wasn't sure she was speaking the truth, but it was close enough to the truth to set Clare’s mind at ease. None of this was her sister-in-law's fault, and Clare was right; there was nothing she could do to change Maari’s circumstances. So there was no reason to let her fret over them.

  Maari glanced over her shoulder to make sure Malac was not within earshot, then she lowered her voice. “And I have news that might bring you hope on my behalf. Have you spoken to Jaarod since my visit with him today?”

  “Not really. He went straight to his room when he returned to the guest suite.”

  “Well, he gave me a piece of information that everyone else has been withholding. It seems that if I am not pregnant within a year of arriving in Loborough, I get to come back home, and the peace accord stands. The council will consider our attrition to have been made in full.”

  The look of relief Maari expected never appeared on Clare’s face. Instead, the widow eyed her with a shrewd sort of curiosity. “As long as you don't get pregnant? Or as long as you don't give birth?” It was a heartbreaking distinction, but a very astute question.

  “As long as I never get pregnant. Evidently conception will seal my fate as a concubine to the Camden princes because that will count as a merger of the bloodlines and proof that I have been—and can continue to be—bred.”

  Clare lowered her voice until it was little more than a wisp of sound, and she spoke without turning toward Maari, to belie the appearance of a secret. “And do you think you can avoid conception for another nine months? Do you have some method of contraception?”

  “I do. But to confide in you my intent to use it would count as conspiring with another stead. As treason against my new kingdom. So I will not do that. You don’t need to know my plans.”

  “Maari, I am so sorry that we're not here to take you home. That rescue isn't an option.” She took the princess’s hand, in a casual but meaningful grip. “If there were anything I could do to change your circumstances, please know that I would."

  “I do know. And I'm sorry that I haven't yet had a chance to mourn Gareth with you. That I wasn't there to personally bring you the news of his death. But I assure you he died a hero and a patriot.”

  “I don't doubt that for a moment. He loved nothing more than Bannon.”

  “That is not true." Maari stopped walking and turned to face her sister-in-law. “His last thoughts—his last words—were of you and the children. He begged me to accept this role to save his family.” She had come to understand that her brother was far from perfect. That he was quite possibly just as flawed as the Camden princes. But he had loved his family. He had died for them—he had condemned her to this life for them—and he deserved credit for that.

  “Thank you." Clare swiped tears from her eyes. Then she gave her head a little shake, resetting her expression, and with it, the conversation. She let her voice assume a normal volume again. “Well, sister, I am glad to hear that these men are providing for you as they should.” She turned to give Malac a sweet smile of acknowledgement. “I am sorry I couldn't bring the children," she said as she turned back to Maari. “But maybe you'd like to speak to them?”

  Maari gave her sister-in-law a sincere smile. "I would love that. How are they dealing with Gareth’s death?"

  “The little ones don’t really understand. I’m afraid they won’t remember him at all, soon. And the older two… Sometimes they forget and refer to him as if he’ll just walk in the door again, any moment, and that breaks my heart. But at least they’ll probably remember him.”

  Clare pulled a com device from her skirt pocket. �
��If I've done the time conversion correctly, they should be playing in the garden at home right now. So, it will almost be as if we’re there with them. Here, this table should work." Clare left the stone path, headed for an arrangement of wrought iron lawn furniture. She sat at one of the chairs and pulled another one close for Maari to sit in, then she set her com device on the table, aimed at them both.

  She tapped through a short menu selection, and the device made a soft beeping sound. A moment later, a woman's face appeared on the small screen, and Maari recognized her sister-in-law's day nurse. In the background, she could hear the children laughing, and as she watched, a little girl in a pink skirt raced across the grass behind her nanny.

  “Hello ma'am," the nurse said with a smile. "How is your trip going?"

  “Very well, thank you," Clare replied. “We would like to talk to the children, if you don't mind."

  “Of course. They're having morning recess right now. Shall I project your image?"

  “Yes, please." Clare leaned forward and tapped an icon on her device, and holograms of two of her children and their nurse appeared on the lawn, while the nanny gathered them for the call. The holograph projector only rendered images of things that registered a heat signature, which, in most cases, included only people and animals. So, Maari’s nieces and nephews appeared to be standing right there in the garden at Loborough with their mother and aunt.

  On the other end of the connection, the children would be seeing a similar illusion.

  “They've gotten so big," Maari breathed, staring at the two little girls and two young boys who vied with each other for the best view of their mother and aunt.

  “Mommy!” Uma, the oldest shouted, stepping forward to eclipse her brother’s view. She was six, two years older than Jude's oldest daughter. “When are you coming home?"

  “Soon, my darlings.” Clare leaned closer to the device, a true smile on her face for the first time during her visit. “I'm coming home very soon. But I have someone here who would love to speak to you. Who do you think that is?"