by Scottie Kaye
You’re at a child’s birthday party, for godssakes! he chided himself. Cheeks warming, he adjusted his belt and nodded to Haru. "Lead the way."
Three
Haru led him huffily through gold-and-red-tiled hallways lined with fountains of scented water. The place smelled heady, dreamlike, and his hangover vanished as if the air itself were medicinal. Gradually the desire beneath his belt faded—it would be more than improper to speak to a child in that condition—but he had to work to keep his mind off of Lady Read. When she saw him, she'd said, What have you brought me?
"I wasn't trying to steal it," Haru told him suddenly, in Optic, as they entered a sitting room full of cushions and bird cages. The birds tweeted softly at their appearance as Haru made for another door in the far wall. "I wanted to make sure she got it, that's all."
"I know," Loren said, also in Haru's language. He had trained with their military when he was younger, and it stuck. "I could tell you were just trying to help her." That smile on Ossyne's face had told the story well enough.
"He would have taken it," Haru said. "He's mean to her. He's the one that made her sick."
Loren smiled, humoring the poor child. He highly doubted a prince would try to poison his younger sister. He had nothing to gain from such a thing.
"Are you and the Lady Lassyne friends?" he asked, as Haru knocked on the second door. It was paneled with stained glass, although no light shone through.
Haru nodded. "But her mother doesn't like me. And I live in Optic with my father. We don't get to see each other much."
At that, the door cracked open. A small gold eye peered through.
"Go away," said a girl's voice. "I'm sick."
"But we brought you presents," Haru said, holding his up with both hands now. "I picked this one just for you."
The door opened a bit more, revealing the drawn face of a ten-year-old girl. Loren knelt down beside Haru, offering up his own gift as if she were a queen. She was already showing signs of her beauty, with her mother's face and those knowing Olfactory eyes. But she looked pale enough; perhaps the illness was not a fake one. She watched him with suspicion even deeper than Haru's. Her hand fell off the door, and with it, she double-checked to be sure she was wearing a nullband on her opposite wrist.
"It's not from Ossyne, is it?" she said, ignoring Haru. "He didn't pay you to bring it to me?"
Loren chuckled. "No. Why would he?"
She took Loren’s package first, and pulled the silk cord that tied it. The fabric wrapping fell away, revealing a latched wooden case which, when opened, stored an ornate gem-encrusted glass bottle of perfume. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled the stopper and sniffed it.
"White Soma roses," Loren explained. "From my mother's own estate. Made with the finest ambergris from the north shores of Audit." Ragen had told him to procure a gift for a beautiful noblewoman, but he hadn't been told that she'd be a child.
"It's nice," she said, and though she sounded unimpressed, she placed the bottle back in its box and closed the latch to make sure it was secure. Then she opened Haru's gift, eyeing Loren sideways as she did so. Haru rocked on his heels, grinning as she revealed a geometric painting in black and white and blue, a common art style in Optic.
Haru darted forward then. "Don't be disappointed. That's not the real gift." He flipped the painting over. "This is."
On the back, Loren could make out a small wooden rack built into the bottom frame of the painting. A row of glass bottles were nestled safely within the slots. Haru pointed to each one in turn.
"Antidote for foxglove poison," he said. "And for ricin, and for wolfsbane. This one's for rosehips—I know those can't kill you, but it'll settle your stomach at least. And here's the anti-agent for Dawnbreak. And one drop of this one will react with cyanide...."
Loren's eyes widened. What in the five hells?
But before he could ask, Lassyne sobbed loudly, her eyes large with tears. Bending her knees, she gingerly leaned the painting against the door frame before throwing her arms around Haru’s neck. The younger boy stood there with his mouth-half open, and Loren nearly laughed as he waved the boy to embrace his friend back. Finally, Haru did, pulling Lassyne tight to his chest and squinting hard.
"Momma said I can never see you again," Lassyne sobbed. "I need you, Haru. I'm going to die here."
"She said that?" Haru said. "When?"
"This is the last time. She said this is the last time. I'm too old now and I can't see boys."
Loren stood up, unsure. Should he leave?
"You're going to forget me. I just know it," Lassyne said. "You're only eight. You'll forget."
"I won't!" Haru said. "I swear I won't."
She clung to him. "You will."
"Hey, now," Loren heard himself say. "Don't cry. I'm sure something can be done about this."
Both children looked at him, wide-eyed. Clearly they'd forgotten his presence.
"I—I'll talk to your mother. How about that?" And tell her what? he thought. That some boy from Optic has been giving Lassyne antidotes? If Jessyne’s little daughter believed she was being poisoned now, how much worse would the antidotes make things?
Yet he could still see Ossyne’s smile after he’d watched Haru fall. He couldn’t be poisoning his own sister. Could he?
"You... you will?" Lassyne sniffed.
He straightened. "Of course. I've a meeting with her and your father this very evening."
Without warning, the girl's expression darkened. "You better not be lying. I'll know if you lied."
Despite the circumstances, he got a chill from that look. "I promise to try," he said. “But only if you go back to your birthday party. They miss you.”
The little girl huffed and let go of Haru. She lifted up her canvas, holding it before her with both arms. "They never miss me,” she said, “but I’ll come.”
With that, she tucked the painting away inside her room somewhere, and left with Haru. Loren followed them a little ways, just long enough to be sure they’d found the party safely. He caught himself watching for Ossyne as the two children vanished into the crowd.
Don’t be silly, he told himself. The boy’s just a kid. A predator couldn’t hide in plain sight like that, could he? Someone would see through him eventually.
Nodding to himself, Loren turned toward the bathhouse. If his imagination was going to run wild on him, he might as well be thinking of much more pleasant things, in much more pleasant places.
Four
When Loren was finished with the steam rooms at the noble Olfactory bath house, a servant arrived and directed him to Duke Read's study. A fresh uniform had been procured for him, and he put it on, wondering when it might next come off. He’d already used the privacy of the bathhouse to burn off some desire, but it all came surging back at that simple thought.
Get it together, he told himself, following the servant down the halls. She was probably just leading you on. Nobles do that. Anything to get the good side of a deal.
And indeed, when he arrived to Duke Read's study, he found the Duke himself present. He and Ragen were seated before a roaring fire, with Lady Read sitting on the arm of her husband's chair, tipping back a glass of dark wine. Loren noted that she was wearing a new dress, bright blue and looped about her neck, the fabric crossing over her breasts and cinching at the waist. Her legs were crossed, a slit in the gown revealing burnished skin well past her thighs. When she saw him, she smiled knowingly, and recrossed her legs. He prayed his many layer of pants were enough to hide his thoughts from her husband.
"Ah, so you made it," Ragen said, tipping forward a glass of what must be clear spirits and smiling not a little drunkenly. Loren berated himself for ever thinking the man had drunk water the night before. He was definitely the type to drink liquor straight.
"Leave it to the Soma to be late," said a new voice, and Loren's gaze shot to the dark corner of the wood-paneled room. There, a teetering tree of a man leaned against a bookcase, his dark Optic skin blending
him with the shadows. Instantly, Loren saw his resemblance to Haru, and given the man's nullmetal insignias, he realized who he was looking at. The Lieutenant General Teijo Cold, of Optic.
The man with the dick of a horse.
Everyone in this room has slept with her, except me, Loren realized. He had a thousand other things he should be thinking about, but that's what hit his brain first.
"Well, now that my associate is here, perhaps we can discuss the loan we spoke about," Ragen said.
"And mine, as well," Teijo replied.
"Damn your loans," Duke Read said sullenly, pulling ice against his lips as he knocked back some darici. "And damn this tradition, as well. Coming to me on my daughter's tenth birthday to ask for favors? Really? Are you both so old-fashioned?"
"As old-fashioned as your pitiful armies?" Teijo shot back. "Honestly, when was the last time you upgraded their weapons? I swear I saw a man with a wooden pike the other day! Wood! What’s he gonna stab with that? A rabbit?”
“Make your damn point, Teijo,” Duke Read said.
“What do you think my point is, Rossyne? You need to give me this loan. It will go toward my armies' training and supply, and in thanks, I’ll send a contingent back to guard your borders. With this loan, you’ll ensure that you have a standing guard with the proper—"
"Yes, yes," the Duke said, waving his drink. The ice struck the glass tumbler as he added, "You’ll have your damn loan, if you just shut up."
His wife's hand was moving into his hair now, running through the short dark strands as she leaned closer, her breasts near his face. What Loren wouldn’t give to be sitting in his place right that moment. He was having trouble focusing on the conversation.
“But honestly,” Rossyne scoffed, “it’s not like we’re about to go to war. Why do I need a standing guard, anyway?”
"You never know, with war," Ragen countered, shrugging. "Tensions can shift so easily." He looked pointedly at the Optic lieutenant general. "Alliances can shift. Isn't that right, Loren?"
Loren blinked at his name, then strode closer, standing by his liege's chair with his hands clasped behind his back. "That's exactly right,” he said levelly, facing Rossyne. “Politics are an ever-evolving beast. But that is exactly why you must take precautions, and maintain good relations wherever possible. My apologies, but your country is small and weak about the borders. Your wealth is all that saves you, but it only protects you if it is shared."
Duke Read harrumphed at that. "Shared, you say?" For the first time since Loren entered the room, the man touched his wife. He used the hand holding his liquor, running the cold glass along Jessyne's exposed leg. Loren's mouth dried up as her skin rose into little bumps. She shivered, still smiling. She watched Loren from beneath her long lashes.
"It is hard for me to share," the Duke said, taking his hand away.
Jessyne laughed, her caress venturing down to the back of his neck. "Come now, darling, don't be stingy. It's your daughter's birthday, after all."
"I didn't ask your opinion," he snapped. He looked at Ragen, anger flashing across his face. Loren was startled to see that Jessyne didn't even flinch at the insult, just continued to run her fingers across the curve between his jaw and his shoulder.
"So what's your loan for?" he asked Ragen. "More weapons from that crazy man in the woods?"
Ragen swirled his glass. "No. It's to help fund a... personal project."
Loren blinked. This was news to him. He'd been told the funding was for the building of new trade roads through the woodlands.
The duke scowled. "You want my money based on that? No explanation? Are you mad?"
"Rossyne, please," Jessyne said, turning to press her palm to his chest. "Just give them what they want. Then you and I can be alone—"
In a flash, the duke seized his wife by the wrist. "I've had about enough of you," he snapped, standing. She cried out as he jerked her off the chair. "You think I can't see what you're doing? Wearing almost nothing to a diplomatic meeting full of men?"
Loren stiffened as the smaller man twisted his wife's arm. His own hand darted for his sword hilt, he found his belt empty; his weapons had been taken by the servants.
"How did I ever marry such an incorrigible slut?" Rossyne growled, his mouth by his wife's ear. She tried to pull away from him, but he tossed his drink into the fireplace and spun her around. The flames spouted and hissed as he held her still, his arms crossed at her stomach. Tears glittered in her eyes.
Loren stepped closer.
Ragen's hand stopped him, a heavy smack to the chest. Loren stared at him, mouth open. Ragen nodded at the Reads, and Loren looked at them—and then past them, to Teijo. The tall man sipped his own drink, doing nothing, his eyes as black as the five hells.
They're not going to do anything? Loren thought, incredulous.
"You whore bitch," the duke growled against his wife's neck. "How do I even know my children are mine? When you can't keep your hands off other men?"
"They're yours!" she cried, her voice pitching higher. "Please, Ross, I only wanted—"
"Do you think I care what you want?" the man roared. He turned and shoved her down into the chair, where she landed awkwardly, her thin silk panties showing amid the tails of her dress. She curled up there, covering her face, shoulders shaking. Loren moved forward again.
"Wait," Ragen said to him, lowly. Something in his tone made Loren stop.
Rossyne, however, was just getting started. His hand lashed out, and he sank his fingers into Jessyne's perfectly bound ringlets, yanking her head back so that some dark locks fell loose. "How about this," he spat at her. "How about I give you exactly what you want...."
And with a yank, he tore her dress at the waist. She screamed.
"What do you think you are doing!?" Loren heard himself shout, shoving Ragen's arm aside. Duke Read turned to look at him, his face suddenly wide open, unexpecting. Loren drew his arm back to strike—
And Ragen tackled him from behind.
"Get off!" he tried to shout, but it might as well be a grunt for all of Ragen's weight on him.
"Watch, you idiot," Ragen hissed in his ear. "She wants it. This is their game."
Loren craned his neck, trying to see the huge Wise mage on top of him. His stomach soured when he felt Ragen's erection against his backside. He was enjoying all this?
"Help me, Captain!" Jessyne cried. "Please, help me!"
With monumental effort, Loren heaved Ragen off him and rolled. But Ragen was fast for his size, and moments later, Loren was on his knees with his arms pinned behind him, practically face-to-face with Lady Read. Sweating now, he met her eyes. Terror fluttered through her gaze like a wild bird in a cage.
Then, quick as lightning, she winked at him.
She smiled, only slightly, with one corner of her mouth; her eyes darkened; and for a second, she reminded him powerfully of her own son—of Ossyne's duplicitous grin when he was caught stealing his sister's gift.
And then that visage was gone again, replaced by the trembling, trapped woman, so fast he had to trust his own senses to believe it. She whimpered as her husband readjusted her again, slamming her into the chair cushion so that her neck rested on one arm of the chair, and her rear end was raised off the other. What was left of her dress was now bundled around her waist, her panties exposed to the air.
"Please, Ross," she sobbed, and only now did Loren see that there were no tears on her face. "Please, not again. I've been good—"
"Who wants to go first?" Rossyne growled.
A clink from the other side of the room as Lieutenant General Cold set down his glass. "I'll go," Teijo said. "The Soma can have what I leave for them."
Loren's eyes widened, barely processing the insult as Teijo stepped to the chair and calmly worked his belt open.
"You hear that?" Rossyne hissed into his wife's ear. "You get the biggest first. He's going to ride you dry."
"And make space for the little Soma pricks," Teijo added, pulling his penis o
ut of his pants. He drew closer to the quivering woman, his pants dropping down his thighs. Loren's mouth fell open. He had never seen another man's erect penis before, but Teijo's barely looked human, it was so large. His head was the same thickness of his shaft, not thicker—that's how thick he was—
"Now you're getting it," Ragen said, loosening his grip on Loren, but continuing to hold him. Loren glanced back to see Ragen nod at Loren's crotch. He flushed.
"You want me to participate in this?" he whispered.
Ragen pulled closer, his beard brushing Loren's cheek as he looked past him, watching Teijo rub his hands on the weeping woman's bare hips.
"This is their game, boy," Ragen said. "The Duchess loves to pretend, and the Duke likes to watch. The better we make their fantasy, the more money they give me. And that money will make me very happy. You do want to make me happy, don't you?"
Loren could read between the lines well enough. Make Ragen happy, and he'd see benefits. Money. Promotions. Sex with beautiful women.
Starting with the Lady Jessyne Read.
Loren nodded, facing forward. He could do this. Five hells, he could do it well.
"Stop!" he cried, struggling against Ragen's grip—but not a hard struggle, not a real struggle. "Leave her alone, you Optic cow-fucker!"
Teijo scowled at him, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He saw through Loren’s farce, and approved.
If they want a fantasy, I’ll give them a good one, Loren thought. He didn’t think Jessyne had ever had a defender—but given her cry for his help, she seemed eager for the chance. Far be it from him to deny her.
“L-Loren...” she whispered. “Please....”
Behind him, Ragen laughed. "Looks like you have an admirer, Jessyne," the big man said, deftly falling into his new role as captor. "Looks like I'll have to make him watch."
