Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  “Perhaps you’ll show me some of your secrets later.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Oh yes, you almost made me forget. Roserine wants to know if you can take Dominic out for a few drinks later this evening, perhaps get him talking and see what you can find out about him and his people.”

  “The big guy that almost killed Eirik?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure I’m the best guy to be…I mean…I just became a soldier.”

  “That’s why you’ll be great for it. You don’t look like a soldier.”

  “Thanks!”

  “Oh, c’mon, you know I don’t mean it like that. I mean that…you’ve still got a personality and more than one facial expression.”

  “And what makes you think he’s going to open up to me?”

  “Just tell him you want to take him out for drinks as a way of welcoming him to Anthena. Tell him you do it for all the newcomers…that it’s a tradition. When you’ve got a few drinks in him, see what you can pry loose.”

  “And if he refuses…or worse, attacks me?”

  “It’s not like you’ll be the only ones in there. I doubt he’ll attack in a crowded room, let alone attack at all. Eirik provoked him. Hell, the old fool had it coming.”

  “Emily! Stop saying that.” Coen looked around nervously.

  “Oh please, I’m not one of his soldiers.”

  “No, but I am. So, for my sake, could you not say stuff like that quite so loudly?”

  “Alright, but only because you look so damn cute in your uniform.” She placed her hands on his cheeks and smiled.

  “Yeah, let’s not say that so loud, either.” He stole a quick glance at the men practicing behind him.

  She rolled her eyes and kissed him. “Get out of here, you big baby.”

  As he began to walk away she swatted him on the butt and laughed as he jumped and hissed.

  “Love you, dear!” she yelled loud enough for the rest of the men to hear.

  He picked up his pace and exited the training yard with his head down.

  25

  Lerah was standing outside of Roserine’s bedroom. They’d equipped her with brown, leather armor and a longsword; it was much heavier than the daggers she was used to wearing on her hips. She squatted and kicked her legs a few times, trying to get the armor to loosen a bit in the crotch.

  One of the doors to the bedroom creaked open and Roserine stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of a white blouse, the top two buttons left meticulously undone; she also wore a black corset below her breasts and a sword, with quite a bit more polish than Lerah’s.

  Roserine looked her over, granting a small nod of approval. “You look good. How’s everything feel?”

  “Honestly?”

  “I asked a sincere question, I expect a sincere answer.”

  “These pants are eating me alive and, believe it or not, it doesn’t feel good.”

  “Well then, let’s see if we can get you in something a bit more…accommodating.” She opened the door and ushered Lerah into her bedroom.

  Lerah stepped inside and stole a quick glance around the room: four-post bed, wardrobes on one wall, a mirror big enough for two on another, nightstands filled with perfumes and spirits.

  “Take it off.” She waved her hand as if conducting a magic trick. Roserine opened one of the wardrobes and began shuffling through an endless row of garments. She stopped and turned her head to check on Lerah’s progress; there was none. “Why are you still dressed?”

  “You want me to just get naked…right here?”

  “Of course, silly. We’re both girls. What’s the problem?” There was a lilt in her voice that said she knew exactly what the problem was and that she was enjoying the discomfort it was producing; a playful smile pulled the corners of her mouth. “Go on. Take your clothes off.”

  Lerah steeled her jaw and set about unbuckling her belt and the sword along with it. She threw it onto the bed and then began unlacing the breastplate, letting it fall to the floor. As she began to untie her blouse she noticed Roserine’s breath catch in her throat and stopped. “Would you come help me?” Lerah lowered her eyes and kept the tip of her tongue perched between her lips.

  “Sh…sure, yes, of course,” Roserine stuttered.

  Lerah presented her back and smiled as Roserine’s fingers began shakily working the laces; she’d turned the tables. “So is that why you don’t have a king at your side?” Lerah asked as Roserine found the final knot.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You like girls is what I mean.”

  Her fingers ceased their movement. “And what makes you say that?”

  “You don’t strike me as a sadistic woman. So if you’re not being sadistic, then I figure this must be your method of seduction.”

  “And what if it is?”

  Lerah turned and let the blouse slide from her shoulders; she now stood bare-breasted.

  Roserine’s eyes lingered for a few long seconds. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Have you thought about it?”

  “I mean…no, I haven’t. But I’m with Dominic, I’m not really thinking about anyone; it’s nothing personal. I mean…you’re beautiful.” Lerah framed Roserine with her hands. “And if I were to ever consider it, I’d definitely consider—”

  “Stop,” Roserine laughed. “You don’t have to flatter me. I’m not upset.” She placed a hand on Lerah’s cheek.

  Lerah nodded. “Okay.”

  “You can’t blame a girl for trying, though. My bed has been cold for quite some time. And you’re…well, Dominic is a very lucky man.”

  “Make sure you tell him that the next time you see him.”

  “I will.” Roserine’s eyes danced across her body. “Who did this to you? And don’t you dare tell me you fell off of a horse.” She reached out and brushed her fingers across the scar lining Lerah’s torso.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “And I’ve got time to hear it. This scar doesn’t look that old.”

  “Yeah, well, the memory isn’t that old, either.”

  Roserine gave heed to the emotion in her voice and withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She felt a sudden urge to retreat to the bed and hide beneath its sheets. “I’m fine, really. I’m fine.”

  Roserine clapped her hands together and turned for the wardrobes. “Let’s get you dressed.” Her voice was overly cheery; a dramatic effort to lighten the mood.

  Lerah unbuttoned and began removing her pants; they were still attacking her crotch with the youthful vigor of a teenager grabbing his first pair of tits. She was a small girl, but it took some pulling and wiggling to wrestle the garment from her body.

  “So have you always liked girls?” she asked. “Is that why you have a female bodyguard? Is that why you chose me?”

  Roserine laughed as she extracted a pair of quilted leather pants from the wardrobe; it had silver buttons and blue stitching on the hips. “This looks to be about your size.” She tossed the garment to Lerah. “Emily is not my bodyguard; she’s tough, but I could beat that girl silly in a swordfight. And, like you, she has no desire for women; in fact, she’s recently taken a man into her life. We’ve been best friends since childhood. Try this on too; it’s much better than that ill-fitting trash they sorted you with.” She turned and underhanded a matching blouse and corset.

  “No disrespect to Emily, but I sound much better suited to serve as a bodyguard than she does.” She jumped the pants up around her waist and buttoned them with ease; they fit like a glove.

  “What makes you think I need a bodyguard?”

  “People in power always need protection.”

  “I think I can handle myself just fine.”

  Lerah shook her head as she buttoned the blouse and tucked it into her waistband.

  “What is it? What’re you smil
ing about?” Roserine set her hands on her hips.

  “I didn’t realize you were such a force to be reckoned with…my Queen.”

  Roserine narrowed her eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Why, I would never.” She could see Roserine was playing along, so she continued the jest. “I’ve no doubt that you’re one of the most formidable fighters in Anthena. Beyond its shores, that’s somewhat of a different story.” Lerah tied off the corset with a hard yank and crossed her arms confidently across her chest.

  “Is that so?” Roserine slinked toward her, hips moving like a pendulum. “You speak confidently of combat, for a merchant.”

  “I’m a woman of many talents.”

  “Liar,” Roserine whispered. “You’re a fighter. You speak like a fighter; you bear the scars of a fighter, and the body of a fighter. But still, I wonder, do you have the moves to match?” She wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close; they were hip-to-hip, lips inches apart, Roserine’s breasts swelling against hers.

  There was a tingle between her thighs; she was wet and had the sudden urge to taste her lips. “I guess,” she paused to still the tremble in her voice, “there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Very well,” Roserine released her, “a duel in the courtyard.”

  “When?” Lerah backed off quickly, unable to trust herself.

  What the hell just happened?

  “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”

  “I’m ready.” Lerah was a Shadeux, fighting was still in her blood; there was no way this royal flower petal was going to best her.

  “Sure you don’t want to brush up on your sword skills first?”

  She shook her head and patted her hips. “I don’t use swords, I use daggers.”

  Roserine laughed. “Oh my! I may not be a sadist, but you, my dear, are a masochist.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll be laughing when we’re through. What’re we waiting for?”

  “One condition.”

  “Of course there’s a condition. Already giving yourself a royal handicap?”

  “No. But if I win, you will take on the responsibilities of fetching my food, laying out my clothes, drawing my baths, and any other duties I may see fit to assign you.”

  “For how long?” While she wasn’t worried about losing, she knew anything could happen in a fight.

  “Until such a time as I see fit.”

  “So…not forever?”

  “Probably not,” Roserine said with an impish smile.

  “And if I win?”

  “You’ll be my bodyguard. And of course, you’ll have the glory of besting me. But no matter what, win or lose, you have to tell me the truth: about you, about Dominic, and about that kid that’s with you.”

  “His name is Hawthorne.”

  “Yeah. I want all of it.”

  “And if I don’t tell you?”

  She shook her head. “Then you have to leave, Lerah. All of you. I don’t want that. You seem like good, capable people. But we’re living in perilous times and the one thing we can’t do without is trust; I have to be able to trust you.”

  Lerah began to nod. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything. But only after I kick your ass, my Queen.”

  26

  Dominic parted ways with Niall and the rest of the miners near the top of the cliff’s stairs.

  “You should meet us at the tavern later. Bring your lady friend.” Niall’s face was coated in filth.

  “Not sure about my lady friend, but I’m up for it. Let me clean up a bit and grab a change of clothes.” Dominic had removed his shirt, soaked it with water, and wrapped it around his head.

  “And here, before I forget; you can’t buy a drink without coin.” Niall removed a small leather bag of copper coins from his back pocket. “This is what keeps everyone pulling their weight around here. Every day your ass shows up for work is a day you get paid.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I’ll see you for that drink.”

  “See ya there.”

  The sun was falling and the glow of candles and lanterns had begun blooming across Anthena. Bells from merchant vessels rang in the harbor and men shouted to one another as they offloaded their final cargo of the day. Dominic took the stairs gingerly, one-by-one; his thighs ached and his hands were raw. He’d walked off battlefields feeling less beat up. After minutes of clumsy descent, he arrived at the landing that contained the drafty dwelling he now called home. Hawthorne was leaving as he arrived, his hair tousled, his eyes still heavy from sleep; he wasn’t looking where he was going and almost crashed head first into Dominic.

  “Careful, killer.”

  Hawthorne shook his head as if he were waking from a dream. “This schedule is going to take some getting used to.”

  “Didn’t hear you come in this morning.”

  “We had a good haul last night, took longer than usual to get everything offloaded.”

  “Maybe you’re good luck.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Hawthorne dipped his head and drilled at the earth with his toes the way he always did when someone paid him a compliment.

  “You okay? Enjoying it at least?” Dominic took Hawthorne by the chin and lifted his head. “You’re looking a little under the weather.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired; like I said, it’s going to take some getting used to. And I…”

  “You’re what? Spit it out, kid.”

  “It’s the uncertainty, I reckon. I’m trying not to get too comfortable, but it’s hard, ya know? I like the idea of getting back into a routine. Plus, there’s this girl.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “She helps out on the boats. She’s got the prettiest red hair I ever seen. And she’s got these dimples when she smiles. And I think…I hope….that she fancies me too.” The kid was a stuttering fool, like all young men standing at the doorstep of love.

  “This girl made quick work of you. She must be special.”

  “She is a sight, Mister Dominic.”

  “Well, kid, she’d be lucky to have you.” Dominic took him under one arm and squeezed his neck. “And don’t you worry about us leaving anytime soon. Despite what you saw with that armored up asshole, I think we’re gonna be sticking around for awhile.”

  Hawthorne jumped excitedly. “You mean it?”

  “Yeah, kid,” Dominic laughed, “I mean it.”

  Hawthorne hugged him without restraint, pressing the side of his face to his chest.

  Dominic was caught off guard and instinctively looked around to see if anyone was paying attention; they weren’t. “Alright now.” Dominic patted his back. “You probably should be getting off to work. Don’t wanna keep that pretty, little girl waiting.”

  “You’re right! Maybe I’ll see her before my shift starts.” Hawthorne was beaming.

  “That’s the spirit, kid.”

  Hawthorne started down the stairs, but stopped and looked back. “It’s been a long time since my folks died. Truth is, I don’t remember them much. Silas was…well, you know how Silas was.” He paused and thinned his lips, his eyes darting about as he tried to conjure the perfect words. “You and Lerah, y’all have been there for me. You’ve looked out for me. Y’all probably saved my life; Silas would have killed me or gotten me killed, eventually. Y’all have been parents to me and I love ya for it.” Hawthorne didn’t give Dominic time to react or respond, he continued down the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time.

  Dominic was grateful for the abrupt departure; it kept him from having to fumble a response. They’d grown close since they’d been traveling together; he and Lerah were fond of the little bastard, useless as he could be. But Dominic had never tried to put words to his feelings. Bad things happened when he spoke his attachments for the universe to hear. Folks got hurt. Folks died. Better to leave it unspoken and tucked away. It made it easier to cope when the inevitable took place.

  ***

  He could hear the rowdy patrons in the tavern long before he finished descending the
staircase. There were a group of three men standing outside the front door, rocking back and forth, laughing, and double-fisting pints of strong drink. They wore daggers on their waists. Their conversation ceased when they caught sight of him.

  “Just what do we have here?” The biggest of the bunch stepped forward, swaying side-to-side, the drink in his mugs cresting the brims.

  Dominic looked around and then pointed to himself. “Me?”

  “Quick hands, slow mind; that the way of it?”

  “I guess so. Excuse me, fellas.” Dominic tried to skirt around the tipsy troublemaker, but the man stepped sideways to block his advance.

  “Heard what you did to Eirik. That man is a hero. You need to learn some respect.” The man shoved one of the mugs against Dominic’s chest as he spoke, splashing alcohol across his freshly laundered shirt.

  “Listen, fella, this isn’t a road you wanna go down. Go back to your friends and finish the night off with a smile on your face.”

  The three men shared a laugh.

  “Are you blind? We’ve got you outnumbered.”

  “You know how many men I’ve come across that have those exact words etched on their tombstones?”

  “That sounded like a threat to me, boys. Let’s teach this fool a lesson.”

  Dominic dropped into a fighting stance, his hands up, ready to deflect and maim. There were only three of them, but he’d have to seriously hurt at least one to keep his back safe while he handled the other two; a fractured leg would do the trick. Lerah wouldn’t be happy. Neither would Hawthorne, for that matter. They’d probably be forced to leave. But what could he do? He didn’t go looking for the beast; he just refused to back down when it sniffed him out.

  “Not so fast boys.” A hand closed on Dominic’s shoulder. “Let’s all take a step back. There’s no point in things getting bloody tonight.”

  “Coen? Is that you?” the ringleader slurred. “Shouldn’t you be on the docks, unloading the cargo?”

  “You seem to be ill-informed, Darius.” Coen stepped beside Dominic. The lamp above the tavern door illuminated the longsword on his hip. “I no longer work the merchant vessels.”