Willow ground her teeth. Why the Queen felt compelled to torment her was beyond her. Even if she had somehow learned or guessed about the two times Willow had lain with her husband all those years ago, why would she persecute Willow? Willow hadn’t initiated the copulation; His Majesty had!
Willow supposed she could have rejected his advances, but King Eric could be an extremely persuasive man when he chose. Especially when said advances were not completely undesirable.
“Her Majesty had been about to ask me something when she came in,” Willow said.
“What?” the Queen said, nonplussed. “Oh. Right. My husband would like a word with you.”
Willow bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
She started to move, but the Queen held up a hand.
“Give the man a few minutes to catch his breath.” Her grin was filled with malicious glee. “The poor dear!”
Once more, Willow bowed. “Of course, ma’am.”
The Queen patted Willow on the cheek as if she were a child.
“Good girl,” she said, and departed.
Willow thought of the knife she carried in her boot, and how gratifying it would be to stab the Queen between her shoulder blades. Fortunately, Her Majesty had departed, so Willow was able to let the urge pass.
The King was fully dressed by the time Willow knocked on the door and was admitted. He spotted the parcel on the chair.
“Ah, perfect!” he said. “Bring the package over here, please, Willow!”
He directed her to place it upon the bed. The sheets were in chaotic disarray and smelled of sex. Willow wrinkled her nose.
The King unwrapped the velvet wrapping with giddy excitement. He looked like a child opening his All Gods' Day presents.
“Stand over there,” he said, pointing to a spot halfway across the room.
Willow raised an eyebrow but complied.
The King opened the package and inspected its contents.
“Wonderful,” he muttered. “Splendid!”
He had left the velvet bunched up on the bed in a way that spoiled her view. From the way the King was cooing, it had to be some kind of weapon. However, the package had not been heavy, and had made no clinking sounds as the contents shifted.
The King’s gaze lifted to Willow, and his smile broadened. “Oh, I think she got it just right!”
He approached Willow and held some kind of leather and fabric garment up to her torso. He looked back and forth between her body and the item he carried and he beamed in delight.
“Exactly right,” he said. “Perfect. Well done, Shara.”
“What,” Willow said, looking at the garment like it were some kind of poisonous toad, “is that?”
The King looked up in astonishment.
“Why, it’s a bodice!” he said, as though she should somehow have known that. “You didn’t think you’d be going to a crime lord’s party wearing a Guard's uniform, did you?”
Chapter 42
The assortment of leather, silk, and lace paraphernalia dumbfounded her. She stood behind the wooden privacy screen, sorting through the pieces of garments. She couldn’t figure out what most of the items were, let alone how they were supposed to be worn.
“How are you doing, Willow?” asked the King from the other side of the screen.
“This is ridiculous, sir,” she said. She tossed the bodice over the screen in the King’s general direction.
She heard the King scramble to catch it.
“Careful, Willow!” he exclaimed. “This is a one-of-a-kind work of art. You should be honored to own one.”
“Honored to look like a tart?”
“Oh, you won’t look like that, I can assure you. Even were you stark naked, your aspect and stature would guarantee that you conveyed nobility. And anyway, Shara is a genius at her craft. Her skills once saved the entire world! These were made to your exact measurements and to suit you and you alone.”
Once more this mysterious “Shara”. Saved the entire world? More lies and hyperbole. She wondered what exactly this Shara's relationship with the King was. Willow had never met the girl, but she already disliked her intensely. The strumpet!
Willow put her hands on her hips. “And how would this ‘world-saving’ seamstress know my exact measurements, sir?”
There was silence on the other side of the screen for a few moments. Then the King cleared his throat.
“I’m just good at determining a woman’s … um … dimensions. Call it a gift.”
Of course he is, she thought. After all, he’s got a way with the ladies.
“Well, it’s not going to work. I won’t wear these garments. I couldn’t even figure out how to if I wanted.”
She heard the King’s amused snort.
“Fair enough,” the King said. “I’ll go to the ball on my own. I move better that way: unencumbered and a roving spirit. Free to move about, flirt with the ladies, speak privately with the gentlemen, and—”
Willow came out from behind the screen. She pointed a dagger-like finger at him.
“There is no way,” she snarled, “that you are going within a mile of Four Fingers’s mansion without me at your side. It is far too dangerous!”
The King raised and lowered his eyebrows several times in succession. He offered her the bodice again.
“Then get dressed,” he said, grinning. He pointed back to the privacy screen.
She ground her teeth. This was spiraling rapidly out of control. How in the Hells had she found herself in this situation?
“I …” she said. “I don’t know how it goes on.”
“Ah!” the King said. “You should have told me sooner. Fear not; I’ll help you. But stop grinding your teeth.”
He went behind the screen, while Willow stood dumbfounded.
“Come on, Willow,” he called out, his voice obnoxiously cheerful. “This chemise isn’t going to put itself on!”
She stood her ground a moment, then relented and came around the screen.
“Just one thing, sir,” she said.
“Hmm?”
She placed her hand on the hilt of her rapier.
“If you lay an inappropriate finger on me,” she said, “then king or no king, forever after you’ll leak when you drink.”
The King laughed.
“Have no fear, Captain Willow,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about from me, because when we do finally make love, you’ll be the one who initiates it.”
She froze in astonishment. She could not possibly have heard that correctly.
“What?” she said.
“Come on,” the King said. “At this rate, the ball will be over before we even get you dressed!”
“What did you say?” she said.
The King shook his head impatiently. “Never mind. Just get behind this screen, face away from me, and take off your clothes.”
And to her amazement, she did precisely that.
Chapter 43
The King whistled. “Has anybody ever told you how beautiful your skin is, Willow?”
She stood completely naked, with her back to him. Her eyes darted to her rapier, just within reach on the small dressing table. It was comforting knowing it was so close.
“Just get it over with,” she grumbled.
“Very well,” he said, his breath warm on her bare shoulders, “but I’m not exaggerating. You have the skin of a goddess. It’s flawless.”
She knew that wasn’t true. She had lost count of all the battles and duels. She had won all the fights, of course, but had not always emerged unscathed. Surely, he could see her scars.
“As His Majesty says,” she said blandly.
“Hmph,” the King said, sounding annoyed.
“Well, it’s true,” he concluded. “Anyway, raise your arms up above your shoulders.”
Willow did as instructed. She heard the rustle of fabric and then felt linen being lowered onto her: over her arms, and then over her torso.
She looked down at it. The fabric was
sheer and extremely comfortable. Then she realized something. She inhaled sharply through her nose, outraged.
“This,” she said, “is a shirt.”
“It’s a chemise.”
“Whatever,” she said. “But basically it’s a shirt.”
His head wobbled like a bird’s for a moment, and then he hunched his shoulders and extended his palms. “So?”
“So,” she said, turning to confront him, “I could have figured out how to put this part on without your help!”
The King flashed her a rakish smile.
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of seeing your lovely skin, would I?”
She nearly choked on her outrage. The King, however, seemed to take her silence for compliance because he picked up the leather and fabric contraption and smiled sheepishly.
“Now for the bodice,” he said. He eyed the garment’s two leather ties and said, “You’re probably not going to like this bit, I’m afraid.”
Chapter 44
“This is ridiculous,” Willow grumbled. “I can’t move in this outfit. I can barely breathe.”
The bodice, it turned out, was designed to be laced over her shirt like a clamshell, but it cinched especially tightly at her waist and pushed her breasts up and forward as though they were meant to be on display. She felt like a prostitute. A nearly asphyxiated one. And this was the fashion?
Next, the King had her put on not one, not two, but three skirts: a sky-blue one worn over a pure white one, which was worn over a hoop skirt shaped like a bell and stiffened with steel inserts. She feared that were she to trip, she’d be stuck on her back like a turtle.
“You look beautiful, Willow,” the King said, admiring his handiwork.
“I look like an idiot.”
He laughed and brought out what looked at first to be a glittering necklace with connecting strips of colored cloth. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“What’s that?” she said.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Willow,” the King said, touching her ear, “but your ears are somewhat pointy.”
“I’m an elf,” she said, slapping his hand away. “They’re supposed to be that way.”
“Yes, but you’re the only elf in Bryanae. Methinks the pointed ears might be just the slightest bit of a giveaway. Hence …”
He smoothed out the jeweled item and settled it on her head. She was quite a bit taller than he was, so he circled her while he adjusted the positions of the jewels and the strips of cloth so her ears were completely covered.
“Fantastic,” he whispered. “Just remember not to remove this tiara while we’re there.”
She half-raised her arm to touch it, but was immediately constrained by her bodice.
“I’m not sure I can reach that high,” she grumbled.
Again, the King laughed, and fished out a final item from the package: an ornate hand-held mask layered in blue and green gems. The corner of each eye arched like a pair of dark lashes. He handed the mask to her, and she held it up to her face.
The mask reduced her field of vision to a narrow tunnel. However, she could always drop it in an emergency.
“Is that it?” she said, still holding up the mask.
“You are perfection itself,” the King said. “I could not add a single thing to you without detracting from your loveliness.”
“So we can go now?”
“Well, you can go for a moment. I need to dress now.”
Willow arched an eyebrow.
“Perhaps I should stay and help you dress, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
The King shrugged.
“If you like,” he said. Without any trace of modesty, he pulled off his shirt, which left him stark naked.
Willow lowered the mask in astonishment. She suddenly felt very warm.
Any remaining doubts she might have had vanished. This man was definitely not King Eric.
Unable to stop herself, she looked him up and down.
Absolutely, positively not King Eric.
When the King finished dressing, he tied his magical bag to his belt and picked up his sword cane. He presented himself to her with a sweep of his hand.
“Ta-da!” he said. “How do I look?”
Willow knew nothing about fashion, but she had to admit that His Majesty cut an impressive figure. Over his fine linen shirt, he wore a black doublet with silver filigree. From his shoulders cascaded a black velvet cape, fastened at the neck with an ornate silver broach. A silver and gold half-mask dangled by one of its ribbon ties from his hand
He looked handsome enough, but she was having difficulty getting the naked image of him out of her mind. The man had the personality of a fool, but had somehow been gifted with the body of a hero. Willow had never been one for styles and pageantry; she liked things streamlined and functional. To her, the King’s body looked very much streamlined … and very, very functional.
They also say he’s got an eye for the ladies.
The Viper’s words came to her as a stern reprimand. She shook them off.
“You look like you’ve finished dressing, sir,” she said.
The King looked crestfallen.
“That’s it?” he said.
“Does His Majesty require something else?” she said.
“Lady Captain, you are hard on the ego,” he said. “How fortunate then that I have it in such abundance!”
He shrugged. “I guess we’re ready. You’re sure you can get us out of the Castle without being noticed?”
She nodded, trying to strap on her rapier without much success. Her sword belt fit around her waist fine, but the bell-shaped skirts interfered with the blade, causing it to stick out and the hilt to jab her in the ribs. “There are many secret ways. We’ll be taking the one through the dungeons.”
“Um, Willow?” the King said, a pained expression on his face.
She continued fiddling with her rapier, getting increasingly aggravated.
“I said I can get us out. You’ll just have to trust me, Your Majesty.”
He didn’t respond, and when she looked up, he was extending his hand to her.
“What?” she said.
The King smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid that ladies don’t wear swords to parties.”
“This one does.”
He didn’t answer. He just stood with his hand extended.
“You can’t be serious!” she said. “How can I protect you without my weapon?”
He shrugged. “Put a knife in your boot.”
She already had a knife in her boot. Two, actually, but those were backup weapons and lacked the reach and effectiveness of a rapier. Besides, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to reach them over these damned skirts.
The King did not relent. His hand remained extended, ready to receive her sword-belt.
“I’ll put it in my bag,” he said. “I can have it for you at a moment’s notice.”
Who was she kidding? She had conceded to all of his other demands. She’d give in eventually.
She sighed and stripped off her sword belt. She handed the rapier to the King. She felt more naked now than she did when she was actually nude.
“This rapier is almost a hundred years old,” she said. “Please be careful with it, Your Majesty.”
“I will, Willow,” he said seriously. He examined both sides of the blade and balanced the rapier on his forefinger. He nodded. “It’s a beautiful weapon.”
She watched her prized rapier disappear into that magic bag of his.
Thus, unarmed, encumbered, and barely able to breathe, she was now ready to go to a crime lord’s masquerade.
What could possibly go wrong? she thought with bitter irony.
The King clapped his hands together in excitement.
“Oh, tonight is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait to find out what will happen!”
Chapter 45
Willow peered out of the King’s Chambers. The hallway was empty, as she ha
d ordered.
She hadn’t explicitly said, “Now, I don’t want any guards outside the King’s Chambers this evening.” She wasn’t an idiot. Instead, during the last week, she had made multiple changes to the guard roster affecting the entire castle. She had moved Rog from the Chambers to the Second Portcullis, then moved Aaron from the Second Portcullis to the Third, and Manfredo from the Third to the Chambers. Then she had changed the assignments again. And again. Then, at nearly the last minute, she had verbally informed two different guards that the other would be watching the Chambers this evening.
She led the King down the hall, both of them wearing black mantles and carrying flickering torches. She moving silently and indicated that he should do the same. He grinned and his eyes sparkled like a misbehaving child’s as he followed her to through the corridors to the Fifth Stairwell. This they descended two flights, and exited into the Servants Quarters.
Either all of the servants should be on duty or asleep; none should be awake. However, Willow bade the King wait while she crept down the hall, stopping to listen at each door.
When she was sure there was no activity within, she gestured for the King to approach. She fished a key from under her chemise—a different one on the twine this time—and carefully slid it into the lock of the next-to-the-last door on the left. All the locks in this hall were kept well lubricated with ground graphite powder: she needed this particular lock to be silent and quick, and the best way to hide that fact, was to lubricate all the locks in this section of the Castle.
She turned the lock and opened the door a crack. She peered in. The room was deliberately kept unoccupied for this purpose, but that didn’t mean it was unoccupied. Servants occasionally disobeyed instructions when they thought they could get away with it, and the last thing she needed was to lead the King into the middle of a sexual tryst between two servants.
Finding the room empty, she beckoned the King within and then shut and locked the door behind them. The King looked at Willow expectantly, as if unable to wait for whatever treat she next had in store for him.
A set of wall-mounted shelves adorned the far wall. Willow approached the shelves and pressed a disguised “knot” in the wall adjacent to wall-mounted shelves. The shelves swung into the room, revealing total darkness ahead.
King of Bryanae (Bryanae Series Book 3) Page 15
