“I needed someone to do something for me. Something very important.” She grew sombre. “Perhaps it helped that the first successful mercenary of the sorry lot that came crawling after my father’s announcement also happened to be young and handsome and well-built.”
Roena was clearly flattering him. But the way the words rolled off her tongue, the same tongue that only minutes ago was all over him… “What’s the job?” he found himself asking.
She smiled. “Discretion is very important for this one,” she whispered.
~~~
Roena watched the young man’s brow furrow after she had spoken. “I think discretion is a given at this point,” he replied. “This is the part where you tell me that if I refuse or talk to anyone else, you’ll call the guards on me, right? Suddenly, you weren’t so willing?”
He was smart, this one. Smarter than he looked. She hadn’t expected that. She had taken him to be more of a bumbling, soft-hearted fool who would fall in love with her at first glance and be more than willing to throw himself off the terrace if she asked. His words would’ve been a lot more daunting had he spoken before their coupling, but the memory of him so eager, responding to her like a bull with a cow in heat, gave her assurance. Men were still men.
She drew closer to him, draping a hand over his knee. He looked away. Did he know how easily she could feel the heat rising from his skin with every little touch and glance? If she wanted to, she could probably have him again right then and there. She was almost tempted to—he was inexperienced, but there were certain…advantages…to such a thing. She was curious to see how he would perform the second time around.
In any case, it was all still a lot better than she anticipated. A part of her had been relieved to see him at the gates instead of any of the number of those men her father had hired. She was confident in her abilities, but not so much that she was willing to try them out on anyone who looked like he would rape her head-first against the wall. Or the women—she wasn’t sure she could’ve worked with the women at all, never mind if they were even inclined towards her in the first place. She had no experience with that, and women tended to detest her before she could even speak.
Luc had intrigued her from the moment she saw him in the tavern. Seemingly unassuming, but that was a front. She realized, once he turned up at the castle gates this afternoon, that she could use all of that for her own purposes. Someone who wouldn’t immediately rush headlong without a thought, but still had the backbone to stand up for himself.
“You’ve got me,” she said in a soft voice. “You can see how important this is for me, then. To bare myself like this.”
He blushed again. It wasn’t very obvious against his dark skin, but she could see the slight change. She also thought she could hear his heart beating very loudly. She pressed her hand over his cheek. “My father is marrying me off to a brute of a man in four days’ time.”
She saw him turn to her. “Lord Draigar has a reputation as an honest, upright man. Even I know that, my lady.”
“Of course that’s what everyone will say. That’s what he wants people to think. We nobles know differently. The women speak of the things he’s done…behind closed doors…”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s had illicit relationships before.”
“Just like this one?”
She sniffed. “Hardly. They say he beats his lovers. That he is jealous and controlling. That he had relations with a serving girl, and near smeared his chambers’ walls with her brain when she didn’t please him quite right. My own father doesn’t know. At least, that’s what I want to believe. I find it hard to accept that he would so willingly hand me off to a man capable of such things.”
“I thought you chose him for yourself.”
“Because I had no idea!” she exclaimed, allowing her voice to turn shrill. “I thought just like everyone did. What better man to spend my life with than one who has served my father and these lands as well as Lord Draigar? The man knows his own worth. My father would trust him with his own life. But as a husband? As a lover? Do I sell myself to servitude for the good of everyone?”
Luc swallowed. “You want to discredit yourself, then.”
“Believe me, that wouldn’t do a thing. My father wants this marriage. No. I need Lord Draigar’s activities to come to light and make him realize that this is a bad choice.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “There is a child. One Lord Draigar had with that serving girl, the same one he’d beaten half to death. If word of this gets out in court, I can break the betrothal.” She wouldn’t have to entertain another for at least a year, too, according to tradition. If she announced it where everyone could hear it, her father wouldn’t be able to refuse.
“So tell Duke Iorwin.”
“He won’t believe anything I say,” she murmured bitterly. “If he realizes this information came through me, he’ll throw it out and laugh at my face. And there’s no one else I can turn to. No one…” She dropped her hand to his arm and turned away slightly, but not so much that she couldn’t see his reaction. Nostrils flared, eyes on the ceiling…she knew enough about men to know that she had him.
He glanced at her. “What do you want me to do?”
Roena smiled. “It’s easy. And once it’s done, you’ll have the reward my father promised, and more, besides.” She let her fingers linger over his jaw. She didn’t think she had to tell him what more meant. When he didn’t respond, she bent closer and began to whisper the instructions against his ear.
Chapter Twelve
Luc returned to the tavern feeling light-headed and more than a little confused about what had just transpired. He lingered out on the street, staring at the sign while he felt the single coin purse Roena had given him inside his pocket. What he had done back at the castle still hadn’t quite fully set in. Not that he regretted it, exactly—flashes of memory, of her softness yielding to him, was enough to send the blood pounding where he didn’t want it to—but everything that happened after that made him feel a little like a lamb wandering into a slaughterhouse. Another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things he had done and had yet to come to grips with the past few weeks. He hadn’t looked into a mirror all this time, but a part of him wondered if he would still be able to recognize his own reflection. He had not felt like himself in a very long time.
He ran a hand through his hair. Someone whistled, and he looked up to see Hana wandering towards him from the street. “How’d it go?” she asked.
“Iorwin won’t be back for a few days,” he replied. His voice sounded hollow.
She must’ve heard it, too. She peered closely at his face. “You don’t look well.”
Luc showed her the purse. “I’ll pay for everyone’s lodgings and food. There should be enough for a few days.” He rubbed his head. “We have another job.”
Hana’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
“It came from Blackwood’s daughter.”
She suddenly looked amused. “Why are you turning red?”
“I’m not—”
“Never you mind. What’s the job?”
He rubbed his hands together and breathed into them before replying. “She wants it kept a secret. Anyway, it’s all on me, I just wanted to tell someone what’s happening.”
She gave a snort. “Agartes, Luc, you didn’t…”
“What?”
“You’re staring at my boot. Gods know there’s nothing interesting happening down there. What the fuck did you do? You didn’t fuck her, did you?”
He looked up. The expression on his face must’ve been enough, because she smacked her forehead with a groan. “Oh, gods,” she murmured. “I should’ve gone there with you. Roena Blackwood has a reputation—you’re from around here, you must’ve known…they were just joking about it back there, wondering why you were taking so long. But I didn’t actually think she would, not with you. No offense, Lucky, but she’s a noblewoman.”
“I know that,” he grumbled.
> “I should’ve warned you at least to be more careful. The last thing you want is to get blackmailed into doing something dangerous because you weren’t thinking straight. This thing she asked you to do—is it dangerous?”
“I don’t think so,” Luc replied.
Hana narrowed her eyes. “Are we going to get our name dragged through the mud if you fuck up?”
He straightened himself. “I won’t. It’s an easy enough job. Don’t tell the others—just let me worry about it. Go back to your ale—I’ll make arrangements with the innkeeper.”
There was a brief pause. Hana suddenly broke into a grin and clapped him on the back. “So,” she said. “How was it?”
“I’m not going to give you details,” he bristled, walking away.
“A gentleman, I see!” Hana called after him. “Well, it must’ve been good enough to get you to stick your neck out for her. Lucky, indeed!” She returned to the tavern laughing.
Luc frowned. He didn’t really need her to point out that he had made a big mistake. Only, he wondered how Roena would’ve reacted if he hadn’t stumbled after her bait like a hound at the peak of a hunt. Somehow, he suspected she would’ve rang that very bell she pointed out to him, and then blackmailed him anyway—only with a lot less…vigour.
He paid the innkeeper, just as he promised, before making his way down the street. One hand was tucked inside his coat, clutching the sealed letter Roena said contained all the information about Lord Draigar and his alleged bastard.
He hadn’t lied about the simplicity of Roena’s request. The letter, she explained, had been delivered into her hands by a well-meaning party, likely a member of the household where the serving girl resided. She needed this to fall into the hands of Master Landor, who was staying somewhere in the city at that moment. All Luc had to do was ensure the letter was delivered to him anonymously. He shouldn’t know Roena’s involvement in it at all. The suspicion alone would be enough, she explained, for him to launch an investigation and call for a delay on the wedding.
Master Landor’s inn lay somewhere in the inner district. It was the first time Luc had found the chance to explore Blackwood from beyond the taverns along its outer fringes. He had imagined it to be something like Crossfingers and was taken aback when he caught sight of the tall buildings, some with spires that seemed to reach up to the stars. Multiple stone bridges spanned the wide streams, the banks of which were reinforced with dikes. Although it was dark, he noticed people—children, mostly—gathered along the cobblestone walls while they fished through holes cut in the ice.
He crossed the first bridge, past two men trading puffs on a pipe while they stared over the railing and contemplated whether to stay in Blackwood or move to Port Bluetree for good, and around the corner where a young girl was selling roasted chestnuts by the bag. He ended up buying a small one from her in exchange for information on Master Landor’s whereabouts—it wasn’t so much as an inn as a brothel, one specifically for higher-class clientele…or so the girl worded it. Luc felt his cheeks burning again.
He ate the chestnuts while he walked and pretended that none of this was unsettling. One letter—he just had to deliver one letter. And then they could all get paid, and he could go home.
So why did it feel like he had iron shackles around his feet?
He rubbed his fingernail over the letter and the wax seal as he tried to think about what his father would say to him—at least, once they got past Jak expressing his displeasure that Luc would let himself fall prey to a woman’s whims. He’d clap Luc on the shoulder, look him in the eye, and say, “Well, why are you thinking it’s all wrong, then? Can’t be simple enough if you’re having doubts. Must be because your gut don’t feel right.”
But he made it all the way to the brothel. There was a woman outside with a pipe, flicking ashes on the snow as he walked past. “Is this the Royal Palace?” he asked.
The woman blinked at him. “Say’s right on the sign.”
He scratched his cheek. “I’m here to—”
“You don’t look like you can afford it,” she huffed. “Unless you’re wanting to burn a week’s worth of pay on one night.”
“I’m looking for someone,” Luc said. “Master Landor.”
The woman wrinkled her nose. “You and every one in the city, seems like.” She nodded towards a man standing across the street with his arms crossed. “Well, I’ll tell you what I told him. He’s busy and doesn’t like getting interrupted. Wait a little, maybe wait a while. He’s an old man. Falls asleep sometimes.” She bit the end of her pipe and walked back into the building.
Luc turned to the other man, who had looked up in interest when he mentioned Landor’s name but had done nothing else since. He didn’t even greet him when Luc decided to join him by the wall. Luc could guess why—he was dressed in expensive armour, the kind only nobles and their high-ranking men could afford. He held his helmet in the crook of his arm, and had a sword that looked like it could crack Luc’s in two blows. If he didn’t want to talk to Luc, then so be it. He tucked his hands under his cloak, preparing himself for what looked like a long wait in the cold.
The man cleared his throat. “Did you come from the castle?” he asked.
Something about the way he said it gave Luc pause. “No,” he managed.
The man’s brows furrowed. “What do you need him for?”
“A message,” Luc said.
“I’ll give it to him. No need for the both of us to freeze out here.”
The kindness in the man’s tone took him by surprise. He pulled the letter out of his cloak and handed it to him. “Why don’t you go inside?” Luc asked. “I’m sure they wouldn’t begrudge you a spot by the fire.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t,” the man murmured. “Its reputation is well-known throughout the land. A place where even the most exotic debauchery is encouraged. I’m not that sort of man.”
“You’re just going to ask to sit by the fire, not sample their wares,” Luc said with a grin.
The man didn’t look amused. “I’m to be married in a few days. A whirlwind of events, but…my wife-to-be chose me, despite all the men she could’ve. A lowly lord, chosen by Roena Blackwood.” He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t quite believe the words.
Luc felt his insides crumble. Roena’s betrothed. Lord Draigar. And the man was standing next to him, when not even hours before, Luc was on the floor with what was rightfully his woman with her breast in his mouth.
His senses darkened. If there was a hell, he was almost sure his name had just been slipped through the crack under the door.
“I will not give her cause to doubt me, especially not for just a bit of warmth,” Draigar continued, oblivious of Luc’s struggles. “I’ve been a loyal servant to her father all these years, and not once did I ever dream that she would say such words. Or that he would agree. There was a prophecy, you know? Made by the high priest himself, that Lady Roena would find herself bound to an honourable man.”
“Aren’t you?” Luc managed to croak out.
Draigar snorted. “I try to do what’s right. Some people call that honour. I just think of it as my duty. But you can see why I wouldn’t dare tarnish my name. Duke Iorwin was always my liege lord, and now that Lady Roena is to be my wife…”
He fell silent as one of the women from the brothel emerged, a steaming cup in her hands. “Since you won’t come in, you ridiculous man,” she said with a laugh, “here, have this. Are you really saving yourself for your lady wife?”
“It’s been a whirlwind last few days,” Draigar said softly. “It’s the best I can do for her.”
“Would that half of us were so lucky,” she breathed. “Well, Lady Roena is a fine young lady, and she couldn’t have picked someone better, if I do say so myself.”
“I sincerely disagree,” Draigar replied. “There are better, more qualified men.” He drew his brows together, as if even saying these words was painful—a betrayal of his lord’s trust. “But she made her decisi
on, and I’ll try my best to live up to it.”
She gave him a sweet smile before returning indoors. Draigar handed the cup to Luc. “Here,” he said. “You look like you need it more than I do.”
Luc stared at the tea, at the steam rising from the surface and the chipped edge of the red cup. “Lord Draigar,” he found himself saying. “Can you spare me another moment?”
~~~
All he had to do was send word to Lady Roena that the deed was done—he never needed to see her again. Lord Draigar likely wouldn’t open the letter himself, and if he did, was that his problem?
Instead, Luc found himself pointing at the letter. “Lady Roena…wanted that sent to Master Landor,” he murmured. “She’s convinced you’ve sired a bastard.”
Draigar’s eyes widened.
“She asked me not to tell anyone else, but…” He took a deep breath. “Seeing as to how it’s your name and life on the line here, I think you ought to get the chance to defend yourself.”
“I sired a bastard?” Draigar asked. He looked at the letter, as if loath to open it. “I don’t remember. All my affairs ended years ago, and no one has come up to me before.” He turned back to Luc. “Who did she say sent this?”
“I don’t know,” Luc replied. “Household of a serving girl you had relations with, she said.”
Draigar’s eyes narrowed. “She was this forthright with you?”
Luc felt his chest tighten.
But before he could scrutinize him further, Draigar’s attention drifted back to the letter. “Agartes forgive me for this,” he breathed before flicking his thumbnail across the seal. He flicked the letter open, holding it up beneath the lantern on the wall. His eyes skipped over the words. Eventually, he folded the letter and placed his hands over his face. “I thought it had been too good to be true,” he murmured. “I thought she felt trapped, and made the decision to choose me so she wouldn’t be forced to marry some other man. That I was the safe choice, I could protect her, and…” He trailed off.
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