“I’m sure he hasn’t,” agreed Elise. “Try and get him to have a full glass or it will take forever to work. Two glasses won’t hurt him, but if he tries to have more, you’ll need to spill the bottle to avoid him killing himself.”
“What will it do, exactly?”
Elise rubbed her hands together, warming to her subject. “It’s nearly perfect, hence why I chose to put it in wine. The effect is very similar to normal inebriation, but it happens more quickly. It also has the benefit of sometimes producing amnesia. Many who take it don’t remember what happened the night before. The crowning touch is that it leaves a terrible headache, which helps to further the lie.”
Anxious, Rose leaned forward. “When you say quickly, how quickly do you mean? A minute or two?”
Elise began to cackle, perfectly portraying the evil witch planning wickedness, causing Rose to shiver. Then she smiled, the warmth returning to her face. “Heavens no, sweetheart. Drugs aren’t magic. Very few things work that quickly, and those that do are as dangerous to the handler as they are to the victim. Besides, working slowly is often an advantage, for it puts time between the act and the onset.”
“I think I’d prefer speed at the moment,” said Rose.
“Be glad he’s built lean,” said Elise sagely. “If he was given to fat, it would take longer. As it is, if he drinks a full glass, it will probably take at least twenty minutes to make him sleep. It could be as long as an hour.”
“An hour!” exclaimed Rose.
Elise patted her hand, which was still holding the small bundle of leaves. “Start chewing them when he gets here. They’ll help keep you awake so you can stay alert until after he’s passed out, since you’ll have to drink some as well, to put him at ease. If you can’t delay him long enough, you may still have to go through with it.”
Rose shuddered.
Done with her explanations, Elise took to her feet once more and headed for the door. “I suppose I’ll have to skip that bath.” She stopped with her hand on the handle, turning back. “One last piece of advice. Don’t let him kiss you if you can avoid it, whatever else happens. It’s a novice mistake that usually causes more pain than all the rest combined.”
Once she was outside, Elise Thornbear’s calm façade crumbled. Wiping her face with her sleeve, she began walking, a shadow filling her heart. “Why?” she whispered sadly. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
***
When the door opened again an hour later, Tyrion was there. He entered smoothly, confidence written in his stride.
Rose looked up from where she sat on the couch. The wine bottle rested casually on the table in front of her. “Is it too much for you to knock?” she asked.
“Why bother?” he said, a rakish smile on his lips. “You were expecting me. I have only come to accept the gifts you have offered.” Glancing around the room, his magesight explored the areas his eyes could not reveal on their own. “Where is your family?”
Struggling to hide her nervousness, Rose answered, “I sent them away for the evening.”
“That means we can sleep in tomorrow,” Tyrion announced. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. A prize is more properly savored when it can be enjoyed at leisure.” Removing his outer coat, he tossed it aside without bothering to hang it up, heedless of the wrinkles it might gather on the floor. Underneath he wore a loose shirt with a plunging neckline, exposing so much of his chest that Rose suspected his navel might be visible at the right angle.
He crossed the room to where she sat, walking almost too slowly. Despite her best efforts, Rose flinched away when he dropped onto the cushions beside her. “Relax, Lady Rose,” he told her. “You’ll spoil the mood if you remain so tense.” Once of his arms was draped over the back of the couch behind her, and his hand reached forward to casually stroke the back of her neck.
Too fast, this is happening too fast! Leaning forward, Rose reached for the wine bottle. “Before we go further, I’d like to clarify your side of our bargain,” she said. Attempting to appear nonchalant, she reached for the bottle opener and promptly dropped it.
Chuckling, Tyrion took the bottle from her hand and ran one finger around the top. Then he pressed his fingertip against it and drew it back, removing the cork in a smooth motion, as though it was glued to his skin. Tossing the cork aside, he placed the bottle back on the table. “That sounds fair,” he answered. “I’m prepared to do whatever necessary to free your precious friend from his wrongful imprisonment, and I’ll be happy to let you decide what that entails.”
Rose nodded, and using two hands, she filled two glasses with wine. She took one in her right hand and offered the second to her guest. Tyrion’s eyes followed her the entire time, studying her features. Then he lifted his hand in a gesture of refusal. “Thank you, no. I prefer to have all my faculties for this, the better to savor it.”
When she put both glasses back down, he spoke again, “Feel free to have some yourself, if that will help you relax.”
Nodding, Rose lifted her own glass again, taking the smallest of sips from it. “All I need is your assurance that the krytek will not interfere. In the next day or two, there will be men entering the city bearing enchanted weapons. I want them to be ignored. After the trial, if things go badly, make sure your minions remain passive. In return, I will grant you your desire tonight.” She managed to get the words out smoothly, somehow.
Tyrion arched one brow. “Tonight? Tonight is one thing, but it hardly matters. Do you think me fool enough to sell my service for a single night’s pleasure? No, Lady Rose, I know all too well how fleeting the pleasures of the flesh are.”
Rose felt a faint stirring of hope. “What do you want then?”
“Your service in exchange,” pronounced the archmage. “Tonight, tomorrow, whenever I feel the need to quench my blade. Give me your assurance that you will sate my appetite whenever required and convince me with your performance tonight.”
Sickened by the thought, something else occurred to Rose. “Is this your idea of—of a proposal?”
Tyrion chuckled. “Certainly not. I have higher ambitions in that regard.”
Rose felt his hand on her skirt, travelling upward as he stroked her thigh through the fabric. Startled, she bolted up from her seat and moved several steps away.
Her tormentor laughed. Leaning back casually, he said, “Still afraid of me? That won’t do, Rose. I need to see your conviction.”
Her mind in chaos, Rose cast about for anything that might offer safety, but there was nothing. Where are the leaves Elise gave me? she thought despairingly. She had dropped them somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where. Tyrion’s eyes were burning into her. What do I do?
As if in answer to her thought, Tyrion spoke up, “Take off the dress.”
The world went still at his words, and so did her mind. A cold calm stole across her, revealing everything to her with crisp clarity. She had made a devil’s bargain, and it was time to pay. Straightening, she stared down at the man leering at her. Anything, she repeated to herself, tightening her jaw. Reaching up, she undid the laces at her shoulders.
For once, she regretted wearing such a simple dress. One of the more elaborate gowns would have taken much longer. With the shoulders undone, she shifted slightly so the dress could slide down. Once it had reached the floor, she would be completely naked in front of him.
“Stop!” ordered Tyrion as she started to release the fabric in her hands. She froze, and he began to laugh, long and loud. Then he reached out and picked up his wine glass, downing it in a single long draught. Setting the empty glass down, he laughed again, more normally this time. Then he stood and moved to stand behind her. Taking the fabric from her hands, he pulled it back up and began retying her laces. “Dear Rose, I wish you could have seen the look you were giving me.”
“What?” she asked, stupefied by his reaction. Turning her head slightly, she caught a whiff o
f his breath, a mixture of wine and—mint.
“You had me the first time I visited,” he explained. “I already planned to get my grandson out. I probably would have done so already, just to keep him from freezing to death, if it hadn’t been for your faithful ministrations keeping him alive.”
“Then this, all this?”
“Just some fun,” he teased. “I wanted to see just how devoted you were, and I must say, you didn’t disappoint.”
Turning, she slapped him so hard that her hand burned with pain. “Bastard!”
He didn’t flinch. Licking his lips, he warned her, “Careful. Pain tends to arouse my baser nature, and I know you don’t want that. Do you?”
Pushing him back roughly, Rose crossed several feet of space and seated herself gracefully in a chair. “Is this all a game to you?”
Tyrion went back to the couch, pouring himself another glass of wine. Then he offered her still-unfinished glass to her. She took it and made a show of taking another sip. “Not at all,” he answered. “To be honest, if you had been more willing I might well have taken your offering, though you’re a little more mature than suits my usual tastes. As it is, I couldn’t stand watching your reaction any longer.”
“Why not?” asked Rose coldly. “You seemed to enjoy it enough.”
He sighed. “Because, despite things I did in the past, I am not a rapist. At least, not any longer. I prefer my prey warm and willing.”
“You claim that,” said Rose, “but your actions dictate otherwise.” With one hand, she lifted her pendant, waving it at him.
He laughed. “You think I’ve found some way around your protections? I gave up such things millennia before you were born. I know women well enough to elicit the reactions I seek, without resorting to such tricks.” Then he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “If your blood was burning, if your heart was racing, it wasn’t because of magic. It was simply your own wicked desires making themselves known to you.”
“If all you have to say is lurid nonsense, you can get out,” said Rose forcefully.
“Don’t be so angry Rose. Let me finish my drink. In time, I think the two of us could be good friends. You are—by far—the most interesting woman I have encountered in thousands of years.”
She eyed the glass in his hand. It was already half gone. If he finished it, she would have to dispose of the bottle to prevent him from having a third glass. “We will never be friends, Tyrion. I don’t approve of your methods.”
“Oh, I think we will, Rose. Let me stay a while longer so we can chat. The Queen is busy tonight, so I have little to do with my time.” His words were noticeably slurred. He poured the rest of the wine in the glass down his throat.
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “The Queen?”
He smiled. “Higher ambitions, remember?” Raising his glass, he pretended to make a toast only to be disappointed when he discovered it was already empty. He placed it on the table, then said, “She’s a lively woman, unlike yourself.”
Angry beyond words, Rose smiled calmly. Leaning over, she picked up the bottle. “More wine?” Not waiting for an answer, she filled his glass to the brim. She remembered Elise’s warning vividly, and she wondered if a third would kill him. At the moment, she didn’t really care.
“In a second,” said Tyrion, waving his hand errantly through the air. “My head is spinning. Let me rest my eyes for a moment.” He leaned back, sinking down into the cushions, and moments later he was asleep.
Lucky bastard, thought Rose. She collected the still-full glass and the half empty bottle and carried them away. You deserve every bit of pain your head will give you tomorrow.
After that, she stood silently for a moment. What to do? A single glance at the man sleeping on her couch made her certain she didn’t want to sleep in her room tonight. Then her eye spotted the small bundle of leaves Elise had left. It had fallen to the floor beside the foot of the couch. Without a second thought she scooped it up and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly.
Her tongue and lips went numb almost immediately, followed by her cheeks, as a cool but warm feeling seeped through her. Her heart rate increased, but she felt remarkably calm and clearheaded. Returning to her room, she redressed, donning a more appropriate gown for traveling, and redid her hair. It was hardly necessary—her mind was already calm—but the ritual was as much a habit as anything else.
Stepping out, she crossed the room and went to the outer door. On the way, she spied Tyrion’s coat, still lying discarded by the door. Spitefully, she stepped on it, making a show of wiping her shoes on the rich fabric as though it were a doormat. She regretted that her shoes were already clean.
Then she left. She would sleep at her city house tonight with Elise and Carissa.
Chapter 23
Chad Grayson ambled down the thoroughfare at a leisurely pace. The sun was beating down fiercely, but it hardly bothered him in the wide-brimmed hat he wore. He reached up once more to tug on the brim, angling it downward to obscure his face better from other passersby.
He had already met with his contact and confirmed his suspicions. The job he would be taking on was possibly the most dangerous of his career. It might even be the end of his career. If it had been anyone else that asked, he would have refused. If it had been for anyone else, he would have refused. I’ve lived long enough, he thought, resigning himself to his work. If I die, at least I’ll die at the top of my game.
He was far from suicidal, however. The huntsman had every intention of weighing the odds as much in his own favor as was possible. Glancing up now and then, he studied the buildings around him, noting the elevation of the rooftops. Most of them were useless for his purposes. He kept walking.
The Royal Justice Building was across the street from western side of the palace, with its main entrance facing the palace street. He spent extra time studying the area and the buildings around it. He wasn’t happy with what he saw. Bad line of sight or certain death, he cursed silently. Once again, he looked up at the palace wall.
“That’s where I’d want to be,” he muttered. “Everything else bein’ equal.”
But everything else was far from equal. While the palace battlements provided the best view, they would also be the worst place to try and escape from, once his job was done. That was assuming he could find a way to put himself there without rousing the entire Guard to a murderous fury.
“On the plus side, no one would expect me to be there.” Glancing down at the dusty robe that covered his body, he made a decision. “I’ll need different clothes.” That wouldn’t be a problem, though. The trick was acquiring them without too many holes and stains. Blood tends to spoil a disguise, he chuckled to himself.
He crossed the street and made another pass in front of the Justice Building, then continued on to do a full circuit around the palace itself. That done, he worked his way outward. He wanted to be familiar with the entire area. Although it was secondary to his goal, knowing the streets would increase his chances of making it out alive afterward.
The day passed slowly as he learned the streets, mapping out several routes to the closest city gate. Not that the gate held any real offer of safety, not with wizards involved. There probably wouldn’t be enough left of him to feed the crows. Sorry, Danae. The odds aren’t lookin’ good on this one.
Chad gazed longingly at the taverns and bars he passed. The sun was hot, and wearing out his boot leather had made him thirsty, but he didn’t stop at any of them. He was working.
One thing he was grateful for, though. He had insisted that his next meeting be at one of the taverns closest to the Hightower gate, a place called the Green Pony. He was supposed to meet another man there, one hired to assist him in his endeavor.
The hunter didn’t particularly want help, though. A second man would only double his chances of being spotted before it was time to draw back his string and loose the fi
rst arrow. A second man would almost certainly be useless and might even make escape harder. I’ll give him a fuckoff job and ignore him, thought Chad. An’ if he won’t fuck off, I’ll hide his body in an alley somewhere. Idly, he fingered the long knife at his hip.
It wasn’t one of his enchanted knives, the ones given to him by the Count. He had been warned. The new guards roaming the streets could sense magic. His knives, arrows, and bow were hidden outside the city. According to his contact, it would be safe to bring them in the next day. I wonder how she paid off the Royal Guard? thought Chad. It must have cost her a pretty penny.
He didn’t feel sorry for her, though. His own price would be worse, paid in steel and blood. The stench of dung assailed his nostrils, and the hunter covered his nose with a handkerchief. “I hate cities,” he muttered.
When the sun began to sink low in the sky, he turned his steps toward the Green Pony, hoping the beer there would be enough to make up for the bullshit he would have to deal with. He was disappointed when he finally stepped inside. Years of carousing at the Muddy Pig in Washbrook had spoiled him. The place was a dump.
Looking around, he searched for an empty table, but there were none. Then his eyes fell on a large man sitting in the corner. “I’ll be damned,” hissed Chad under his breath. Covering his surprise, he moved over and took the empty chair across from the behemoth pretending to be a man. “I should have known you’d turn up,” said the ranger. “Yer like a bad penny.”
The big man grunted, lifting his mug as a greeting.
“Ya know this is a death sentence, or does that matter to ya?” continued Chad, waving a hand in the air to attract the attention of a barmaid.
Cyhan shrugged, lifting his brows in an expression that said, ‘maybe, maybe not.’
“Well this is just dandy,” said Chad, his spirits lifting. “At least I’ll be dyin’ next to someone uglier’n me. Momma always said to have ugly friends. I’ll be the prettiest one at the funeral.”
The big knight smiled faintly, his version of a polite laugh.
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