by E. L. Todd
The tension in the room elevated. Victor could hear the hum of static in the air. “Lord Aleutian, we have done everything we can to find Miss Accacia. The soldiers of the border have not seen anyone enter or leave the forest with her description, nor have they seen anyone in the neighboring cities,” he said. “She must be hiding in the wilderness.”
The duke fixed his gaze on the servant. Victor flinched under the stare, understanding the anger flashing in his eyes. Apparently, Victor had said the wrong thing. “Then why don’t you look there?” he asked. The duke rose from his seat and approached Victor around the desk. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. “You aren’t called before the duke to explain what you didn’t do,” he hissed. “But what you have done…well, obviously, you haven’t done as I asked. Perhaps you are no longer necessary.” He released his sword from his scabbard and held it to his servant’s throat.
“Wait,” Victor said. “I have other news.”
The blade reflected the light of the flames in the hearth. The duke stared at his servant impatiently, waiting for him to speak. “Well,” he said. “I’m waiting.”
“Pons is here,” he said. “He has responded to your call.”
Drake sheathed his sword. “Very well,” he said. “Perhaps you aren’t completely useless. Send him in.”
“Yes, m’lord,” he breathed.
He dashed from the study into the hall. Pons entered the room and closed the door behind him, approaching the desk. “Good afternoon, Lord Aleutian,” Pons said. He wore the cloak of his guild but his mask was absent. The renowned black sword hung at his waist.
“I need your assistance,” he said, handing Pons a glass of whiskey. Pons downed the liquid in one gulp. Drake smiled at him and poured another.
“As always, the guild is at your disposal,” Pons said as he wiped the amber liquid from his lips.
“Of course it is,” he said. “My primary courtesan, Accacia, has gone missing. She escaped from the Prisoner’s Circle weeks ago. I need you to find her—for a hefty reward, of course.”
Pons nodded.
“Return Accacia to me, and I will reward your organization with sixty luna,” he said.
Pons’s eyes widened at the sum. It was clear how important this courtesan was to the duke. Drake took another swallow from his glass. “I want her alive, and unpillaged. If any of your men violate her in any way—they will be executed, stomped like ants beneath my boot. She is mine,” he said. “Do you understand?”
“Of course, sire.”
“Excellent. It seems that we have struck a deal.”
Pons nodded.
“I have another boon to ask of you,” he said. “Lukein from Ponte Robles needs to be—eliminated.”
Pons nodded. “A frame or accident?”
“A death by natural means,” the duke said. “Pons—this needs to happen soon—very soon. The first council meeting will commence in a few weeks and Lukein needs to be out of the way before then.”
“We will see to it,” he replied.
“You will collect your reward when the deed is done. You may go.” Drake dismissed him. “And send Victor in on your way out.”
“Yes, sire.” Pons left the room and shut the door behind him.
Victor entered the study once again, his thoughts on his wife and children in the city. If he died, who would care for them? He had taken this job to support his family, and he never confessed just how dangerous the position was—that his ruler could strike him down at any moment. Victor approached the desk and waited.
“Send the most attractive courtesan you can find to my quarters—I like brunettes.”
“Anything else, sir?” he asked. Victor was relieved by the simple request. He wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Yes,” he said. “She better be good.”
Victor felt the beads of sweat return to his forehead. “Very well, sire.”
Victor left the presence of the duke and traveled to the brothel within the city. He asked for the most popular prostitute and paid a hefty fine for the entire evening. Victor didn’t care about the cost—as long as the duke was satisfied, Victor got to keep his head.
The duke entered his bedchamber and saw the courtesan lying on his bed—completely naked. She was a brunette—like he requested—but her tits were larger than he preferred and her waist wasn’t as petite as he wished. He knew he was comparing her to Accacia, a rare find, but that’s what he desired. However, he would make do with this one. He could use his imagination for once.
He forced her onto her stomach and had his way with her. In his mind, he imagined the petite form of his beloved Accacia, the silky strands of flowing locks that met her shoulders and the small but firm breasts he loved to caress. The sound of Accacia’s moans brought him to the brink, and he cried her name as he thrust inside of her, releasing his sexual energy. He lay beside her as her hands rubbed his chest. He looked over at the woman, and after realizing it really wasn’t Accacia, tossed her hands from his body. “You may go.” He dismissed her.
The woman gathered her clothes and left his bedchamber. The duke sighed to himself. He wished he’d never sent Accacia to that accursed prison. If he hadn’t, she never would have escaped. She would be there with him. Drake thought about the years they spent together, and one moment stood out in particular.
Drake had been her escort to a wedding in Roslyn. The Duke Artremian Roslyn had wed a pretty girl from the city. She had no royal family lineage; in fact, she was merely a peasant, but the duke had insisted she be his wife. He claimed he loved her.
Drake thought his choice was ill-advised if he wanted to be crowned King of the Continent. Artremian claimed he didn’t, and this news satisfied Drake because he wanted to be king after all. The various factions of the Continent had been divided for many years, every realm having their own culture and government system, but Drake didn’t understand why they didn’t have one unified leader. It would make trade agreements easier and the chance of war impossible. Drake knew he was the best man for the job. It was his intelligence and methodical planning that got him the title of duke in the first place and he had no plans to stop there.
Accacia wore a beautiful green silk dress to the ceremony, and he smiled as everyone looked at his date with lust. She was polite and well-spoken to the officials and dukes of other realms. Drake knew they were impressed by his choice. He also knew they envied him.
He hugged her waist as they watched the progression. When the bride made her entrance to the ceremony, Accacia said how beautiful she looked and Drake looked at the woman in doubt. She looked like a porcupine compared to Accacia.
“If you say so,” he mumbled.
Accacia ignored his comment.
The idea of Accacia in a wedding dress at their ceremony, with everyone staring at his property with jealousy and longing, made his smile widen. He knew there would never be a more beautiful bride than she. Despite Accacia’s humble beginnings, he would marry her for that reason alone. If his plans worked out right, he would be king before he married anyway. Then, he could have whoever he desired.
Drake ordered Accacia to remain at the table while he spoke to the officials at the reception. Drake dropped his drink when he spotted Lord Lukein across the pavilion chatting with Accacia, his head bent back with uncontrolled laughter at her comment. She smiled at him as he was overcome with merriment. Anger coursed through Drake’s veins at the sight. Lukein was his biggest adversary.
Drake grabbed Accacia by the elbow and kissed her hard. When he pulled away, a silent look of menace flashed across his face and she clearly understood that she would pay for her actions later. Drake turned his gaze to Lord Lukien, the Duke of Paso Robles, from the northern part of the Continent. It was no secret he wanted the crown as much as Drake did.
“I was just sharing a laugh with your lovely girl here,” Lukien said. “It’s nice to know someone around here has a sense of humor.”
Drake’s eyes blackened at his words. Accacia was pro
hibited from speaking with anyone without his presence or permission, and she had done both. However, Drake suspected the duke had coaxed her into it. Trying to pry information from her, he presumed. “Yes, she does have quite a mouth, I can say that much,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I hope you are enjoying the reception of this lovely wedding.”
“Yes, very much.” He smiled. “It is nice to get a private word with the council. You never know when a simple chat will tip the scales.”
“But I’m sure you tip the scales with something other than words, Lukein.”
Lord Lukein eyed him. “Perhaps, but only because I have the funds to do so,” he said. “Unfortunately, not all underprivileged realms have such resources.” Lord Lukein referred to the starvation Letumian had experienced in the midst of trade agreements with Roslyn years ago. Miscommunication led to idle threats, which turned into an embargo on all production goods to Letumian. The starvation had been minimal, and only a few of the poorer citizens had passed, but the news spread like wildfire, hurting Drake’s reputation as a ruler.
Drake stepped closer to him. He was fighting with his internal temper, forcing his hands to remain at his sides. If he had a public fight with a neighboring ally, it would hurt his reputation further.
“Darling.” Accacia grabbed his forearm. “Let’s go,” she said as she pulled him away. Accacia hadn’t done it for Drake, but for Lukein, who had been pleasant to her. She didn’t want to see any bloodshed, especially if she could prevent it.
Drake shrugged her arm away. He was angry with her disobedience and she could see the anger in his eyes. The only reason he hadn’t yelled or slapped her was because they were in public. She took the opportunity to soften his anger to avoid a beating later, so she kissed him passionately, right in the middle of the pavilion. He responded to her affection and returned her embrace, and she knew his fury had ebbed.
As an allied duke, Drake and his guest were accorded guestrooms within the palace, so they slept in a guest bedchamber that evening. When they entered the room, Accacia prepared herself for the beating about to ensue, but Drake kissed her instead. His kiss began lightly on the lips then moved to her jawline and further down to her neck. Drake felt Accacia flinch at his embrace, unaccustomed to the tenderness. He dropped her dress to the floor and commanded Accacia to undress him. She lay on the bed, and for the first time, the duke took Accacia gently, almost lovingly. She looked so beautiful that evening, and she was charming to every person she encountered. She would be a perfect queen.
The memory faded away like the dying embers in the hearth. It was the first night he considered her more than just a slave, but as a woman he truly cared for, even loved—if such a thing were possible.
Severstein Sea
12
Aleco sat beside the blaze of the fire, alone, waiting for her to return to the safety of the cave. He couldn’t sleep knowing she was outside, too stubborn to retreat to the warmth of his asylum. Tired of waiting for her to reappear on her own, Aleco went outside in search of her.
She was sitting on the sandy beach, watching the white caps brush the shore, her lithe body shivering in the frigid air. He sat alongside her and listened to the music of the cascading waves that beat against the shore with ferocity.
“I can’t sleep knowing you are out here alone,” he said over the powerful waves.
“I’ll go—inside—when—I’m ready,” she said through chattering teeth.
“Come now,” he said. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“If you don’t come inside, I will carry you,” he threatened.
She clutched herself tighter. “Do not touch me, Aleco,” she said. “I will never forgive you—I mean it.”
Aleco sighed to himself. She could be so infuriating. “Fine,” he said.
Aleco rose from the beach. Accacia presumed to return to the cave unaccompanied. Suddenly, she felt the warmth of his large cloak encompass her entire body, and the hood surround her fair face, cupping her frozen cheeks. Aleco’s scorching body heat was trapped within the fabric, and it warmed her chilled body. Although Accacia was still angry with him, she was so frozen she didn’t care.
Realization dawned upon Accacia as her eyes widened in surprise. Aleco was no longer hidden beneath his cloak. He had revealed himself to her. Aleco returned to his seat beside her. His shadowed profile was difficult to distinguish in the darkness of the night. She refrained from staring directly at him out of fear of offending him.
Accacia reminded herself not to react when she saw his appearance. If he was hideous, deformed, or burned, she didn’t want him to see her distress at his countenance, and assume that she, too, thought he was repulsive. Her heart was beating fast in her chest.
“Well,” he said. “Are you going to look at me or not?”
“Are you giving me permission?”
“Yes,” Aleco said, “but before you do, I need to warn you—”
“I’m not scared of how you look, Aleco,” she said. “I will treat you exactly the same.”
“Accacia, listen to me.” He silenced her. “You will be frightened of me, you will scream, and you may even run, which is why I am telling you this now,” he explained. “I am still me, the man you have traveled with, and I promise I will never hurt you—ever.”
“I know, Aleco.”
Aleco sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
They walked back to the hidden chamber, Aleco trailing close behind Accacia the entire way. They entered the cozy shelter and Accacia approached the fire with Aleco behind her. She took a deep breath and turned around. Aleco was right—she screamed.
Accacia fled to the corner of the room, her hands sliding against the stone wall for balance as she stared at the horrifying countenance she knew so well. The frightening man who stole her innocence, stripped away years of her freedom, and damaged her so severely she almost took her own life stood before her—Drake. She screamed again.
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Aleco sighed. He rubbed his face with his coarse palms, and advanced to the opposite side of the room, as far away from her as possible. “Father Giloth was right,” he said through gritted teeth. He hated admitting that the old man was right.
Accacia slid to the floor and her breathing slowed as Aleco decreased their proximity. Aleco saw the terror upon her face and hated being the cause of it. “Accacia, it’s still me,” he said. He tried to make her laugh. “I’m still the same asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. She found her voice and stifled her tears. “I—just wasn’t—expecting—”
“I know,” Aleco said.
“How is this possible?” she asked. “I never knew he had a twin.”
“It’s not something he mentions often.” Aleco smiled.
“Is that why you conceal your face?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“He thinks I’m dead—and I want him to continue to believe that.”
“Why?” she questioned.
“Because,” Aleco explained, “if he knows that I’m alive, he will try to kill me—again.”
“Aleco, I still don’t understand,” she repeated. “Why did he try to kill you?”
Aleco sighed. It was a very long story and one that he would rather not tell. “We should just wait until we see Father Giloth again. He is better at explaining family betrayals than I am,” he said. “I don’t want to discuss it. Be thankful I revealed so much to you already.”
Aleco looked at Accacia and saw the look of apprehension still on her face. He decided his visage was too disturbing for her and reached his hand out. “Hand me back my cloak.”
“No—I don’t want you to wear it.”
“Accacia, I am not offended,” he said.
“No,” she assured him. “It will just take some getting used to.”
She sat before the fire and gestured for him to sit across from her. He approached the hearth, hesitantly, and leaned against the bedframe to fac
e her. She examined his face, inspecting every detail, comparing his likeness to the brutal twin she knew so well. The more she gazed at his features, the more differences she noticed. His face was thinner and more hollowed, his eyes a brighter shade of blue, and his skin was fair. Of the two, she deemed him to be the more attractive one.
Aleco was annoyed by her stare. Just the thought of Accacia comparing him to that demon made his stomach churn. “Are you done?”
Embarrassed, Accacia looked away. “Yes,” she replied.
Aleco eyed her, waiting for her to grab her pack and sprint to the exit. “Are you going to run away from me?”
“No.” Accacia reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m fine. The two of you look almost identical, but your features differ slightly, although I’m unsure if I could spot the alterations between the pair of you if you stood next to one another.”
“Just a quick exchange of words, and you would know who the real Aleco is.” He winked.
Accacia awoke to the sound of Aleco packing his gear. He buckled his thick leather belt around his waist and inserted Stella and some other sharp daggers into its holdings. He placed his bow across his back and tightened the straps of his thick boots. “I’ll be back before dark, Accacia,” he said as he sheltered his face within the heavy folds of his hood, concealing his profile once again.
She rose from his narrow pallet, which Aleco insisted she sleep on, and pulled the brunette hair from her thin neck and shapely face. “Where are you going?” she asked even though she didn’t expect an answer.
“I need to send a message to Father Giloth,” he said.
“I’ll come with you,” Accacia offered as she rose from the mattress.
“No.” He held up his gloved hand to her. “That won’t be necessary.”
Aleco walked to the invisible slit in the cave. “If I don’t return by tonight then I’ve been killed or captured,” Aleco said. He tightened his gloves around his wrists. “Don’t bother looking for me.”
“Be safe,” she whispered.
