Dark One's Mistress (Dark One Trilogy Book 1)

by Alien, Aldrea

  "Mistress?"

  Her gaze swung to the scrawny form of Sirius cowering at her side. He glared up at her, the stone-flat eyes carrying the last, fading trace of anger. What had he originally done to warrant this punishment? Something to do with young women. Was it rape? Murder? Both? Although he once again sat under his lord's thrall, she was too afraid to ask him.

  "The damage report?" He clutched his sad, little velvet hat, wringing it tighter when she didn't respond. "You asked for it to be brought to you?"

  "Yes." Lucias now rested in the hands of those more capable than she. It had taken a little more persuasion in getting the servants to listen to her. Was she not the Great Lord's mistress? The servants had all agreed this was true. So, should they not heed her when their lord was incapable of issuing orders?

  The general consensus there had been surprisingly negative, at least until Gettie had voiced her opinion. They were hers to command so long as whatever Clara asked for did not endanger the lord. And so the larger portion of the men had gone to carry out her orders.

  Movement flickered on the edge of her sight. She whirled about, ready to deal with the threat.

  As if the mere thought of the old woman had summoned her, Gettie trotted up the stairs.

  Clara waited until the old woman had reached the top step and regained her breath. "Have the fires been put out?" Hearing the far end of the stables had been set alight during the fighting wasn't the worst shock she'd suffered this morning. I never even noticed the smoke. She should've at least been able to smell it.

  Even Tommy, who'd been hiding in one of the stalls, hadn't known about it until much later. Now the boy was busy fussing over the animals residing within even though no living thing had been close enough to be in any danger. Dead things was another story. At least those the barbarian had cut down would've died long before the flames could touch them.

  "Yes, miss," Gettie said with a jerky bob. Despite the lack of any obvious threat, Gettie still clutched the heavy cleaver and there seemed to be a crackle in the old woman's eyes Clara could not recall being there earlier. "They finished putting out the last one as I came up here."

  Clara nodded as she descended the steps, the two older servants trailing close behind. The stones at her feet were still wet where water and soap had washed away the blood. Her mind shied from the recollection of the remains she'd seen earlier. Apart from Lucias, the barbarian had left no survivors amongst those he'd faced. They died guarding us. Pressed into this life against their will and dying with their souls bound to a man they must have believed would also never see another dawn. "How many men were lost?"

  "About four dozen, mistress," came Sirius' snivelling reply.

  They crossed the courtyard in silence. Her gaze fell on the gaping hole the barbarian had made in the Citadel's defences. "And the gates?" she asked of the pair. "Are they salvageable?" One of the massive iron-bound panels lay in the middle of the courtyard, its thick planks possibly concealing more bodies. The other half of the gate hung from a single hinge and groaned in the wind, threatening to fall at any moment. She'd warned against anyone lingering near it unnecessarily. They'd already lost far too many lives. And all to one man. No wonder Lucias had feared the barbarian's arrival.

  "I'm afraid only the lord will be able to safely remove the gate, miss," Gettie answered. "And then we will require extra blacksmiths to fix them."

  Clara halted at the base of the stairway climbing up the wall. "Hire as many as you think we'll need." The sooner they had a gate, the better she'd feel. It hadn't stopped him. How had one man managed to do so much damage? "But we may have to move the gate without Lucias' help." She wasn't sure how much it would take out of him to lift the gate free, but she did know he'd be too weak to attempt it for some time.

  Giving her a bow, the pair scurried off.

  Clara ascended to the top of the wall, her skirts held high. This section above the ruined gates gave the best view of the terrain. Alone on the wall, she leant against the parapet and stared out at the land stretching before her in a carpet of greens and browns. If she squinted, she could make out distant villages along the roads.

  Men dotted the mountainside, a handful on horseback and the rest on foot. She didn't have much hope of them finding Lenora and her pet barbarian, but they searched for the pair anyway. If anything, she prayed their aimless wandering would be mistaken for something more sinister.

  And there are the pigeons. Her gaze swung to where the Pillars of Endlight sat on the horizon. Two of the messenger birds had been sent there at first light. The border guards would be ready to greet the pair. She prayed they would at least succeed in bringing down the barbarian.

  Clara stiffened. Someone stood behind her. No one else was supposed to be up here, which meant whoever stood behind her must have come with the intention of seeking her out. Was there any chance of one soulless man regaining his soul with their lord hovering in the edge of death?

  Her hand slid towards the dagger wedged under her belt. The past few hours had given her a new appreciation for why Lucias always wore a sword, even in the heart of the kingdom. She'd come to a decision whilst she was bathing. Never again would she find herself without a weapon.

  "You know," Lucias said, "I was under the impression they were to obey only my command."

  She twisted to face him. His skin had not yet forsaken its pallid colouring, blood and sweat still caked his hair even though his face had been wiped clean. "You're meant to be resting." Who knew how much blood he'd lost before they'd reached the training grounds? Too much. She'd almost fainted upon seeing the trail his dragging body had left.

  "How could I think of sleep when I know they're so close?" He stared out at the land. Yet a blind man could tell he did not see the mountainside laid out before them. "They could return at any moment. I must be ready."

  Clara sighed. She'd hoped such thoughts wouldn't reach him until much later when she could be certain there was no threat. "Why did you compel me?" How many times had he done so without her knowledge? The fearless sensation had been quite chilling, but she wasn't entirely sure she could've done what she did without his intervention.

  Lucias' attention snapped back to her. "I sought to ensure you wouldn't freeze in a moment of panic." His cheeks darkened and those dark eyes, which had once looked upon her with such unashamed fervour, suddenly would not meet hers. "The side effect was... unexpected."

  Side effect. He saw his life being saved as some happy by-product? "How do you feel?"

  His eyes became unfocused. Haunted. What had he seen whilst standing on the edge of death? His hand, still stained in his own blood, rose to his abdomen, the fingers caressing the pink scar. "Whole." His head tilted like some bewildered dog. "Why are you still here? You're free to leave whenever you so choose."

  Yet here I am. Commanding his men as if they were hers. She could go. The carriage had suffered no damage. There was still money in the chest within. Sure, she wouldn't have Gettie, but she had not lost Tommy. "And who says I don't choose to stay?"

  A black brow rose and vanished beneath his unkempt hair. "My mother will return once she realises I'm not dead."

  Nodding, she mimicked his gesture of running a hand against the scar, her nails slipping under the dark hair covering his chest. Her fingertips hummed whenever she touched his skin. The flesh against her fingers was warm and firm. "Sounds like you'll need someone to stick around and keep you from dying."

  A smile lifted one corner of his lips. "And you would fight to keep me alive?" He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing along her bottom lip. "The Citadel is full of men willing to give up their lives." His hand fell, taking his smile with it. "For all the good it did them."

  Her fingers danced up his chest to curl over his shoulders. She gripped the bare flesh and drew him closer. "I would kill to keep you safe." The kingdom may need him alive long enough to sire an heir, but she needed more. And to never see him hurt again, to protect him, even when he didn't think he required it..
. she would give him her life no matter whether or not it would mean her death.

  She told him what happened with the barbarian and the monstrous woman Lucias had called his mother after he'd passed out. How would she have coped without the compelling keeping her fear at bay? Poorly. But she would never admit such a thing to Lucias.

  His smile returned, as soft as those deep brown eyes. "To think, all it took was for me to nearly die." His hand pressed on the small of her back, gently drawing her closer to him. Their foreheads touched. "You are aware of what will happen if you stay?"

  Clara closed her eyes, certain her heart would pound its way out of her breast. He felt good against her. Strong even when weakened. Her cheeks burned at the thought, the heat running so deeply she wondered if they glowed.

  "I warn you now, I won't be able to stop myself this time." His breath brushed her lips and her skin tingled. "I couldn't have you here with me and not—" His lips met hers. Soft and tender, yet with a promise of a greater intensity lurking in the background, wanting to be let loose, waiting for the right time to pounce. For the moment she yielded to it.

  She clung to him, uncertain if her legs would hold her without his support. Clara took a shaking step back, Lucias following. Her heel tapped the wall at her back.

  His body trembling ever so slightly against hers, he pinned her between him and the parapet. Lucias' hold on her waist fell, his palm slapping onto the stone behind her, the arm trembling as it held him upright. His other hand snaked up her side to her neck, his fingers entwining themselves in her hair.

  He gently coaxed her head back, his mouth seeking out her throat and sliding down to her collarbone, his unshaven face hovering between tickling and scratching, before he returned to her lips with a hushed moan.

  Clara braced herself against the stone, fighting to match his ferocity. Searching for something to keep her balance, she latched onto his head, uncaring her fingers slid into the crusted mass of his hair or of how he smelt faintly of dust and sweat. His lips were silken magic, although it felt as if he desired to take all the air from her lungs. And, may the Goddess protect her, he was succeeding there.

  Lucias pulled away, his breath coming in the same heaving gasps as hers did. Their foreheads pressed together, he leant heavily on the wall, arching her back. "Marry me."

  She stared up at him, clinging to his shoulders, her head still swimming. Her mouth moved without a sound. No one had said marriage might be an option. Because the Great Lords didn't. It'd been Lucias who had told her. What new game was he playing?

  "I gave you the choice to stay or leave because I needed you to want me. Not the lord or for the sake of the kingdom, but because of the man." His lips curved and a sharp blast of mirth snorted out his nose. "A man who, from the moment you came barrelling into his chambers, fell completely and utterly in love with you." He sank both of his hands into her hair. "You with your glorious, stubborn little mind and a will I could snuff out in an instant, but tread so carefully around for fear of losing you forever." He brushed her cheek, freeing her face of her hair, his fingers chill against her flushed skin. "If you are to stay with me, and eventually bear my son, I'd rather it was as my wife."

  Stunned by the barrage of his declaration, Clara struggled to find her voice. He loves me? Yes, he'd said so earlier. Although, she doubted he was aware of it. And here he was stating it again. Along with the offer of marriage. "But the Great Lords don't marry," she whispered. Not since the fourth one had slain his own wife. Lucias' own admission.

  Lucias grinned. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head upwards towards his mouth. "This one does," he breathed against her lips. "I never wanted to settle for a mistress and, for you... I would tear apart the world at your whim, you only ever have to say the word and I'll do it." He stroked her cheek. "I'll do anything for you."

  Clara stared deep into those dark eyes and saw what she silently admitted had always been there. What she'd been too scared to admit lurked within herself. The one thing he'd reached for and all this time thinking he couldn't have it. Love.

  A small part of her remained sceptical. It buzzed in the back of her mind, turning over the same thought. Would he still want her after he'd taken from her the last thing she possessed?

  Pressing her cheek against his shoulder, she hugged him tight. "I'll marry you." Tear apart the world for her, would he? She'd rather it stayed intact. There was only one thing she wished from him. "But I go before the altar as a virgin."

  Lucias went rigid in her arms and her heart gave a pained lurch. Then, he laughed. It was the most glorious sound she'd ever heard. He spun them about and leant back on the parapet to stare incredulously at her. "I did say any thing. I was not aware there were conditions on it." He pulled her closer. "Shame on you." His forefinger gently tapped the tip of her nose. "Do you think I would disregard my own kingdom's traditions so readily? If you wish to wait until after the wedding then we will do so." Grimacing, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Although it might prove difficult after a time."

  "No doubt," she mumbled. The way he looked at her when he spoke had the heat in her cheeks flaring anew. At least she had custom on her side. No, that's not quite true. The kingdom had grown haphazardly over the centuries, absorbing everything it could from the surrounding lands through whatever means. It meant some of the kingdom's traditions clashed from one border to the other.

  Like with the nomads around Endlight. There, the men shamelessly took their brides the night before they were joined in marriage. "I'd have thought you'd be angling for a nomadic wedding." Or whatever they called it. After so long, the tradition had probably spread to the city itself. Had not both the count and his son married their wives in the same fashion?

  Lucias chuckled, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes. "Oh, we will be joined the nomadic way. After all, we shall be married at Endlight as soon as it is safe to travel."

  Would they now? He promised she'd be a virgin on their wedding day then declared they'd be bound in the nomadic style? She jerked back, the small of her back bumping into his linked hands. If he was so eager to be joined in such a fashion, then why not do so with a nomadic woman? "And just what is wrong with marrying in Everdark?"

  "You don't think we can merely nip down to the village and hand the priest a few coins, do you?" Lucias drew her back to him. "I'll be the first Great Lord in centuries to marry the mother of my child." He smirked and ducked his head. "Well, the future mother. The nobility will need to be in attendance. Such arrangements take time and I would not ask a woman who is close to giving birth to travel."

  She frowned down at the arms encircling her. Giving birth? A noblewoman at Endlight. Did he mean Thad's wife? How far along was the woman? "You speak as if it'll take months."

  "Many if we are, as I fear, about to face a war."

  War. With those who ruled over the neighbouring realms. Surely they wouldn't dare to invade. Lenora would. So would the other kingdoms if they believed their nightmarish Dark Lord dead, the army scattered and the kingdom already ravaged from within. They'd see nothing wrong with marching in to conquer an already weakened land. "They'll be stopped at the border, won't they?" She'd sent messages. The men guarding the passages would be expecting the pair. If his mother didn't reach Ne'ermore, then no one would attempt an invasion. "It won't take months to convince them the kingdom is still armed, will it?"

  "It may, it may not." The suggestive curve of his smile set her cheeks ablaze. "Are we having second thoughts towards waiting? You know, what with you being here for so long, few will be inclined to believe you stand before the altar untouched."

  "We'll know." Was their awareness not all that mattered?

  "Indeed we will," he murmured. "I hope you won't be so cruel as to deny me everything beforehand." His hands slid up her back, inching them closer together. "There are ways we can please each other without risking your virginity and I mean to teach you some of them on the eve of our wedding. But until then... To keep my sanity." A gentle nudge on her
shoulders tipped her against his chest. "Don't refuse me the gift of your sweet lips."

  Clara tilted her head up. He pressed her nearer still, crushing her body to him. She wrapped her hands behind his neck and closed the final gap between them.

  She stood, barely. Her uprightness all rested on his strength as the intoxicating waves of his touch flooded her senses. No matter how hard she tried to keep her head clear, each beat of her heart brought a fresh swell.

  Puffing, he let them both come up for air before reclaiming her lips and once again drowning her in such a wicked, exhilarating and terrifying longing for more of him.

  How did he expect her to survive months of not having any more than this? These ways he promised to teach better be good ones or she may just allow him a lot more than a kiss before they were married.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Mother. Animal Lover. Vampire. Fangirl.

  Aldrea Alien is a New Zealand author of romantic speculative fiction of varying heat levels.

  She grew up on a small farm out the back blocks of a place known as Wainuiomata alongside a menagerie of animals, who are all convinced they're just as human as the next person (especially the cats). She spent a great deal of her childhood riding horses, whilst the rest of her time was consumed with reading every fantasy book she could get her hands on and concocting ideas about a little planet known as Thardrandia. This would prove to be the start of The Rogue King Saga as, come her twelfth year, she discovered there was a book inside her.

  Aldrea now lives in Upper Hutt, on yet another small farm with a less hectic, but still egotistical, group of animals (cats will be cats). She self-published the first of The Rogue King Saga in 2014. One thing she hasn't yet found is an off switch to give her an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind, a list that grows bigger every year with all of them clamouring for her to tell their story first. It's a lot of people for one head.