Ram Thruster

by Georgia Fox

  "Not literally, of course. Wouldn't want to make me jealous, would you?"

  She looked at him in surprise. It wasn't like Ram Thruster to joke, but apparently he was capable after all.

  He bowed his head. "Don't let them chase you from the palace. Whoever sent you that note probably wants you to leave for their own purposes. An absent queen is easier to plot against. But we'll smoke 'em out of hiding." Then he slipped out and shut the door. She bolted it behind him and leaned against it, her head spinning, heart skipping beats all over the place.

  The breast he had caressed with such wanton disregard for propriety or respect for his queen, was throbbing and heavy with need to feel his rude hand again. To feel his lips. To feel his unshaven cheek rub over it.

  Lucky she wore a dark blue gown, for in anything lighter his dirty handprint would be obvious. Only she could see it, because she knew it was there. She could feel it too.

  He had marked her as his property.

  And the sensation was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

  Yes, her husband had not been dead half a day yet, but Septimus would have sent for Ram the moment he needed help. Surely, if the end result was the same, the means of achieving it would not matter. When Septimus had needed a son, he married a virgin one-third his age and bedded her, just to beget an heir. He'd sent soldiers to their death in battle, many a time, just to claim another victory and solidify his power. He'd tortured prisoners to get confessions that gave him a step up on his enemies.

  A king wouldn't care if the means were "right", as long as they achieved a successful end, so neither would she. Desperate times called for desperate, bold measures, for she was no more a woman in the shadow of a king. She was a woman who would do anything for her son. A woman taking control of her own life at last.

  Chapter Five

  He rode to Matthias Falconer's house that evening as soon as he left the palace. Needed to be busy and when there was a job to be done, Ram was never one to procrastinate.

  The air was much cooler than it had been all day and the roads were quiet, most folk staying indoors to grieve for their king. His horse's hooves were the loudest noise for some miles and he was glad of that steady rhythm as he began to sober up.

  He knew he'd said more to Ariana than he should. More than he'd ever done, or imagined he ever would. Well...he'd imagined it many times, in many different positions...but he'd never thought the words would come out of him.

  Now it was done. He couldn't stop his desire from overflowing when he saw her that evening. All his senses were on fire in that little chamber, alone with her for the first time ever, with no one watching them, no one listening. How could he hold himself back?

  Hearing her beg him to stay brought every sweet pain to its summit and he could take no more. He had to leave when he did, or he would have had her there and then, before the fire or on one of the drying tables, not even waiting a discreet period to let her mourn the King.

  Ah, yes, the King. What had become of his loyalty to Septimus? Once forged in the heart of a young orphan boy, grateful for the sovereign's notice, his fealty had never weakened despite his feelings for the Queen. In these last few weeks he'd even taken himself away from court because he could not bear to be near her, fearing what he might be tempted to do while she seemed so fragile and in need of a shoulder to lean upon.

  On this day, however, she sent for him, she put herself in his hands and admitted, finally, that she needed him. Suddenly his day— his entire world— felt different, better, brighter.

  The road rushed away under his horse and, sighting the torches of Falconer's manor glowing in the distance, he put his head down, urging the beast faster.

  * * * *

  "I am relieved the queen sent for you," Matthias welcomed him into the house. "I knew she had the foresight. I wondered if she would have the courage."

  "Oh, she had the courage." He could barely keep the smile out of his voice. Mayhap he was still a bit drunk, he mused.

  The other man raised his lantern to get a better look at Ram's face. "You must have ridden fast, you sound out of breath. My groom will take care of your horse. Come, I was finishing my supper. Join me."

  Ram was surprised to be welcomed so easily and without ceremony into the other man's home. He'd always thought of Matthias Falconer as being a pompous sort, huddled over his books, preferring their company to that of his fellow man and usually advising the king to use strategy to defeat his enemy rather than a straightforward, honest battle. Yes, Ram and Matthias had, on a few occasions, butted heads. Surely the learned scholar would turn his nose up at a visit in the dark from the likes of Ram Thruster, so he thought. But this was not the case.

  "Sit. Eat and drink with me. The young Prince has gone to bed, exhausted after the events of the day. As you see, a veritable feast was prepared for my guest, but the boy had little appetite and I wouldn't want my worthy cook to be disappointed when she sees all this food going back to the kitchens. I was, in fact, just lamenting the fact that I must eat all of this alone, but now I have you to help."

  The long trestle table in the hall was arrayed with a profusion of candles, fruit, figs, bread, cheese, roasted pheasant, and smoked fish. If Ram hadn't known before that Matthias Falconer was such a wealthy man, he would know it now. Seldom had he seen such a feast assembled in a private home. The manor was large and free of drafts. The warm wood paneling and hanging tapestries of hunting scenes saved the house from the chill that pervaded palace walls. Tall brass candleholders stood like sentinels in the four corners of the main hall, providing a comfortable cocoon of light. The chairs were seated with cushioned velvet. Impressive. Must be nice, he thought with a sniff, if one liked that sort of thing. Ram, of course, had seldom known luxury and therefore never had the chance to get accustomed to it.

  Falconer set down his lantern and gestured to a chair at the table. "Please, enjoy. I'm sure you're hungry after your ride."

  "How is the prince?"

  "I think he feels greatly the burden upon him now. I will keep him to his studies for a while to occupy his mind."

  Ram sat and a page hurried forward to pour him a goblet of wine. Probably shouldn't drink more, but ...he was thirsty. Knowing Falconer, this would be very good wine, not the cheap adulterated kind that could burn a man's bollocks off. Shame to waste the rich bastard's good wine.

  "Queen Ariana has asked me to guard Gaston," he said. "But you have him here, out of the way already. Keeping a close eye on her, might help the Prince better. There are men at court who would look to remove her first and thus weaken the Prince."

  Falconer nodded. "My thoughts coincide with your own."

  He sounded surprised by it. No doubt he was, Ram thought grimly. Folk were always startled to find he had a brain as well as brawn. "If I keep watch over the Queen and those vipers at court I can strike the moment they raise a head to get out of the basket."

  His host looked at him thoughtfully. "Gaston is fortunate to have your loyalty. As his father was before him."

  He shrugged.

  "I did worry that with Septimus gone, your great strength would also be lost to us."

  Ram looked up, focusing on the man at the head of the table. "I had cause to stay."

  "For Ersadonia?"

  He did not reply but swigged his wine.

  Matthias leaned back in his chair so his face was only a flickering shadow. "Or for a woman?"

  Still Ram remained silent.

  "We are both men of the world, Ramon Villaverde. We have not been close friends, but we have tolerated one another for the good of Ersadonia and in our shared loyalty to Septimus. Now we have cause to work closer together. We may not share all our secrets, but let us at least be honest with each other about our weaknesses."

  "I have no weakness, Falconer."

  Matthias smiled slowly. "You don't have to tell me her name, just assure me that she holds you to Ersadonia as much as Septimus did."

  Ram reached for some bread. "S
he holds me." He paused, licked his lips, "Perchance, she kept me here more than he."

  There was a short silence and then Matthias leaned forward into the light and raised his goblet. "Good. I thought this was the case. I hoped it was so. 'Tis the same for me. We do have something in common after all."

  Ram looked down the table, his eyes narrowed and cautious. What did the learned man mean by this? Was he too in lust for Ariana?

  "Don't look perturbed, Villaverde. My woman is not the same as yours, I'm sure. That will never come between us."

  Curiosity followed relief. "Who is she that you don't have her already? Is she married? Promised to another?" Matthias Falconer may be the quiet, reserved sort who, like Ram, avoided court politics as much as he could, but he was very handsome, descendant of an ancient and noble family, and he was rich, of course. He could have any wench he wanted. Yet he kept to himself and his books.

  Falconer gave a small, sad smile. "One day I just might tell you. But for now let us keep our secrets." He reached forward with a sigh, tapping his goblet to Ram's. "Tis a sad fact that we should be led by our desires for women, but so it is. That vulnerability we share." He chuckled dourly. "And poor Septimus thought we stayed for him." Both men toasted to the dead King and then Matthias added, "The queen will need more than the two of us. Her enemies are in many places, in many guises, and we cannot be everywhere at once. Without Septimus she is exceptionally vulnerable."

  "I have thought of that. There are a few men I have called upon to join us. Two of them are with her now and I have sent word to the others tonight. By tomorrow, or the day after, they will be in Ersadonia."

  "Men that can be trusted implicitly?"

  "Of course." Those he had in mind for this job were good friends, men he had fought beside for years, men he would entrust with his own life, and some who owed him favors for saving theirs.

  "Well, if they come with your seal of approval, I must agree. I know your judgment is sound in such matters."

  "You do?"

  Matthias smiled slowly. "You did not expect me to appreciate your talents, just because they differ from my own? You are a man of physical action, Ram Thruster. I am a man of strategy. We both have our areas of expertise and Prince Gaston will benefit from it, as his father did."

  "But you..." he gestured to the book beside Matthias's plate, "...are a man of letters. I never had a tutor. Never learned to read or write."

  "You managed well enough without it."

  "Mayhap."

  Once he'd entered a room looking for the king and found Ariana reading her prayer book. He was struck by how peaceful she looked with the gentle sun touching her headdress, her hands poised on the page. She looked up when he entered, and then she frowned, obviously because he had disturbed her enjoyment. It made him annoyed to see her expression change so rapidly.

  "I was looking for the king," he'd snapped.

  "Well, he is not here, as you see. Only me. Sorry to disappoint." After a moment, when he could think of nothing clever to say, she went back to her book, not looking up from it again. Her lips moved very slightly as she read, and her tongue peeped out to wet her lower lip as she slowly turned the page. What written words could have absorbed her so, held her attention away from him? Books; not to be trusted.

  "Of course," said Matthias, "it is never too late to learn."

  Ram dragged his attention back to his host. "As you say, I managed well enough without it."

  "Sometimes a man wants more, seeks more."

  "Not me," he muttered. "I am content with my life just the way it is. I want for nothing more."

  "Then you are a rarity." The other man chuckled. "And I envy you."

  How odd that this man of wealth, breeding and education should envy him.

  "The Prince cannot remain here more than a few days before someone finds out where he is. It is inevitable that they will come seeking him out," said the tutor, "so whatever course is decided upon, we must act with haste."

  "I told the Queen tonight that she should not flinch from bloodshed," Ram muttered.

  "She will not want that."

  "No. But it may be necessary." He'd been looking for a chance to cut Humboldt de Bonneville's throat for a while. "That's why she has me. I do the work for which no one else has the taste or the gumption."

  "Well, let us hope it does not come to that."

  His stomach soon filled with Matthias's good food, Ram settled back in the exceedingly comfortable velvet cushions of his chair and let the pleasant taste of spiced wine float through his veins. There were no drafts in this house, no bad odors, no choking chimneys blowing soot, or rats scratching by his feet. Of course, it was nice to know this opulence for a little while, but he couldn't live like this every day. Must get wearing on a man's sharp edges and dull them down.

  There was other luxury he looked forward to enjoying, another kind of feast to satisfy his appetite.

  Anticipation sparked and sizzled in his gut. It was not quite true when he told Falconer that he wanted nothing, of course.

  "Soon I'll collect what you owe me. I've waited long enough."

  "Collect?"

  "Fret not. I'm not such a brute that I would ask for payment in full tonight. Your husband's not been dead five hours and I will honor his memory."

  In fact he was such a brute that he would have taken her tonight, regardless of mourning. It was not his scruples that kept him away tonight, but hers. When Ariana gave herself to him, Ram wanted to be certain she was neither thinking of her dead husband, nor worrying about her son. So they would bury Septimus tomorrow and Ram would assemble a guard for the prince. Then she would have nothing troubling her green eyes when he had her to himself again behind a locked door. Soon.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, even before the funeral service, Humboldt de Bonneville came to Ariana for an audience. She supposed he had been up all night, plotting. But then, so had she. Only a fool could have slept peacefully at such a time, and Humboldt — despite the lack of balls, according to Ram— was no fool.

  She saw at once that he was annoyed, barely able to hide his viper's hiss as he greeted her with false concern.

  "We worried for your majesty last night. No one appeared to know where you had gone."

  "Oh?" Ariana kept her face impassive, her hands at her sides.

  "Indeed, there was much fear for you, majesty. In your state of bereavement, I wished to send my sisters to sit with you for comfort. We were all trying to find you, fearing you might have done something...desperate...in your grief for the king."

  And she was quite sure they'd searched high and low, but not because they were worried for her safety or her state of mind. Only one of her ladies knew where she went last night— the only one she knew she could trust.

  "The young Prince too, was not to be found," he added, narrowed eyes pinned to her face. "We expected both of you to sit in vigil by the King."

  "Prince Gaston is in safe hands," she said quietly and firmly. "You need not fear for us, sir."

  "But in this time of mourning—"

  "I preferred to be left in peace with my thoughts and prayers. That is why I chose to sit alone last night. As for my husband, he spent many months in pain, lost his teeth, his hair, his appetite and his dignity. But his spirit is now far from here, no doubt eating honeyed figs and dates stuffed with almond paste. He is in a better place than any of us and sitting by his empty, rotting body will change nothing. The way to honor my husband now is through his son, the rightful heir to the kingdom."

  "Indeed." He made a stiff bow. "We are all relieved to see you well today and in a mind of such clarity despite your bereavement."

  She began to walk by him, but he placed himself before her again. "Would your majesty grant me a moment of private conversation today?"

  "Really, Lord De Bonneville, can it not wait?"

  "It is a matter of great importance to the country, majesty. And since you appear to be beyond your grief already, I see no
cause to wait."

  His tall frame was seething with irritation, and she knew it must kill him to have to talk to her with respect and patience, even with her husband gone. It wouldn't last for long, but now, while the palace was in mourning and she was a creature of sympathy, he would tread with caution around her. Eventually, once he felt secure and had rallied enough sycophantic support from those who feared him, he'd swoop in and push her aside. It could happen a week from now. It could happen tomorrow. Today, with the court in mourning, he must hold tight on his own reins. There was also the fact that he did not yet know who would align themselves with her in any forthcoming struggle. No doubt he had been reaching out with his sly tentacles for weeks now, testing the support for his cause. The man's gaze moved shiftily from side to side, even as he addressed her.

  "If it is for the good of Ersadonia, then of course I will talk with you," she replied, opening her eyes wide with a pretense of innocence. "As soon as the interment ceremony is finished."

  He twitched, bowing again. "Thank you, majesty." But as he came up from that reluctant bow, his face seemed to lengthen and turn grey. He had caught sight of something above her head.

  Before she could turn to see who it was, she heard a deep, gruff voice behind her. "Bonneville," it said flatly.

  Ram had returned. A warm wave swept Ariana and almost lifted her off her feet. To know he was there behind her...Oh, she must keep her face clear of any readable expression. She didn't know whether what she felt was excitement and anticipation, or fear at what she'd got herself into.

  Humboldt merely glared and then walked away, evidently not considering the warrior worthy of a greeting.

  The air moved, warmed. She knew Ram had stepped closer and then he whispered, "Majesty, you slept well, I trust."

  Today, apparently, he was sober, and back to calling her "majesty".

  Slept? He thought she could have slept a wink after their conversation, his kiss, and the bargain they'd struck?