by Megan Derr
"I'm not taking your childish behavior as an answer," Myra said. "You walked into my office in a perfectly good mood and left like somebody had murdered your horse. Why?"
"Nothing!" Charlaine burst out, making Myra jump. "It's over. The matter is closed. If I have nothing else, I have my privacy. Leave me that."
Myra's posture closed off, but the hurt on his face was plain. "As you wish. Sorry to have bothered you." He strode past Charlaine, head down.
Charlaine lasted a few more seconds, then groaned, turned, and ran after him, catching Myra's arm right as he reached the bridge. "Look. I'm sorry. I just—I need time, all right? Give me a few days and I'll tell you everything."
"Fine," Myra said with a sigh. "I don't see what good stewing and brooding will do, but fine. I'm sorry for getting tetchy. It just hurts that you don't want to talk to me when you always talk to me."
Charlaine smiled. "You're always my first choice when I need to talk. I promise I'll talk your ear off soon." After he saw how tea between Myra and Jac went, because no way was he going to interfere in that. He wanted Myra happy, not so lonely, even if that meant Jac instead of him.
"You had better."
"You could talk my ear off for a change," Charlaine said. "Did I hear wrong that a certain pretty Dragon asked our High Secretary to tea?"
Myra rolled his eyes, but a smile overtook his face. "Yes, she did. I'm way too old for her—"
"Oh, please. I'm sure most people her age seem too young. Anyway, you and I are only a couple years apart, but you look closer to Jac's age than mine."
"Oh, please," Myra mimicked, and reached up to trace the scar on Charlaine's face. "You wear the wounded soldier look at least as well as His Grace."
Charlaine shook his head and forced a smile, trying not to be bitter and sad that his wounded soldier look couldn't compete with a younger, prettier soldier. Clearly it was for the best he hadn't spoken up last night when he should have. "Come on, I'm still hungry. Have you eaten yet?"
"What do you think? I only managed to escape because Prince Larren showed up and insisted on Allen leaving off work the rest of the day to spend time with him."
"I see. How is that going? Must be a difficult visit for all of them, given that His Majesty dislikes Captain Chass, but both want to spend time with Prince Larren."
Myra shrugged. "Thankfully, that is not my problem to deal with. I believe you mentioned food, Lieutenant."
"Yes, let's go before they close the buffets. We can eat on the balcony in the back southeast corner. I don't think it's been overrun by visitors yet."
"It will be nice when the palace is back to its normal levels of chaos. I hate this time of year. Let's go, then, and see if we can smuggle out a whole pitcher of wine."
Laughing, Charlaine offered his arm, and off to the banquet hall they went.
Chapter Three
Jac pulled on her clothes and went to pull her armor from its stand before she remembered she wouldn't need it. She would tomorrow when the festival began and she was back on duty. Today, however, she had another whole day free.
A day she'd intended to spend in town, buying some little token to give to Myra when they went for tea. Now, however, she was plagued with doubts. She'd spent the whole night tossing and turning, trying to get that moment in the garden out of her mind but worrying it like a bad tooth.
Why had Myra agreed to tea with her if he was already with Charlaine? Why hadn't she heard anything about them being lovers? Everyone knew they were good friends, but she'd never heard a whisper of anything else. They had definitely looked like lovers in the garden. The way Charlaine had chased after him, the way Myra had touched him, how comfortable and close they'd looked walking arm in arm. They should have reminded her of Allen and Tara, who often walked the same way, but something about them had instead reminded her of Allen and Sarrica.
Maybe their relationship was open or something. Could she handle that? Jac snorted. She could definitely handle that. Pantheon, she should be so lucky. Myra was beautiful, and Charlaine hardly a chore to look at, never mind his ridiculously perfect ass. It had been entirely too easy to tease and flirt with him the other day. A man his age should not look flustered saying things like booze and whores. It was adorable, and that wasn't a word she'd ever expected to associate with Charlaine, of all people.
Filthy mind aside, though, she was fairly certain neither was the open or poly relationship type. Then again, she'd completely missed they were lovers, so what did she know?
Jac gnawed at her thumbnail as she recalled that moment in the garden for the thousandth time. She'd only been taking a shortcut, trying to dodge that damned cook who wouldn't stop nattering at her every chance he got, when she'd seen them. She'd been on the verge of going to say hello when she'd realized they were arguing or something. Then Myra had stormed off, Charlaine had gone after him…
She changed into civilian clothes, yanked on her boots, and stood, sliding various daggers into their hidden sheaths before picking up her short jacket and shrugging into it as she headed out, grabbing a wrap for her head at the door.
Like other imperial bodyguards, she'd been moved out of the barracks and into the wing allotted to high-risk staff like Myra. She shared a three-bedroom suite with the two Dragons who filled in on her days off. On either side of them were the bodyguards that regularly protected—or at least tried to protect—Sarrica and Lesto. Even after years of being there, it was still strange some days to be living in the palace proper, where a month of room and board cost more than she made in a year.
All this simply because she'd befriended a silver tongue who'd looked lost and a little bit sad. A few years ago, before any of this, she never would have imagined she'd dare ask someone like Myra to tea and he'd accept.
Why, though? That was what bothered her. If Myra and Charlaine were lovers, why agree to tea with her? Maybe Myra was planning to explain whatever was going on at tea. Though Jac couldn't see why he'd bother with her when he had Charlaine. Pantheon, she could think of fifty people easy who would lay dragon eggs to hear that Charlaine had been snatched up by Myra after all this time. He'd been an unattainable catch for years. Jac had always laughed and been grateful she didn't seem to get as easily smitten as everyone else. She was perfectly happy playing and having fun and never settling down with anyone.
Then she'd somehow become friends with the High Consort and been introduced to Myra, and now she was probably getting what she deserved for secretly laughing at all her friends.
She cringed at the thought of being laughed at. Pantheon knew how silly she must seem, getting romantic advice from the lover of the man she was smitten with. Why hadn't Charlaine just said something?
Ugh, it was too early in the day for this nonsense.
Pushing away her tumultuous thoughts, Jac focused on her immediate goal: breakfast.
Avoiding the main dining hall used by nobles, which was still somewhat intimidating despite all the times she'd been in it now and the permission she had to use it freely, she went to the staff hall, where long tables were piled with all manner of food. Like the public hall, it was never really closed, as staff had to be present at all hours of the day and night to accommodate the palace residents.
When she'd piled a plate with her favorite lentil pancakes and snagged a cup of coffee, she darted out of the palace and into the public gardens. Normally they were fairly empty that time of day, and it was a nice, peaceful start to her days—infinitely better than waking up in the always-raucous barracks where soldiers were stacked on top of each other.
But of course, given the festival began tomorrow, 'normally' wasn't the case.
Finally locating an empty bench, Jac sat and made quick work of her breakfast, eager to be away from the overcrowded palace even if she had no idea now what she'd do in the city—which was also going to be overcrowded, but it wasn't the palace where she'd be reminded of Myra and Charlaine every five minutes.
Her plan to buy Myra a gift seemed stupid
now. What was the point when she was obviously going to be a momentary distraction, or he was just being kind in saying yes and would let her down gently later? He'd seemed so pleased, though, that she'd let herself believe she really and truly had a chance…
Sighing, Jac returned her dishes to the kitchen and headed for the stables, where she'd notified them the previous day that she would need a horse. There were definite perks to being the High Consort's primary bodyguard. Before, she'd only had access to the Dragon's horses, and only for business. Horses could be rented from the imperial stables, but walking was cheaper. Thanking the groom, who smiled and waved goodbye, Jac headed into the city.
The crowding was even worse than she'd anticipated, reminding her of the ongoing discussions with the council and the city that Sarrica and Allen were having about allocating funds to city expansion. Allen had let them table the matter until the festival was over, but Jac had seen him up at night preparing his killing blows. However reluctant the council might be to shift money to the project, Allen was going to have his way. It gave her hope that his next project would be to install pipes in the palace, which would make things easier for the nobles who wanted hot baths at all hours of the day and night—and a thousand times easier for the staff that had to accommodate them.
Despite her ambivalence on the matter of a gift, she still rode to the shopping district on the cheaper side of the city she'd been planning to visit before that horrible moment in the garden.
Though what she could get that would impress Myra, she still didn't know. She refused to buy anything secretary-related. He never seemed to wear more than ribbons in his hair, didn't seem overly fond of jewelry—too expensive anyway—and didn't seem to care about perfume either. Despite surreptitiously watching him the past couple of years and quietly tucking away every tidbit of information Sarrica and Allen dropped, she knew next to nothing of Myra's interests or hobbies. The one thing she knew he liked was books; on rare quiet mornings Allen and Myra discussed books, authors and poets at length. They both enjoyed sonnets, but Myra preferred the Outland style sonnet, whereas Allen unsurprisingly favored the Gaulden style.
Jac had no idea what either of those things meant, but clearly poetry merited strong opinions.
She didn't even bother trying to keep track of the books they enjoyed. She could read and write now, thanks to Allen and the tutors he'd generously provided, but she was a long way from fully proficient and would likely never be at their level of ability. Even if she was, she doubted she could buy him a book faster than he could buy it for himself—or borrow from Allen.
They also frequently discussed languages: Myra seemed to be fluent in all the Triumvirate languages, which had been a surprise. Silver tongues who bothered with the Triumvirate were few and far between. Of the few who did, most were children of native speakers who'd chosen to stay in Harken, usually after traveling there for years as merchants or the like. Myra looked like he could be from one of the Triumvirate countries, but that didn't mean anything in Harken—Jader was a prime example of looks meaning nothing.
She'd always had the impression Myra was Harken-born, and he could still be, but maybe not. Not that it really mattered. She wouldn't care if he came from Treya Mencee, and that was about the only country she completely despised—at least, the ruling portions of the country. If the slaves ever managed to rebel, she'd be happy to help them. Growing up an orphan wasn't much above slavery, not where she'd come from, anyway. Being from Outland, she'd seen firsthand how horribly the Islanders were treated by everyone on the mainland.
Not so long ago, the military hadn't been much better about how it treated people, though once upon a time Harken had possessed the finest military in the world. Under Sarrica and Lesto, that was almost true again, and their efforts also ensured people were treated like people, not animals. If not for those efforts, Jac wasn't sure where she'd be—dead, probably, or wishing for death.
Instead, she was here, happy and healthy, and fretting about what gift to buy Myra, a man who not so long ago would have been completely out of her reach.
Dismounting, she left her horse at a special post at the end of the street and started walking, determined to find something in one of the countless shops in Harkenesten.
But each one she came to was immediately discarded. She had no idea what kind of sweets he liked. The teashop was tempting for a moment, but she didn't know what kind of tea he liked either. Myra always ate and drank whatever was brought to the office, which generally catered to Sarrica, Allen, and whatever guests were present. And he always drank from the palace china, never anything of his own. She hurried past the bookshop with her head down.
Her steps slowed as she reached a store that sold hats and other such accessories. Like hair ribbons. Was that a stupid gift? After nearly two hours of walking, it was the only one she could come up with. Well, the only appropriate one. She'd passed a shop where she'd certainly be comfortable picking out something, but their first tea was not the right time for that kind of gift. Her lips twitched briefly in amusement at the thought of presenting Myra with a sex toy.
Argh, why was it so easy to be raunchy and so hard to find something suitable? She'd really thought it would be easier once she was here and had all the shops right in front of her.
She should have just swallowed her fear and asked Allen for help. He would have had plenty of good ideas and would have suggested things she could afford because he was kind and considerate like that.
Well, she couldn't think of anything else, and this was all probably a waste of time anyway, since there wasn't a chance she could possibly compare to Charlaine.
Myra had agreed to tea, though. That had to mean something.
Stepping into the shop, sighing at the cooler air and the merciful quiet, Jac pushed back her hood and let her eyes adjust to the dim light.
"Can I help you?" asked a pretty young person with dark skin, dark curls, and who smelled like silk and coffee.
Any other day, Jac might have tried some gentle flirting. Instead, she smiled politely and said, "I'm looking to buy some hair ribbons. As a gift, not for myself." Her smile widened into a grin as she rubbed a hand over her short hair. "I obviously don't need them."
The clerk giggled. "I suppose not. I'm Miss Edra. Come this way and we'll see about your gift." She led Jac through the shop to a large table arrayed in ribbons of various lengths and widths. "Tell me more about the individual—the hair—involved, good…"
"Miss, though Jac is fine," Jac said. "His hair is dark, thick, nearly to his hips. He almost always wears it in simple braids, though sometimes he'll bind it at intervals." She'd never seen it loose, though she'd thought about it plenty: unwinding it, running her fingers through it, feeling it on her skin, gripping it tightly while Myra ate her out or she fucked him senseless with one of her strap-ons.
"What does he do?"
Jac swallowed, shoved back her errant thoughts. "Uh. He's a secretary in the palace."
"Ooh, la," Edra said, pressing a hand to her chest. "I wish I had someone in the palace to court. They make fine money, and all the fancies they must know! But here, look at these. They're two to three pin each, all sorts of colors and patterns. Insects are all the fashion now, so we've plenty of those. This one with dragonflies is a favorite of mine." She picked it up with delicate, pink-lacquered fingers and offered it.
Jac gingerly took it, half-afraid she'd tear or muss it. The ribbon was pretty, pale pink with green and silver dragonflies flitting along the length of it. "I like it."
"Splendid! How many ribbons were you looking to buy?"
"Five? Is that a good number?"
"Oh, definitely." Edra beamed and picked up another two.
An hour later, Jac had five ribbons prettily arranged in a little blue box. Her pocket was two marks lighter, but hopefully the expense would be worth it. Too late now, anyway.
Sliding the box into the large pouch at her right hip, Jac headed back down the street to where she'd left her h
orse.
Halfway there, rough hands shoved her from behind, sending her stumbling into a dark, narrow alleyway. Jac let herself fall, landed firmly on her hands and knees, twisted around, and kicked out the feet of the man who'd followed her. As he toppled, she saw the two men behind him.
She shifted to her knees, grabbed one of her hidden daggers, and threw. The dagger, specially made for throwing, sank into the throat of the left-most man, who gulped desperately for air as he fell to the ground. The last man turned and ran. Jac stood, drew another dagger, and let fly. The man went down with a pained scream, the dagger lodged in one thigh.
By that point, the first man had regained his feet and drawn his sword. Jac drew two more daggers. In the tight confines of the alleyway, the sword was a disadvantage. She dodged a swing, threw herself further into the alleyway, rolled to her feet, spun, and threw another dagger as he charged. That one missed, but it distracted him long enough the second found a home in his eye.
Leaving the dead men in the alleyway, she went to retrieve the injured one. "Come here, you rancid goat testicle." A group of people had gathered around him, but at her words they scattered like startled cats. The man made a feeble attempt to run, but Jac lunged forward and grabbed him easy. "I'd hold still if I were you, because it won't ruin my day to send you to join your comrades."
The man said something she didn't understand, but was clearly rude, and went still.
She'd just bound the wound and secured him when city guards came running up.
"What is going on here?" the man in the lead demanded, a lieutenant by his markings. "Why are there two men dead and one wounded?"
"Because they tried to kill me," Jac said, standing slowly and carefully reaching beneath her tunic to pull out her imperial medallion. "I'm Sergeant Jac Denali, primary bodyguard of His Imperial Majesty the High Consort. These men attacked me, tried to trap me in an alleyway to either hurt or kill me."
The guards gaped at her a moment. Then the lieutenant shook himself and sent them to secure the dead men, his curt tone turning deferential. "We'll have them all delivered to the palace, Sergeant. I assume that's what you want done?"
