by Megan Derr
In Harken, the word for 'steel' was the same as the word for 'steadfast', the former taken from the latter when steel was first developed and used. That word was 'hark', and Harkenos meant both 'bright steel' and 'blindingly loyal'.
There was nothing more reassuring and heartening that Charlaine could have said.
Myra squeezed their hands tightly and finally walked away, following Ryan out of the room and across the village. Those who couldn't attend the trial stood in doorways and windows, spitting and hurtling insults and curses. Nobody threw anything at him, thankfully, because that would be disrespectful to the elders at the trial—but he would not be so lucky after the trial.
Silence fell as they reached the square, though the glares of those assembled were no less hostile than the hurtled words.
Ryan shoved him toward the middle of the square, and Myra sat as he reached it, legs tucked under him and robes spread out, hands resting on his lap. He hated these robes—the clothes of a woman, a last humiliation to put him in his place, a reminder that in their eyes, he was only allowed to be himself if he met their conditions.
Pantheon, he just wanted to go home.
Matthew, sitting at the center of the gathered elders, pounded on the table for silence. When only the rustle of clothes and the odd cough could be heard, he said, "We gather today to put on trial Eliza Karlota, my revoked sister. She is charged with betrayal of the clan, murder of her own father, Lord Karl Voker, esteemed warrior of Clan Iron Moon, and murder of Master Joseph Franko, beloved warrior of Clan Iron Moon."
Myra didn't sneer at that, but it was a near thing. Joseph hadn't been beloved—he'd been the bane of the village, and if Myra hadn't killed him, somebody else would have.
"Lady Eliza, you may speak in your defense," Matthew said.
Bowing his head, but eschewing the rote phrases of gratitude, Myra said, "Whatever name given to me upon my birth, I am now Myra Kemoor, citizen of the Harken Empire, citizen of Harkenesten, and have been so for the past twenty years. Legally you are not allowed to punish me without the permission of the Harken Imperial Throne. You are in violation of the peace treaty between the Harken Empire and the Triumvirate and the International Peace Agreements."
"You are a traitor. We deserve justice for the wrongs you've committed against us, and Soltorin does not give a damn about that arrogant, interfering Emperor." Raising his voice, Matthew called out, "Are there any here who would speak in defense of the accused?" When only silence fell, he then asked, "Are there any here who thinks he may not be guilty of the crimes of which he has been accused?" More silence.
"What about my companions? They're Harken citizens. You have no right to punish them. They've done nothing wrong that you haven't done far worse, invading Harken to assassinate Prince Larren and—"
"You will be silent," Matthew snarled. "What we do with the invaders is none of your concern. Their fate has already been decided."
Myra laughed bitterly. "And they probably won't even get a farce of a trial."
"Be quiet," Matthew replied coldly. "It is the decision of the village elders, approved by myself, Chief Iron Moon, that Eliza Karlota is guilty on all counts and is to be punished by execution. According to the laws of the clan, you are sentenced to death by exposure. Tomorrow at dawn you will be taken to the execution field and left for the gods. May they show you the mercy you did not show those who trusted you with their lives."
Myra said nothing. He refused to go through the damned platitudes, and nothing he said in protest would be heard.
Instead, he let guards drag him to his feet and escort him back to the cabin—and this time the clan did not limit themselves to only words and spitting. By the time they opened the door and shoved him in, he was covered in everything from rotten food to feces.
Jac and Charlaine rushed up to him, and Myra finally broke down in tears, going easily as they led him to the fireplace.
"We managed to keep some water," Charlaine said, and quickly stripped off Myra's clothes, throwing them carelessly aside. Myra was not a bit sorry when the sleeve of the underrobe fell in the fire.
"Leave it," he said, voice raspy, when Charlaine went to get it. "I don't want to look at them. Let it all burn."
Jac cleaned his face gently and kissed him, which somehow just made Myra cry harder.
When he was naked, they used the bucket of water they'd managed to keep to clean him off, kissing and caressing as they went, until Myra's tears finally eased and his misery had faded just a bit. They led him to bed and got him settled and crawled in on either side of him.
"I'm glad you're here," Myra whispered, "even if I wish you weren't."
They kissed him again, warm and reassuring, the only thing keeping terror and depression at bay. Settled between them, Myra closed his eyes and tried to relax. Either they were going to have to escape before dawn, or they were going to have to figure out how to escape the field, and either way, they needed to be ready.
And if they failed, there were worse ways to spend the last day of his life.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlaine woke to the sound of soft rustling. He disentangled himself from the lovely, warm pile he'd somehow wound up in the middle of while they slept and searched around for the source of the sound—then stared as something small slipped through a tiny slit in the roof.
The object dropped only a step from the fireplace, making his stomach clench with how close it had come to being lost.
Sliding out of bed, smiling faintly at the moan of protest that came from a still-sleeping Jac, Charlaine padded over to the object and picked up what proved to be a small piece of thick folded paper. He unfolded it, but the words were Soltorish.
Charlaine sighed and looked at the bed, where his lovers had moved to twine around each other. They were so beautiful he ached. Whatever it took, he would get them safely home.
Even if at present he wasn't entirely certain where home would be—but that was a problem for later. The first step was getting out of Soldonir. The second step would be ensuring Iron Moon left them alone, but the first step was daunting enough. One thing at a time.
Going over to the bed, he gently shook their feet to wake them up. Both jerked, protested, reached for weapons that weren't there—then Myra stared blearily and Jac glared-pouted. "What?"
Charlaine held the note up. "This just came in through the roof."
"What?" Myra sat up, winced slightly, but then pushed on, climbing out of bed and taking the note. He frowned as he read it, then smiled—the first real smile Charlaine had seen on him since he'd been thrown into the cabin.
Jac groaned and rolled over in bed. "What's it say?"
"It's from Kimberly," Myra said, hands trembling. "She says she will get us free tomorrow night if we can last that long. She can't do it sooner, she's sorry." He laughed shakily. "I guess we have an ally after all."
"I am not looking forward to a whole day of sitting in a field baking, but it sure beats doing that for several days until death—or attempting to fight our way out."
"Or sneak away, which we've already proved abysmal at," Charlaine added wryly. "Can we trust her?"
Myra cast the note into the fire. "Yes. She risked plenty just giving us the note. If we can last until nightfall, as miserable as that is going to be, she'll do her best to get us out. I do not know what finally changed her mind, but I'm not going to question it."
"I just hope she has a plan to get us to sea, because that's the only chance we stand of getting away."
"You don't think they'd just hunt us down in Harken?" Jac asked.
Charlaine shook his head. "No. They've already thrown too much away. If we get can get back to Harken, or even just Kin del Kar, we'll be safe enough. Of course, getting out of here is probably harder than finding our ways out of the Penance Realms."
"I don't think it's quite that bad," Myra said as he turned to face them again. "So our current plan is still the same as before: we wait. At least this time we're waiting for someth
ing a bit more solid than an opportunity."
Jac grinned. "Guess we'd better find a way to pass the time, now we're all cleaned up with nowhere to go."
Charlaine cast her a look, mouth twitching. "Young people and your single-mindedness."
"Young people," Jac mimicked. "Like you're ancient."
"Forty-two feels ancient some days."
"Especially after the past several weeks," Myra said. "Are you certain you want to fall in with two old men, Jac?"
Jac reached out, grabbed Myra's shirt, and hauled him close. Throwing her arms around his neck, she leaned up and kissed him hard.
Charlaine sucked in air through his nostrils, eye locked on the beautiful sight. He wished only that there was more light to see by. Mercy of the Pantheon, he was glad Jac had possessed the good sense to suggest they try something unconventional.
Myra moaned and loosened the arms he'd wrapped around Jac's waist to slide them lower, pulling her flush and holding fast, eliciting a soft gasp before Jac dove into another kiss. Jac loosened her own grip, putting just enough space between them to get hands up beneath Myra's clothes—and jerked back when Myra hissed in pain. "Sorry."
"Get back here," Myra said, reeling Jac back in and diving into another kiss.
Charlaine slowly stripped, piling his clothes neatly near the beds so they wouldn't get mussed or dirty—well, more mussed and dirty. Returning to the still-kissing pair, he rested hands on their backs, drawing their attention. Myra smiled and leaned in to kiss him, soft and easy at first but swiftly turning hungry. Charlaine groaned at the taste of Jac in Myra's mouth.
Pulling back slightly, Myra said, "You shouldn't have come for me, but I can't be sorry you did. Does that make me terrible?"
"That makes you determined to live. It also makes you ours," Charlaine replied, and kissed him again.
He was tugged away a moment later by Jac, who tasted of Myra and kissed like a soldier intent on their mission, with all the zeal Charlaine hadn't felt since he'd left his younger days well behind him. But Pantheon, did Jac make him want to try for such fervor again. Curling a hand into Jac's hair, Charlaine kissed her deeply, tasting every crevice of her mouth, sucking on her tongue, drawing away slowly, sucking on her lips and dragging his teeth along them before finally pulling fully away.
Jac slowly opened her eyes, mouth curving. "I'm going to win so many bets."
Charlaine scowled. "Bets? What bets?"
"About what Second Lieutenant Astor enjoys in bed." Jac fluttered her lashes. "At least half of Fathoms Deep has money on spanking."
"What!" Charlaine's face burned. "You'd better be joking."
"She's not," Myra said.
Charlaine cast him a wounded look. "You knew about this?"
"I love you, Charlaine, but for a man who has spent most of his career essentially a spy, you are breathtakingly oblivious to how much gossip surrounds you and your Pantheon-blessed ass."
Charlaine's face burned even hotter, both at the careless profession and the remark about his ass. "I'm never talking to Fathoms Deep again, those fucking traitors."
Jac giggled. "So spanking?"
"No," Charlaine hissed. "But I'm going to give you an unpleasant one if you don't stop!"
That just made Jac giggle harder.
Charlaine swept her feet out from under her and followed her down, pinning her wrists and trapping her legs with his own. "What does our bratty little dragon like, then?" He kissed her hard, biting and sucking on her lower lip as he slowly pulled away.
Jac thrust up against him, looking smug as Charlaine groaned at the friction against his cock. "I like putting handsome men on their hands and knees and fucking them."
That just made Charlaine groan again, longer and deeper. Jac licked his throat, sucked at his pulse point. Charlaine chased her mouth, tongue thrusting deep, consumed by the image of Jac with a strap-on cock taking Myra from behind. Or Jac fucking him while he made Myra scream. She was going to put Charlaine on his pyre, he could feel it. But what a way to go.
Drawing back, laughing softly, Jac said, "Oh, I think I found something you like."
"I've never minded people enjoying my ass," Charlaine said, and finally let her go, but only so he could get to work on her clothes. Movement caught his eye, and he quirked a brow as he saw Myra settle on the floor just out of reach. But at the jerk of his chin and the look in his eye, Charlaine happily went back to putting on a show.
Throwing Jac's shirt aside, he finally allowed himself to look his fill at the utterly perfect breasts he hadn't been able to stop thinking about since watching Jac dance.
"Are you going to do something, Lieutenant, or just keep staring?"
Charlaine finally smiled, slow and evil, enjoying the way Jac's breath hitched. "Oh, I'm going to do something, Sergeant. You want to know what I like best?" He shifted so he could lower himself down to easily reach her breasts, dragging his tongue across one before suckling the nipple briefly. Drawing back to blow on it, watching it harden further, he looked up through his lashes and said, "Using my mouth."
Jac and Myra groaned in unison, and Myra finally joined them. While he kissed Jac, Charlaine resumed tasting and teasing every part of Jac he could reach, beginning with those breasts. Pantheon, now that he'd gotten to enjoy them, touch and taste, he might die if he didn't get to do so every day.
Eventually he moved on because delightful as Jac's breasts were, there was plenty more of her he wanted to taste. He worked his mouth down her body, alternating sucking kisses with nips of teeth and long, wet drags of his tongue, savoring the taste of her skin, drunk on every flex of muscle and hitch of breath, the fingers that skittered along his skin. By the time he reached his goal, Jac was alternating between cursing his name and moaning it, one hand tangled tightly in his hair.
Charlaine dragged his tongue across her clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked. Jac cried out, hips jerking, but whatever she said was lost in Myra's mouth. Dipping lower, Charlaine got her thighs over his shoulders and held loosely to them as he thrust his tongue into her wet heat. This was what he liked: taking people apart with his mouth, hearing and feeling them shatter, the flavor and heat of eating someone out or swallowing their cock, the ripple of muscle in their thighs, the ache in his jaw and the mess he was making of his face and throat. Having them completely at his mercy and making them scream with pleasure. He always enjoyed using his cock or getting fucked, but having his mouth on a lover was his absolute favorite.
Jac made a rough, ragged noise, and Charlaine just fucked her harder, deeper, lips and tongue working as best he knew how. He could feel the fine tension in her body right before she cried out his name and came and continued to fuck her through the climax and aftermath, until she finally went lax.
Finally withdrawing, Charlaine rose to his knees and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he took in the results of his work.
Jac looked at him like she couldn't remember how to speak for a moment—then reeled up and knocked him over, splayed atop him and kissed him wet and filthy. "Pantheon, you're good at that."
"I'll say," Myra said, voice a bit hoarse. "I was only watching and I nearly came."
Hot sparks ran down Charlaine's spine, and Jac's warm chuckles wafted over his skin before she rolled away so he could sit up. Reaching out, Charlaine dragged Myra into his lap and kissed him hard, groaning as he shifted to ride one of Charlaine's thighs, leaving damp trails and making his cock twitch hard. It was a good thing he wasn't young anymore: he would have already come and made an embarrassment of himself.
Charlaine spread Myra on the floor and kissed him again, dragging his tongue across those swollen lips, absorbing every shiver and breathy moan. He was dizzy with the knowledge this was Myra, whom he'd loved for so long, as a friend and then romantically.
Strong, slender arms wrapped around him from behind, Jac's breasts pushing against his back, a hot mouth licking his overheated skin, doing nothing to cool him off. As though it wasn't heady enough h
aving Myra to call lover, he also had the fiercest woman in the palace.
"I really can't wait to be home," Jac said in his ear, pausing to nibble on the lobe before adding, "I have a few cocks, you know. Different sizes, some with ridges and such all over." She grinded against him. "I'll be able to buy more with the money I make from winning the bet—"
Charlaine whipped around and grabbed her, laughing as Jac shrieked delightedly. "One more comment about bets or my ass and you won't be fucking it for a long time."
Jac pouted.
"Behave," Charlaine said, and gave her a toothy kiss before returning his attention to Myra, leaving them to kiss and touch each other.
He lapped at the damp smears on Myra's thighs, nibbled and sucked at the soft skin, shivering at the taste of him, slightly sweeter than Jac and just as addictive. When Myra moaned his name and those thighs tensed, Charlaine spread them wider and went to work, sucking and tonguing his clit until Myra was stuttering his name, grasping at his hair, struggling not to clamp his thighs down too tightly against Charlaine's head.
Charlaine combed his fingers through the thick thatch of damp curls then spread Myra open wide and plunged his tongue deep, chuckling briefly at the howl that got him. Shifting, he used his thumb to keep working Myra's clit, the other arm wrapped around one thigh as he fucked Myra senseless with tongue and fingers, drunk on the noises, the heat and salt-sweet taste.
Hot hands skated along his body, nails raking here, a softer touch there, fingers flitting oh so briefly over his cock.
"Charlaine—" Myra groaned, shuddering through his climax, fingers clamping down on Charlaine's head.
When he finally stilled, Charlaine drew back—and yelped as Myra and Jac both shoved him to the floor, each taking a kiss before they moved down his body to his cock. Oh, Pantheon. Charlaine propped himself on his elbows so he could enjoy the sight of Myra and Jac sharing his cock, sucking and licking in turns, someone's hands gently fondling his balls. Occasionally they paused to kiss around or over his cock before getting back to work.
