The Mercenaries of the Stolen Moon

by Megan Derr

  Charlaine moaned and toppled to the ground, spreading his legs slightly when the hand on his balls moved further down, teasing at his hole, which hadn't had any attention but his own for years. That must be Jac; Myra's fingers were larger.

  "I really can't wait to fuck you," Jac said.

  Myra moaned, pausing to add, "I really want someone to fuck me."

  "He can do you while I do him."

  "Less talking, more sucking," Charlaine said.

  They laughed but obeyed, and it took only a moment more before Charlaine spilled down Myra's throat. They crawled back up his body and took a kiss each, then kissed each other before sprawling along his sides, hot and sweaty but oh so wonderful.

  "It's really not fair we're here and not at home," Myra said eventually. "Although I don't know where at home we'd be. My bed certainly isn't big enough for three people."

  Jac laughed into Charlaine's shoulder. "We'll have to see about getting a family suite at some point."

  "I'm never going to hear the end of this," Charlaine said with a sigh. "I'm going to have to kill all of Fathoms Deep and Shattered Wind—just to start with."

  That just made Jac laugh harder, and even Myra chuckled.

  It was easy to forget, beneath the jesting and the warm lethargy of sated lust, that they'd be lucky if the worst they found themselves was out on the street with no home and no job.

  Charlaine had almost drifted off to sleep when Jac said, "So I have a question."

  "That sounds more serious than I want to deal with right now," Charlaine said with a groan.

  Jac jabbed him in the ribs. "Harold was trying to say something before we had to run, about the Triumvirate going too far and what Harken was probably going to do to them or something."

  "They did assassinate Crown Prince Larren," Myra replied. "That's not just a breach of peace treaties—it's an act of war. Under the International Convention for Settlement of Disputes, the High Court doesn't have to go through the usual steps to resolve the matter peacefully."

  "Especially since first Jac and then you were kidnapped, and now they're going to execute all three of us," Charlaine said. "I think Their Majesties are trying to resolve the matter peacefully, though. The Triumvirate, or at least Soltorin, isn't having it."

  Jac sat up slightly. "So what does that mean? Sarrica and Allen are going to declare war? It won't be much of a fight. The Triumvirate is too small to face Harken in direct war. We'd—oh, Pantheon. I get it now. No wonder that ass kept laughing at me. Would Sarrica really do that?"

  "Take the Triumvirate over?" Myra asked. "Yes. Which isn't going to please Treya Mencee, and who even knows what the Bentan rebels will make of it. What the Bentan throne will make of it. We may soon have another full-scale war on our hands, though I know that's the last thing Their Majesties want."

  "That's probably why they were trying to find us," Charlaine said. "Unfortunately, so was Iron Moon. I'm surprised the Triumvirate hasn't sent someone after the clan."

  "It's entirely possibly they have or will," Myra said. "The clans have always been their own entity, though. Even after Benta took over and the Triumvirate was formed and so much was changed, including making it illegal even to have 'heathen names.' By Triumvirate law, it's still illegal, even though we're no longer under Bentan control. They want very much to meet the standards of places like Benta and Treya Mencee. It's part of the reason for the underlying strife and discord. I'm not sure what will happen if Harken decides to make the Triumvirate a colony."

  Charlaine made a face. "Enough. That's a problem beyond our scope. I'd rather focus on us while we can, since who knows what tomorrow will bring."

  "Sorry," Jac murmured and kissed him. That was followed by Myra kissing him, which led to a second round of fucking as hot and messy and wonderful as the first.

  *~*~*

  They were woken just before drawn, dragged out of their beds in the dark, and roughly stripped of their clothes. Charlaine briefly considered struggling, but there were too many people and too much jungle for escape to be possible. This wasn't a play. There would be no clever, heroic escape accompanied by a loud, brash chorus.

  No, their only hope was a woman who seemed willing to turn traitor, who could very well change her mind or be killed before she could help them.

  But Charlaine couldn't be sorry. He didn't want to die, and certainly not in such a horrific way, but he would have hated himself for staying safely in Harken while Myra faced this alone.

  The air was so thick with humidity he could practically drink it, birds and insects filling the still-dark morning with noise that would be soothing at any other time. He stumbled along as he was dragged across unfamiliar ground faster than he could handle, hands standing him back upright with bruising force before the dragging resumed.

  When they finally stopped, it was in a large, clear field. He could see a hint of sunrise on the far side, which meant they were almost directly east of the village.

  Four men hauled him over to a massive stake driven into the ground. Near the top and bottom of the stake was a dull iron ring with chains. His arms were dragged up and secured to the topmost ring, and his feet were wrapped in manacles and secured to the lower ring. Charlaine tested them, but everything seemed secure and well-maintained. He wouldn't be getting out of them short of a key or good lockpicks.

  Myra was secured to a stake several paces to his right, and Jac was on Myra's other side.

  The man who looked like Myra stood before them surrounded by people who looked like they either had never possessed the spine to stand up to the wrongs of their clan or had those spines broken a long time ago. Thankfully, his little speech—smug and irritating even when Charlaine didn't understand a word of it—didn't last long.

  "This is not how I thought I would die," Charlaine said, the words coming out not quite as flippant as he'd wanted. Perhaps reality was finally sinking in. That was unfortunate.

  Myra sighed. "I always thought some noble would finally lose their mind and come at me with my own letter opener."

  "You two think about really morbid things," Jac said. "Who sits there and contemplates how they might die? No thank you. I prefer to focus on the fact I've been trained to overcome a great many situations." She sighed. "Pity this wasn't one of them. Spending a few hours in the stocks isn't really the same thing, not when there are rules about breaks and water and such so nobody dies or is permanently harmed."

  "It could be worse, I'm sure," Charlaine said. "Back before the Empire existed, some of the punishments throughout the various kingdoms included leaving people out for animals, dumping them too far out to sea to reach shore, and burning them at the stake."

  "Pantheon be merciful," Jac said. "How do you know all that? Since when are you an historian?"

  "I'm not," Charlaine said. "But I do know my plays, and the really old ones include those elements because they would have been perfectly normal and expected in their day."

  Myra said softly, "His Imperial Majesty has done a lot for Harken. His father and grandmother made a great many improvements, but combined they do not compare to what he's accomplished—and what he and High Consort Allen will further accomplish. I hate I have probably tarnished his reputation."

  "Sarrica would be the first to say that anyone who looks down on him or you for this mess can shut up," Jac said. "Everyone deserves to choose how they live their life, as much as possible. We can't control what the Pantheon throws at us, but that doesn't mean we should just sit there and accept the life others hand us. If I'd been you, I'd have done the same damn thing."

  "It takes unfathomable courage to turn on your family, your clan, your entire country to save their mortal enemy and then work for him your whole life," Charlaine added. "Leave off the self-recrimination. We have enough to deal with right now. Like the way my dick is just hanging out, waiting to be sunburned. I hope you got your fill of my ass last night because it's not going to look so perfect in a few hours."

  Jac's chains rattled a
s she struggled to lean forward enough that he could just see her past Myra. "No one is dying until I get to fuck you. Even the Pantheon isn't taking that pleasure from me, or I'll fight all of the Penance Gate twenty times to come back in this life."

  "If anyone could, it's you," Charlaine said, and tried to say more, but the words stuck in his throat like paste.

  Myra and Jac were silent. But there really wasn't much left to say, nothing that wouldn't turn maudlin, and Charlaine wasn't ready for that. It felt too much like giving up.

  Instead, he focused on what was coming. They were completely naked, in an open field, in a place of extreme heat and humidity. They were going to overheat fast. If they weren't delirious by nightfall it would be the blessing of the Pantheon alone that spared them.

  There was nothing they could do about shade. No way to get water unless they got lucky and it rained. They'd sweat out all the water in their bodies in hours. Never mind all the fun little details like sunburn and shitting themselves.

  All right, enough thinking about that. The only way they'd get through this was with distractions. The sun was rising now. It probably wouldn't set for at least twelve hours, probably closer to fourteen.

  Pantheon, let Myra's mysterious Kimberly come through for them. He'd settle for Harold the smarmy scout, but given his firm 'I'll help you, but only to a point' stance that seemed highly unlikely.

  Charlaine closed his eyes and tried to focus on happy thoughts. Like taking Myra and Jac to the theatre and then to his favorite tavern for drinks, renting a room at a good inn and enjoying themselves. Taking them somewhere they could dance until they fell over. Sparring with Jac on their days off, and all the delightful things they could each demand when they won a round. Flirting with them both in the imperial office when duty permitted. All the teasing he would take from his comrades. Seeing Kamir again, holding his baby so he could have a few minutes' break, no matter how much Kamir insisted he was fine.

  Hopefully Kamir wasn't worrying himself to death, between Charlaine and the others being gone and Jader right in the middle of the fray to sort the mess out. If Myra was right about Harken invading the Triumvirate and taking it over as a colony, Jader would be on his way here—along with Sarrica, which meant Allen was probably something of a mess himself.

  Had they done the right thing, coming after Myra, or had they just made an already terrible situation worse? But if they weren't here, Myra would most certainly have died. Charlaine stifled a sigh and opened his eyes to look up at the sky, where the starlight was steadily fading beneath the increasing sunlight. The air was rapidly going from bearable to miserable.

  "What's the longest anyone has ever survived this particularly repugnant form of execution?" Charlaine asked.

  "Five days is the longest I ever heard about. It's said that any person who can survive ten is set free, all sins forgiven and forgotten, but it's a false hope goal. If the sun or dehydration doesn't kill, eventually the leopards see easy prey."

  "Leopard," Charlaine repeated slowly. "What is a leopard?"

  "You don't want to know."

  Charlaine almost argued, then decided Myra was probably right. "Let's hope your friend keeps her promise."

  "She will."

  "I'm more concerned," Jac said, "that we won't be in any fit state to escape by the time night falls."

  "You've come through worse, Dragon, and so have I. Just think of the bragging rights we'll have when we get home."

  Jac gave a derisive snort. "I don't want bragging rights."

  Charlaine smiled faintly. "You've already said you won't die before you can fuck me. So just think of my ass and stay strong."

  And he'd focus on reciting every scrap of every play he could remember and not dwell on the fact that death was far more likely than rescue.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jac had thought the worst she could feel was in the aftermath of escaping Cartha. No matter the years that passed, she couldn't forget the anguish of abandoning Allen, the fear that had jerked her heart at every sound, the scream of her horse, the foam at its mouth. The fists, the knives, the crude words hurtled at her by people who hated her for the place of her birth. Worse had been all the people who'd criticized her, whispered and shouted and ranted that she should have acted differently, that she was too young, too inexperienced. If not for the support of the High Throne, Jac would have lost her fucking mind. It had taken months to fully recover, and she would always carry the scars, inside and out, of that terrifying ride.

  She had the sinking feeling that was going to seem like a happy jaunt through a forest if she survived this latest bout of terror. They'd only been in the field for roughly an hour or so, judging by the sun, and already she wanted to die. This was nothing at all like being in the stocks, which had been her desperate hope. But the stocks came with rules and regulations. They were meant to make you miserable enough you'd think twice the next time you were about to break a rule or doing something stupid. The days of stocks doing permanent damage—the ever further back days of public ridicule—were long gone, banished permanently to history by Sarrica's great-grandmother.

  An hour of unfiltered sunlight was not the worst thing she'd ever endured, but as the start to a very long day, it was less than stellar. Were those storm clouds slowly coming their way a good or bad thing? She almost asked the question aloud, but Myra and Charlaine were the type to go quiet in situations like this, and forcing them to talk probably wouldn't help.

  But it was going to be an even longer day if she had to be quiet the whole time.

  Jac stared at the approaching clouds and tried to put her mind on happier thoughts. Not sex, despite Charlaine's earlier jest. She was far too stressed and scared to think about that. But it wasn't hard to daydream of the other things she'd like to do with Charlaine and Myra. Eat dinner together after a long day, exchanging gossip and stories. Manage to get the same day off and go into the city to shop and eat and dance. Exchange looks and brief words as they crossed paths throughout the day. Spar with them, if Myra could be coaxed into doing so. Tease Charlaine mercilessly because he made it so, so easy.

  Pantheon, she missed home. She always did when she went abroad, but it wasn't usually this cutting. She missed Allen, missed watching him, Sarrica and the others throughout the day. Missed her bed and familiar food, her friends and the comforting chaos of Harkenesten.

  Even if they made it home, she had no idea what was in store for them. Would she get to resume her place as Allen's bodyguard? Or would she be discharged completely, from that and the Dragons. The idea of having to start her life over completely was terrifying. Charlaine's assurances on the boat had been comforting, as was the idea they would figure it out together, all three of them. But right then all she wanted was to be back in the midst of the life she dearly loved.

  Was Allen all right? Pantheon, she would give anything to have been able to save Larren. But there hadn't been time to save them both, and Chass had been the first one the assassins had gone after in order to clear a path. Jac remembered his face when she'd offered condolences. She'd never cared about Chass one way or another, until she'd learned what he'd done to Allen. Then she'd thoroughly despised him. But even he didn't deserve the misery and anguish he must be suffering.

  Ugh, if these were the kinds of thoughts that were going to occupy her mind for the next too many hours, she almost preferred the mysterious leopards Myra hadn't elaborated on.

  Hopefully this Kimberly came through. It was hard to trust her last chance at survival to a woman who had helped to kidnap Myra in the first place.

  But even that was better than dying here, slowly and miserably, as the pain grew with every passing minute. If thirst didn't get them, too much sun would, and if they somehow survived those…well, there was rain, animals, and starvation to look forward to.

  Time to think about something else.

  Her thoughts remained on worries, however, no matter how hard she tried to put them on happier things. Allen. Escape. Getting
home. Punishment. Starting a new life somewhere in Harken that was far away from Harkenesten, because staying there would hurt too damn much.

  The slow, deep rumble of thunder drew Jac from her thoughts, and she looked up from staring holes in the grass to see the distant clouds had drawn close much faster than expected. "Is that good or bad?" She had a feeling she knew the answer, even as she asked.

  "Bad," Myra and Charlaine said at the same time.

  Jac sighed. "At least we won't freeze to death? I don't know if that would be better or worse."

  "I hope we never have to find out," Charlaine said, voice the grimmest she'd ever heard. "But I've seen people who died of the cold, and one extreme is as bad as another." He said something else, but Jac didn't hear it, first distracted by a blinding slash of lightning, then the deafening boom of thunder that immediately followed.

  The storm that had seemed some distance away suddenly was far too close, heralded by a cool breeze that would have been refreshing under any other circumstances. Jac watched, fascinated, as sheets of rain steadily drew closer, the pounding of it nearly equal to the booming-cracking thunder, interspersed with shards of searing lightning.

  For a moment, the cool rain felt good, as only cold after summer heat could.

  Then she registered the sting of it. It was the sort of downpour that seemed like it would leave the world forever immersed in water, the kind that shrank the world because nothing could be seen or heard past the relentless sheets of pounding rain. The ground was already soggy. She didn't think they'd drown, but then again the water was already up to her ankles and the deluge wasn't slowing.

  There was so much noise, it took a moment to realize the latest boom wasn't thunder. Jac jerked her head up, tried to shake her sodden hair from her face as a second explosion briefly overwhelmed the driving rain.