Duke of Minds (Master of Monsters Book 4)

by Stephen L. Hadley

  Breathing deeply, Leo waited for the conversation to die down. When it did not, he gestured for silence and, much to his surprise, got it. He swallowed hard as countless eyes turned back toward him.

  “Finally,” he said, “We come to the issue of those who fought for me.”

  A slight shudder of excitement ran through the rows of elves arranged near the bottom of the stairs. They maintained their discipline, however, and did not take their eyes off their potential foes. The only real evidence of their distraction was a shifting of sword grips in a few and sidelong glances exchanged among the rest.

  Buchold, Sophe, and Iresh turned fully to look at him.

  “During my time as First Admiral, I fought alongside the brave men of Ansiri’s Navy,” Leo said. “And over the past days, weeks, and months, I have fought alongside men, elves, trow, and many others. Ambrosians, golems, and even… even a drakonid. I have, in my estimation, a more diverse experience than any Duke since the first. This means I can say with authority that there is no good reason to continue their subjugation. The widespread existence of slavery throughout the Isles is nothing but a tool of Ansiri’s former nobles to expand their wealth and control the masses. And, like the titles themselves, it ends today.

  “I, King Leo VanOrden, hereby declare that any person currently enslaved, human or non-human, is to be freed by sundown. Any slaves currently serving in the Army of Ansiri should report to their ranking officer. Those who choose to remain in paid service will be dispatched throughout the Isles to ensure my proclamation is carried out. And to execute the King’s justice upon those who refuse.”

  This time, the murmurs came from Leo’s soldiers, rather than the men they protected him from. They started quiet, just a few disbelieving whispers. But slowly, over the course of several moments, the noise and excitement grew. Then, like a well-fed fire, the commotion spread from the elves nearest him and into the distant onlookers who’d wandered over from the fringes of the plaza. Laughs of delight and relief erupted spontaneously, along with a few emotion-heavy sighs that sounded suspiciously like suppressed sobs.

  At the sound, Leo’s chest swelled with satisfaction until it ached. It wasn’t just the thrill of victory, though he did take a certain pleasure in elevating the slaves to the same level as their former masters. No, what warmed his heart and brought a wide grin to his face was the sheer relief of having kept his word. Schemes and ambitions and machinations were delightful for the opportunities they provided him, but there was something strangely gratifying about profiting off a promise made and fulfilled.

  Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the unease that spread throughout the crowd of former nobles below him. Most of the men he saw were engaged in anxious conversation, glancing nervously at the armed former slaves that surrounded them on three sides. Only Ferris looked wholly undisturbed. The man was whispering to his wife, who nodded eagerly.

  The aldermen on the other hand barely seemed to have noticed Leo’s final proclamation. They continued to converse in soft voices, a few of the leaders gesturing energetically as they worked through the various implications of the changes Leo had wrought. Nicolo, evidently still rather unwelcome in their midst, chewed the knuckle of his forefinger and slowly rocked from side to side. Then, as if sensing Leo’s gaze, he looked up suddenly. Donning a mild grin, he strolled forward and up the stairs.

  Several of Leo’s elves tensed in anticipation, lifting their swords as Nicolo approached. And yet, before Leo could even think of intervening, Lucius did just that.

  “Stop,” the elf ordered. “Let the alderman through.”

  It could almost have passed for politeness, and if he hadn’t been watching closely, Leo might have taken it for just that. Lucius took Nicolo by the arm and casually shoved him in Leo’s direction. Stumbling and only just catching himself before he fell, Nicolo aimed a steely-eyed glare in the elf’s direction. Then, straightening his jacket, he marched to Leo’s side.

  “Your Excellency,” Nicolo said, with a deep bow that was only half-mocking. “Or would that be something else? Majesty? How do people in Sutherpoint address Lionel?”

  “Hell if I know,” Leo said, snorting. “Figured I’d let Cirilla decide that.”

  “Ah, a wise decision. At last.” Turning slightly, Nicolo gestured subtly toward the lingering crowd. “You’ve made a great many wealthy families very unhappy. You do know that, correct?”

  “Of course,” Leo said. “But not as unhappy as they might have been.”

  “Oh? And how is that?”

  “Because I left their money untouched.” Leo shrugged, folding his hands behind his back. “Compared to that, most of them hardly care about their titles. They love the respect it affords them and the immunity for lesser crimes. But right now, most of them are simply relieved I didn’t impose a special tithe. They expect that their wealth will buy them the respect to which they’re accustomed.”

  “And will it?” Nicolo asked.

  Leo shrugged. “For now? Perhaps. A decade from now?” He shrugged again.

  “I see,” Nicolo said, so quietly that Leo nearly missed it. The man chewed his lip for a moment before cocking his head. “This is just the beginning for you, isn’t it?”

  “The beginning? Seven hells, no!” Chuckling, Leo stared incredulously at the man. “I’ve gone from a baron to the King in one year, Nicolo.”

  “And you intend to rest on your laurels?”

  “Hardly.” Leo grinned and offered yet another casual shrug. “Let’s say this marks the middle for me.”

  “Fair enough, Your Majesty.” Nicolo bowed a second time, with far less mockery than his previous obeisance. “I’ll drink a toast to your middle then, shall I?”

  “Better than drinking to my end,” Leo pointed out. He waited for Nicolo to straighten from his bow then descended a step to offer the man his hand. “Though, I suppose I do owe you an apology. It seems you’ll have to find a new line of work.”

  “Oh, I’m certain I’ll think of something,” Nicolo said, winking. “Ansiri has no shortage of appetites, and I’m very good at satisfying them.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Accustomed as he was to sleeping on his cot, it took several nights of sleeping in his own bed before Leo readjusted to the size and luxury of it. Though, in truth, he barely even noticed his sleeping arrangements. The days that followed his pronouncements in the plaza were crammed so full of motion, activity, and decision-making that he often felt that Cirilla was shaking him awake before he’d even fully closed his eyes.

  And so, on the fourth morning of his kingship, he fled. It wasn’t a real escape, of course, even though he dressed in silence and slipped from his rooms before the candles had been extinguished. Karran, who had been dutifully standing outside his door, grinned knowingly at the sight of him and bowed her head obediently, following as he departed to roam the night-stilled halls of the Ministry.

  Several times, Leo crossed paths with the odd servant. Sometimes they noticed him, bowing or curtseying with wide eye and hurrying away to avoid disturbing his idle wanderings. Other times, however, they were so fixated on their work that they did not even notice his near-silent footsteps. He preferred the latter. The nervous deference of those who spotted him reminded him too much of the duties he was trying to evade. It was better to go unseen and unobserved like a ghost in his own home.

  He lost track of how long he walked. And although it was impossible to become truly lost—the Ministry was large, but not that large—retreading the same halls and turning down side corridors at random afforded nearly the same sense of aimless wandering that he sought. When at last he halted, it was only to sit on a squat, convenient bench and gaze at a patinated statue of an old god, tucked and forgotten in a blocky alcove set in the opposite wall.

  “Do you suppose it was worth it?” he asked, glancing at Karran. She stiffened at being addressed and turned quizzically to study the idol. Chuckling, Leo shook his head. �
��No, no. Not that. I mean everything. Everything I did to become King.”

  Karran inhaled audibly, not quite a gasp but near enough. Inching forward, she gathered up her tail and seated herself beside him on the bench. As ever, she did not speak. Instead, she gently gathered Leo’s hand and held it between her own.

  “I mean, it’s not as though I set out to become one from the very beginning,” he mused aloud. “At first, I just planned on causing a ruckus. Pit a few nobles against one another, perhaps buy up all the city’s brothels just to see what would happen. But sailing to Sutherpoint, killing Wyden, starting wars, freeing slaves… I didn’t plan on any of it. Not with any specificity. Everything just sort of happened. Do you think that’s how it always is? The people who make history, who change the Isles, don’t even realize the significance of what they’re doing until afterward? Or am I just the one-in-a-thousand who didn’t get killed while mucking through it?”

  Karran was staring at him now, her expression compassionate but otherwise unreadable. For some reason, Leo found it hard to meet her gaze for more than a second or two. Grimacing, he averted his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That was a strange thing to ask. I guess what I’m trying to… do you think I should have done it differently? Because if anyone had asked me a year ago what I’d be willing to sacrifice to become King… I don’t know if I would have agreed to it. Finegas, Mihal, Brigit, Delia, Sann, and the gods alone know how many elves and sailors! How many thousands of people are—?”

  He was rambling. His throat grew tight. His words came faster and faster.

  And then, gentle as the breeze, Karran’s hands tightened around his. She squeezed his hand, just hard enough silence him. And then, laboriously, she answered him with her fingers.

  You are. To be. Better. Duke.

  The final component of her handspeech was so abrupt and unexpected that it succeeded in distracting Leo from his growing self-doubt. He frowned, replicating her gesture with a curious expression.

  “Duke?” he asked. No sooner had the word left his lips than the answer came to him, and he chuckled. “Wait. Is there really no way to say King?”

  Karran grinned back at him and nodded. Then, slightly faster than before, she repeated her mimed sequence. This time, however, when she gave the gesture for Duke—a trio of claws rising from her brow like a crown—she exaggerated the motion so much that she lost her balance. Legs flailing, she tried to catch herself but only succeeded in toppling back more wildly. Had it not been for the wall, she would undoubtedly have cracked her head against the floor. As it was, she only just managed to avoid such a fate.

  Leo couldn’t help himself. He laughed loudly, making no attempt to quiet himself as he grasped Karran’s arm and hauled her back onto the bench. Then, still grinning, he stood.

  “Very well,” he said. “As King of Ansiri, I hereby declare that the handspeech word for King forevermore.”

  Repeating the gesture again, he staggered back and feigned falling. Unsurprisingly, when he straightened, Karran was glaring. Her crimson skin was dark, flushed almost purple with embarrassment. But then, for just an instant, her shell cracked, and Leo could read the satisfaction below.

  “Oh, I see,” Leo murmured. He sighed, probing his thoughts for any remnants of his earlier self-doubt. There were none. “Very clever, Karran. You could probably teach Cirilla a thing or two.”

  Smirking, the ambrosian rose and bowed.

  “What’s she going to teach me now?” called a voice behind him.

  Leo jumped in surprise then turned to find Cirilla rounding a corner. She still wore her nightclothes but had pulled on slippers and a thin, ornamental robe decorated with a floral pattern. A pair of guards, presumably those sent to replace Karran after Leo’s departure, clutched halberds and trailed her at a respectful distance.

  “How to cheer me up,” Leo explained. “It turns out that physical humor is what’s been missing all these years.”

  “How fascinating,” Cirilla deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “And here I thought all it took was sex.”

  “Alas, now you know the truth.”

  “Is that so?” she purred. Gliding forward, she took Leo’s hand and slid it inside her robe to cup her breast. Even through the lace of her underclothes, Leo could feel the heat of her skin and the stiffness of her nipple against his palm. “Perhaps we should put this theory of yours to the test?”

  Leo hesitated, torn between discomfort and arousal at the invitation. The past few days had been so busy and exhausting that sleep had won out every time. But now, facing the prospect after such long denial, it took mere seconds for his body to begin responding accordingly. And yet, despite his body’s instinctive acceptance, he turned and glanced hesitantly at Karran.

  The next thing he knew, Cirilla’s lips were against his cheek and the warmth of her whispered breath washing hotly over his ear.

  “Don’t worry, Leo,” she murmured. “She can come too.”

  “But,” he said, warily. Part of him could not comprehend his reluctance and roared inwardly at the delay, but he pressed onward. “There must be work that needs doing.”

  “Oh, there is,” Cirilla assured him. Embracing him to shield their bodies from view, she slid a hand down the front of his trousers. Chuckling quietly at his body’s greeting, she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed playfully. “And once dawn arrives, I’m going to work you to the bone. But until then, I don’t see why His Majesty shouldn’t enjoy himself.”

  Leo grinned.

  ***

  Any reservations Leo might have had vanished as Cirilla ushered him back into their chambers. Nyssa lounged at the foot of the bed, her armor missing and the low-cut, white blouse with which she’d replaced it unlaced and spread nearly to her navel. She sat up as he entered, flashed a coy smile, and teasingly peeled open her top until it hung dangerously off her shoulder.

  “Master,” she teased. “Welcome back. How was your walk?”

  It took him quite a while to reply. Between the scandalously seductive trow before him, the ticklish warmth of his wife’s fingers as she undressed him, and the foreign thrill of watching Karran’s tail flit side-to-side as she peeled off her armor, his mind was having difficulty remembering to breathe, much less make conversation.

  “Invigorating,” he said at last.

  “I should hope so,” Cirilla said. She’d dropped her robe the second the door was shut and her body was practically scalding against his as she worked the clasp of his trousers from behind. “I had to promise them each a turn with you. Between your walk and three beautiful women in your bed, surely you can muster the energy?”

  Spinning in her embrace, Leo seized his wife’s mouth with his. Lips parting, he fought a one-sided war as Cirilla distractedly tugged his trousers down to his knees. It was only when he felt her chuckle that he pulled back.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, teetering on breathlessness.

  He chuckled as well, pulling her close and grinding his erection purposefully against her hip.

  “A King dare not disappoint his subjects,” he agreed.

  It was Cirilla’s turn to set the pace then. Eyes flashing with barely contained eagerness, she coiled her fingers around his length and guided him to the bed. She did not release him even as she sprawled, invitingly, with her upturned chin mere inches from Nyssa’s cheek. Their bodies lay so close to one another that it seemed inevitable that they would meet at any instant and Leo stared, breathless with anticipation, for just that very thing. And yet, they did not. Cirilla teased him knowingly, caressing his tip with the softest of fingertips.

  And then, without warning, Karran was at his back. Her bare skin pressed to his back, one horn brushing his temple as she kissed his shoulder. Her breasts were warm and soft against his shoulder blades. But the most distracting thing of all was the tingling pinprick of her claws as they flowed down his sides to supplant Cirilla’s claim on his manhood. She squeezed
him delicately, her throaty, huffing laughter scalding against his ear.

  Leo froze, suddenly conscious that he was one man under thrall to three enormously capable women. Women to whom he had made numerous promises.

  “Don’t let him go, Karran,” Nyssa said suddenly. She sat up, leaning forward without breaking eye contact to plant a soft, infinitely suggestive kiss to a bit of skin visible between Karran’s claws. “I know that look. And he’s not getting away that easily.”

  Leo groaned, softly at first and then louder as the women dragged him rather forcefully down onto the bed. Their hands were gentle and unmistakably seductive but there was an implacability to their technique that made it abundantly clear he would not be going anywhere for a very long time. Although, as Cirilla crawled forward to lightly straddle him, Leo found he couldn’t quite manage to regret that fact.

  Nor, it seemed, could Cirilla. His wife smiled down at him, her gaze tender and her cheeks flushed with something that was neither arousal nor embarrassment. For a few seconds, he tried in vain to puzzle out the source. Then, as she took his hands in hers, the answer came to him unbidden.

  “It’s been a long time, love,” Cirilla murmured with uncharacteristic sweetness. She pulled his hands close, lifting one to cup her breast and pressing the other lightly to the finally visible bump at her waist. “Far too long.”

  He stared up at her, longing to say something and yet unable to decide on the words. What he failed to voice must have been visible in his eyes, however, for Cirilla leaned forward to kiss him yet again.

  It should have been a tender, intimate moment. And it was, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the graceful flutter of Nyssa’s hands across his member. He almost chastised her for the interference, but was immediately glad that he hadn’t when she gave him only a single, exploratory stroke and then carefully adjusted his trajectory.