by R A Lewis
Roguelyn had taken to roaming the gardens during the mornings instead of wandering the castle. The day before the ball, she was wandering down a secluded path, deep in the gardens, close to the wall, enjoying the weak fall sunshine poking through the branches, the crisp air around her, and the crunch of frost on dirt beneath her feet. She wore a dark blue silk dress and a black cloak pulled up over her head. Suddenly, there was the sound of booted feet on frosted dirt behind her. She paused and whirled, pulling her knife from her corset where she kept it close to her heart. Behind her, alone, stood Hawkin. The sun glinted off his dark hair, and his brooding eyes seemed to bore into her soul. Roguelyn paused, but she didn’t let down her guard as he came closer, tucking a pair of black riding gloves into his belt. He eyed her standing there, knife raised, watching him suspiciously as he circled her. He had a knowing smile on his lips.
“Are you going to invite me to be a guest at the ball tomorrow?” he asked, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, clearly letting her know he didn’t really trust her either. She lowered her knife, but still kept it clutched in her hands.
“And why would I do that?” she asked, a bit of venom in her voice. This man always seemed to catch her off guard, and she was sick of his games. His body was lithe as he strode around her again, forcing her to follow his every move by turning in a circle as well.
“I thought it might give us a chance to get to know one another,” he said, casually.
“You’re a thief. The Duchess would recognize you and have you arrested,” Roguelyn shot back.
“Well, an uninvited guest then. Maybe you could show me your apartments,” he suggested, a slight waggle of his eyebrows making her scowl. Who did this man think he was? Although the images his suggestion conjured sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
“That will never happen,” she retorted. Not once did she let her guard down.
“We’ll see about that,” he said. He finally stopped circling and paused in front of her. She stopped too, eyeing him. She enjoyed the muscular set of his lean shoulders, the way his chest sloped, and his strong jaw. He smirked as if he knew she was enjoying him. This man was dangerous. Suddenly he came in close, and Roguelyn forgot she was still holding a knife. He pressed his hard body up against hers, his arms going around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She went rigid, fear thrilling through her as he looked down at her. She noticed his pupils were a wide black almost taking over his iris’ as he lowered his head towards hers. He brushed his lips along her ear, and then her brow, kissing his way down her face until he planted kisses under her jawline making her gasp. He returned to her ear.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lady Sara,” he whispered. And with that he released her, striding back into the trees. Roguelyn stood there stunned, that once again such a man had completely disarmed her and made her feel so weak. Anger and need warred inside her. She stomped back towards the palace, her peaceful walk disrupted, in a fouler mood than when she’d left for her walk. She sheathed the small useless blade and contemplated the many ways in which she would kill Hawkin when she saw him next. What did he mean by tomorrow anyway? Was he going to invite himself to the ball? She hoped not. She couldn’t imagine what Liam would do to Hawkin if they encountered him again.
That afternoon she had a dress fitting. The ball was to be a masquerade, and she had chosen to go dressed as a Goddess of the Hunt, a popular god in Downhaven. It allowed her to carry a bow as part of her costume, and she planned to strap a few arrows to her legs just in case. She didn’t expect any danger, but she wasn’t about to go into this without weapons. She needed to make sure she could back up Liam if he needed it. Her dress was light and airy, a short bodice around her waist under her breasts, and a low plunging neckline with folds and layers of fabric to seem ethereal. It was a soft pink, almost purple color with lavender trim. The seamstress hemmed it so that it dragged on the ground behind her a bit as she walked. She paired it with some strapped sandals that she knew they wore in Downhaven where the weather was much hotter and drier than Rayaven or Gadel. They laced all the way up her calves. She wore leather straps on her wrists instead of bracelets, and her neck was also adorned with leather straps dyed a soft lavender that encircled her neck many times over. She planned to leave her hair down and in long curls around her face, and wear a circlet made of leather.
The following evening, she dressed with care, planning to meet Liam in the ballroom. Her mask went on last, a demi-mask of light pink lace that she tied around her head. She looked at herself in her mirror and admired the effect. It was the most comfortable she had ever been in a dress, and she marveled that the women of Downhaven wore dresses like this in their hot deserts. She slid an arrow into her leather strapped sandals, the tips carefully covered with a strip of cloth. Unless she pulled aside her dress, you couldn’t see it against her calf. The bow she carried was a short bow, with barely a full draw. Any arrow shot from it would not go far, but it was good for close range shooting. She slipped a small, ornate dagger in a pretty sheath between her bodice and her chest.
The throne room was decked out in flowers and small candles that stood on every available surface. Roguelyn had never been to so extravagant a party, not even the ones thrown by her mother. She spotted Liam almost instantly, standing to the side near the heavily laden food tables, looking decidedly awkward with a plate of food in his hand. He had a mask as well, but it was pushed up on top of his head, messing up his already unruly hair. She had told him to dress as a god of Downhaven, and he had. He had sandaled feet, above which were bare legs leading to a long white tunic, belted, and a long sheet of white cloth wrapped around him and thrown over a shoulder. He looked regal enough, but definitely un-used to this noble crowd. Roguelyn smiled as she approached, waiting for him to notice her. When he finally did, his mouth dropped open as he stared.
“Sara? Is that really you?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Close your mouth, you’re catching flies,” she said, still smiling as she came to stand beside him. He closed his mouth with a snap and glowered at her.
“Clearly it is you, wit and all.” He put his plate down on a tall table behind him.
“Shall we dance?” she asked, offering him her hand.
“I thought we were going to try to find the Duke?” he asked, staring dumbly at her outstretched hand.
“I think we should make an appearance first don’t you? Don’t want this outfit to go to waste. Besides, this way, when we sneak off later for a tryst, no one will think anything is amiss.” He nodded in agreement and took her hand, although a bit roughly, and led her into the crowd that was already claiming the dance floor.
He swung her around and then placed his hand on her waist, pulling her close. She felt the warmth between them and shuddered a bit.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his blue eyes searching hers.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She had forgotten in the week since she’d seen him how handsome he was. His blue eyes were in stark contrast to his dark hair, making them stand out further from his tanned face. His grip on her hand tightened as he spun her, catching her just as she thought she was going to spin out of control. She laughed a little breathlessly as she swayed back into rhythm with the music. He had been busy looking around at the crowd, but when she laughed he looked at her, missing a beat in the music. Their eyes locked, and he stared at her for a few moments, everything else around them seeming to disappear.
The music changed and a new dance started. They abruptly broke eye contact to change tempo and move to the new song. He spun her away from him and then back, then away again. She was breathless and a bit dizzy when she felt someone else grab her hand, pulling her from Liam’s grasp.
Chapter 17
Roguelyn twirled, turning to see who’s arms she was ending up in next. The chest she flew up against was none other than Hawkin’s. His face was covered by a black demi mask that showed only his eyes and lips. His eyes were dark and deep as holes behind the mask, and he cut a strik
ing figure in all black. Everyone on the dance floor had changed partners, and Liam was now dancing with a buxom lady in a large silk dress. As he danced he kept looking over at Roguelyn, trying to figure out who her partner was. Hawkin spun her, his hands tracing like fire along her sides and back as he steadied her each time she came back to his side. Roguelyn felt bewildered and overwhelmed, unsure what to say or do. Nothing this evening was going as planned, and she had no idea what it might still hold.
Hawkin released her at the appropriate time to her next partner as the song continued, and she found, two partners later, she was released into the arms of the king himself. She stiffened as he took her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice the calluses there. He didn’t seem to notice her hands, but he definitely noticed her. His dark eyes widened at the sight of her. Roguelyn felt more uncomfortable than ever. Across the room she could see Galiena flirting with an older nobleman, her bright red skirts flowing out around her. She had jewels everywhere and practically reflected the light. But Roguelyn could see that Galiena watched her progress with the king. The music changed again, and the king maintained hold of her hand as Roguelyn went to step away.
“Dance this next one with me, Lady Sara.” Roguelyn had no choice but to agree and she stepped nervously back into his arms. The king wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his hand open and splayed across her lower back. His other hand gripped hers and his eyes seemed to be boring holes into her face.
“This is a lovely evening, your Majesty,” Roguelyn said, an attempt at polite conversation. Everyone’s eyes were on them, including Liam’s. Hawkins was nowhere to be seen but Roguelyn didn’t doubt he lurked in the shadows somewhere, watching. The king continued to stare at her, his gaze making her skin crawl.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” he stated, his breath washing over her face. It smelled of mint, but somehow that repulsed her even more. “You look rather ravishing tonight.” Roguelyn resisted the urge to puke up her lunch and instead schooled her face into a serene mask of politeness.
“Thank you, your Majesty. My seamstress did wonders.”
“You must give me her name,” the king said. Roguelyn nodded in agreement. “Would you care for a walk in the garden with me?” he asked, leaning in close to her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at his nearness.
“Of course, sire,” she responded, taking that moment to find Liam in the crowd and make eye contact. She made a slight movement with her head, telling him to take this chance and go find her father. Liam nodded but hesitated, concern plain on his face. But he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to wander the castle while everyone’s eyes were on her and the king. He slipped away into the crowd as she made a second circle with the king. Once the song ended, he took her hand and began leading her out of the throne room. There were two large double glass doors that lead out onto a balcony, and beyond that some stairs that led to a small rose garden. He led her there, and they walked a moment among the flowers. Roguelyn searched desperately for something to say, some way to get away from this man she loathed so much. But he led her to a fountain and motioned for her to sit on a bench beside it.
Once she was seated, arranging her dress around her legs and careful not to let the arrows show, the king sat beside her. He sat so that his thigh was pressed up against hers and she resisted the urge to push away. He reached up and brushed a curl from her cheek.
“You are very beautiful, Lady Sara,” he said, leaning in to press his lips against her neck. Roguelyn shied away from him and then, realizing her mistake, tried to cover it up demurely.
“Your majesty, you have a wife!” she said, trying to turn to face him instead. The king smiled, something dangerous glinting in his eyes.
“And you are my guest in my castle.” The hint was clear. He would get what he wanted from her. She felt as though she had no protection. She couldn’t allow this man to touch her, but what choice did she have? No one would stop him, he was too powerful. She couldn’t just kill him as she had Cole. That was Liam’s mission, he had made that very clear. The king leaned in again, placing one hand behind her head and forcing her close, his lips pressing against hers. Her whole body was rigid, and everything inside her rebelled against this violation. He continued the kiss until he was satisfied. Then he pulled away, eying her as she tried to compose herself, acting flustered instead of angry.
“Lady Sara. I will be frank. Your cousin Galiena no longer interests me. I will be sending her home to her brother. You, however, interest me a great deal. You will be staying in her stead. Her brother loves you, and I will use that love to my advantage.” Roguelyn knew she was now his prisoner. He would do everything in his power to keep her locked up, his own little puppet for his sick games. Part of her felt relieved. Galiena’s plan had succeeded. He had swapped his affections, and they had successfully convinced him that Galiena’s brother Tybout loved Roguelyn instead. Galiena was free. But Roguelyn was more trapped than ever.
“As you wish, your Majesty,” she answered softly. He smiled a cold smile and stood. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. Roguelyn got a close look at the ring he wore on his right hand. It was from a stone she’d seen before, a tiger’s eye, and it was ornately set in a gold setting.
“You will come whenever I request it.” And with that forbidding pronouncement, he left her, alone in the garden, fear and disgust rolling through her.
Roguelyn wondered how many other women he had touched in this way, how many he had enslaved either in the name of the Eternal Ministry if he was its leader, or to further his own ends. She made her way back into the castle not long later, after throwing up in some rose bushes and washing her mouth with some water from the fountain. She walked right up to Galiena who was standing laughing and socializing with some young men.
“You’re welcome,” she practically spat at Galiena. Galiena looked at her, a bit shocked. Roguelyn was too disgusted, too angry to care. She reached out and grabbed Roguelyn’s arm and led her away from the group of men she was flirting with.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“You’re free. Hargrave has decided to keep me instead. You can go home.” Galiena’s face drained of color.
“You can’t be serious?” she asked, disbelief waring with hope on her face.
“Of course, I am. He as good as just made me his slave.” Galiena’s face held a mixture of pity and sadness.
“It’s not that bad. He’s not a bad lover, just rough at times. He usually doesn’t hurt us.” Roguelyn looked at her sharply.
“Us?” she asked, stunned.
“Oh, most of the women here have suffered his attentions at least once. We always come back in one piece,” she said, almost nonchalantly as if him forcing himself on them was not a big deal, or the greatest violation of their lives. Roguelyn’s blood ran cold. “You get used to it,” Galiena assured. She patted Roguelyn’s hand and kissed her cheek. “You don’t know what you’ve done for me. If there is anything I can do for you, please, ask.” Roguelyn scowled.
“I just willingly sacrificed my freedom for yours. All because you asked me to.” Roguelyn practically spat the words. “You owe me everything.” With that, Roguelyn disengaged herself from Galiena’s arms, and walked away, across the dance floor and out the massive doors into the hallway. Once alone, she pressed herself up against the wall and let out a shaky breath.
Her stomach still roiled. Every part of her felt dirty, and to imagine something might happen again, something worse than a kiss, made her light-headed. She clutched her head as she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Familiar hands went around her waist, holding her up as she swayed. Liam’s strong arms held her, and his worried brow swam into her vision.
“What’s wrong? What did he do to you?” he asked softly but insistently. She shook her head, trying to push him away.
“Nothing, nothing.” She succeeded in pushing him away slightly and standing on her own. He continued to hold one of her elbows, giving her
support but the space she clearly wanted. “But I think I found a way to get him alone,” she said, and his eyebrows raised.
“Oh really? Well, I found your Duke.” She looked up at him sharply.
“You did?” she asked, almost clutching at his chest in her excitement.
“Yes, he’s being kept in the dungeon under strict guard. I saw them bringing him a meal,” he answered, practically peeling her hands off of his doublet.
Roguelyn tried to gain control of herself. Tonight had been such a whirlwind she could barely straighten out her thoughts.
“Is Eugene ready?” She still clutched her head, the world still tilting around her.
“He is. But are you sure you want to try tonight? You seem like you could use a rest.” Roguelyn glanced up at his concern.
“But Eugene is expecting it to be tonight. If we don’t, we may not get another chance. He may want more money.” Liam shook his head, concern for her all over his face.
“I will figure that bit out. In the meantime, you go rest. You look like you need it.” He began to walk her down the hall. She pushed away from his helping hand, straightening her dress.
“Right. Good idea.” She turned to him and offered him her hand. “Thank you, Liam, for all your help. I will come by to talk tomorrow and we’ll make another plan together.” He looked stunned for a moment, but then took her hand rather formally and kissed her finger tips, his lips causing warmth to spread through her.
“Goodnight, Sara,” he said softly, and with a bow he left her alone in the vast entrance hall, the sounds and lights from the party behind them spilling out into the space.
