by R A Lewis
Roguelyn impulsively reached out and grabbed Rhohesia’s small hand and squeezed. Rhohesia’s eyes lit up and she smiled back, the smile completely transforming her face. She no longer looked small and delicate, she looked strong, as if Roguelyn’s one gesture showed Rohesia that she was not alone.
Roguelyn felt a bit better over the coming days, as she was invited to more and more parties hosted by the queen. She began having tea in the afternoons with the queen, and was often asked to walk in the garden with her. The queen was quick to trust Roguelyn, and Roguelyn treasured that, but also felt bad that she couldn’t open up fully with this woman who was being so kind to her.
During one walk in the gardens the queen admitted something that Roguelyn did not expect.
“I never wanted to get married you know,” Rohesia said, looking sideways and giving a conspiratorial grin to Roguelyn. Roguelyn raised an eyebrow at her. “I know what you are thinking,” the Queen continued. “Who wouldn’t want to marry a king? Well, for many reasons I didn’t but the king is a hard bargainer.” She went quiet for a moment.
“What was the bargain?” Roguelyn asked quietly, giving the woman space to answer. She had spent some time in the library of the castle recently reading up on The Eternal Ministry. She knew about their leader the Excellent Magistrate. It was said that the Excellent Magistrate was unknown, but someone with great power within the realm. If the king really was the Excellent Magistrate, then had he negotiated for Rhodesia’s silence and complaisance?
“Oh, it was simple really. I would give him children, but otherwise he wouldn’t touch me. I have free reign to do mostly as I want and pursue my passions, but he only really gets one thing from me.” Her smile was a bit forced, as they turned back to watch the path down which they walked. Roguelyn was stunned. Was it possible to turn down the king? Roguelyn was instantly in awe of this tiny woman, and her respect for her grew tenfold.
“That’s a hard bargain,” Roguelyn commented. They walked on in silence for a few moments. Rohesia reached for Roguelyn’s arm, linking them, clutching it tightly.
“I know you are in a similar situation. But there are ways to make it less painful, less terrible,” she said, as if they were casually chatting over tea about a party. “I can get you some herbs that make you less…,” she paused, “present. Less aware of what is happening. They make the pain less too.” She squeezed Roguelyn’s arm. Roguelyn nodded, unsure what else to say, her stomach twisting. The idea that this woman’s entire sex life was spent drugging herself to endure it was tragic. And to think her own might be that way soon as well made her want to vomit in the nearest bush. All she could do was hope and pray that word came soon about her father, and that Liam and Henndo could help her free him before she had to deal with the king. The week was almost up, and soon they’d have a plan.
That night, a small package arrived at her room. Inside was a note containing instructions to brew the leaves in a tea and drink right before leaving to go to the king’s rooms. Roguelyn left them on her desk, unsure whether she wanted her wits dulled or whether she should opt for self-preservation. Either way, almost a week had passed and the king had not called her. Maybe the summons would never come.
The next day Roguelyn was reading a book quietly in the library, learning more about the basics of this cult, the way they viewed the world and women, and how it was slowly spreading, when a servant came with a note. Her heart jumped when she saw the contents. It was a summons from the king to meet him in his chambers for a private dinner. Instantly Roguelyn was sick to her stomach.
She hurried back to her rooms where she spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth across her bedchamber, debating the merits of taking the leaves. She almost sent for Liam, or even Hawkin, someone to help her, or save her, she wasn’t sure which. Finally, she decided she would take the herbs and get the evening done, and as she was getting ready for her dinner, she steeped a scoop of the leaves in some hot water. As the clock struck seven-o’clock, Roguelyn downed the scalding cup of tea, straightened her dress and wig, and steeled her nerves.
The king’s rooms were across from the queens, and just as richly appointed. When Roguelyn was ushered inside, she saw a small table was set up with two settings and a goblet of red wine. The king stood at a window, the moonlight streaming in, making his dark features look alien and twisted. Roguelyn wondered absently if it was the herbs working already or a trick of the light. He turned as she entered and smiled, gesturing with his hand for her to come and sit. She curtsied rather awkwardly before crossing the room, taking the seat proffered by him. Her entire body was stiff as he sat himself across from her.
“How are you this evening, Lady Sara?” he asked, his voice smooth.
“I am fine, your majesty,” Roguelyn answered. She didn’t want to even speak to this man, let alone be here. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“How are you finding your time at the castle? Are your rooms to your liking? Is the staff assigned to you friendly?” His questions were rapid fire and Roguelyn felt herself stumbling over her words a bit. He began pouring her a glass of wine as she searched for an answer.
“Yes. The Castle is very nice, and the people are very kind to me. My rooms are lovely.” She felt so awkward speaking. She had begun to notice that her tongue felt a little heavy in her mouth. She took a sip of the wine, hoping the moisture would help. But her tongue still felt heavy, and as the moments passed, she realized her body felt light and a bit like it was floating, and she began to care less that she was here in his rooms.
“I hear you have become fast friends with the queen,” the king commented as servants came in with dishes laden with wonderful smelling foods. They began serving, first to the king, and then to Roguelyn. But Roguelyn barely acknowledged the food. Her focus was on staying grounded in the moment as the leaves she had drunk took her away from her body.
“She is very kind to me, your Majesty.” The words took an age to come. The king dismissed the servants.
“Let’s eat while the food is hot. Plenty of time for talk later.” Roguelyn tried to focus on the food before her, but everything was soft around the edges and her head was light. All she really wanted to do was lie down, but she knew she had to remain awake for the king.
After they ate, the king led her over to a couch where she gratefully sank into the cushions. She ran her fingertips over the fabric, momentarily marveling over the texture and softness. The king smiled indulgently at her. He was sitting too close, but Roguelyn was too preoccupied to notice.
“You are beautiful, Lady Sara.” His words slid over her like water. Roguelyn’s head rolled back onto the cushions of the couch and she looked up at the ceiling. She knew vaguely what was happening to her, but it was as if it was only a dream. The king’s hands began to wander over her body. Part of her mind was screaming at him to stop, to leave her alone, but the other part of her was floating in space and didn’t even register that what he was doing was a violation of her very being. After a little while he picked her up, her limp body lying in his arms, and walked her into his bedroom. Roguelyn remembered being placed on his bed and the laces of her bodice being untied, but after that, she slipped into sweet oblivion.
Chapter 20
The next day Roguelyn took a scalding hot bath, scrubbing herself vigorously until she was pink with new skin. She didn’t have much memory of the night before, but when she’d awoken that morning, still in the king’s bed, he had made it clear he would call on her again. She had curtsied and hurried from the room, throwing up in a potted plant in the hallway outside before making it back to her own rooms to wash. Her body had bruises on it she didn’t remember getting, and she was sore in places she’d never been sore before. Not even her night with Hawkin, which had been passionate and rough, had left her feeling like this.
Her plan was to go see Liam again that afternoon. A week had passed and she hoped he had found out whatever information they needed to move forward with their plans to save her father. When
she emerged from her bathroom wrapped in a robe, she discovered two small packages with the queen’s writing on them. The first contained more herbs, with instructions on how to make them into a poultice. The note said that this would help ease the pain. A second note was attached to a small packet of herbs labeled with a cryptic note.
Trust me. You’ll want to take these.
Roguelyn could only guess what that meant, but her hands trembled as she drank the tea made with these herbs. An hour later, as she was applying the poultice to her various bruises and sore muscles, her stomach cramped horribly, causing her to cry out. She lay down on her side, as she cramped for the better part of an hour. Finally, her body seemed finished and she was able to hobble to the bathroom, where she was forced to take a second hot bath to wash away the blood that covered her thighs. She vowed to send the queen a thank you gift, something to let her know how grateful she was. Whether her night with the king would have resulted in a child, she was still grateful that now she would never know.
It was past noon by the time she was well enough to leave the castle, and she opted to walk into town rather than ride. The riding would jar her body too much, and even with the poultice, walking was a challenge. The man in black detached himself from the gate as she left and she did her best to ignore him as she made her way to Hob’s tavern. This time she entered through the front. Hob was behind the counter cleaning glasses. Henndo was seated at the fire, tuning his lyre. He hopped up at the sight of her, and after looking her over for a moment, rushed over, offering her his hand and helping her sit gingerly on a seat by the fire. Roguelyn nodded her thanks.
“What in the world happened to you?” he asked, genuine concern on his face. He sat back down opposite her, placing his lyre in his case. He motioned to Hob at the counter. “Two glasses of Ale Hob. I think our Sara needs it!” Roguelyn smiled sheepishly and accepted the pint when Hob came over a few moments later. He patted her on the back in a friendly gesture of understanding. If only he knew what she’d been through last night, he wouldn’t be understanding, nor would he pat her so hard on the back.
“It’s a long story,” Roguelyn said, pausing for a sip of her ale. “But let’s just say that I withstood the king’s hospitality last night.” Henndo’s face drained of color as the full meaning of her words hit him a moment later. Then his face darkened.
“I’ll go get Liam,” he said, and bolted from the room before she could protest. Roguelyn was grateful for a moment alone before seeing Liam. She had no idea what his reaction would be, but she dreaded it.
Liam came down the stairs two at a time, Henndo in hot pursuit. He paused mid stride across the room, his eyes looking Roguelyn up and down, searching for injury or something amiss. Then he continued forward. He crouched in front of her chair, his hands running over her head and down her neck, as he turned her head this way and that, his eyes finding the bruises on the sides of her neck, the ones on her arms as he pushed up her sleeves. Then his hands travelled to her legs, the bruises on her thighs making her wince when he pressed on them. His hands stopped, and his blue eyes were the coldest she’d ever seen as he looked up at her.
“I’ll kill him,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. Roguelyn smiled, almost a grimace.
“And you will. But first things first. How do we save the Duke?” Liam stared at her a moment, dumbfounded at the abrupt change of subject before he seemed to get control of himself. He abruptly removed his hands from her legs and sat in the nearest chair. Henndo had sat on her other side, but he still eyed her worriedly.
“I spent the entire week playing cards and drinking with the guards,” Liam started, getting right down to business, his eyes still roving over her, lingering on her neck. Roguelyn got comfortable in her chair as she took another sip of her ale. “I made pretty good friends with a few guards, Conner being one.” He gestured to Roguelyn who remembered the young guard from her first trip to the castle with Liam. She had seen him a number of times when she’d left the castle to enter the city. “Conner was more than willing to tell me all about his fellow guards once I got him drunk. He told me which guards are on duty in the dungeons, and on which days of the week. Two guards named Feron and Jathan are on duty the day after tomorrow night, and by all reports are as dumb as they come. It should be a simple matter to drug them and sneak in to get the Duke. Getting him out will be a challenge, but I think we can get him out through the garden, the way your friend got in.” The word friend dripping with sarcasm. He shot a look at Roguelyn. She frowned before realizing he meant Hawkin. Was he still hurt about that? She sighed.
“Maybe he can help us get the Duke out, since he knows secret ways into the castle,” Roguelyn said, a bit of a haughty edge to her voice. Liam’s look got even darker.
“If he can help us get the Duke out, then fine.” Liam turned to Henndo. “Were you able to get me some sleeping herbs?” Henndo nodded and dug in his pockets. He came out with a small piece of paper inside the folded edges of which were some leaves Roguelyn had never seen before. But it reminded her of those she had taken last night and she shivered at the memory, or lack thereof. Liam took them and tucked it away in his own pockets. “Henndo, I want you to be here, waiting for us to return, bags packed and a carriage waiting for a quick getaway. Roguelyn, you will help me to drug the guards. Find us some cups and a good wine to use. I’ll do the rest. I’ll meet you in your quarters at half past nine tomorrow. Have your friend meet us there too if you think he’ll be of any help.” The last part he said grudgingly, as if it hurt him to suggest. Roguelyn agreed and finished the last of her ale.
“Until the day after tomorrow then,” she said as she got up to leave. As she passed Liam, he reached as if to stop her, his mouth partly open as if to say something, but he never found the words. His hand dropped, and Roguelyn continued out the door.
Once outside she paused for a deep breath. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Liam just now, but the momentousness of the coming rescue of her father was a bit overwhelming. One step at a time. First, she had to find Hawkin.
She decided to go to the marketplace, hoping if she made herself visible he would find her. She wandered among the stalls, the man in black from the castle following behind her. She looked at various stalls containing pretty ribbons, jewelry, and cloth. And she paused briefly to buy herself a nice knife she could easily hide in her bodice as her other one was now tucked into her boot. She bought some nice leather riding gloves, and was moving on to admire a few swords when she felt a presence directly behind her.
“Are you looking for a new weapon to try and stick me with?” Hawkin’s smooth voice rolled over her as his chest pressed up against her back. Roguelyn sucked in a breath, and despite her body’s soreness, a remembrance of the pleasure she had felt with him rolled over her.
“No, I was looking for something to kill the king,” she said, her words a challenge. Hawkins grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the tents and slightly into an alley. There he stopped and turned her to look at him.
“Those are… interesting words. Treasonous some might say,” he said, his dark eyes boring into hers. She nodded seriously.
“I need your help,” she said. He straightened up, dropping his hands from her arms.
“How so?” He looked suspicious. Roguelyn looked around, wondering how far into the crowd the man in black was and if he could see her.
“Look, you know my friend, Liam?” She cringed at using the same word he had. Hawkin nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Well, he’s going to help me rescue the Duke who’s being held hostage. And we need your help to sneak him out of the castle.” Hawkin looked at her seriously.
“You don’t have any idea who I truly am, or who I might work for,” he said raising an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms.
“You’re right, I don’t, but I’m banking on the fact that you are a good person, despite the persona you put off.” She waved at his whole being. Hawkin smirked.
“You’ve got me there. I might be a decent p
erson under all this. But I get the feeling Liam doesn’t like me. What if he tries to kill me when I show up to help you?”
“He won’t. He told me to invite your help. We’re going to try to get him out the day after tomorrow, at night.” Roguelyn began to move away, not wanting to be seen with Hawkin for much longer. He grabbed her arm again and swung her toward him.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She looked up into his handsome face.
“Why?”
“I’m assuming you will leave with the Duke once you get him out. I doubt I’ll see you again.” Roguelyn hadn’t thought about this, and realized she should probably get ready for that inevitability. She wouldn’t stick around to see what the outcome of her rescue would be, she would race back to her own kingdom where they would be safe.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” With that she pulled away from him and wandered back into the crowd. The man in black was clearly looking for her, and when he finally spotted her head, he seemed relieved. Roguelyn made her way back to the castle and began packing her things. She would only need her boys clothing for traveling, so she left all her dresses where they hung in her wardrobe.
The next night there was a soft knock on her door. Her heart started to pound as she went to open it, hoping it was only Hawkin and not a summons from the king. But in her doorway stood the devilishly handsome king of thieves. He pressed her back into her rooms and closed the door behind him. As he began to undress her, his eyes fell on the fading bruises. He paused, anger and what Roguelyn thought was some fear showing on his face.
“Who did this to you?” he asked softly, his fingertips lightly brushing across the bruises on her neck.
“The king,” she said, rather bluntly. She saw no point in hiding the king’s transgressions.
