The Beast of the Barrens

by Val Saintcrowe

  Speaking of musqueteers, here was Matteo Vitio, finally.

  Matteo was one of the musqueteers Chevolere kept on his own payroll. He was happy enough to have a few on his side when he needed them. Most men of any stature in the Barrens employed musqueteers for their own purposes. It was necessary to survive in Rzymn’s underbelly.

  Matteo rapped on the door and Chevolere opened the door. “You followed her?”

  “I did,” said Matteo.

  “And?”

  “She went straight to him,” said Matteo.

  Chevolere sucked in a breath of relief. He had been nearly certain she would, but he’d had a tiny doubt that she would go to her father after all. “And what did he do?”

  “He seems to have taken her back to the room he’s got at the inn,” said Matteo.

  Chevolere took a step back, rubbing his chin. Hmm. Odd. All was going according to plan, but he didn’t feel pleased. He found he didn’t like the knowledge of Ziafiata back in that man’s bed. That was annoying. His nostrils flared. “Good.” He was forceful about it. It was good. “Here’s what I’d like you to do. Go back to the inn, and make it known that I wish her back, and that I’m willing to negotiate with him to ensure her safe transfer.”

  Matteo, to his credit, didn’t express any surprise that Chevolere had let Ziafiata go only to try to collect her again. He had been working with Chevolere long enough to know that his schemes often had multiple layers and that there was no need to question his employer, who was doing everything quite deliberately.

  “I can do that, certainly,” said Matteo. “Do you wish to give me coin for the negotiation, and to bring her back to you?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Chevolere. “No, it will not be coin I ransom her with. Offer that first, but offer something low, so that he will refuse it out of hand. Then, instead, offer him a substantial discount on iubilia. Tell him I will deal exclusively with the Caputio family at that lower rate. Let’s say forty percent. You can go as low as sixty if he proves reticent, but I don’t think he will.” Iubilia was a substance that numbed pain. It also produced a brief period of euphoria after it had been ingested, about an hour of pure bliss. People bought it for pleasure, though that was forbidden. Chevolere was the premiere source of the stuff in Rzymn. He had deals with the pirates that brought it across the seas.

  “Forty percent,” repeated Matteo. “All right. I will do as you say.”

  “Once he agrees, tell him that I must collect her myself, because I wish to look her over and make sure she is not damaged. So, tell him to wait there with her and that I will be there in the morning for her.”

  Matteo nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Matteo,” said Chevolere. “Report back to me when it is all settled.”

  * * *

  Ziafiata looked up as Diago came back into the room in the inn, shutting the door behind him. He looked a bit troubled as he ran a hand through his blond curls. He plucked at the bow at his throat, untying it so that the ribbon fell loose around his neck.

  Ziafiata was sitting on the bed, because there was nowhere else to sit. The room was not large. “What was that all about?”

  “Well, that was Vox’s men, searching for you,” said Diago, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Yes, he is combing the Barrens for you,” said Diago. “I told them I hadn’t seen you, of course.”

  “It seemed to take a long time simply to say that,” she said.

  “Yes, they weren’t inclined to believe me,” said Diago.

  She winced. “It’s likely my fault. I may have indicated to him that if I could go anywhere, it would be back to you. It was stupid of me.”

  “No, no, don’t worry yourself about that.” Diago came over and sat down on the bed next to her. He smiled at her. “Let’s not think about Chevolere Vox right now. Where were we?”

  She felt heat rush to her cheeks.

  Diago slid a hand against her jaw, and his lips came for hers.

  She slammed her eyes shut against the kiss. She liked kissing Diago, but she had to admit she was surprised that he didn’t want to discuss Chevolere anymore. If the beast suspected she was with Diago, he would not likely give up trying to find her, and that could be problematic for them all.

  Diago thrust his tongue into her mouth, and he tasted like liquor.

  She recoiled a bit, on instinct, and then felt bad about it.

  But Diago didn’t seem to notice. He was pressing her back into the bed, deepening the kiss between them.

  Soon, they were both horizontal, Diago’s body over hers, and he was nudging a knee between her thighs. Her skirt was all the way down at her ankles, but even so, it made her think of Chevolere, of the way he’d been forceful with her in her bedroom. She went stiff, but Diago didn’t seem to notice that either. She pushed on his shoulders.

  He pulled back. “What is it, beautiful?”

  She found she didn’t want to tell him about what had happened with Chevolere. “I… I don’t wish to cause trouble for you with Vox.”

  “You won’t,” said Diago. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Well, he will know that I’m with you eventually, I suppose? You cannot hide me forever.”

  “No, I won’t hide you,” said Diago. He kissed her again.

  She didn’t kiss back.

  This time he did notice, and he stopped. “I know what this is. You are worried that I’ll actually take you up on that ridiculous offer of yours to be my mistress. Don’t worry, beautiful, I know you weren’t serious. We are married. You are my wife.”

  Her heart squeezed. It was painful. It was joyous. “What?” Her voice was strangled.

  “You heard me.” He smiled down at her and then he was kissing her again.

  She opened her mouth to him, but she was stunned, and when he moved his lips to kiss a trail over her neck, she said, “Our marriage was annulled.”

  “Our marriage was consummated,” he said into her skin. “Therefore the annulment was unlawful. You are mine.”

  “Truly?” she breathed, seizing both sides of his face forcing him to look into her eyes.

  “Would I lie to you, beautiful?” he said, laughing.

  “Oh… Diago.” She felt as though she was bursting. “And if my father comes for me?”

  “I will not give you up.”

  “And if your father—”

  “Stop this. We are together now, aren’t we? Let us enjoy each other. I’ve missed you. Have you not missed me?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I have missed you like the missing part of my soul.”

  He grinned. “Me too, beautiful.” And then he was kissing her again.

  The kisses were rapturous, and she surrendered to them, gasping, and she surrendered to his roaming hands over her body. When he touched her breasts, it felt good, and she closed her eyes and arched her back and writhed against him.

  But then he squeezed one of her breasts, rather a little too hard, and her breath caught in her throat, and she thought again of Chevolere, and she thought of the way he had taunted her about Diago, and before she knew it, words were tumbling out of her mouth. “Why now?”

  “Hmm?” Diago sat up and beckoned for her to sit up.

  Obligingly, she sat up straight. “Well, why are you now so eager to fight your father’s disapproval when you weren’t before?”

  Diago put his arms around her and worked on the buttons on the back of her dress. “When my father forbade our union, I was practically a child, Zia. We both were. I’m older now. I won’t let him tell me what to do.”

  “But… if you changed your mind about it, you could have come for me. And if you heard about Chevolere—and I’m sure you did, because my father was sure everyone would know and he would be humiliated—why didn’t you…?”

  “Why didn’t I what?” He had finished unbuttoning her dress and now he was pulling it forward, revealing her shift and stays beneath.

&
nbsp; “Nothing. It’s too much to ask. Of course, Chevolere is not a man to be trifled with. He is ruthless and dangerous and—”

  “Are you asking why I didn’t rescue you?” said Diago. His fingers were at the tie to her stays now, and he was loosening the knot. “Beautiful, that is why I was here tonight. The tournament, this inn, it was all a cover so I could get close. But you beat me to it.”

  Her lips parted. “Oh.”

  He smiled at her. “I would never have left you with that beast. Of course I wouldn’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I seem to remember that my wife has the prettiest pair of tits I ever laid eyes on, and I’d like to see them again now. Is that all right?”

  She blushed, biting down on her lower lip. She reached up and loosened her stays herself.

  He helped her remove them, and then her shift as well, so that she was completely naked, and she was shy as he looked at her but pleased at his attention.

  He caressed her breasts for a few minutes, mostly squeezing them, and she still felt he was doing it just a little too hard, and it hurt a little more than she would have liked. While he was doing that, he was unlacing his breeches.

  He pushed her back on the bed and spread her thighs. He peered at her there too, looking at her with obvious interest. And then, he was on her, pressing his hardness into her, pressing even though he hadn’t even removed his own clothes, and that hurt too.

  She winced.

  He pulled back, and rubbed her roughly between her legs. “Hmm,” he said, and then put his fingers near her mouth. “Spit,” he said.

  “What?” she said, furrowing her brow in confusion.

  “Spit.”

  “But—”

  “Do it, Zia, come on.” He was laughing at her.

  So, she did, but she was confused and a little disgusted, and she didn’t feel entirely in the mood for this anymore. It didn’t feel… she didn’t know.

  He transferred her saliva to her opening, and then he pressed his erection against her again, and this time, it was slick enough that he went in easily, and it didn’t hurt.

  And then he was kissing her again, and he was rocking against her, and she felt overwhelmed by it all. She felt invaded. She felt… shouldn’t it feel good? Maybe it did feel good, and she simply wasn’t allowing herself to feel it.

  She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate.

  But now, it was only starting to hurt, because whatever slickness had been between their bodies seemed to have dried up.

  Mercifully, he was quick. It was only a few more moments of that before he was grunting over her. He thrust twice and then came out of her and pressed himself into the softness of her belly. Then he spurted all over her skin.

  She was alarmed by this. She gaped down at her body in something like horror. Why had he done that?

  “Best not to risk a child, I suppose,” he said in a rough voice. He snatched up her shift from the floor and used it to mop up the ejaculate on her belly. Then he tossed it aside and lay down, gathering her into his arms.

  She lay there, stiffly, surrounded by him, and he was just as sweaty as he’d been on their wedding night, and he was going right to sleep as well. He was lightly snoring within moments.

  She took several deep breaths, and she tried not to think about why a husband wouldn’t want to get his own wife with child.

  It was some time before she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Chevolere looked Diago Caputio over. The man was standing in the hallway at the Cruel Willow, having just come out of the door he was standing in front of. Across the hallway, there were guards averting their eyes from Diago’s state of undress. Diago was only wearing his breeches. He shrugged into his shirt and began buttoning it up over his chest. It was morning.

  “Where is she?” said Chevolere.

  “I’ll leave her to you,” said Diago, gesturing to the door.

  “Oh, no,” said Chevolere. “You’ll explain to her exactly what’s happening, what you’ve done.”

  Diago made a pained face. “That wasn’t part of the negotiation.”

  “Well, it is now,” said Chevolere, lifting his chin.

  “She’s sleeping,” said Diago. “She’s very tired. I expect I wore her out. You seem awfully interested in this girl, who—might I say—is rather thoroughly mine. She told me you had her for days and didn’t do anything to her.”

  “Whereas you, on the other hand, wasted no time in using her,” said Chevolere. “If she’s asleep, wake her up.”

  “You wake her up.”

  Chevolere didn’t like Diago’s tone. He reached under his cape and took out his dagger.

  “Are you going to threaten to stab me? Truly? I have Caputio men lining this hallway—”

  “Have you ever heard the story about me and Luco Bellicio?”

  Diago’s expression went flat. “Likely embellished, I wager.”

  “What have you heard?” said Chevolere, running his finger lightly over the edge of the blade. “I’ll tell you if it’s embellished or not.”

  “They say you talked him into stabbing himself in the gut.”

  “Mmm,” said Chevolere. “It went exactly that way.”

  “Liar,” said Diago, but his voice was different now.

  “I told him,” said Chevolere, “that I had sent my musqueteers to his house and that they were there with his pregnant wife and his small daughter, and that if he didn’t do as I asked, his family would pay the price.”

  “You would have killed a child in the womb?” said Diago, and his voice was quieter still.

  Well, no, it had all been an elaborate bluff. Chevolere only smiled. “What do you think?”

  Diago looked at his feet. “What do you want with Zia?”

  “More than what you want from her, apparently,” said Chevolere. “Open the door.”

  Diago lifted his gaze. “I don’t believe the story about Luco. I think it’s all a lie. I don’t think half the things they say about you are true.” But he turned and opened the door and stepped back into the room.

  Chevolere followed him. Just inside the door, there was an empty table sitting against the wall. He set the dagger down on it, the naked blade a warning should Diago forget that it was there.

  Ziafiata was sitting up in bed, eyes wide, clutching the covers to her chin. “Diago? What’s going on? Why is he here?”

  Diago’s shoulders slumped. “Is this really necessary, Vox?”

  “Let’s go out and let her put some clothes on,” said Chevolere, who was ashamed of how distracting he found her bare shoulders. He felt as if every curve of her nude body had been engraved on his brain now. He found her too lovely for words, and yet, everything about it was ugly. His actions towards her. His wanting her at all. What men did with women was beastly. He knew sometimes women consented to it, but that didn’t make it—

  “I don’t have… my shift got… something on it,” said Ziafiata. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”

  Diago strode over to his trunk and tugged out one of his own shirts. He tossed it to her.

  She caught it, snatching it deftly out of the air, but the blankets fell down and Chevolere caught a glimpse of one of her perfect breasts.

  He felt as if hot flame licked through him. He went rigid and then turned around. “We’ll go out and let her dress. She should have some dignity for this.”

  “You don’t care about my dignity,” said Ziafiata. “And even though you’ve found me, Diago won’t let you have me. He was coming to take me away from you anyway. If I hadn’t escaped, he would have come for me.”

  Chevolere turned back around. “Is this what he said to you?” He was shocked, truly shocked.

  Ziafiata was out of the bed, only wearing Diago’s shirt, which came down nearly to her knees. She looked ridiculous and very, very young.

  Chevolere still felt ignited by flame, but the fire wasn’t shameful desire anymore, it was anger. He rounded on Diago. “Did you say that to her?”

  Diago scr
atched the side of his neck, meeting neither Chevolere’s nor Ziafiata’s gaze.

  “Tell her the truth,” said Chevolere.

  “You don’t know what I had planned,” said Diago petulantly.

  “I know you wouldn’t have sold her back to me if you were intent on mounting some sort of rescue attempt.”

  “Sold?” repeated Ziafiata in a tiny voice.

  “Tell her,” said Chevolere, glaring at Diago.

  “Why do I have to tell her?” said Diago. “I won’t. You tell her.”

  “You tell her,” said Chevolere, “or the entire deal is off.”

  “What deal?” said Ziafiata.

  “Zia,” said Diago, going to her, taking her by the shoulders, “beautiful, you know how I feel about you, but Vox controls all the iubilia that comes into the city, and the Caputio family buys it from him to distribute. He’s offering us such a cut on the price that… I couldn’t say no. And when my father discovers what I’ve negotiated, he’ll be grateful, and there’s no telling what he might do. Try to understand, I do care about you. I think you’re… really, really beautiful and a very sweet girl, and I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”

  Ziafiata was stunned. The stupid huge shirt was hanging off of her, and she was staring at him with wide, pained eyes.

  You did that to her, Chevolere thought.

  “When?” she said to Diago. “Did he come this morning?”

  No, Diago did it. I only showed her, he answered himself.

  “Last night,” said Diago. “When I told you that I told him I didn’t know where you were, I was negotiating the deal.”

  “Before?” Her voice broke. “Before we…” Her lower lip started to tremble.

  You showed her in the cruelest way possible. And for your own purposes. You really are a beast. He turned away from her shattered expression.

  “I wanted us to have one more night together,” said Diago.

  “But you lied to me.” Ziafiata’s voice was growing stronger. “You told me that I was your wife. That I was yours.”

  “I didn’t lie to you exactly,” said Diago. “It is true that our marriage never ought to have been annulled, so you are still mine in that way.”