House of Gods, page 9
Constantine rolled and came swiftly to his feet. “What was that for?”
“I told you that footwork needed work,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
Constantine ground his teeth together. “You made your point.”
“I’m not sure I have.”
“Father,” Danae interrupted.
But he held his hand up. “Not now.”
He looked half-ready to lay into Kerrigan for her. And she was just as ready to fight back tooth and nail.
Instead, a commotion sounded at the front of the house and the yell of, “General,” went up from his fighters.
Constantine grumbled, “What now?” under his breath as he tore from the room.
Kerrigan looked to Danae in question, but she just shrugged, and both girls dashed after him. They came through the open foyer and back to the entrance of the estate. Constantine stood with the men who were on duty. Sparks crackled at his fingertips, and he scowled deeply at whatever was being said.
“What’s going on?” Danae demanded, stepping into the fray.
Constantine’s face blanched at her appearance. “Get to your room. Now.”
“But Father,” she said with wide eyes.
“No one should see you.”
She scowled. “Who is here? Are we under attack?”
Kerrigan saw a warrior in her yet. Constantine might be trying to protect her at all costs, but it only made her more stubborn. More like him.
“We’re not under attack,” he said, smoothing over his irritation. His eyes flickered to Kerrigan and back to his daughter.
Huh. Was he lying to her? He couldn’t lie to his daughter. Of course, he knew that.
Danae pursed her lips. “Then, what is going on? I will not leave without an explanation.”
His hands clenched into fists. “You will do as you’re told. I am the kurios, and you are my daughter.”
“You were kurios,” she snarled angrily. “And I am not a little girl anymore.”
The past tense clearly wounded him. Even though it was accurate, it had to be hard to walk away from being a king.
“Tarcus.” He finally spat the word as if he could barely stomach it. “Our scouts recognized him on the horizon. He should be here within the hour.”
Danae blanched. She turned to Kerrigan. “Is he here for you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
She’d thought that she had slipped free of Tarcus. She hadn’t considered his reaction to her slipping out from under him and into the hands of his enemy. It made a slow, cruel smile crawl onto her face. Oh, this was going to be interesting.
“We haven’t spoken to him, but I don’t want him to see you, Day,” Constantine said firmly. “Felicity will stay here with me. My men will wait at the gates, and we will see what trouble he tries to bring to our doorstep.”
“Could he force himself inside?” Kerrigan asked curiously.
“Sure,” Constantine said. “But he won’t. I’ll invite him in.”
She startled. “Playing nice with the enemy.”
“Keeping everyone in here alive,” he barked back at her. He turned to one of the guards on duty. “Jovil, take Danae to her rooms and don’t let her leave.”
Danae protested. “I don’t have to be under guard!”
Constantine just nodded at Jovil, who gestured for Danae to leave. Danae looked prepared to scream bloody murder, but at her father’s concerned stare, she settled for an indignant glare, ripping her arm from Jovil’s grasp and stalking down the hall.
“And me?” Kerrigan asked. “What is my part in this?”
“We’ll find out presently, won’t we?”
Kerrigan followed him out onto the rampart overlooking the grounds beyond Constantine’s fortress. She could distinctly see the cloud on the horizon that indicated Tarcus’s approach. It was larger than a single horse could possibly make. Surely, he wasn’t planning to attack Constantine.
The wait was interminable. It took about an hour for Tarcus to reach the final stretch of land that led to the portcullis. By now, Kerrigan could see that he’d come in some kind of chariot, wearing a red head plume and looking utterly ridiculous. He’d brought roughly twenty men with him. Not enough to take the estate, but enough to look formidable. She could feel his eyes on her as soon as he was within range. She shuddered with disgust. Time had not tempered her distaste for the man.
“Constantine Pallas,” a man yelled out, holding a banner of a three-headed lion that swung in the breeze. “I bring tidings from Senator Tarcus Valerii and request safe passage into your home.”
“What is Tarcus Valerii’s business within my home?” Constantine’s voice boomed back to the man.
Tarcus bristled at the question. Perhaps it was rude to ask about his business before being allowed inside. Kerrigan thought it practical.
“His business is his own. By rights of the Domaran Senate, you will open your doors and provide safe passage and hospitality for the senator.”
“I have every intention of following the protocol of the Domaran Senate,” Constantine said jovially. “Though I ask, why am I being honored this day by a great senator, such as Tarcus Valerii?”
The venom was almost not present in his voice. Kerrigan was impressed. If she hadn’t known his distaste for Tarcus, she wouldn’t have even heard it.
The man looked to Tarcus, as if to ask him how he wanted to proceed. Because of the red-plumed hat on Tarcus’s head, Kerrigan couldn’t make out his facial expressions. She only knew that he was fixated on her.
“The senator has requested passage to discuss negotiations for falsely acquired property,” the man said delicately. “And under Domaran law …”
“Yes, yes, Domaran law.” Constantine waved the formalities aside. “The senator is allowed within my home. His men may rest upon the grounds and stable their horses on the provided post.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but Constantine just continued, “Domaran law only requires that the senator be accompanied by his steward unless an act of war has been issued.”
The silence that lingered between them at the insinuation was heavy. He wouldn’t go to war over something so small. They were banking on Constantine not understanding protocol because he was Andine. But Constantine had not been kurios for no reason. He knew how to protect his home and men. He wouldn’t be caught off guard by any protocol they threw his way.
“As you wish,” the steward said with a bow of his head.
Kerrigan smiled. So, they’d won that round.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Constantine growled at her. “We’ve a long way to go.”
Then, he raised his head to the sky and let the magic flow freely from him. The wall parted, and Tarcus and his man trotted inside.
“Go to the great hall,” he told her. “Ask for the best wine and all the fruit and cheese available. I will greet him and stall, but proper hospitality must be maintained. He is looking for any reason to believe we have slighted him. We do not want that.” Constantine looked wary at the prospect. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling for the first time like they were on the same side.
She dashed from the room, leaving Constantine to deal with Tarcus as she hurried to the kitchen. The cook had already been preparing a banquet for the senator, and at her approach, he instructed her on what to take to the sitting area and how to arrange it. A few kitchen runners followed her with heavily laden trays. She splayed them out as directed and then was left alone in the elaborate room.
The room felt cold, empty. More ostentatious than anything else on the estate. Wealth for the sake of wealth. She now saw it for what it was—a way to appease any Domaran people who came to this house and who would be offended by the more austere nature of Andine decorations.
The cook had told her not to pour any of the wine until Tarcus requested it, but the minutes ticked away, and she got more and more anxious to do just that. A drink would settle her nerves.
She was tempted to do so when the door to the sitting area opened. Constantine held it open for Tarcus, who stepped inside, his eyes immediately going to Kerrigan standing against the open window that looked over the olive garden below.
“There you are, darling,” he said, striding toward her. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. She wanted to wrench it back, but one look from Constantine told her to hold. Tarcus had faux concern in his expression. “I have been so worried over you.”
“Have you?”
“Of course.” He whirled in place. “I had already negotiated with your former employer for your release to me. Then, I returned from my trip to Carithian to find that you had been stolen by savages. I have come to rescue you from a fate worse than death.”
Kerrigan shot him a baffled look. What a revisionist history.
“Have no fear, love,” Tarcus said. “You will return home with me, as we planned.”
“That is quite a tale.”
“Has he hurt you?” Tarcus’s eyes widened in question. His voice dipped lower as he asked, “Touched you?”
She jerked her hand out of his. “No.”
“Tarcus,” Constantine growled.
“Well, I came all this way.” He removed a large pouch that clanked with gold as he set it down on a table next to the wine. “But this is double what you gave Flavia for her. If we leave now, I can still get us home before nightfall.”
“Tarcus,” Constantine said again.
“Shall we?” Tarcus offered her his hand.
The smug bastard thought that he’d already won. That by stepping into the house, he would get to take her out of here.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Tarcus glanced once at Constantine, amusement on his lips. “Now, the payment is more than fair. In fact, many in the Senate would say that I don’t even need to pay you for the disrespect, but here I am, being generous.” He waved his hand at Kerrigan. “Pour us some wine. We don’t need to argue over this. We can be gentlemen.”
Then, Tarcus plopped down into an empty seat, kicking his feet up on the chaise. Kerrigan wanted to strangle him. But she needed to be sensible, and so did Constantine. Raging at Tarcus wasn’t the answer. That was what he expected. It was why he was enacting this entire performance.
She stepped around his wandering hands and took up the wine jug. She poured it carefully into three glasses. She handed one to Tarcus and then crossed the room to Constantine, putting it into his much larger hand.
“Steady,” she whispered.
He met her gaze, and she gave him a reassuring nod.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Kerrigan said softly as she went back for her own wine. “Flavia told me that you never showed up. My purchase price was never finalized, and you made no commitment.”
Tarcus waved his hand. “Semantics.”
“Thus, when Constantine showed up, he paid, and I came here with him. I belong to him.”
He gulped down his entire glass of wine. “You hardly want to stay here. If it’s the money, then I can pay more, but really, this is all unnecessary.”
Constantine took a sip of his own wine before placing it down. “She’s not for sale.”
“Everything is for sale,” Tarcus argued.
“I already purchased her. You’re too late.”
Tarcus narrowed his eyes. “She is mine by right. I put a claim on her.”
“If you did, her owner was unaware. I bought her under good faith. You can’t afford her now.”
“I can’t afford her?” Tarcus snapped. “I can afford anything.”
“You’ve just proven her value. Why would I give her away so easily? Clearly, she can bring in much more money long-term rather than a one-time fee to you.”
“Are you proposing to make her a whore?” Tarcus asked, slamming his feet onto the ground at the prospect. “A woman like her passed around to every senator on the floor? Is that what you are suggesting?”
Kerrigan’s hand tightened on the wineglass. That wasn’t what she had thought he would say at all. Tarcus was just pushing him.
“I can do whatever I like with her,” Constantine said. “As she belongs to me.”
Tarcus vaulted to his feet. “You’ll find no one who will offer more than me.”
“Not here,” Constantine conceded.
Tarcus grinned devilishly. “Then, that price will cover her bidding, and I’ll send more to take her with me. That’s settled.”
“But someone will pay more in Carithian.”
Tarcus stilled at those words. Kerrigan had a similar response. The conversation had gotten away from her. Constantine hadn’t told her what his plan was for her, but she hadn’t thought this.
“What?” she demanded.
“Look at her,” Constantine said. “You said yourself that a woman like her deserves better. I can find better than you.”
Tarcus bristled at the insinuation. “Outrageous. Who would want seconds from an Andine whore? You’ve clearly already had her, and you’re trying to goad me into driving up the price.”
“How many of you have wanted a Doma in your bed and not had the opportunity?” Constantine said, rising to Tarcus’s bait. “I leave in a week to sign up for the tournament. It’ll be the perfect time for a bidding. She’ll be coming with me, and we’ll see exactly how much anyone cares if she’s an Andine whore.”
“Constantine,” she growled.
Tarcus looked furious. “You’ve made a serious error here.”
“We’ll see,” Constantine said.
Tarcus didn’t even look at Kerrigan as he scooped up his bag of money and stomped out of the sitting area. But though she hated Tarcus, her own anger was singularly directed.
“You’re going to sell me as a whore?” she asked, her voice deadly low.
“Not now.”
“Yes now,” she spat. “You bought me to sell me to men like that?”
Constantine’s anger unloaded all at once. His magic exploding from his fingertips with rage and his countenance dissolving. “I purchased you and can use you however I want! I could have you as the Andine whore that he suggested you are, but I haven’t. You will come with me to Carithian. You will do as I say. And this is the last I will discuss it with you.”
Then, he burst out of the room, following in Tarcus’s footsteps.
Kerrigan’s anger had nowhere to go. She could have torn this place down brick by brick with her old abilities. And now, everything was just bottled up inside of her.
The only good thing that had come out of all of this was that she was going to Carithian. He had to take her with him now. But she’d never be anyone’s whore. She’d kill him and all of his men before letting that happen.
12
The Capital
The best thing that had come out of Constantine’s outburst was her renewed friendship with Danae. When the girl found out what her father had suggested, she, too, gave him the cold shoulder, refusing to even be in the same room as her father.
That left a lot of time for her and Kerrigan to be alone. After the third time Danae had apologized over the week, Kerrigan had finally waved her off. As long as she didn’t force Kerrigan to expose more about her past, she could forgive Danae the slipup. After all, Kerrigan had been in a similar situation with her own magic. Danae needed a teacher, as Kerrigan had needed one for her spirit magic, but it seemed unlikely that Constantine would ever approve a Domaran magic tutor for Danae. The girl was functionally as much of a prisoner as Kerrigan.
“I still can’t believe he’s going through with this,” Danae said with a sigh as they headed together to the stable yard.
They’d had this conversation before. After what had happened with Danae’s mom, it was unthinkable that her father would sell Kerrigan. And yet that was his plan. One he hadn’t wavered from since that fateful day that he’d told Tarcus as much.
For her sanity, she only thought about how this would put her one step closer to her mother. Anything else, and she would fall into a pit of despair that she couldn’t afford.
A fighter walked a horse over to Danae, who patted the horse affectionately. “You and me on this trip, Pop.”
“You named your horse Pop?”
Danae shrugged. “It came with him when we got him. Fits too well to change it now.”
“What am I riding?”
“You’ll be with me,” Constantine said, coming up behind them unexpectedly.
Kerrigan shivered in disgust. “I am not riding with you again. It’s too long of a journey.”
“I’ll take the lead, and your horse will be tied to me.”
She glared at him. “You don’t trust me on my own steed?”
“No,” he barked. “Don’t give me a reason to use a crux bond to keep you in line.”
She startled at the wording. A crux bond.
When Kerrigan had been learning her spirit magic, she had trained with a woman who showed her how to create crux bonds. Cleora had been an incredible teacher, helping Kerrigan tether herself to her dragon, Tieran, when their more permanent bond had never taken. She hadn’t expected to hear that term again.
“You’ve heard of it?” Constantine asked. He put his hands together, and after a few seconds, a string of gold energy pulled between the two points of his hands. “This is a crux bond. Simple magic if you know anything about it. It allows me to tie you to me. I’d always know where you are.”
She lifted her chin to meet him. “Then, why haven’t you done it?”
He let the bond break. “That’s the trust I’m putting in you. Don’t break it.”
The threat hung in the air as he walked away toward his mighty Melidonna. A smaller horse was tethered by a rope to the saddle. Great.
“Need help up?” Theo asked with his undisguised interest.
“No.”
She hadn’t seen much of the fighters since Tarcus’s arrival. She and Danae had sequestered themselves away from the men. And she suspected that Constantine had strongly warned them away from her.
