For King and Corruption, page 5
Quinn chuckled quietly, finishing what she was doing with the horse and turning to face him. “You know what I found to be the most surprising lesson?” she asked instead of answering him. Quinn took a step toward him, tilting her head to the side as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “You have to be gentle with beasts; make them think that they are in charge. Give them the illusion that they are completely in control. Once she taught me that . . .” Quinn drifted off, moving even closer. Lazarus stiffened. “Well, they weren’t so hard to handle anymore.”
Lazarus narrowed his eyes on her face. He had the distinct feeling she was no longer talking about animals. “You should leave,” he said around a throat full of tension.
“Why’s that?” she replied.
She was teasing him; pushing him to the brink. She always did. Quinn seemed to think playing with his anger was like a child’s game. She didn’t shudder or shy away from him. No, she danced with Mazzulah willingly and let the madness consume her and shove them both to the very edge of a fine-pointed blade.
“Lord Callis has something that I desire, and I don’t want anything interrupting my meeting with him. It is imperative that all goes well today.”
“What do you want from him?” Quinn asked.
Lazarus scowled. “It does not matter what it is. The fact is I need it, and therefore, I need you to stay here.”
She shook her head. “No, I think I’ll be of far better use to you on the hunt. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She turned away from him and for a brief moment, he felt air refill his lungs. He hadn’t realized that merely being so close to her was changing him. He had held his breath, if only to stop breathing in her enticing, dark scent.
“Quinn, this is nonnegotiable.” He watched as she picked up a wool blanket, folded it, and placed it over the back of her horse before returning for her saddle.
“What do you need from him?” she asked again. “I’ll ensure you get it.”
Lazarus folded his arms across his chest. “As simple as it would be to torture what I need from him, unfortunately, it is not something so easily attained.”
Quinn finished doing up the buckles on her horse and twisted back to reach for the horse’s harness. She fixed the harness upon the beast and then offered a bit to its mouth, settling the reins around its head. “So, it’s not an object, then,” she said.
“No.”
“Then it’s not his wealth or his estate? Not a person?” she pressed. “Is it his influence?” Lazarus stiffened, but didn’t reply. It didn’t matter, though, because he’d already given her the answer. She nodded as if he had, in fact, spoken. “Then you’re simply playing a game with him because you want him to swear fealty to you, yes?”
As she reached for the reins, intending to lead the horse from its stall, Lazarus dropped all pretenses and reached for her. His fingers closed around her upper arm, drawing her to a halt. “This is important, Quinn. Lord Callis is one of the most powerful Norcastan lords. His family has been close with the royals for a long time. They were once stewards to Claudius’ ancestors. His support is a necessity if I’m to avoid a civil war.”
“Avoid a civil war?” Quinn froze at his touch, a hard note entering her voice. “What do you mean? You’re King.”
Lazarus shook his head and then backed her further into the stall, lowering his voice on the off chance one of the stable boys was nearby. “I am, yes,” he replied, “but Claudius’ children—the blood heirs—”
“The ones who had you followed to the Cisean Mountains and then Ilvas,” Quinn said with certainty. “Amelia Reinhart and her brothers.”
He nodded. “They will not readily give up what they feel is theirs by right of birth.”
“And you need Lord Callis’ support in order to . . .” She quirked an eyebrow, prompting him.
“I need his support and influence to silence, or at least tamp down, the worst of my subjects rallying behind the Reinharts,” Lazarus finished.
“You would win a war,” Quinn pointed out as she tugged herself free of his grasp.
Lazarus released her, not because she wanted it, but because there was no longer a reason for him to hold her. No reason for him to touch her. “I would,” he agreed with a nod, “but I would be a tyrant and not a king were I to force my reign upon the people of Norcasta.”
He did not care for the way she eyed him. “You want to avoid bloodshed, Lazarus? A king and not a tyrant?” Her lips twitched in amusement. “For some reason, I feel as though that goes against your very nature.”
Perhaps it did. Perhaps he enjoyed the taste of blood and darkness on his tongue. Perhaps he wanted to lift the violent little mauve-haired creature that had been tormenting him for months and dive between her legs and find out if she tasted just as wicked.
“Either way,” she said when he didn’t reply. “I am going on this hunt. I have a request to make of you, anyway.”
Lazarus moved back to the edge of the stall. “What is this request?”
He didn’t notice the shake of her head as he glanced out of the stall, searching out for one of the stable boys. Eugene, a young sandy-haired stable hand froze when he spotted the King, and when Lazarus lifted his hand and gestured, the boy got the gist. He nodded and turned, scurrying away. His horse would be readied post haste as it appeared there was no talking Quinn out of coming along.
“Your request?” he prompted once more.
“We will talk about it while on the hunt,” she said, taking the reins of her horse and leading him out into the aisle. It followed at a sedate pace, keeping pace at her side.
Instead of pressing her, he narrowed his eyes on her form. “You will behave yourself?” Though it had been meant as a command, it came out as more of a question.
“Don’t I always?”
“Quinn.” His voice held a multitude of warnings.
“I will behave,” she replied, and then, as if she couldn’t help herself, the woman had to push him a bit further. She continued with a quiet, breathy, “for now.”
Lazarus felt fire enter his eyes, a burn that stretched up his back and chest as the souls beneath his skin squirmed and made themselves known at last. It was a wonder how they hadn’t before now. Whenever he seemed to get close to the little fear twister, he felt their silent limbs reach through his veins, sending rockets of pleasure sliding through him.
“Your horse, Your Grace.” Eugene had returned as Lazarus and Quinn reached the edge of the stables. The boy held Lazarus’ horse’s reins in hand, and he quickly passed them to the King as he bowed and scurried away.
As Lazarus exited the manger with Quinn just behind him, he saw that Lord Callis and his entourage had already arrived and were waiting in the front courtyard. The other man laughed gaily as he regaled the other stuffed lords with a hunting story of his past. Lazarus knew the moment the lord spotted Quinn, for his back straightened and he tugged the reins of his horse to allow him to face both of them as they approached.
“So glad you could make it, Lady Darkova,” he called.
“Just Quinn, Lord Callis,” she replied, bringing a low growl to Lazarus’ throat.
“Ah, then you must call me Artan,” Lord Callis replied.
Lazarus glared at the man, but said nothing as he waved away an approaching stable boy carrying forth a small step ladder, and grabbed ahold of his horse’s saddle, swinging himself into the seat.
“Shall we be off to the hunt, then?” Lazarus said, drawing Lord Callis’ attention.
“Oh, but surely, we must wait for—” Lord Callis slid his gaze back to Quinn only to pause. Lazarus didn’t have to look behind him to know that Quinn had done the same. She had likely refused the ladder as well, and though her stature was much shorter than his own—she was tall for a woman and even stronger than most men. “Well, Quinn, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Lord Callis laughed as Quinn trotted by Lazarus, throwing a smirk in his direction.
“You have no idea, Artan,” she said pleasantly.
Lazarus’ scowl deepened even as he caught a glimpse of Dominicus astride his own steed, maneuvering through the others and heading his way. No, the soft-bellied nobleman didn’t. He had no clue the level of danger the woman he was presently eyeing presented to him—or even Lazarus, himself.
The Hunt
“The good hunter is one that knows her prey as well as she knows herself.”
— Quinn Darkova, fear twister, right-hand to the King of Norcasta
* * *
Dogs raced ahead, their snouts pressed to the ground, their tails stiff and straight at their backs as they tracked their prey. Quinn sat astride her steed with Lord Callis on one side and Lazarus on the other.
“Tell me, Quinn, you’re N’skari. Are you not?” Lord Callis started.
A faint smile of amusement crossed her lips as she said, “I am.”
“Why would you move to Norcasta? I heard your people were quite attached to the north,” he continued, leaning over the side of his horse toward her.
Quinn laughed, the sound tinkling and false even to her own ears. She could feel the way it made Lazarus stiffen in his seat. The man hadn’t relaxed once since he had come looking for her in the stables and as they had set out on the hunt. He’d only grown more agitated the more she spoke to Lord Callis.
“That’s true,” Quinn replied to the man’s words. “There was a time when I thought I’d never leave my place in the north.”
“Why did you?” he pressed.
Quinn smirked. She could practically feel the burn of Lazarus’ glare in the back of her head. “Unexpected circumstances brought me to Norcasta,” Quinn answered vaguely. “And since meeting His Grace,” she paused, “well, where else would I go?”
Lord Callis smiled. “Too true, I suppose. Once you’ve found an appropriate master, there’s really no getting away, is there?”
He laughed as though he’d made a joke, and Quinn forced herself to smile despite her irritation. Quinn had no master; not even Lazarus. Perhaps she was willing to follow him, fight for him, kill for him . . . but no man was her master. Not any longer.
Quinn shifted upon her saddle and cracked her neck as Lord Callis called out that the dogs had found something and raced ahead. Several of the following lords bounded after him, clicking their heels against the sides of their horses to hurry them along even though it was useless in the heavily wooded area.
As the others moved ahead, Dominicus urged his horse in front of both Lazarus and Quinn, allowing the two of them some privacy. “You play with fire, Quinn,” Lazarus grunted with irritation as they trailed the others at a more moderate pace.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Quinn replied without looking his way. “But I can’t seem to help myself, especially when it hurts so good.”
A growl came from him in response, which only served to make the corners of her mouth tilt up even more. “Lord Callis is not to be trifled with,” he said.
Quinn waved her hand through the air. “I’m not concerned, but I did want to talk to you about something.” When he didn’t reply immediately, she took that to mean he was willing to listen. “While I was away, Risk developed some rather unique skills. You recall I mentioned she was good with beasts? Well, it’s not just an inclination.”
“She’s a beast tamer,” Lazarus surmised.
“She is,” Quinn replied. “I was hoping you would know of an experienced beast tamer. Perhaps, someone in the capital? She needs a trainer.”
Lazarus nodded. “I’ll have Draeven look into it.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
They were catching up to the others fast. Lord Callis and several others had made it into a clearing and were urging their horses in a circular motion as the dogs barked and growled. They had caught a mother fox between them and as one pulled a bow from his side saddle and aimed, Quinn and Lazarus stopped at the edge of the clearing. She turned and looked toward Lord Callis just as he released his arrow, and the yelp of the wild fox ricocheted up into the tops of the trees.
Interesting enough, the man’s gaze was steady, his eyes alight with pleasure as he snatched another arrow from his side quiver and took aim once more. It appeared he had only wounded the animal. Quinn nudged her horse further into the clearing as the others came to a standstill, some calling out encouragement, others booing him for taking so long. Lord Callis smiled as he released his next arrow, and Quinn looked to the creature on the ground, noting that the first arrow had caught it in the left hind leg. The next, however, pierced the flesh above its heart, and with a sag, the creature collapsed.
As Lord Callis put his bow back, one of the accompanying squires leapt from his mount to hurry over and retrieve the animal—yanking the arrows from its body to hand them back to the lord.
“Well done, Lord Callis,” Quinn said as she pulled up alongside him.
“I told you, Quinn,” he replied, shooting her an easy grin. “Call me Artan. And it’s a fine creature. I hope to have it skinned and made into a neck scarf.”
“For your wife, I suppose?” she asked.
“For my mistress,” he replied honestly.
“Oh?” Quinn quirked a brow, but kept her face otherwise impassive.
Lord Callis sighed as the rest of the troupe moved back into the woods, setting the dogs on yet another trail that they followed. “I hope you do not think less of me for admitting what every man here knows. We all have mistresses. Some are more tangible and pleasurable than others.” Quinn frowned, and he noted the confusion in her expression. Before she could ask, he answered her unspoken question. “A man’s work is often his mistress. I am lucky enough to call a woman mine,” he said. “I do so enjoy the pleasures in life.”
“I see,” Quinn replied, watching as Dominicus took the lead this time. Lazarus, however, remained a ways behind. Though he refused to glance back at them, she knew he wanted to be nearer to her so long as she was with Lord Callis. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course,” Lord Callis replied, his interest piqued as he pivoted in his seat and leveled her with the full weight of his attention. “I welcome any and all questions you may have. Is it about the pleasures a man finds with his mistress?”
Quinn forced back her true feelings, but she could feel the strain in her features as she gave him a small smile and shook her head. She could tell where that conversation would have led. His eyes had already strayed far too many times to her hips and to her breasts, pressed together by the tightness of her leather clothing as she sat upon a saddle. She would let him look his fill. It did, after all, serve a purpose—to draw him in for her to examine and dig deep into his words as she analyzed just what kind of man—ally or foe—he could be. “Regrettably, no, it’s not. It’s about the fox you just shot.”
“Oh?” He looked perplexed.
“You were so close to it. One arrow would have sufficed. You don’t seem inexperienced with a bow. Why did you use two? Why make it suffer?”
Lord Callis stilled for a moment before shooting her an unabashed and rueful grin. “As I said before, Quinn, I enjoy the pleasures that life has to offer.” With that, he kicked at his horse and sent the creature galloping forward, catching up quickly with Dominicus and the rest of the group.
Quinn let the facade on her face drop as she ambled up next to Lazarus. “What did you learn?” he asked, noting her expression.
“That your Lord Callis is a dangerous man,” she replied. Another woman—or even a man—might have been confused by the lord’s answer, but not Quinn. She was not naive, and she knew how to recognize someone of similar interests. Lord Callis enjoyed delivering pain and suffering. His jovial attitude and quick smile hid a much darker persona than his fellow lords probably knew of.
Lazarus glanced from her to ahead where the others had once again caught a trail—this time a fawn. “Do you think he will be amenable to my reign?” he demanded.
Quinn nodded. “There’s nothing yet to suggest he wouldn’t be.” So long as he had the room to take from the pleasures of life, as he had so eloquently put it, she thought.
Lazarus nodded, and together they once again hurried to meet the others, watching from the sidelines as another lord pulled his own bow and arrows as they tracked the fawn through underbrush. Quinn split off from Lazarus and rounded the sides of the group, watching as small woodland creatures—little rabbits and other fluffy tailed creatures—darted out of the way of her horse’s clomping hooves.
The lords weren’t concerned with them, though. They were more focused on other prey. While they trailed the fawn, she trailed Lord Callis. Watching him curiously as he laughed and joked with his fellow noblemen. She wondered what other things were hiding beneath his surface. Every once in a while, he would turn his head and catch her looking. Mistaking her interest for a different interest of sorts, he would flash her a roguish grin.
As the hunt drew to a close, though, she once again found herself in his close proximity. He urged his mount close to her own, letting several of the others pass them as they headed back to the palace.
“So, Quinn, what did you think of the hunt? I assume you’ve never been on one.”
“Why do you assume that?” she asked.
“You didn’t bring a bow,” he pointed out.
Reaching into her boot, she withdrew a wickedly long blade. “I prefer a closer kind of hunting,” she said, twisting the blade so that a ray of sunlight as it descended beyond the treetops glinted over its metal surface. She let him examine it for another moment before slipping it back into its place. “But you would be correct. I’ve never been on an official hunt before.”
Lips twitching in amusement, Lord Callis hummed. “Fascinating,” he replied. “Did you not care for it, then?”
“No,” Quinn answered as they broke free of the tree line and spotted the palace in the distance. “It was quite informative.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “You’ll have to come to my estate outside of the capital. We have much larger game there.”
