For King and Corruption, page 6
“You don’t live inside Leone?” Quinn twisted her head toward him, blinking thoughtfully.
He shook his head. “I keep a townhome within the city walls, as do most noblemen, but I have a large estate about a half a day’s ride away. Would you come visit me there?”
Quinn noticed Lazarus drawing near as Lord Callis asked his question. “I would be delighted,” she replied readily as Lazarus halted alongside them.
“Delighted for what?” Lazarus inquired, watching them both suspiciously.
Quinn turned a smile his way. “Artan was just telling me about his estate outside of the capital. He invited me there for another hunt. I told him I would be delighted to visit.”
“Yes,” Lord Callis agreed. “You’re both invited, if you like, Your Grace. I’d be honored to have you as my guest—provided, of course, that you bring your lovely vassal along with you.”
“Flattery, Lord Callis?” Quinn shook her head as they came to a stop in the courtyard. Throwing one leg over her horse, she slid to the ground and sent a plume of dirt up around her legs. “I’ll have you know that doesn’t work on me.”
“Oh no?” Lord Callis did the same, leveraging one leg over the side, and dismounted just as quickly. “I shall endeavor to entice you with something more interesting. Perhaps something different than a hunt when you come to visit me.”
“I look forward to it,” Quinn replied.
“See that you do, Quinn Darkova,” Lord Callis said with smirk as he led his horse away, dropping the reins into the waiting hands of a nearby stable hand.
Quinn watched him go, studying the way he moved from his stride to his confident air.
“Good work,” Lazarus said gruffly, sounding as though the words were being pulled through a throat made of broken glass.
Quinn flicked him a smug look, and taking up the reins to her own horse, she turned her back and headed for the stables, calling over her shoulder as she walked away, “Know your prey, Lazarus. Know your prey well, and maybe you might catch them.”
Bizarre Happenings
“It’s easy to hate what you don’t understand, just as it’s easy to fear what you do.”
— Mariska “Risk” Darkova, beast tamer
* * *
Sweat slicked her skin from beneath the stiff burlap shirt and loose-fitted trousers. While Risk was finely boned, she dressed in a man’s clothes—much to her sister’s chagrin. Quinn had offered her leathers, such as her own, but Risk hadn’t batted an eye at those. Instead, it was the ill-fitted things that drew her attention—because it wouldn’t draw anyone else’s.
That was before they’d crossed a desert in the godsforsaken heat.
Before they’d moved into a literal palace, where their rooms were on the top floor and the blasted heat rose to greet them. Risk turned away from the window she dared not open. Not when the creatures of the north and the night followed her like a plague.
She paced the length of the long chamber. That animal-like restlessness stirring within. The urge to fight or flee was great these days, in equal measure. She loved her sister for what she’d done for her, but these people—this place—it was Quinn’s.
Now it’s yours too.
She told herself the words Quinn had spoken time and again, but without her sister here saying them, even her own thoughts rang hollow. Deep down, she disliked this place. She didn’t trust its people. The cold, terrible, truth of it was that she disliked and distrusted anyone as well as anyplace. She could pack up and leave now, she knew. Quinn wouldn’t stop her, but there was nowhere to go. No one to run to.
Everything she had was here because Quinn was here.
And so, much as she entertained the thought of leaving this place behind with its judgmental eyes and bastard heat, she wouldn’t. The fight drained from her, gone as quickly as it had come on. It didn’t help that her sister had been gone for more than half the day, and the way she’d left things between them . . . it didn’t sit well with Risk.
After everything she’d done for her, Quinn didn’t deserve her attitude, but still she found herself unable to help it. Months of travel had done little to soothe her nerves around people. Now here, her otherness was stark. If not for her beast tamer magic, then her half-raksasa blood would mark her as different. No matter the garments she wore, she had horns, and unlike her sister—she couldn’t simply make them disappear.
Risk sighed and repeated another of her sister’s mantras.
“Let them hate you. Let them love you. Let what they think matter not. If they try to end you, we’ll crush them all,” she whispered the words, but again, the comfort that they provided on the road was no longer there.
Here it was not about them ending her. It was about them accepting her. Not that Quinn would ever understand that. She cared not for acceptance, and her advice would be for Risk to do the same.
Risk took another deep breath and looked at the door, longingly.
She’d done it a hundred times by now, but this time, she was committed to do something about it. Regardless of her appearance, they would never accept someone they did not know. If she wanted them to see her as something other than raksasa, she needed to go out.
The pounding of her heart hammered in her ears as she approached the door. Her fingers were clammy as she gripped the handle, sliding over the smooth metal. She wiped them on her shirt and tried again, stilling as her own resolve began to fumble.
Risk grit her teeth and twisted. The door swung open, and her heart plummeted from her chest to her stomach. She took a deep breath, counting to ten.
And then she stepped outside.
One short walk, she told herself. Then we don’t have to see anyone until Quinn gets back.
She nodded to herself and began taking short, stilted steps. She was halfway down the hall when it occurred to her that she’d left the door open. She turned to double back; the movements coming easier now, though it helped that no one was around.
Risk closed the door firmly and paused.
She could go right back inside. It was still an option.
“No,” she breathed. “You’ll never get better if you don’t try.” It was another saying Quinn loved to tell her, but this time it did the trick. Risk turned with her back straight and head high.
“Who ya talkin’ to?”
Risk jumped, her claws unsheathing instantly as she whipped her head around and cast a wild glance back. A young girl, no bigger than herself, stood holding a dead rat in one hand and bloodied knife in the other.
“No one,” Risk said, shaking her head. The child quirked a red eyebrow and tilted her head.
“Why were you comin’ out of Quinn’s room?” the girl asked. Risk breathed a little easier that this person at least knew her sister. That boded well for her.
“I’m sharing her room with her,” Risk said. The girl’s eyes went wide, a scandalous smile spreading across her face. Two gold teeth glinted, drawing Risk’s attention.
“I thought the hussy was with the King. Well slap me silly and—”
“No, no,” Risk interrupted, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighed. “We’re sisters.”
A look of understanding crossed the girl’s face as she drawled, “Ohhhhhh. I see.” She seemed to consider this for a moment, while Risk stood there, feeling more self-conscious by the moment. “You sort of look like her with the whole dark magic thing goin’ on. Your horns are way cooler, though.”
Risk blinked and straightened a little. “You think?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh yeah,” Axe grinned. “I could hang so many rat skulls from those things.” She tapped her chin with the tip of her bloody knife, considering the prospect.
Risk grimaced, unsure how to respond to that. “I suppose you could.”
A door opened at the far end of the hall. Voices filtered through, though Risk didn’t know any of them. The distinct maleness of them made her wary. Her fingers tightened around the door as the idea of turning to her and Quinn’s chambers tempted her.
The girl had a different idea.
She took off down the hall, only pausing for a brief second to look over her shoulder. “You comin’ with?” she asked.
“I . . .” Risk fumbled, her gaze darting back to where the voices were coming from, and to the girl in front of her. “I didn’t realize I was invited,” she settled on.
The child shrugged and wiped her nose with the back of her hand holding the knife. “Do you know how to keep quiet?”
Risk’s eyebrows drew together as her expression became wary. “Yes . . .”
“Then you can come.” Without realizing it, her fingers had already slipped from the handle. She started toward the girl, a light feeling settling over her as they moved down the hall together. She was still trying to name the sensation in her chest when they reached the furthest end of the hallway. The girl cast her a side glance and grinned slyly before finagling the door open while maintaining her hold on the knife. The knob twisted and the wooden panel fell open.
She stepped in, surveying her surroundings when the door shut. That light feeling in her diminished as she turned to look at the girl who was already pushing her aside. She froze, shocked by the contact. The girl seemed to have no idea what she just did as she laid the dead rat next to two others on a bed. Risk had only barely recovered when the child turned and said with a firm nod, “This will show that rat bastard.”
“Who?” Risk asked, her voice sounding a little breathier than she would have liked.
“Vaughn,” the girl scowled. “He’s my nemesis.”
Both Risk’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline as voices echoed down the hall, drawing closer.
“Quick,” the girl scrambled forward. She thrust open the wardrobe doors beside her and motioned for Risk to get in.
“I’m not sure—” Risk started, her heart beating fast. The voices neared, and that fight-or-flight instinct took over. She jumped into the wardrobe and the child followed behind her, pulling both doors closed with a click.
They waited in the shrouded darkness as men approached. One of them had an accent, much like her own, except it wasn’t N’skaran. Just close.
The blood coursing through her veins pounded heavily in her ears as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her nails had turned into claws once again. She closed both fists tightly, letting them bite into her skin. It was better to keep them hidden than accidentally stab the girl as they both waited with bated breath.
Finally, the door to the room creaked open. Risk peered through the crack in the wardrobe doors. In walked a man of considerable size. Dressed in leathers, not so different from her sister’s, Risk watched him. A feeling of dread settled in her, snuffing out all happiness at being included.
He approached the bed and paused. She waited for the fury that would follow at such a thing. She only now realized her folly in helping the girl, but it was too late. He saw the three dead rats and then, without further delay, let out a full-bellied laugh.
Her jaw went slack as her mouth dropped open. Laughing? Why in the world is he laughing? The dread in her gut settled out, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. She’d been gone from the world for a long time, but surely these weren’t ordinary people. They were her sister’s friends, and that in itself should have told Risk a lot.
Still, she couldn’t hold back her surprise as he called out, “Well done, little pirate. Your prowess in hunting the vermin of the palace is admirable. You will make fine she-wolf one day.”
The wardrobe doors flung open as the girl beside her stormed out.
“You idiot!” she screamed. “The rats aren’t a gift, you thick-necked mongrel—they’re a warning—an omen—” The man approached the girl, and despite the smile on his face as he looked down at her, Risk’s claws curled further. She wavered where she stood as he grabbed the girl with one arm and lifted her up in a . . . hug. His other hand came out to snuzzle the top of her head, mussing her fiery-red hair into an even greater mess.
“Little pirate is growing into woman. It’s normal to bring your guardians gifts in preparation of learning how to woo your mate.” He let out another laugh, and the girl huffed in frustration, sinking her teeth into his arm.
The man’s grip slipped on her, and she dropped to the ground and rounded on him, punching into his big chest. Despite the girl’s aggression, the man only laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Come now, little—”
“Arghhhhh!” she screamed, launching herself at him. She tackled him head-on, sending the man sprawling back in bed as she jumped on top of him and continued to deliver blows. “You,” she gasped. “Will—” she picked up a pillow. “Fear,” she growled as she began beating him with it. “Me!”
Risk stared on at the scene unfolding before her with wide eyes. She’d never leave a woman undefended, but in this case, it was the girl beating the man, and after all her blows he’d yet to even lift a finger against her. “Yes, yes, little pirate,” he coughed, trying to hide his laugh and failing. “I fear you greatly.”
His words did nothing to dissuade the child, and Risk took that as her permission to leave. She stepped out of the wardrobe without either of them noticing and slipped out the door, letting it click softly behind her.
Risk leaned back and inhaled deeply, letting the breath go. Her nerves calmed significantly with that one act, but Risk had decided she’d firmly had enough interaction for one day. Perhaps she should take Quinn up on meeting her friends with her around. She’d be able to explain the nonsensical thing she’d just saw.
Slowly, she pulled away from the door and started back down the hall. Too late did she notice the person walking toward her, though he was hard to miss. His sandy blond hair reminded her of the people in Bangratas, but his violet eyes—they were something uniquely his own. She’d never seen another with eyes that color. She wondered if he was different for it, or if she was simply untraveled.
“Lady Darkova,” he said in greeting. She purposely stepped to the side, closer to the wall and further from him. If he noticed her attempt to steer clear of him, he didn’t say.
“I’m not a Lady,” Risk bit out. Some of her temper coming to rise again.
He looked her up and down once, and she shivered in fear. There was nothing heated or lustful about his watchful eye, though, and it kept her from lashing out.
“Would you prefer to be known as Lord?” he asked, completely serious.
Baffled into an answer, Risk replied, “No. I’m no Lady or Lord. I don’t want or need a title. I simply am.” He regarded her again. The steadiness of that gaze; it beguiled her.
“What would you wish me to call you, then?” he asked.
She blinked, again, not expecting his question. It went without saying, because there was one name she could stomach to be known by. “Risk.”
The man opened his mouth to say something, but a war cry erupted from the room she’d just left. An amused expression crossed his face as the door itself came flying off its hinges and into the hall. The red-haired girl came storming out behind it, followed by the man, Vaughn. He tried to console her, but that only seemed to make the child angrier.
“Until next time, Risk.” He nodded once, making no move to touch her before striding off toward the bizarre scene. Risk shook her head and hurried down the hall.
As she reached her room, she couldn’t help herself from taking one last look over her shoulder at the three people she’d already met in her time here.
While strange and unlike anything she’d ever known, perhaps they weren’t the absolute worst thing ever, if a bit odd.
She went inside and closed the door behind her, feeling a little bit better than when she’d left.
Letter from a Lady
“Keep your friends close, and invite your enemies to dine at your table. All the better to poison them.”
— Quinn Darkova, fear twister, right-hand to the King of Norcasta
* * *
Quinn bit into a purple-skinned fruit, watching Risk with raised brows as her sister recounted her adventures from the day before.
“And then she bit him,” Risk said. “And he didn’t hit her. He just laughed, or rather, he tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he laughed, the angrier the girl got. She said his name was Vaughn. But I can’t recall if she gave me her name. The man—Vaughn—called her a pirate. Do they sound familiar to you? She said she knew you.”
Quinn sighed and nodded. “That would be Axe.”
Risk’s eyes bulged. “That’s her name? She was named for a weapon?”
Quinn smirked. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s complicated. She’s not a Maji, but she . . .” Quinn trailed off, unsure how to explain the creature that was Axe.
“She said she should’ve known that we were sisters,” Risk said. “That our Maji auras were . . . well, she acted like she could see them. I’ve never heard of someone being able to do that.”
“Axe is a bit different,” Quinn said, finishing off her fruit and standing as a knock sounded on the door across from them. Probably Lorraine back to retrieve the tray that Quinn had taken from the kitchens for breakfast.
“Different is a bit of an understatement,” Risk muttered as she bit viciously into a loaf of bread and chewed.
Quinn opened the door and blinked to find Draeven there instead. Behind her, the scrape of Risk’s chair against the stone floor sounded. Quinn glanced back, taking in Risk’s narrowed eyes and stiff shoulders. Her sister stood with a hand on her hip, where her dagger would have been had it not been sitting on the nightstand behind her.
Looking between them, Quinn tracked the way Draeven’s eyes traveled to her sister and then returned to her almost forcefully as he spoke. “I apologize for intruding, but Lazarus has called for you. He’s meeting with his council of advisors, and as his right-hand you’re expected to make yourself present.”
Narrowing her eyes on the man, she nodded. “Alright.” Turning back to Risk, she spoke in low tones. “I’ll be back later today. Will you be alright by yourself?”
He shook his head. “I keep a townhome within the city walls, as do most noblemen, but I have a large estate about a half a day’s ride away. Would you come visit me there?”
Quinn noticed Lazarus drawing near as Lord Callis asked his question. “I would be delighted,” she replied readily as Lazarus halted alongside them.
“Delighted for what?” Lazarus inquired, watching them both suspiciously.
Quinn turned a smile his way. “Artan was just telling me about his estate outside of the capital. He invited me there for another hunt. I told him I would be delighted to visit.”
“Yes,” Lord Callis agreed. “You’re both invited, if you like, Your Grace. I’d be honored to have you as my guest—provided, of course, that you bring your lovely vassal along with you.”
“Flattery, Lord Callis?” Quinn shook her head as they came to a stop in the courtyard. Throwing one leg over her horse, she slid to the ground and sent a plume of dirt up around her legs. “I’ll have you know that doesn’t work on me.”
“Oh no?” Lord Callis did the same, leveraging one leg over the side, and dismounted just as quickly. “I shall endeavor to entice you with something more interesting. Perhaps something different than a hunt when you come to visit me.”
“I look forward to it,” Quinn replied.
“See that you do, Quinn Darkova,” Lord Callis said with smirk as he led his horse away, dropping the reins into the waiting hands of a nearby stable hand.
Quinn watched him go, studying the way he moved from his stride to his confident air.
“Good work,” Lazarus said gruffly, sounding as though the words were being pulled through a throat made of broken glass.
Quinn flicked him a smug look, and taking up the reins to her own horse, she turned her back and headed for the stables, calling over her shoulder as she walked away, “Know your prey, Lazarus. Know your prey well, and maybe you might catch them.”
Bizarre Happenings
“It’s easy to hate what you don’t understand, just as it’s easy to fear what you do.”
— Mariska “Risk” Darkova, beast tamer
* * *
Sweat slicked her skin from beneath the stiff burlap shirt and loose-fitted trousers. While Risk was finely boned, she dressed in a man’s clothes—much to her sister’s chagrin. Quinn had offered her leathers, such as her own, but Risk hadn’t batted an eye at those. Instead, it was the ill-fitted things that drew her attention—because it wouldn’t draw anyone else’s.
That was before they’d crossed a desert in the godsforsaken heat.
Before they’d moved into a literal palace, where their rooms were on the top floor and the blasted heat rose to greet them. Risk turned away from the window she dared not open. Not when the creatures of the north and the night followed her like a plague.
She paced the length of the long chamber. That animal-like restlessness stirring within. The urge to fight or flee was great these days, in equal measure. She loved her sister for what she’d done for her, but these people—this place—it was Quinn’s.
Now it’s yours too.
She told herself the words Quinn had spoken time and again, but without her sister here saying them, even her own thoughts rang hollow. Deep down, she disliked this place. She didn’t trust its people. The cold, terrible, truth of it was that she disliked and distrusted anyone as well as anyplace. She could pack up and leave now, she knew. Quinn wouldn’t stop her, but there was nowhere to go. No one to run to.
Everything she had was here because Quinn was here.
And so, much as she entertained the thought of leaving this place behind with its judgmental eyes and bastard heat, she wouldn’t. The fight drained from her, gone as quickly as it had come on. It didn’t help that her sister had been gone for more than half the day, and the way she’d left things between them . . . it didn’t sit well with Risk.
After everything she’d done for her, Quinn didn’t deserve her attitude, but still she found herself unable to help it. Months of travel had done little to soothe her nerves around people. Now here, her otherness was stark. If not for her beast tamer magic, then her half-raksasa blood would mark her as different. No matter the garments she wore, she had horns, and unlike her sister—she couldn’t simply make them disappear.
Risk sighed and repeated another of her sister’s mantras.
“Let them hate you. Let them love you. Let what they think matter not. If they try to end you, we’ll crush them all,” she whispered the words, but again, the comfort that they provided on the road was no longer there.
Here it was not about them ending her. It was about them accepting her. Not that Quinn would ever understand that. She cared not for acceptance, and her advice would be for Risk to do the same.
Risk took another deep breath and looked at the door, longingly.
She’d done it a hundred times by now, but this time, she was committed to do something about it. Regardless of her appearance, they would never accept someone they did not know. If she wanted them to see her as something other than raksasa, she needed to go out.
The pounding of her heart hammered in her ears as she approached the door. Her fingers were clammy as she gripped the handle, sliding over the smooth metal. She wiped them on her shirt and tried again, stilling as her own resolve began to fumble.
Risk grit her teeth and twisted. The door swung open, and her heart plummeted from her chest to her stomach. She took a deep breath, counting to ten.
And then she stepped outside.
One short walk, she told herself. Then we don’t have to see anyone until Quinn gets back.
She nodded to herself and began taking short, stilted steps. She was halfway down the hall when it occurred to her that she’d left the door open. She turned to double back; the movements coming easier now, though it helped that no one was around.
Risk closed the door firmly and paused.
She could go right back inside. It was still an option.
“No,” she breathed. “You’ll never get better if you don’t try.” It was another saying Quinn loved to tell her, but this time it did the trick. Risk turned with her back straight and head high.
“Who ya talkin’ to?”
Risk jumped, her claws unsheathing instantly as she whipped her head around and cast a wild glance back. A young girl, no bigger than herself, stood holding a dead rat in one hand and bloodied knife in the other.
“No one,” Risk said, shaking her head. The child quirked a red eyebrow and tilted her head.
“Why were you comin’ out of Quinn’s room?” the girl asked. Risk breathed a little easier that this person at least knew her sister. That boded well for her.
“I’m sharing her room with her,” Risk said. The girl’s eyes went wide, a scandalous smile spreading across her face. Two gold teeth glinted, drawing Risk’s attention.
“I thought the hussy was with the King. Well slap me silly and—”
“No, no,” Risk interrupted, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighed. “We’re sisters.”
A look of understanding crossed the girl’s face as she drawled, “Ohhhhhh. I see.” She seemed to consider this for a moment, while Risk stood there, feeling more self-conscious by the moment. “You sort of look like her with the whole dark magic thing goin’ on. Your horns are way cooler, though.”
Risk blinked and straightened a little. “You think?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh yeah,” Axe grinned. “I could hang so many rat skulls from those things.” She tapped her chin with the tip of her bloody knife, considering the prospect.
Risk grimaced, unsure how to respond to that. “I suppose you could.”
A door opened at the far end of the hall. Voices filtered through, though Risk didn’t know any of them. The distinct maleness of them made her wary. Her fingers tightened around the door as the idea of turning to her and Quinn’s chambers tempted her.
The girl had a different idea.
She took off down the hall, only pausing for a brief second to look over her shoulder. “You comin’ with?” she asked.
“I . . .” Risk fumbled, her gaze darting back to where the voices were coming from, and to the girl in front of her. “I didn’t realize I was invited,” she settled on.
The child shrugged and wiped her nose with the back of her hand holding the knife. “Do you know how to keep quiet?”
Risk’s eyebrows drew together as her expression became wary. “Yes . . .”
“Then you can come.” Without realizing it, her fingers had already slipped from the handle. She started toward the girl, a light feeling settling over her as they moved down the hall together. She was still trying to name the sensation in her chest when they reached the furthest end of the hallway. The girl cast her a side glance and grinned slyly before finagling the door open while maintaining her hold on the knife. The knob twisted and the wooden panel fell open.
She stepped in, surveying her surroundings when the door shut. That light feeling in her diminished as she turned to look at the girl who was already pushing her aside. She froze, shocked by the contact. The girl seemed to have no idea what she just did as she laid the dead rat next to two others on a bed. Risk had only barely recovered when the child turned and said with a firm nod, “This will show that rat bastard.”
“Who?” Risk asked, her voice sounding a little breathier than she would have liked.
“Vaughn,” the girl scowled. “He’s my nemesis.”
Both Risk’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline as voices echoed down the hall, drawing closer.
“Quick,” the girl scrambled forward. She thrust open the wardrobe doors beside her and motioned for Risk to get in.
“I’m not sure—” Risk started, her heart beating fast. The voices neared, and that fight-or-flight instinct took over. She jumped into the wardrobe and the child followed behind her, pulling both doors closed with a click.
They waited in the shrouded darkness as men approached. One of them had an accent, much like her own, except it wasn’t N’skaran. Just close.
The blood coursing through her veins pounded heavily in her ears as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her nails had turned into claws once again. She closed both fists tightly, letting them bite into her skin. It was better to keep them hidden than accidentally stab the girl as they both waited with bated breath.
Finally, the door to the room creaked open. Risk peered through the crack in the wardrobe doors. In walked a man of considerable size. Dressed in leathers, not so different from her sister’s, Risk watched him. A feeling of dread settled in her, snuffing out all happiness at being included.
He approached the bed and paused. She waited for the fury that would follow at such a thing. She only now realized her folly in helping the girl, but it was too late. He saw the three dead rats and then, without further delay, let out a full-bellied laugh.
Her jaw went slack as her mouth dropped open. Laughing? Why in the world is he laughing? The dread in her gut settled out, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. She’d been gone from the world for a long time, but surely these weren’t ordinary people. They were her sister’s friends, and that in itself should have told Risk a lot.
Still, she couldn’t hold back her surprise as he called out, “Well done, little pirate. Your prowess in hunting the vermin of the palace is admirable. You will make fine she-wolf one day.”
The wardrobe doors flung open as the girl beside her stormed out.
“You idiot!” she screamed. “The rats aren’t a gift, you thick-necked mongrel—they’re a warning—an omen—” The man approached the girl, and despite the smile on his face as he looked down at her, Risk’s claws curled further. She wavered where she stood as he grabbed the girl with one arm and lifted her up in a . . . hug. His other hand came out to snuzzle the top of her head, mussing her fiery-red hair into an even greater mess.
“Little pirate is growing into woman. It’s normal to bring your guardians gifts in preparation of learning how to woo your mate.” He let out another laugh, and the girl huffed in frustration, sinking her teeth into his arm.
The man’s grip slipped on her, and she dropped to the ground and rounded on him, punching into his big chest. Despite the girl’s aggression, the man only laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Come now, little—”
“Arghhhhh!” she screamed, launching herself at him. She tackled him head-on, sending the man sprawling back in bed as she jumped on top of him and continued to deliver blows. “You,” she gasped. “Will—” she picked up a pillow. “Fear,” she growled as she began beating him with it. “Me!”
Risk stared on at the scene unfolding before her with wide eyes. She’d never leave a woman undefended, but in this case, it was the girl beating the man, and after all her blows he’d yet to even lift a finger against her. “Yes, yes, little pirate,” he coughed, trying to hide his laugh and failing. “I fear you greatly.”
His words did nothing to dissuade the child, and Risk took that as her permission to leave. She stepped out of the wardrobe without either of them noticing and slipped out the door, letting it click softly behind her.
Risk leaned back and inhaled deeply, letting the breath go. Her nerves calmed significantly with that one act, but Risk had decided she’d firmly had enough interaction for one day. Perhaps she should take Quinn up on meeting her friends with her around. She’d be able to explain the nonsensical thing she’d just saw.
Slowly, she pulled away from the door and started back down the hall. Too late did she notice the person walking toward her, though he was hard to miss. His sandy blond hair reminded her of the people in Bangratas, but his violet eyes—they were something uniquely his own. She’d never seen another with eyes that color. She wondered if he was different for it, or if she was simply untraveled.
“Lady Darkova,” he said in greeting. She purposely stepped to the side, closer to the wall and further from him. If he noticed her attempt to steer clear of him, he didn’t say.
“I’m not a Lady,” Risk bit out. Some of her temper coming to rise again.
He looked her up and down once, and she shivered in fear. There was nothing heated or lustful about his watchful eye, though, and it kept her from lashing out.
“Would you prefer to be known as Lord?” he asked, completely serious.
Baffled into an answer, Risk replied, “No. I’m no Lady or Lord. I don’t want or need a title. I simply am.” He regarded her again. The steadiness of that gaze; it beguiled her.
“What would you wish me to call you, then?” he asked.
She blinked, again, not expecting his question. It went without saying, because there was one name she could stomach to be known by. “Risk.”
The man opened his mouth to say something, but a war cry erupted from the room she’d just left. An amused expression crossed his face as the door itself came flying off its hinges and into the hall. The red-haired girl came storming out behind it, followed by the man, Vaughn. He tried to console her, but that only seemed to make the child angrier.
“Until next time, Risk.” He nodded once, making no move to touch her before striding off toward the bizarre scene. Risk shook her head and hurried down the hall.
As she reached her room, she couldn’t help herself from taking one last look over her shoulder at the three people she’d already met in her time here.
While strange and unlike anything she’d ever known, perhaps they weren’t the absolute worst thing ever, if a bit odd.
She went inside and closed the door behind her, feeling a little bit better than when she’d left.
Letter from a Lady
“Keep your friends close, and invite your enemies to dine at your table. All the better to poison them.”
— Quinn Darkova, fear twister, right-hand to the King of Norcasta
* * *
Quinn bit into a purple-skinned fruit, watching Risk with raised brows as her sister recounted her adventures from the day before.
“And then she bit him,” Risk said. “And he didn’t hit her. He just laughed, or rather, he tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he laughed, the angrier the girl got. She said his name was Vaughn. But I can’t recall if she gave me her name. The man—Vaughn—called her a pirate. Do they sound familiar to you? She said she knew you.”
Quinn sighed and nodded. “That would be Axe.”
Risk’s eyes bulged. “That’s her name? She was named for a weapon?”
Quinn smirked. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s complicated. She’s not a Maji, but she . . .” Quinn trailed off, unsure how to explain the creature that was Axe.
“She said she should’ve known that we were sisters,” Risk said. “That our Maji auras were . . . well, she acted like she could see them. I’ve never heard of someone being able to do that.”
“Axe is a bit different,” Quinn said, finishing off her fruit and standing as a knock sounded on the door across from them. Probably Lorraine back to retrieve the tray that Quinn had taken from the kitchens for breakfast.
“Different is a bit of an understatement,” Risk muttered as she bit viciously into a loaf of bread and chewed.
Quinn opened the door and blinked to find Draeven there instead. Behind her, the scrape of Risk’s chair against the stone floor sounded. Quinn glanced back, taking in Risk’s narrowed eyes and stiff shoulders. Her sister stood with a hand on her hip, where her dagger would have been had it not been sitting on the nightstand behind her.
Looking between them, Quinn tracked the way Draeven’s eyes traveled to her sister and then returned to her almost forcefully as he spoke. “I apologize for intruding, but Lazarus has called for you. He’s meeting with his council of advisors, and as his right-hand you’re expected to make yourself present.”
Narrowing her eyes on the man, she nodded. “Alright.” Turning back to Risk, she spoke in low tones. “I’ll be back later today. Will you be alright by yourself?”
