Defiance (Rise of the Iliri Book 3)

Rise of the Iliri

Book Two

Auryn Hadley

Spotted Horse Productions

Defiance
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Auryn Hadley

All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher and the copyright owner constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

Published by Spotted Horse Productions

First Edition: August 2016

Cover Art by Spotted Horse Productions

Edited by Kathryn Cox

For every author, there are people who cheer her on.  For every writer with a dream, there are those who remind him that he has a story that people will love.  For every novel brought to publication, there is a team of people who make it happen.  This one is for Chele, who has become a part of all of this, and reminds me why I spend sleepless nights struggling to get my story out – so it can be loved.

And for those who feel alone, hiding from the wolves in the trees, unable to realize they are friends.

Chapter 1

Their feet rang out on the polished stone as the couple headed toward the dais.  Sal was careful to stay one pace behind Jase and keep her head down.  Every instinct in her body wanted to rebel against the submission, but she had to do this. 

Back home, she was considered inferior because of her species.  Here, being a woman was what supposedly made her worthless.  It was still a step above slavery – and right now the ignorance would play nicely into their plan.

As the pair neared the man seated on his chair – one that closely resembled a throne – the herald announced them.  "Sergeant Jassant Cynortas, Emissary of the Conglomerate of Free Citizens, and his wife."

Evidently, not even her name was important.  Through thick, dark lashes, she glanced at Jase.  He was the only thing she liked in this country it seemed.  The vivid blue of his coat clung tightly to his well-formed body.  The tawny leather of his pants just peeked over his tall boots.  The Conglomerate colors brought out his eyes, and she'd told him so just before they entered the audience chamber.  Maybe it'd be enough to get him through this.  The shy little man hated being the center of attention.  Speaking in a forum this public was sheer misery for him.  Lately, it seemed talking to her wasn't much better. 

After a few more steps, they were within range of the Baron.  Jase bowed deeply in a sign of respect and Sal curtsied, her knees nearly touching the floor.  That was traditional.  That she dared to lift her eyes was not.  With a sly smile on his lips, the Baron waited.  Her false crystalline blue met his brown for a split second.  Quickly, she dropped her gaze back to the floor, letting the man play in her peripheral vision.  She had him.

His white teeth made a cruel line against his dark skin at their show of respect.  For a long moment, he just watched, silent while the pair held perfectly still.  Packed off to this unimportant corner of Anglia, etiquette was the man's only power and he was trying to make sure the foreigners respected it.  A flick of his hand granted the iliri permission to rise.

"Sergeant," he began, "it is the pleasure of the Province of Bysno to have such esteemed guests in our hall.  What is the nature of your visit to us?"

She couldn't help but notice the man's use of the royal plural.  His rank didn't give him that right, only his ego.  Everything about Lord Bysno was despicable, but she kept her face pleasant, halting the growl in her throat before it could even start.  He might be the King's son, but his arrogance would cost him soon enough.

Jase looked the man right in the eyes.  "Baron Stojan Jensen, or do ya prefer ta be known as Lord Bysno?"

The man nearly sneered.  "I go by the title of my lands."

Her partner ignored the man's anger.  "Then Lord Bysno.  I am here ta request the aid of Anglia in our war against the Empire of Terric."  Jase's rolling accent was at odds with his rough voice.  "As the heir presumptive ta the throne, it only makes sense ta beg fer yer favor first."

The Baron chuckled.  "I'm sure it doesn't hurt that we're also the closest province to the Conglomerate."

"It does na," Jase agreed, "but courtesy dictates that I speak ta ya b'fore the others.  I am merely lucky that yer location is so convenient."

"Evidently," Stojan grumbled before looking over to Sal.  "And I see you're accompanied by your wife?"

Jase dipped his head, barely acknowledging her presence.  "Yer Lordship, may I introduce Salryc Cynortas, my wife."

She glanced at Jase.  Was he really that upset with her?  He smelled irritated but not angry.  Jerking her eyes away, she took a tentative step forward and bowed her head.  "Lord Bysno," she whispered, daring to look up at him once more.  The smile on her lips was intentionally more than just polite.  Beside her, Jase pretended not to notice.  Maybe he honestly didn't.

"Well met, Madam Cynortas."  The Baron's eyes traveled across her body before turning back to Jase.  Standing, he gestured to a door behind him, "Let us retire for a few drinks, Sergeant, and discuss these requests you have.  We'll assume your wife can fare well enough on her own until we get back."

Jase stepped forward, leaving her there alone.  "Na like she can get inta much trouble," he grumbled under his breath, shooting her a warning look.

Sal couldn't meet his eyes.  "Yes, sir," she whispered.

That was it.  The whole meeting had lasted only a few moments before the men retreated to the Baron's private rooms.  Apparently dismissed, she turned, careful to keep her posture demure as she made her way from the hall.  Once in the corridor, she headed straight to the window. 

They were only on the second floor of the keep.  Snow covered the ground outside and trails of smoke rose from the small buildings clustering the courtyard.  Below her, the wall stretched down jaggedly, the stone rough-cut.  It would be easy to cling to if she needed a way out.

She wasn't sure who had the worse job this time.  While she was stuck counting minutes waiting for something of interest to happen, Jase would be forced to muddle through the political games he despised so much.  Somehow, he had to convince this arrogant ape that he was willing to do anything for a handful of troops.  The Conglomerate could really use the support, but Anglian soldiers were notoriously archaic.  The entire country was!  Although, this time, it wasn't her responsibility to decide the tactics.  Right now, her job was just to be as beautiful as possible.

She hoped she still was.  Sal aimed for one of the mirrors lining the hall.  Her long dress had been picked out by Zep in the same shade of blue as Jase's coat.  Her now-raven hair fell luxuriously past her shoulders.  She tucked a stray wisp behind her stationary ear, then adjusted the comb to hold it.  The reflection wasn't one she was familiar with, but it was exactly what this man liked.  The rest of her was as perfect as she could make it.  Now to learn the rest of the building.

As Sal made laps around the keep, women skittered everywhere like scared rodents, but the men were nowhere to be seen.  She wondered if it was due to the weather or if this society could really be
that
far behind modern thinking.  Oddly, there didn't seem to be the same prejudice against coloration.  Blonde and red hair were nearly as common as the black Sal was used to.  Some were even the same blanched tones that hinted at iliri lurking in the pedigree.

Sighing, Sal turned back to the hall, hoping to make another circuit before boredom managed to kill her.  The place smelled of nothing but humans.  So much so that she couldn't make out a thing.  On the third trip around, she turned a corner and found herself face first in a wall of green brocade.  Gasping in surprise, she stepped back.

"My apologies, Madam," said the owner of the brocade.  Sal's head tilted up, seeking his face, and she found herself dwarfed beside what appeared to be a guard.  "The Baron would like a word with you, if you please."  He offered his arm.

She took it, feeling links of resin below his green doublet.  This was exactly what she'd been waiting for.  Her act fell back into place easily.

"Thank you, sir.  I thought the men would be busy for a while yet."

"I wouldn't know, Madam."  The guard's tone was completely professional.  "The Emissary has returned to his rooms and his Lordship requested to meet with you."

He led her through twisting corridors.  Out of habit, she made note of each hall and turn.  If she had to make her way out of this place in a hurry, this man was basically giving her directions.  At a large wooden door, the guard paused.  Sal politely commented on the detailed carvings, but he said nothing, just rapped his knuckles on the wood and stared forward.  On the other side, footsteps rustled.  Then, with a long creak, the door opened to reveal the Baron.

"Ah, Madam Cynortas."  He smiled, inviting her in. 

She stepped through the entrance, but the soldier made no move to follow.  Instead, the brocade mountain took up a position beside the door – obviously to stand guard. 

Inside, the room was decorated in shades of green, from the emerald chairs to the forest rug.  Expensive wood gleamed in the lantern light.  Statues were scattered on every surface.  Displays of wealth were everywhere as if the man was compensating for something.  Beyond an open door, Sal caught a glimpse of a bed – also covered in green. 

Without preamble the Baron said, "Your husband just traded me the afternoon with you in exchange for one hundred men."

A twisted smile crept to her mouth.  Finally allowing herself to look up, Sal stared her prey in the eyes.  Her voice, however, was perfectly sweet and controlled.  "You were cheated then, Baron."

The man shrugged halfheartedly.  "I merely asked.  He told me he'd look the other way if I signed a letter of promise for the soldiers.  With the Conglomerate paying for their keep, how exactly did I get cheated?"  His tone suggested she was too stupid to understand his affairs.

"Because he would have let you have me for fifty."

"Ah, but Madam Cynortas, this way I have even fewer to feed.  In case you haven't noticed, it does get cold up here in the mountains."  Turning to the table, he claimed two glasses, offering her one.  "So tell me, since you
are
so blunt.  How hard is it going to be to get your clothes off?"

Accepting the liquor, Sal tilted it up.  The burgundy fluid brushed against her mouth, but none entered.  He didn't need to know that.  The last thing she'd do was show this man her weaknesses.  Then she set the glass beside her and gently licked the single droplet clinging to her lip with the tip of her tongue. 

The Baron's eyes followed.  When the man smiled in anticipation, she knew he was already trapped in her spell.  The idiot was so convinced of his superiority that he couldn't imagine how a
woman
could be a threat.  It seemed things were going much better than she'd hoped.

Now to seal the deal.  Stepping toward him slowly, she began to unlace her bodice.  The gown slid to her feet, turning into a soft blue puddle before she reached him.  Sal held his gaze defiantly as she stepped out of the cloth, looking for any hint that he suspected her true motive.  The fool did nothing more than smile like the half-wit he supposedly was. 

"Oh, I don't think you'll have any trouble.  We do things a bit differently in the south, you know." 

Her hands met his shoulders, gently pushing him back.  The idiot didn't question it when she guided him toward the bed.  He stopped thinking completely when her fingers worked the laces free and pulled his shirt over his head.  His legs hit the mattress and she forced herself into his arms. 

The Lord of Bysno had never met a woman like her, and she knew it.  Anglian women were raised to be meek and submissive.  Lieutenant Salryc Luxx was none of those things.  She was a ruthless bitch, a killer, and she'd been hunting this man long enough.  Her mouth found his and her tongue dove between his teeth, distracting him as she twisted her "wedding" ring slightly. 

The sharp jewel now pointed at her palm.  While the Baron kissed her passionately, she moaned in feigned pleasure.  Her hands pulled him closer, convincing the human she desired him.  Naturally, he responded.  His need to possess her was about to be his downfall and he'd never even know it.  He'd never expect something as harmless as a woman to be so very deadly. 

Clinging to his shoulders, her nails scraped across his skin and she pushed the tip of the stone into the gouges left behind.  The fragile crystal snapped, its point slicing alongside her nails, but that was all she needed.  The poison was slick beneath her fingers as she caressed it into the wounds. 

The man would never know what happened, but that didn't matter.  Her job wasn't about respect.  It certainly wasn't about fame.  She was just here to kill, and the fool pushing her onto the bed was so concerned about his own primal needs that he didn't suspect anything else.  She was just a woman, after all.  In Anglia, they thought her kind were only good for one thing.  Sal would prove them all wrong.