Hers to Command (8 page)

Krakoll’s voice oozed solicitous care.
“I need you on Raegill II in thirty days. I promise to get you to the Synth-Medico before you bleed out.”

The rest of his words were straight from a living nightmare.
“As small as your mouth is, pretty man, you won’t be so pretty in the morning.”

Krakoll’s eyes gleam
ed maliciously. “I would fit much better if you didn’t have those nice white teeth in the way, taking up space,
catching
on—things. Don’t you think so, Councilman Herrimon?”

Augoust
could only force some horror-struck gibberish through his savaged throat. He tried to crab backwards but his arms and legs refused to function.

“
Herrimon, Herrimon, you are forcing me to make the decisions,” Krakoll chided. The Haarb leader sighed and pretended a moment of contemplation, tapping a grimy finger to his pursed lips. “Such a pity to ruin your perfect smile; but yes, I think they must go.”

“
Wait, wait,” Herrimon croaked, shaking his head in appalled denial.

The barbarian’s
smile was gruesomely cheerful. “No, we will get this part out of the way right now. So much better all the way around, less anxiety for you.” Krakoll rolled his eyes. “All that tortured waiting, so cruel.”

With his freakish cock thrusting out of his pants like a thick club, the
Haarb leader fished in his pocket. Pulling out a studded sleeve of solid metal, he fitted it over the knuckles on his massive hand and smiled.

“
Blood makes a good lubricant. There, you see Councilman Herrimon, I can be merciful. Oh, dear me, look at that. Why, Councilman Herrimon, you soiled yourself and ruined your fancy clothes. Don’t worry, it won’t spoil our fun,” Krakoll consoled, advancing. The Haarb leader’s voice became a vicious sneer. “I am not nearly as fastidious as you are…”

* * * * *

Doral’s muscles screamed at his long inactivity. He ignored them. His brain registered the frigid cold penetrating his wet clothing. He shut it out. Prone, covered by dense foliage, invisible to any observer, his eyes scanned the brooding clouds intently. A flicker of orange flared through the gray.
There. They landed there
. Quiet satisfaction suffused him. His informant had been accurate. Rising with lithe grace, he slipped through the forested undergrowth on a path converging with that of the private lander. The craft would have bare minutes to land and take off before Verdantia’s electromagnetic disruption disabled its engines.

Hidden close by, Doral observed patiently as the craft disgorged its treacherous passenger and immediately powered thunderously into the heavens. Warmly cloaked against the poor weather and high altitude, the traitorous aristocrat waited, alone, in a sheltered copse. The clack of horses’ shod feet slipping on rock and the murmur of men’s voices could be heard as an armed detail ascended the mountainous trail to the landing site.
They will find only your dead body, you duplicitous filth.
But it would be a close thing—no time for interrogation. The visconte slipped into the copse and on silent feet moved to within striking distance. Dropping a needle-sharp stiletto into the palm of his hand, he engaged with and quickly disabled his prey.

Holding the victim’s arm twisted behind his back, dislocation imminent, his stiletto poised to enter the man’s throat,
Doral whispered into the traitor’s ear, “By High Lord DeTano’s command, for your betrayal of Verdantia, you die, Duca Loretto.”

“
DeLorion! Wait, I can pay…” The traitor’s protest ended in a gurgling, liquid gasp as Visconte Doral DeLorion’s blade slit his throat.

He gently lowered the limp body to the ground and
rapidly searched it, carefully removing a heavy packet of folded papers from the dead man’s clothing. Glancing quickly at the papers, his lips twitched in a slight smile of satisfaction.
Finally—proof. There
is
a traitor among the LFP. Now who is it?

Doral swiftly skirted the incoming troop detail and vanished down the side of the mountain. Finding a place well hidden, he carefully reviewed the papers in his hand
, then folded them away in his tunic for safekeeping. Doral’s mind slipped away to dwell on his absent High Lord. He wondered how matters progressed between Conte DeTano and the princess. The subtle, yearning ache that had grown with every day their separation lengthened now threatened to become a sense of true loss.
I wonder if I will ever have him?
Doral shut the thought away, unexamined. He couldn’t accept what his brain told him the logical outcome of that possession would be.

* * * * *

The past week had brought a startling, no—alarming—revelation. Fleur sought answers from the sole person she knew to ask.

“Princess?”
Elder Patricio’s knock on the royal apartment door sounded tentative.

“
Please come in, Elder.” Fleur smiled at him through the partially open door. “Sit here.” She indicated a comfortable armchair pulled up next to her position on the low chaise. She put her reading, a storehouse inventory report, on top of a stack next to her on the sofa. Overbalanced, the papers cascaded to the carpet in a slither of paper. She eyed them in distaste.

“
How may I help you, my dear?” the elder asked, seating himself beside her, shoving the papers away with his foot.

“
Elder.” She tossed a roll of parchment tied with streaming ribbons adorned by heavy gold medals onto his lap. “Explain, please.”

He untied the ribbons and unrolled the parchment. As he
scanned it, his eyebrows rose.

He
took a deep breath. “Your father and I arranged your marriage to the heir of House DeTano when you came of age. Obviously, what you have here is the contract.”

“
I am now twenty-one. I am of age.”

He nodded cautiously.
“Yes. It was arranged fifteen years ago.”

“
Fifteen years ago.” She shifted uneasily in her seat. “And the heir to House DeTano is Camliel Aristos DeTano.”

Now he shifted
nervously in his seat. “Yes.”

“
The man I know as Ari.” She eyed him levelly.

“
Yes.”

She turned away from him and gazed
into the room. He sat quietly until she spoke again. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we had a good relationship. What were you hoping to accomplish by keeping such a secret?” She turned a serious face to him.

He let out a long slow breath.
“I care about you a great deal, Princess. Your father and I made the decision not to tell you because we did not want you hurt. Conte DeTano did not agree to the contract willingly. Both your father and his parents used coercion to obtain his signature. I would prefer not to tell you exactly what he was threatened with.”

By his expression
, she realized he was embarrassed. “It was unconscionable.”

He looked down.
“It was my fault. I pushed for it. DeTano took it poorly. Honestly, how could he not? As soon as a way presented itself, the conte left Verdantia and stayed beyond our reach. Regardless of his defection, you were too young. To his credit, he negotiated the LFP’s military assistance and returned to fight when we were invaded but he never wavered in his very public, very vehement repudiation of any marriage.”

Patricio let out a long sigh.
“He is a brilliant man, and confoundedly uncooperative. I was vastly relieved to see him answer my summons to perform the
Great Rite
. That response was a first.” Patricio chuckled weakly. “I have summoned him many times. He ignored them all.”

She sat quietly
, thinking. “The last time I spoke with him, he was barely civil. Why does he dislike me so?”

Setting aside the scroll, Patricio leaned forward and took her hand.
“He does not dislike you. I have a very strong feeling he cares for you far more than he is comfortable with.”

Fleur’s eyebrows ro
se and she looked at him askance. “I have a door that would disagree with you.” Patricio looked at her, puzzled. “Never mind; go on please.”

“
I think you have shaken him quite thoroughly.” Patricio’s hand went to a small wound on his throat and rubbed it absently. “How did you find out?”

“
A certain lady of the court sought an audience with me. She warned me that Conte DeTano was a poor choice for a consort. He would not remain faithful. I didn’t know what she spoke of. Then there was a second request and audience. I dismissed it as spite. But the
third
audience was with one of our prominent
lords
.”

Fleur looked up at Patricio’s smothered laugh. She smiled weakly.
“I hate that I still blush.”

Patricio leaned over and took her hand.
“My dear, I suspect all those lovers, those lords and ladies that he bedded, they were just a spit in the face of his parents and the king. If you want him as husband and consort, be brave. Ask him.” His face sought hers. “Do you?”

“
I have not decided.” She stood and smiled at Patricio. “I won’t take any more of your valuable time, Elder Patricio. Thank you.”

After the
elder had bowed and left her apartments, Fleur rang a small hand bell and a page appeared at her door.

“
Yes, Your Highness.”

“
Ask Conte DeTano if he will speak with me in my chambers, please.”

The page bowed and went to deliver his message.

It was perhaps an hour later when her guard tapped lightly. “Your Highness.”

“
Yes, Eric.”

“
Conte DeTano is here.”

“
Please admit him.” She watched from her seat on the chaise as Ari strode into the room.

“
Your Highness.”

“
Conte,” she smiled. “Please, sit.”

“
I prefer to stand if it is the same to you, Your Highness,” he replied curtly.

“
It is not. I dislike having you
loom
over me like a bomb about to explode.”

A laugh startled from his lips and he smiled as he sat down in the chair Patricio had vacated.

He is so handsome when he smiles.

“
My second-in-command sent me some troublesome news today. I am out of sorts. I didn’t mean to direct my temper at you, Your Highness.”

“
Apology accepted. I would like it very much if you would call me Fleur. You did before.”

“
Yes, well. Being balls-deep between your legs creates a certain intimacy,” Ari said with a wicked grin. “If that is your wish, Your Highness, Fleur, it is.”

Heat crept
up her cheeks.
He says the most unexpected things.
Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, handing Ari the scroll. “Tell me about this.”

He
scanned carefully as he unrolled the stiff parchment. He stopped midway, then rolled it back up. With a soft chime of medallions, he re-tied the ribbons, placing it on a low table beside him. “What is it you wish to know?”

Oh dear.
She studied his austere expression, trying to decide on a diplomatic way to start. “Why is marrying me so distasteful that you would flee the planet for fifteen years?” She winced inwardly.
Tactful, Fleur—very subtle.

Ari’s
eyes narrowed and his fingers started drumming on the arms of the chair. He rose and paced to the window, then stood looking out.

“
It was not the thought of marriage to
you
that was distasteful. What was distasteful was the thought of a marriage to anyone based solely on my genetics. It is how you breed animals, not people. I am not a stud horse to be bred to Patricio’s favorite mare.” His back stiffened. “My apologies. I did not mean…”

“
Please, Ari, sit down,” she interrupted.
Patricio’s ‘mare’? Ouch.

“
I prefer to stand,” he responded curtly, not moving from the window.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“I am not used to speaking to someone’s backside half-way across the room. Will you at
least
turn around?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and a
smile flickered. He turned. “I didn’t want to ‘loom’.” Laughter lurked in his eyes, and a half-smile lingered on his lips.

He really is quite extraordinary.
A soft laugh escaped her. “Thank you.”

He nodded and folded his arms across his chest
, then crossed his legs at the ankles as he leaned back onto the windowsill. The heavy muscles of his arms and chest stretched his black knit sweater, and the black leather leggings tucked into his over-the-knee boots left little for her to imagine.
Such a handsome man.