The King and the Courtesan (32 page)

Osric yanked me back into the truck.

“Stop it!” I snapped, wrenching my arm from his grip. “Don’t touch me!”

“If you had stayed in the truck—”

“We could have saved him!”

“What do you know about saving anyone? You’re such an idiot! Were you going to face down the Yentis for him, hmm? If you’re going to stay alive here, you do what you’re told, do you understand? You don’t fuck around with the Yentis. They already hate Sumerthans—they don’t need a reason to put a bullet through your head. There’s nothing you can do for the people here, and the last thing they all want or need is some outsider swooping in and being a martyr.”

“I could have saved
one
.”

“He’s Hatchi. He was doomed anyway.”

“What the hell does that mean? What’s a Hatchi?”

Osric stared at me a second, as if he didn’t quite recognize me. Then he shook his head and looked away. “Just stay in the fucking truck and keep your mouth shut.”

The sky had darkened by the time we reached Kafattan, which wasn’t a city in the sense that I was used to. There were no tall buildings or parks, only congested traffic, clumps of pedestrians, and street after street of adobe hovels, some of them patched with corrugated metal and faded blue tarps. Several times, we pulled up beside a man driving a donkey cart or herding a dozen cattle across an intersection. I found it as bizarre as it was fascinating, and while the little boy’s death still weighed heavy on my mind, at least the scenery was a distraction.

We drove through packed, meandering streets for about an hour before finally pulling onto a steep, cobblestone road. It led to the top of a hill surrounded by thick walls and metal spikes. We had to pass through two gates in order to get to the entrance of the house, which was smaller than the one I’d left but no less elegant. I noticed the presence of armed guards here, too, but they stood like stoic soldiers as Osric guided me past them and into the quaint foyer. I found a sitting room to the left, and in one of the short, squat chairs sat Ezekiel, sipping from a tumbler and looking straight at me. I hadn’t noticed that I was wet and muddy from the drive until that moment, and I feared how Ezekiel might react to seeing me.

Ezekiel was dressed in an immaculate ivory suit with silver tie and shoes. I practically didn’t recognize him. I wish I could have said he looked less threatening in white, but he seemed even worse in this color. On him, it was like a lie.

“Hello, Melissa,” he greeted, in a seemingly fair mood. He waved me over. I moved forward cautiously, waiting for him to ask me about my state of dress or the scuffle with the Jahralian boy. Surely one of his men had already told him.

Ezekiel patted the spot beside him and I sat. He plucked another tumbler off the tray on the coffee table and filled it with scotch before handing it to me. Sipping delicately from his own glass, he crooked a finger at Osric. Osric bent closer, and Ezekiel whispered something to him. Osric nodded and left.

“Um, Ezekiel—”

“Yes, Melissa?” He stared ahead, appearing thoughtful.

“I-I’m sorry I’m a bit of a—of a mess. It was raining—”

“Don’t stutter, Melissa. It’s very unbecoming.” He took another sip and I shut up. “I’ve been told about your little misadventure. Such things happen—it’s why I gave you your own convoy. There will be clean clothes upstairs for you.”

“But…why am I here?”

“Sometimes unforeseen situations arise,” Ezekiel said. “I have something I need you and Osric to do for me.”

“Yes?”

“There is someone I need to meet, a Zarek.” Ezekiel stared into his glass, swirling the ice lazily. “He’s what one might consider a competitor. He used to be a negligible gnat, but now he is threatening my operation and my deal with the government—neither of which I will tolerate. He’s a greedy bastard, but luckily he’s also a stupid one. I need to find out his plans. If he knows as much as I think he does about my own arrangement, he needs to be gotten rid of. He’s such a public figure in this place that I have to be careful. I don’t want to waste the time and effort taking him out if he’s not worth it.” He stood. “You need to go upstairs and get ready. Meet me outside by the car in ten minutes.”

I struggled to stand, nodding obediently. Ezekiel turned and left the room, Bruce in tow. I headed upstairs to the bedroom, nerves tingling.

* * *

“What did you tell him?” I hissed at Osric when he stopped by my tiny room to see if I was done with my makeup. I wasn’t sure where Ezekiel had found it, but such questions were not worth asking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You had to have told him about that little incident on the way here.”

“I told him there was a small scuffle, that you saw an orphan boy and got all
maternal
.” He waggled his fingers sarcastically. “I didn’t mention the gunmen, and I suggest you don’t, either. No one was hurt. Time to move on.”

“Your attempts at reassuring me aren’t working very well.”

Osric stood closer, crossing his arms over his chest and lowering his voice. “He hasn’t doled out punishment to either of us, so he’ll probably let it go. Ezekiel’s not really one for drawing out conflicts. I don’t need shit from him, and I’m sure you don’t.”

I shook my head, but I still worried.

“He’s not a mind reader.”

“Sometimes it seems like he is.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that.” When I put down my lipstick, Osric uncrossed his arms and raised his voice to its normal level. “Ready?” he asked.

“Why do
I
have to be there tonight?”

Osric raised an eyebrow.

“What? What use am I going to be?”

Osric shrugged. “I really don’t think it’s that big of a deal, Melissa. Zarek is a dumb-ass. The only reason he’s gotten this far is because he’s rich. And he’s got a huge family that monitors everyone. Believe me, it wasn’t brains that got him there. And trust me when I say women are his
huge
weak spot.”

“Awesome,” I muttered sarcastically. “I don’t have to touch him, though, do I?”

“Not unless you want to.” Osric smirked.

“Forget it.” I stood up and slipped on my clean shoes. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Osric accompanied us to our destination, dressed in a dark gray tunic that looked traditionally Jahralian. My bodyguard drove us in a regular sedan, since the majority of Kafattan streets were paved. Osric and Bruce rode in the car behind us. Even though Osric and Bruce made me nervous, I preferred they ride along. Being alone with Ezekiel in this sort of atmosphere, him looking so nonchalant and me practically bathed in sweat, made the state of my nerves worse.

Ezekiel reached over and put a hand on my thigh. “You’ll be fine. You need not say anything, since Zarek’s Sumerthan is mediocre at best. This is why I brought Osric. I’m decent at Sehitian—I couldn’t have come this far without being semi-fluent—but I need him to translate any of the words I don’t understand.”

“So no one will be speaking Sumerthan?” Wonderful. As if I needed to look like
more
of a clueless idiot.

“Rarely. Zarek may attempt talking to you. Like most men of his breed, he’ll turn into a slobbery moron in the presence of a pretty woman. Especially a foreign woman. He’s known to indulge in the sex slave trade, shipping them in from whatever country he can get them from. However, there is no significant sex slave trade in Sumertha, at least not one that works overseas. He desires what he can’t have.” Ezekiel’s sharp gaze was unwavering as it settled on me. “I have no doubt he will be interested. Keep your distance. Stay by my side the entire time. Zarek has no respect for another man’s—I shouldn’t call you property, should I?” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let’s simply say he has no respect for women, even those claimed by enemies. You’ll intrigue him. You’re allowed to indulge him to a degree. I realize he may say things to you that he wouldn’t say to a man, because he believes all women are brainless. If it comes to this, flirt and stroke his ego. But don’t touch him.” Ezekiel’s eyes grew hard. “He won’t accept a
no
after that.”

I nodded, gulping. Ezekiel curled his forefinger and thumb around my chin, matching my gaze with his.

“Melissa, you’re in no danger. I wouldn’t bring you if I thought so. Your job has always been to be my consort. Stay with me and nothing will happen. Are we clear?”

I nodded, biting a lip.

He leaned in and kissed me, a strange gesture considering he never kissed me outside of his house or bedroom. When he slipped into mission-mode, I might as well have been invisible. I didn’t know if this surprising behavior comforted me or scared me more.

“Tomorrow morning you will return to my country estate and spend the last few days in comfort and luxury. Then we’ll fly home. Does this please you?”

I nodded.

“Very good.” He turned from me, lifted his hand from my leg, and stared out the window, slipping back into his usual brooding silence. I sighed and straightened any wrinkles in my dress. It was still weird seeing us both in white.

We arrived at another large, luxurious house, this one lighter on the guards, but surrounded by walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. We were all led into the house and through the courtyard to the celebration within. I figured it was some kind of party, judging by the dancing lights and heavy bass. I wasn’t the only scantily clad woman there—that was for sure. I was, however, the only woman there with red hair and hazel eyes. Every time I caught someone’s eyes, purple gleamed back at me.

I hated the attention I received from the moment I walked in. No one even tried to hide the fact that they were staring, which wasn’t something I was used to. Here,
I
was the foreigner, the exotic one.

We didn’t bother with the courtyard or the people congregated there. Ezekiel headed straight for the veranda doors, which took us into a large sitting room circled with plush couches and elaborately crafted rugs. There were more men here, all wearing traditional Jahralian dress like Osric. Two of them held semi-automatic rifles. I slipped my arm through Ezekiel’s, more for comfort than for affection. Osric was close behind me, and for the first time, I felt better with him there.

There was a short discussion, and the armed men jerked their heads toward the spiraling staircase at the back of the room. We all ascended to the upper floor, followed by Zarek’s guards. They gestured to a big two-door entrance leading into what appeared to be a game room. About ten men sat around a table, drinking and laughing while they smoked.

There were two Jahralian women here, both nearly naked and clearly high. They sat like sentries on either side of an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a burgeoning gut.

“Ezekiel!” the man cried in a heavily accented voice, jostling the women beside him as he stood. He spread his arms and grinned with crooked and slightly yellowed teeth. He wasn’t fat so much as burly. His hands alone were gigantic, his fingers as wide as sausages. Thick body hair covered his arms and the part of his chest revealed by the low neckline of his button-up shirt.

The man, who I assumed to be Zarek, began to speak, rounding the table to take Ezekiel’s hand. But his eyes flickered to me, and his smile turned lecherous. When he reached to take my face into one of those huge paws, I stepped back instinctively. He frowned, but Ezekiel must have made some sort of excuse for my lukewarm behavior, because he laughed and moved to Bruce and Osric. He greeted Osric with an actual hug, as if they were friends. Perhaps they were. If Osric could be on good terms with Blade, he could probably get along with anyone.

A few of the men at the table abandoned their seats, gesturing that we sit there instead. I noticed they did not leave enough seats for all of us. This puzzled me until Ezekiel pulled me to sit on his right thigh. Apparently I, a woman, did not deserve a seat.

Zarek did not return to his old seat, but instead switched chairs with a man who sat closer to us. One of the women jumped up when ordered, pouring a drink for Ezekiel with such a shaky hand that half of it splashed onto the table.

For a while I did all I could to ignore the discussion I didn’t understand, as well as the way Zarek stared at me, but Ezekiel caught my eye with a stern look. It was apparent what he wanted me to do. So I shifted in Ezekiel’s lap, this time facing Zarek, and attempted my best sultry gaze. It made my insides roll—I’d pick most tricks over this creep—but Ezekiel had promised that Zarek would not touch me. I clung to Ezekiel more than usual, desperate for his protection.

I knew playing Ezekiel’s courtesan wasn’t the best gig to be had, but as I watched these half-naked women stroked by the men around the table and given drugs to keep them quiet and meek, I believed myself too critical of my position. True, a job that did not require the selling of my body was preferable. But of all the sex work out there, was this so bad? I was only required to touch one man, and one man alone. He was sophisticated, intelligent, and attractive. While I knew he didn’t care much for women, he never treated me like a dumb animal. I was never required to crawl up, high and nearly naked, into his lap in front of all his business associates. I was never kept in a harem of a dozen other women meant to please him.

I wondered if Ezekiel had brought me here to teach me a lesson about his generosity. I didn’t want to believe that, but I wouldn’t have put it past him.

Suddenly there was a gunshot and a shout outside, followed by the chatter of automatic gunfire.

All the men at the table leapt up and reached for their weapons. Bruce and Osric grabbed two of the closest men, snapped their necks instantly, and armed themselves. They tossed whatever they could to Ezekiel.

In the rush of action, I slid from Ezekiel’s lap and onto the floor. I screamed and threw my arms over my head when shots fired above me. When I opened my eyes, I let out a shriek. One of the girls had been shot twice, once in the ribs and once in the stomach. As blood bubbled from between her lips, her dilated eyes met mine, as if asking me for an explanation. All I could do was stare at her helplessly.