TheKingsViper (7 page)

But normally when she fingered herself her mind was almost
blank, aware of the sensations only. She had few mental pictures to draw upon,
after all—perhaps the memory of some handsome huntsman’s smile and bow as he
rode by, or the thighs of some courtier in particularly tight hose. Or that
footman rooting the scullery maid up against the wall—yes, that was a common
theme. This time it was different. This time, unbidden, the picture of Severin
working off his frustration that first morning in Ruda’s barn flashed into her
inner eye. Eloise shivered inwardly, her heartbeat picking up. She had to force
her breathing to stay steady as she recalled the firm grasp of his hand about
his stiff member, the tilt of his chin, the thrust of his hips.

The burning glance he’d cast her way, not seeing her. But
suppose that he had…

She knew she should stop, but it was too delicious.

And now other pictures bloomed, knit of memories and
imagination. She saw herself sitting astride his lap, facing him, her skirt
rucked up to her hips and her bare thighs spread upon his—his legs would be
darkly hairy, wouldn’t they? She imagined her lips against his, his fingers
plucking at the laces of her neckline, his hands caressing and cupping her
breasts as he bared them. She felt the pucker and swell of her nipples as he
teased them, the hot lap of his tongue on her throat. She felt him twine his
fingers in her hair and use it to tug her head back—she’d always found a secret
enjoyment in having her hair pulled—so that her back arched and he could bury his
face in her breasts. Kissing. Sucking. Biting. She knew he’d be forceful and
perhaps even a little bit harsh, and though she didn’t quite understand why,
that thought made her blossom wetly. He’d slip his big thick cock between her
open legs and deep inside her, thrusting as he mouthed her breasts, bouncing
her in his lap, until he spent his seed in a white gush—

She fell then, breathless and silent, every muscle locked
immobile, the thunderclap of her orgasm inaudible to everyone but her, but
leaving her ringing like a lightning-struck bell.

A moment later and she was back in the real world, prickling
with anxiety. Had she made any noise? Had Severin noticed anything? The man in
her fantasy and the man lying behind her seemed impossible to reconcile. Eloise
felt a rush of blood to her face that wasn’t just post-coital heat but genuine
embarrassment at her shameless recklessness.

The pulse hammered in her ears and she could hear nothing
beyond it. No movement from Severin. No snorts of derision from farther afield.
Fiber by fiber she let her muscles relax, feeling the pulsed afterglow of her
orgasm warm her from head to toe, and letting those waves wash her out into the
great dark sea of sleep.

* * * * *

They stopped to eat and sat looking down on a rocky valley,
so bright in the sunlight that it made their eyes water to look at it.

“You know,” said Eloise, between bites of bread, “there is a
part of me that doesn’t want to get back to Court. That wants this to go on.”

Severin was sitting a little behind her and she couldn’t see
his face. Nor did he make any reply, though she was aware that he’d stopped
rooting through their pack and gone still.

“I know it’s hard, but this is beautiful,” she mused. “And I
like the walking and…and everything. Even the work. Well, some of it.” She came
back to herself, suddenly aware of how unguarded had been her words. “I know,
it’s childish of me.”

“No, I understand,” said Severin very carefully, and to her
relief. “Our goals are so simple; find food, find shelter, move on, stay alive.
There’s a clarity to this that you won’t find back home.”

“People have been good to us.”

“We’ve been lucky.”

“Maybe the Mendeans are not as bad as everyone says.”
Like
you
, she might have added.
You are not as terrible as you are painted
.

“Believe me, if they knew who you really were, they wouldn’t
hesitate to sell us to the authorities.”

“Maybe you’re too cynical.”

“No. I just know more than you do.”

She swiveled to look at him, mildly irked. But she couldn’t
afford to annoy him, and she found another outlet for her desire to argue. “You
should tell me about the Court, you know.”

“Should I?” Now that his trimmed beard had grown out to
rough stubble he looked a lot less like a courtier and very much more like a
man one would avoid in a tavern. There was always a calculating glint to his
dark eyes. And yet he’d treated her with more fairness and courtesy than she
had expected, given the stories about him. And he didn’t mind answering her
questions. She’d discovered that much.

“If I’m going to live there I need to know who is who. Whom
I should trust. That sort of thing.”

Severin smiled grimly. “Whom you should trust? Well then,
all right. Let me tell you about the Royal Court. There are two types of people
there, mice and snakes—and some of the mice aspire to be snakes. You avoid the
snakes as much as possible, and you don’t trust anyone. At all. Not your most
intimate of friends, not the handsome young knight who turns your head with
compliments, not the most respectable of clergymen. Because if they are not
using you, then they are being used by someone else.”

She wasn’t capable of hiding her dismay. He overrode her
faint protesting noise.

“You asked me to forewarn you. So remember this—no one at
Court will treat you without ulterior motive, except for the King. You’re
young, and you’re vulnerable to the wayward passions of young women, so if you
want to survive you must hold on to one thought. No one there will love you for
yourself, except Arnauld. No one. He is your only hope.”

Eloise bit her lower lip. His words had insulted and upset
her and frightened her all at once. She didn’t want to show it though. It would
only confirm his superiority. So she snapped, “You are a snake, of course.”

“I am the King’s own snake. Which makes me a little
different.”

“In what way?”

“I’m loyal to him and only him.”

“So I am to trust you?”

He sighed. “You may trust me as you trust the King himself.”

“And I
am
to trust the King?”

“Yes. Of course. And if he betrays you and hurts you and
destroys you then you still trust him, and you still obey him. He is the King.”

She wrinkled her nose, baffled as well as nervous. “That’s
sounds an idiotic thing to say. And I’ve never heard anyone say you were a
fool.”

“Ideals must be suffered for.”

“Or an idealist.”

“Ah.” He looked away at a hawk hovering over a crag. “You’re
too young to remember when Arnauld’s uncle was on the throne, aren’t you?”

He made her sound like a child, she thought. “I’ve heard
about him.” Everyone knew the tales—the seizures, the midnight raids by
uniformed men, the famine wrought by the insane taxes raised to fortify
Kingsholme. The blistering border warfare with Mendea that was still not
healed, though cooler now.

“Well. Let me tell you, I remember Henrick’s reign with no
fondness. He was a tyrant. No subject of his was safe. Arnauld though… He’s a
good man and a good king. He thinks of his kingdom and his people, not simply
of himself. You can appeal to his sense as well as to his pride. He’s not
always merciful—no one in his position can afford to be—but he is just, when he
can be. He is worthy of my loyalty.” His gaze switched from the bird to her.
“He is worth the things that have to be done to safeguard him upon the throne
of Ystria.”

“Even killing off the last heir to Arrendale?” she said
rashly.

“God’s balls, girl.” He sounded only mildly exasperated.
“What is it with you nobles and your damn bloodlines? Is that the worst you’ve
heard of me? I put a crossbow bolt through the heir of Arrendale because he was
too proud to surrender, and he’d just cut down two of my men who were trying to
subdue him. I’d do it again too, in the same circumstances, and I really don’t
care how pure the seed in his scrawny plums.”

Eloise’s fingers knotted themselves together. Her mental
picture of Severin de Meynard had abruptly shifted, no longer so simple. He’d
taken her by surprise. Her mental picture of the Court, too, had changed,
though in that case it had grown considerably darker. She felt tiny and lost
and exposed to a world she had no place in. Like a mouse.

Could she do this? Could she learn to live at Court? Could
she find a place in Arnauld’s regard? From Severin’s description, the King was
her only hope. “Will he like me, do you think? The King, I mean.”

“How could he not?” Severin’s voice was so dry that she knew
he was mocking her.

Then there was a noise from behind him, a sort of moaning,
and Severin shot to his feet. The place where they’d stopped to eat was backed
by woodland, and from the trees had emerged a bear cub, gingerish and fluffy
and about the size of Ruda’s dog. It sniffed toward them and opened its pink
mouth to make that yowling noise again.

Eloise smiled in surprise at the bold little thing.

“Damn,” said Severin, his gaze tracking the edge of the
woodland. Reaching toward Eloise, he took the heel of the loaf from her hand
and threw it—not at the cub but well beyond it.

The young beast turned at the noise, sniffing, and then
looked back at them again, its round ears cocked forward.

“Get up,” said Severin. “Walk that way.” He pointed along
the edge of the drop, in the opposite direction to the flung bread. She grabbed
her blanket roll to obey and he almost trod on her heels as he followed her.

“Are you scared of a cub?” she muttered.

“No,” he answered, just as something much bigger lumbered
out from the undergrowth. “That.”

That
was, she realized with a painful clutch of her
heart, a bear that was almost certainly the cub’s mother. She’d never seen a
wild bear, only once a tame one trained to do an ugly, limping dance—and even
muzzled and mangy, that animal had been alarmingly strong. This one’s shoulders
were humped with muscle. And when it rose on its hind legs, casting its head
from side to side, sniffing shortsightedly toward them, it was taller than
Severin and bulkier than both of them put together.

An acrid, meaty smell of bear fur and breath reached her
nose. Eloise’s belly felt like it had turned to water.

“Keep walking,” he said. “Don’t run. Don’t stop.”

She did exactly what she was told, at least at first, the
breath hissing through her nostrils in fear as she turned and stumbled away
over the tussocky grass. But within forty paces she realized there was no sound
of Severin following. Without reflection, she reached out to grab a tree trunk
and swung herself around behind it. Peering out, she saw that Severin stood
just where she’d left him. He had one hand out and raised toward the bear, as
if he was trying to calm a mob. In the other hand his knife glinted.

The bear fell forward onto all fours, huffing loudly and
turning to look at the cub, which was bumbling about sniffing the spot where
the two humans had sat and ate. Then the adult beast smacked at the earth with
its great paw, opened its jaws and charged straight at Severin.

He stood his ground. He didn’t move a muscle. The bear got
to within a body- length of him before it stopped dead, veered away with
startling abruptness, and chased back to the cub, huffing like a bellows. The
smaller animal bolted, scurrying back toward the tree line, and the big one
went with it. As quickly as they had appeared, they were gone again.

Slowly, Severin’s posture thawed. He stood with head cocked
for a moment, then turned and saw her. Throwing his pack over his shoulder, he
caught up. His face as he approached was ashen gray, but seemed calm enough;
she didn’t realize how agitated he was until he gripped her shoulder hard
enough to make her flinch. He let go at once, recollecting himself, but stabbed
the air over her breastbone with stiff, accusing fingers instead.

“I told you not to stop.”

She saw the sweat beaded on his temples and in the hollow of
his throat. “You could have been killed!” she protested.

“And you’d have rushed in and saved me, would you?”

Her heart was galloping faster now than it had done when she
saw the bear. “You’ve only got a knife!”

“And what do you have? For God’s sake, Ella—”

“Why did you stand there? It could have eaten you!”

He let all the air out of his lungs in an exasperated huff
that sound much like the bear’s. “She didn’t want to eat me; they’re well fed
at this time of year. She was only startled and trying to protect her own—as
was I. You must
not
put yourself in danger, Ella. Ever! Do you
understand?”

Biting her lip, she nodded.

“And you do what I tell you—even if that’s to walk away.
It’s my task to look after you, not the other way round. Is that clear?”

As was I
. The words hung in her ears. Their
implication seemed to tangle up the workings of her heart and her breath and
her lower body in a very physical way.
You’re mine.
The thought filled
her with a secret, guilty excitement.

Mutely, she nodded again.

* * * * *

“And there’s a chamber pot in that cupboard at the end
there, lass, if you need to get up in the night,” said the farmwife.

“I can’t get up in the night,” Eloise said with a laugh.
“I’d have to break his arms.”

Severin went cold. He forced a smile, because everyone else
in the kitchen was grinning at this mild revelation of uxoriousness, but he
felt the bottom drop from his stomach.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she knew. He always woke
earlier than her and made sure he was gone from the bed they shared.

Eloise caught the frozen glint in his eye and looked
abashed.

He cornered her as she was helping put crocks away in the
pantry. He hardly knew what to say. He was treading on terribly dangerous
ground.