Instead, another knight wound up his leg and kicked her square in the ribs with his iron-clad foot, causing her to scream again and cough uncontrollably. Blood ran from both her nose and mouth steadily, the warmth and sickly copper tang gagging her.
Through narrowing vision, she stared at Agnes’s motionless form, still lying in a heap where the big brute had dropped her. She was so still.Toostill. But then, there was the slightest flicker of her eyelids and the old woman’s chest rose and fell, though shallow.
Hazel reached out for her with a shaking, battered arm. “Agnes,” she gasped, barely over a whisper.
A barrage of kicks followed.
And again.
And again.
At some point, she went numb to it all, instead focusing her attention on Agnes’s breathing.Just hold on, Agnes. Just hold… on.She wouldn’t be able to live with the alternative.
In… out.
In… out.
In…
Then, everything faded to black.
THE WAR ROOM
Slaide awoke to daggers of sunlight jabbing into his eyelids through the half-opened velvet curtains.Who the fuck left those open?He rolled over, groaning as his over-indulgence the night before caught up with him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pounding in his head to cease.
Flashes of memory flickered behind his eyelids, reminding him of just how hard he’dreveledlast night. Glasses of wine that never emptied. Naked serving women straddling him and feeding fruits and sweets to him like a god. Dumping mead down his throat and licking the streams overflowing from the corners of his mouth. The sounds they made… It was probably a great time, but he paid for it doubly in the form of a skull threatening to crack in two, and a stomach promising to turn itself inside out. “Fuck… me…” he groaned.
“Again?”Someone giggled, a seductive sound. Or at least it would have been if he wasn’t so hungover. His eyes shot open, despite the searing pain. At the sight of the naked woman in his bed, Slaide groaned again and ran his hands through his hair. Apparently, he’d actually been inebriated enough to bring one of them home.Oh, Magnus is going tolovethis.He sneered atthe thought, at the satisfaction he would receive from Magnus’s displeasure.
“No,” he mumbled. But then again…
The woman beside him—was it Marcella? Ariella? He couldn’t remember and, frankly, didn’t care—sat up on her elbow, gazing lustfully from below her lashes. He had to admire her, even if he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. She was a tanned beauty, with the softest skin imaginable. Her hooded eyes were a color he couldn’t quite place, something almost unnatural, with a hint of purple. Her mouth was small and thin, but perfectly delicate… and functional, if memory served him.
She had a beautiful neck, which was now painted with marks of lust. Had he done that? His eyes traced her neck down to the soft lines of her collarbones, landing finally on her breasts, which he decided were in fact his favorite part about her. At least, his favorite part currently above the duvet.
Slaide reached for her, gently but firmly grabbing her right breast. He cupped it and ran his thumb over her nipple, finding it completely hardened and peaking under his touch. The woman let her head loll back as a moan escaped her lips. He too closed his eyes, his body remembering the feel of her, even though he couldn’t recall a thing. He hardened at the prospect of having her again, and he dared not acknowledge that the ceaseless pounding in his head was quickly being replaced with the throbbing of his cock.Fuck it. Why not?He reached across her body and pulled her closer to him, putting her flat on her back as he did so.
Then Slaide’s hands did what they did best. He traced a line from her breast with a featherlight touch, trailing down to her navel and then beyond, to the soft skin just above the apex of her thighs. Her back arched and her entire body shivered with anticipation and need. He growled under his breath, fighting the urge to thoroughly ruin her.
His contemplation was interrupted by a knock at the door, which then swung wide without allowing them even a moment longer to right themselves. Slaide’s hangover returned immediately as his guard stepped aside to reveal Magnus pushing his way into the room. The woman scrambled, grabbing frantically at the sheets to cover herself before the King. Slaide just smirked and left himself completely exposed. He only bothered to brush a sweaty lock of hair from his face.
Magnus grunted at the sight before him. “You disgust me.”
Says the pig,Slaide thought. “Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?”
“You’ve been doing too much of that lately. Get your shit together. We’re meeting in the war room to discuss important matters.”
“Which requires me because?” As far as he was concerned, he had much better things to do.
“It involves the future of this kingdom and your place in it. And because I said so.” They stared at each other, two immovable forces, each in their own way.
And this is what happens when you give a spoiled brat the reins. “Sure thing, Magnus. But don’t wait up. I’m not quite finished here.”
Magnus’s cheeks reddened, and Slaide thought he the spitting image of a tea kettle ready to scream.Careful, Highness, we wouldn’t want you to implode.He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off with a stern look that promised to rip his tongue out at the base. Slaide sighed.
“Right, right. Point taken.” He turned to the woman. “Apologies, dear. It was lovely, truly, but you heard the man. Duty calls.” She nodded obediently, but looked to the king, waiting for him to leave so she could gather herself. When Slaide realized what she was waiting on, he shooed the king out thedoor with an impatient hand motion. Magnus shook his head in disbelief, but turned in a huff and left, nonetheless.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the woman made haste, gathering her undergarments and clothes, though she simply wadded the former up in her hand and slipped into her dress with nothing underneath.Well, I suppose that answersthatquestion, then.He’d been debating on whether she’d be expecting payment, and seeing as a common townswoman wouldn’t have skipped putting on her underclothes, he figured he must have picked up one of the local Madames’ girls in his drunken stupor.
