CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 19

RISSA

The first time I traveledacross Fifth Kingdom with the army, I was a captive.

The royal saddles were kept together like pigs in a pen, guarded day and night. Our tent was bursting with all of us in it, which isn’t a good mix at the best of times but certainly not when everyone is cold, stressed, and scared.

I thought one of the saddles was going to yank someone’s hair out or slap a few cheeks by the time we finally reached Ranhold. I had to constantly intervene between them, trying to manage short tempers and help to resolve issues so no one clawed anyone’s eyes out.

This time, the traveling experience is different. I’m not a captive, but a grudging guest instead, and I’m not sharing a tent with a dozen saddles—only Polly. But I’m still managing bouts of short tempers, and if anyone’s eyes are going to be clawed out, it will be mine.

It’s been weeks since we left Ranhold, and it’s so difficult to keep up with such a punishing pace. Even though Polly and I ride in a carriage all day, I’m exhausted by the time we make camp every night.

Though my exhaustion isn’t just due to the travel.

I glance over at where Polly is sitting hunched on her pallet bed, shivering over the coals where they burn in a cauldron in the middle of our tent. I give it ten minutes, and then she’ll be snapping at me that she’s having hot flashes again, and she’ll start pouring out sweat, demanding ice packs.

All this time, and she’s still going through withdrawals.

The first few days, she was in a rage. Screaming at me for taking her away from Ranhold, crying about the news of Midas being dead, threatening to leave and walk back on her own. It was only because her bursts of energy were very short-lived that I was always able to drag her back to the tent before she could get too far.

She hates me.

I hate that she hates me.

Yet I still take care of her, because she is the closest friend I’ve ever had. Or at least, perhaps the longest one.

Polly and I received our contracts to become King Midas’s royal saddles together. We started at the same time, probably accepted because we look so similar. Very quickly, we decided to become allies to help solidify our place in Highbell Castle. We made ourselves desirable as a pair, superior over the rest of the saddles in Midas’s stock. We played to each other’s strengths, we gossiped, we had each other’s backs. Our friendship was strong while we were in Highbell.

Until we weren’t.

It seems like as soon as we left, things began to change.

Maybe it changed that night on the Red Raids’ ship. Maybe I changed that night on the Red Raids’ ship.

The thing about being a saddle is that it was a profession I chose. I chose to go into sex work because I was beautiful but had no highborn family or money to protect me. I’d already been accosted by men, so why not turn around something that made me feel powerless and use it to be powerful instead? By making it my career, I put sex under my control.

And I was good at it.

Becoming a royal saddle is what so many workers in the brothels dream of. The contracts always pay very well, the clients are rich and powerful, and many saddles in that position can simply retire when the contract ends, sent away with a pouch of coin and that’s that.

The problem is, somewhere along the way, I didn’t want to do it anymore.

The seduction, the flirting, the makeup and hair and tight dresses. I got tired of having to smile and bat my eyes, to suck cock and spread my legs when I wasn’t in the mood.

I wanted something different. So I started to save up the money I made when nobles and visitors stopped by the castle. I started to work even harder to please, to be the favorite, so I could fill my hidden purse instead of spend it on frivolities.

When we left Highbell, I thought Ranhold would be a new start.

But then, the Red Raids happened.

Captain Fane happened.

Auren happened.

Every night, while I tend to Polly’s feverish fits, my mind replays the events from the moment we left Highbell all the way to the ballroom when I grabbed Polly and started to flee. I nearly didn’t make it out. We were stopped in the entry hall by some of the guards, but a woman with smooth umber skin wearing army leathers and the shapes of daggers shaved into her scalp spotted me, told me that Auren had mentioned me and that I needed to go to Fourth’s army. Then she somehow distracted the guards, and Polly and I were able to slip away.

It feels as if I owe Auren, when my last assurance was that she owed me. But now, I’m not sure if she’ll help me again. Or if she even can. Because apparently, she stole Midas’s magic in front of everyone and killed him right there in that ballroom that I fled.

Men. Why is it that my life’s events always seem to revolve around the deaths of men? First was the death of my father, whose loss left me nothing but debts and vulnerability. Now Midas, marking the time for me to flee.

But I can say with complete certainty that the death of Captain Fane showed a distinct point in my life. Because that moment on the Red Raids’ ship, that’s when I realized I was finished with that life.

I’ve been assaulted before, hurt before. As a saddle, these things happen, though it’s no excuse. I’ve had to come up with ways to manage reactions over the years, to steer men to behave in ways I could manage. I couldn’t do that with Captain Fane.

That’s when I decided I was well and truly done.

Done being a saddle. Done managing men. Done trying to walk this fine line of powerless and powerful when it comes to sex.

Does he haunt my dreams? No. Apart from the nights I’ve tended to Polly, I don’t think of him at all, nor any of the other violent encounters I’ve had. Because I refuse to give them any more of me than they’ve already taken or that I’ve already given.

They had my body, but so what? Hundreds of others can claim the same. However, they will not have my mind. I won’t give it to them.

Including Captain Fane, whose gilded dick is probably buried beneath a hundred feet of snow somewhere in the Barrens.

I have to admit, that does make me smirk.

“I’m hot!”

Right on time, Polly shoves herself away from the coals and starts fanning her face. My eyes are burning with exhaustion as I get up from my pallet to drag myself toward the tent’s flap.

I don’t bother to go outside, not with my stockinged feet padding across the rolled-out fur laid on the ground. Instead, I simply grab the bucket and rag and scoop up some snow from just outside. There’s never a shortage of snow on the ground, though I do notice every night someone has come to shovel the space in front of the tent’s entrance.

I don’t have to wonder who.

There’s only one man in this army who’s big enough to fit the shadowed silhouette I see when he does the chore. The captain drags the tool beneath huge piles of snow and then packs it in against the sides of the tent to help insulate and stabilize it.

He does it each night. Just as he delivers our food and makes sure we have plenty of coals to burn. And never, not once, has he propositioned me. He hasn’t asked for a single thing in return.

I’m not quite sure what to make of that.

I close the tent flap again and walk back over to Polly, tying the ends of the rag as I go. Kneeling down in front of her, I gently press it to her flushed forehead.

She groans, clutching her stomach and licking her lips. “You’re killing me,” she says with accusation.

I pause in my ministrations. Truth be told, Polly hasn’t said much at all. Not since those first few days when she screamed and raged at me. Other than exclaiming how terrible she feels, she’s quiet. Something between us has strained and shattered, but I know that once her body recovers, once it stops needing and craving the dew, she will feel better. She’ll be back to her old self. We can be back to our old friendship.

Though, I have no idea why this process is taking so long. I hadn’t expected for her to be this sick for this long. She vomits nearly every time I try to feed her, only keeping down the smallest bits of bread and water, along with the herbs that the army mender has brought. She’s lost weight, her pallor is gray and pale, and there are deep circles under her eyes that seem to deepen every day, even though she spends nearly all of her time in fitful sleep.

I so badly want her to get better, for her to see that I took her away from Ranhold to help her. This strain between us is just the drug talking. Once she’s back to normal, she will realize that I’m doing all of this to save her.

“You’re making snow drip down my dress,” she hisses.

“Sorry.” I gently start to stroke the snow over the back of her neck, but she jerks away, so I set it down again. Reaching for the little pot I’ve been given that hangs over the coals, I tip it over into the small tin cup. “How about you try sitting up again to sip some broth?”

“Don’t want it,” she says, eyes closed, teeth nibbling incessantly at her bottom lip. She does that a lot now, like a nervous tic from the dew that she craves. She’s doing it so often that she’s peeled off the skin, leaving her mouth swollen and raw. It’s the same with her cuticles. The army mender brought a cream for me to apply onto those areas, but unless she’s asleep, she won’t let me put it on her.

“Come on, just a bit—”

Polly turns her face away again and lies back on her pallet. “Go away.”

A pang of hurt pierces me, but I shove past it. This isn’t her fault.

“Alright, I’m going to empty the chamber pot. I won’t be gone too long.”

She doesn’t reply, but when she starts to shiver again, I gently pull up a fur to cover her, just as her eyes fall shut. I tuck in my overly large shirt that I’ve been given, step into my boots, and then slip on the captain’s coat and some gloves before grabbing the chamber pot and heading outside.

Almost as soon as I’ve stepped out of the tent, a giant mountain is looming over me so close that I nearly barrel into it.

“Watch it!” I bite out as I try to steady the pot so it doesn’t splash all over me. I only have one other set of clothes, and I like wearing this shirt. I refuse to ask if it’s his. I already know.

When the liquid is safe from spilling, I look up, shooting a glare at the intruder. “What do you want?”

Captain Osrik arches a thick, bushy brown brow at me. Honestly, there’s not a single part of him that doesn’t need trimming. His beard is so long I could braid it, his hair is always windblown around his shoulders, and from what I can see at his wrists beneath his sleeves, he’s hairy there as well. I just know that he’s one of those men with chest hair. The male saddles always had to use sugar wax to remove theirs. I would pay good money for someone to strap down the captain and yank on his skin, strip by painful strip.

“You’re staring again, Yellow Bell.”

My gaze cuts away from his hands, flying up to his face. Flustered, I shift on my feet. “I’m not staring, I’m simply amazed at just how much of a hairy giant you really are,” I say, curling my lip up with distaste.

“If you’re interested in seeing my body hair, all you have to do is ask.”

Why I suddenly picture his groin hair is beyond me. I don’t want to think of that. I’m not interested in anything to do with his groin. Not at all.

I roll my eyes and start to shove away from him, though the annoying oaf just follows me. “What do you want?”

“I brought you some more food,” he says as he tries to pass me over something wrapped in a bit of cloth.

“You already left the soup earlier, and my hands are a bit full at the moment.”

“What’s that?”

I feel a slight blush of embarrassment climb up my neck. “What do you think it is? It’s our...” I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud.

The boor actually leans over and looks inside of it, much to my horror. “Oh, why didn’t you just say so?” He looks behind him. “Himinn,” he barks out, and somehow, a reedy soldier appears from nowhere.

“Yes, Captain?”

Captain Osrik yanks the chamber pot out of my hands before I can stop him, and shoves it at the younger man. “Take this and go clean it out. Then return it to Lady Rissa’s tent.”

The soldier actually lights up, as if this is an honor. “Right away, Captain!”

As soon as he bounds off, I cut a look at the captain. “Don’t do that! Now some strange soldier is dealing with our...void.”

He laughs and then tries handing me the food again. “Piss and shit aren’t anything to be ashamed of, and trust me, Himinn is going to be excited about that job for the rest of the night. Now take the food, woman.”

“My name is Rissa,” I say tartly, but then I rip off my gloves, stuffing them into my pocket, and take the food, because I haven’t eaten yet tonight and I’m starving. When I peel back the small bit of cloth, I find a pocket of bread with meat stuffed inside.

“Come on, Rissa,” he says, gesturing ahead. “Come sit by the fire, eat your sandwich and drink some wine.”

I shake my head. “I’ll eat in my tent. I need to keep an eye on Polly.”

“Isn’t she sleeping?”

I hesitate for a moment too long, because he smirks. “Thought so. Come get some fresh air and sit with me, woman. You can listen to Polly pitch a fit when you get back.”

For the most part, I’ve kept away from the captain, ignoring him at all costs, but somehow, it seems like he’s always nearby. I find him riding his horse outside of our carriage, getting battered by wind and snow, yet never seeming to mind it. I see him at the cook’s fire or talking with soldiers or walking around camp every time I venture outside. I see him tending to our needs, but never barging in. And even though I try to avoid him, I still...watch.

I’m not even sure why. It’s silly, really. He’s a crass, boorish, uncivilized giant. Definitely not my type. For one, he’s a man, and I’ve sworn off men for the time being. Maybe even forever. I haven’t found a single one who’s ever been worth much of anything.

So I’ve no idea why I find myself following him to the fire. Perhaps I really do need a break from the stagnant air of animosity brewing in the tent.

When the captain leads me to the tent set up just in front of mine, I stop and stare. “You...why is your tent so close to mine?”

He ducks inside it for a moment, pulling out a fur, and then grabs two buckets. He overturns them both and sets them in front of the small fire he has going, placing the fur on one. “Here, sit.”

I blame it on the fire that I obey. It has nothing to do with the way my stomach tightens at his gruff order. Nothing to do with the way his leathers hug his tree-trunk thighs.

Nothing at all.

Yet as soon as I do sit, I nearly slump against the warmth of the flames, a sigh escaping me. I start nibbling at the sandwich, and while it’s cold and the crust too tough, it tastes so good that I could eat a whole plate of them right now.

I’m finished and licking my fingers before I even realize what I’m doing. Of course, he realizes. Nothing seems to get past him. “Good to see you eating for real, Yellow Bell.”

“When are you going to stop using that ridiculous nickname?”

He hands me a waterskin. “Oh, you’re stuck with it.”

With a huff, I tip the skin back and take a big gulp, only to sputter and cough, nearly dropping it. “What...is...that?”

“Mulled wine,” he says with a shrug. “It’ll put some warmth in your bones.”

“I thought it was water.”

“This is better.” He takes it from me so he can have a swig, and I have no idea why watching him drink after me makes me squirm, but it does. So does the way his tongue moves the wooden piercing through his bottom lip.

“So,” he begins, letting his legs stretch in front of him so his boots are nearly inside the fire. I’m glad that for once, it’s not snowing tonight. The moment we’re out of Fifth Kingdom, I’m never going back to the cold. “How’s your friend doing?”

“She’s fine,” I say automatically, just as I’ve said to him the three other times he’s asked. Although, I suspect he’s the reason the mender keeps visiting every couple of days, so my answer probably doesn’t mean much. “She will be,” I amend.

The captain nods. “I’ve seen plenty of soldiers come down off things. It’s not easy to be a nursemaid through that.”

“She’s my friend.”

“Is she?”

I stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He lifts a bulky shoulder, and I try not to stare when he crosses his arms in front of him, making his muscles bulge. I shouldn’t have let him give me his coat. Then his physique wouldn’t be so visible. “Just a question.”

“Is this about that disloyal talk about Auren?” I ask defensively. “Want to judge me some more?”

His eyebrows lift. “Retract your poison, Yellow Bell, I’m not judging shit. Just seems to me that this friend of yours isn’t being very friendly to you.”

“How do you know?”

He gives me a dry look. “Tent walls are thin.”

Embarrassment heats my face. “She’s just not feeling well.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I start to get to my feet. “If you’re just going to be an ass—”

He taps his foot against my shin, making me pause. “Sit down, Rissa.”

My butt hits the bucket. Hearing the gravelly tone of his voice say my name sends an odd thrill down my spine.

What the hell is wrong with me?I absolutely refuse to be attracted to this man. I refuse. I have been with countless beautiful men—men that looked like sculptures, they were so pretty. Men that...bathed regularly. So why, every time I leave my tent, are my eyes looking around for him?

It doesn’t make any sense.

He’s infuriating, and coarse, and I shouldn’t think of him at all. Yet, I do. That first night, he said a little loathing makes it better, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since.

I can’t deny that there is something in the air that charges between us like lightning caught in the belly of a cloud. And I’m…curious. Curious about what would happen if we did clash together.

Maybe it could be a perfect, raging storm.

With all of this anger and worry churning around inside of me, the thought that I could take it out on him sounds sublime. That we could come together in a violent flare where I didn’t hold back. Where I wouldn’t have to be the perfect, most beautiful seductress. But that I could take instead of give, make him work to give me pleasure. He’s the only man I think could handle the real me like that, and that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s not a client.

“What’s your plan?” he asks, yanking me out of my wanton thoughts. “When we get to Fourth Kingdom.”

“To go away,” I say quickly, because I need to keep that goal in mind. I can’t let him or anyone else deter me from my plans. “I’m going to get the gold Auren promised me, and then I’ll leave for the first ship I can afford, to the farthest city I can go. Maybe to the deserts of Second Kingdom, since it’s about as opposite of Fifth Kingdom as I can get.”

He nods. “What will you do then?”

“I’ll do whatever I like. I’ll do nothing at all.”

“You don’t want to be a saddle anymore?”

My eyes tighten. “No.”

There’s a lull between us for a second where all I hear is the spitting fire and the gulp of wine as he takes another drink. “You could stay.”

I frown over at him. “What?”

“In Fourth Kingdom. You could stay.”

“Why would I stay there?”

“It only snows near the border at the mountains, so you wouldn’t have that in the capital. Plus, I’ll be there. So will Gildy.”

“And you think those are incentives?” I ask sharply.

He only shrugs. “Could be. If you let them be.”

I open my mouth to make some rude retort, but for some reason, I stop and shake my head. “You pointed out yourself that I’ve blackmailed and used Auren. Why would you even suggest I stay?”

“Seems to me you got one woman who you’re bending over backwards for who wants nothing to do with you...and another woman who’s done nothing but try to be there for you, who you’re happy to step on. Just thought you could consider another way.”

Anger is my natural, knee-jerk response, but this time, it simmers beneath a surface of sadness. This sad feeling is like a slap to the face, startling me so much that I’m horrified when I feel my eyes burning, and not from exhaustion, but from emotion.

I try to tamp it down, try to swallow it away, because I detest crying.

“Hey.”

Turning my face, I refuse to look at him, hating how vulnerable I suddenly feel. But of course, the barbarian can’t let it lie. I feel him vividly as he stands before me, and then his finger and thumb are gripping my chin, turning my face up to look at him. He’s got a deep frown, muddy brown eyes caught in a perpetual glower. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?”

I should jerk my head out of his hold. I should stand up and shove him away. But instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, find a tear tracking down my cheek that he thumbs away. The touch leaves behind a streak of tingles, as if I’m some innocent maiden. Ridiculous.

“It won’t matter if I leave,” I say, my voice sounding far too fragile for my liking. What is it about this man that leaves me so upside-down?

Somehow, his glowering eyes soften. I didn’t even know he was capable of such a look, or why he’s giving it to me.

“It would matter to me, Yellow Bell.”

I swallow hard. “Why?”

Why would you care? Why do I keep watching you? Why are you trying to help me? Why does my heart quicken every time you’re near?

“I like your peppery attitude,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve always enjoyed a little bite.”

The vision of him biting me, peppering nibbles along my flesh, suddenly flashes through my mind in a far too realistic vision.

“I have a plan, and you’re not in it,” I say as I finally gain the strength to pull away and get to my feet. Of course, he doesn’t back away, doesn’t give me space. Now, with both of us standing, he’s so close that his body brushes against mine, my head tilting back because of how ridiculously tall he is. Despite the thick coat I have on me, I can feel the heat burning from him to me.

“Change your plan,” he murmurs, eyes dropping down to my lips.

My breath catches, but I shove it away and pull up a sneer. “Men just want to conquer. I’m not playing hard to get so that you work extra hard. I don’t want you, Captain.”

Instead of getting pissed off, he gives me a crooked smile that nearly curls my toes. “You don’t want me?”

I sniff and lift my chin. “That’s right.”

“So then...you don’t sit awake in your pallet at night, thinking about arguing with me just enough to get our blood heated, and then wrapping those long legs of yours around my hips and fucking me till you see stars?”

My pulse quickens. Everything he said becomes vivid pictures in my head, making my core throb.

I can’t deny it. I can’t, because I’m breathing way too hard and I know I’m blushing, and I realize that all of a sudden, I don’t want to deny it.

How the hell did I crumble so quickly?

Then, I do the stupidest thing I have ever done.

I lean up and kiss him.

I dive into his mouth like it’s holding the nectar of the Divine. He’s so shocked at first that he does nothing, but then his huge hands come to my waist, making it feel smaller than it is. His hairy beard scratches my cheeks, but instead of it being irritating or gross, it scrapes my fevered skin in this primal way that somehow makes me like it even more. I nip his piercing, lick his tongue, kiss him in a way I haven’t ever kissed anyone before.

Because this isn’t for my job. This isn’t for coin. I’m not trying to seduce or put on a show. I’m just kissing him because I wanted to know...wanted to see.

I yank away, panting, eyes wide, wondering how the hell I could be so stupid. “That was a mistake,” I sputter out.

He laughs. Doesn’t let go of my waist. Keeps holding me there in a far softer touch than I ever would’ve expected from him. It makes me wonder what kind of lover he really is. If he’s the rough or the gentle.

“That was a damn good mistake. We should do it again sometime.”

Pulling away, I start to stumble over the bucket in my haste, but he easily catches my arm before I can fall.

“Leaving the fire so soon?” he calls, his rough voice somehow teasing.

“I’m hot enough.”

He laughs. I blush harder.

As I scurry away through the snow, inwardly kicking myself, he says, “When you’re ready for another mistake, you know where my tent is. Right next to yours.”

Stupid lout of a man.

Stupid me.

When I rush back to my tent, when I topple onto my own pallet and press my hands to my cheeks, my lips are still tingling. My heart still racing. My core still throbbing.

That was a stupid, horrible, ridiculous mistake.

And yet, all I can think is, we should do it again sometime.