Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marquess of Badass

Loren

“I can’t even with you!” his beloved snapped, rounding on him and slamming her hands on her hips. “You nearly rode right over Carling!”

“My dearest love—”

“And the minute you and your…your…” She twirled and took in Lahn, her head tilting far back to do so. She staggered away a step and muttered, “Whoa, you’re huge.”

Lahn slowly smiled.

“Whoa,” she repeated, this time breathily, not tearing her eyes off the warrior king.

“Satrine,” Loren bit out.

She focused on him and remembered her snit, not allowing a moment to lapse before taking up where she left off.

“Your merry band of hot guys, they scattered. And they had something to tell us about that awful Dupont woman.”

He opened his mouth.

And said not a word.

“Did we get the chance to hear what they had to say?” she demanded. “Noooooo. Galloping in comes the Marquess of Badass…”

Cora and Circe gasped.

Satrineranted on.

“…picking me up while you kept riding, and I was treated to the indignity of racing through the streets of the fine city of Newton with my belly in a pommel and my arse in the air!”

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“No,” she bit off, and carried on, “Then, behaving like a savage from a savage land, you drag me through The Heritage, where but two weeks ago, all the patrons of Le Cirque applauded our betrothal, but as you noted at the time, and I too feel safe in saying, some of them were applauding my amazing gown.”

“I only saw the end of it, but that was very ‘savage from a savage land,’ and I should know,” Circe mumbled.

Farah and Cora laughed softly.

“Now are you finished?” Loren pushed.

“Do I need to say more?” she pushed back.

“Allow me to introduce you to King Noctorno, the ruler of our realm. His lovely queen, Cora, the Gracious. The King of Korwhak, Dax Lahn and his Dahksana, Circe. And from across the Green Sea, King True and Queen Farah of Wodell.”

He indicated them each in turn while, woodenly, Satrine shifted, taking them all in.

The color had rushed from her face as he spoke, but then it rushed right back. And when it did, there was quite a bit more of it.

“Am I…supposed to curtsy?” she asked out of the corner of my mouth.

“It is customary,” he answered.

“Don’t you dare,” Cora ordered. “Loren knows we don’t stand on ceremony, at least not in private quarters. I’m afraid my king demands I be ‘Your Majesty’ in company, but now, I’m Cora, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Cora had come forward, she took Satrine’s hand, and Satrine remained dumbstruck as she touched cheeks with her.

Circe and Farah followed suit.

And Loren found it odd, regardless of her indecorous behavior, the way Cora and Circe continued to regard her even after they stepped away.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. I had no idea,” Satrine muttered. “Sir. My lord. Your grace. Your magnificence. Uh…my king.” She bent her head to Tor.

“By the gods, I like her for you, my man,” Tor decreed.

Her head snapped up.

“It was the ‘your magnificence,’ I’m pretty sure,” Cora murmured under her breath to the other women.

They again laughed.

“Allow us to continue our conversation elsewhere,” Loren requested.

“Please don’t,” Lahn drawled. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen a woman spit such fire.” He turned his eyes to his wife, they gentled, and he said, “I spoil you.”

“He does do that,” Circe agreed.

More laughter from the women.

“I would…maybe I would…like a hole to open up and swallow me,” Satrine remarked, just as the door to the suite opened.

Marlow sauntered in, fist in the collar of one of the cretins that, as he’d ridden upon them, Loren had seen meeting with Satrine, Carling and Beacher in that alley.

The most filthy, fetid one.

Carling and Beacher followed him, Carling fretting, Beacher staring in shock at the king.

They both went into deep bows, with Carling adding, “Your Majesty.”

“Rise,” Tor ordered.

They did and Carling instantly looked to Satrine.

“I’m fine, Carling,” she said gently.

He relaxed.

“Carling, Satrine’s houseman, and Beacher, one of her grooms,” Loren introduced. “That one”—his lip curled as he stared at the man who Marlow had forced to his knees—“I don’t know.”

The man moved his wide-open mouth, but not his stunned eyes from Tor, as he mumbled, “Buttersnatch, my king.”

“An informant of her father’s, milord,” Beacher added.

At this detail, spots formed before his eyes, he waited until they dissipated, then, very slowly, he turned to the love of his life.

“Okay, I see you’re mad,” she said swiftly.

“Mad?”

“Angry.”

“I know what mad means in this instance, darling. Though the word does not do justice to what I’m feeling right now. However, the other definition of it is what you are for being in the presence of one of your father’s delinquents.”

She kept speaking swiftly. “Right, we had a plan—”

“Who is ‘we’ in this scenario?” he demanded.

“I’m omitting names to protect the innocent,” she returned.

“Like the two innocents in this room with us who are on your staff? Both, I’m relatively certain, men so devoted to you, they’d throw themselves in front of runaway carriages in order to save you?” he inquired.

“I would do that, Your Majesty, with pride,” Carling announced, addressing Tor, his back ramrod straight. “She’s the finest lady in the realm, outside her mother. Er…present company excluded, my other Majesty,” he finished with his eyes on Cora.

Loren wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Farah actually snort with amusement.

True was looking at his boots but not hiding his smile.

Lahn and Tor were grinning widely.

Cora and Circe appeared about ready to collapse in laughter.

Loren didn’t find anything funny.

He crossed his arms and invited his bride, “Let’s hear this plan, my dearest love. Me and the rulers of three great realms are agog with interest.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Have I shared yet I’m not a fan of sarcasm?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he answered.

“I’m not a fan of sarcasm.”

Right then.

Right.

He was done.

“Are you out of your mind?” he roared.

“Honey—”

“In an alley in the fucking Quarter with the likes of that?” He pointed a finger at Buttersnatch.

“He’s not ‘that,’ he’s a man, Lore.”

Loren turned to Marlow. “Did you search him?”

Marlow reached behind his back and came around, tossing a straight razor onto the floor a few feet in front of Satrine.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, staring down at it.

Loren decided it was time she discovered what he’d been learning about Winnow Dupont.

“She’s ordered kills on all of us. By all of us I mean you, me, my father and your mother,” he informed her.

Eyes huge, she looked from the razor to him.

“And you’re attempting to shirk your guard and meet in an alley with someone who undoubtedly would not mind collecting one of those bounties,” he stated.

“I didn’t know about the bounty part,” she said.

He scowled at her.

Then he tipped his head back and scowled at the ceiling.

“How much do you feel like continuing breathing after all this is done?” Marlow asked.

Loren turned to his friend to see he was addressing Buttersnatch.

“A lot, milord,” Buttersnatch answered the floor.

“How does she get word out, all the way from Lincstone?” Marlow demanded.

Buttersnatchkept his knees but twisted to look up at Marlow.

“I usually—”

“If you think you’re getting paid, you piece of shite, think again. You can talk in front of your king, or you can talk somewhere else. That being where I take you and you’ll tell me what I want to know just so I’ll finish it, put you out of your misery and make you stop breathing,” Marlow promised.

Buttersnatchswallowed.

“Talk,” Marlow whispered ominously.

“It ain’t ’er,” Buttersnatch said.

“Explain,” Marlow ordered.

“The madam. It ain’t ’er. ’E wants it thought it’s ’er. But she’s scared as piss.” He turned to Cora and the queens. “Sorry, miladies.” Back to Marlow. “’E’s scared the knickers off ’er, ’e ’as. She don’t want no more trouble from ’im.” He then jerked his head to Loren.

“And so these kill orders came from…?” Marlow demanded.

“From ’is lordship. Derryman.”

A charge shot through the room, this coming from Satrine.

“My father ordered my mother killed?” she asked.

Buttersnatchturned to her and nodded. “And you. And your lord. And ’is da.”

“Darling,” Loren said quietly as Satrine, unsurprisingly appearing struck, stared at the man on his knees.

“He ordered my mother and me killed,” she pressed.

“Yes, milady,” Buttersnatch confirmed.

“He brought us here, used and imprisoned us, we had to learn to fend for ourselves,” she stated.

“Tor,” Loren heard Cora whisper.

“I know, my love. Later,” Tor whispered back.

“And now he wants us dead, taking with us the two men who made us safe here. Made us a family,” Satrine finished.

Buttersnatchwatched her closely, then nodded.

She turned to Loren. “Can you take me home, honey?”

He looked to his king.

Tor nodded.

Satrinelooked to Tor and Cora. “It’s been my honor, but—”

Cora cut her off. “Go, we’ll see you later.”

Loren went to Satrine, took her hand and curled it around his elbow.

He didn’t break stride as he led her out of the room, when he asked Marlow, “You’ll continue hunting?”

“Middy and Holt arrive this eve. The job will be done by the end of the week.”

It was Wednesday, so that seemed about right.

Loren nodded.

Then he set about getting his bride home.

* * * *

Tor

They were all lounging on the couches.

They had wine.

Their company had all just left.

And Cora started it, eyes to the dahksahna.

“She’s from our world.”

Lahn grunted, his gaze also on Circe.

“Does Loren know, or doesn’t he?” Circe asked.

“He doesn’t,” Tor answered. “He’s one of the few Cora and I have trusted with this information about her. We have contingencies, just in case someone nefarious discovers it and causes problems. Further, he, and Marlow, by the way, as well as the rest of their squad, are fully briefed should anything happen to me, and a challenge was made regarding Hayden’s ascendency. They’re the only ones I trust to keep my family safe. And they’re the only ones with the skills to assist Hayden to keep, or if it’s taken, regain his throne. If Lore did know, he would have told us where she was from, and he would have likely brought her to us sooner and not in the manner we met her.”

“She said, ‘He brought us here, used and imprisoned us, we had to learn to fend for ourselves,’” Cora reminded them, and then turned to her husband. “And we know this man, her father, is not a good man. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I can understand why she wouldn’t tell Loren, it’s fantastical, and we all know it’s very difficult to believe. She plays a good game, but regardless, she isn’t hiding it very well, so my guess, she doesn’t have anyone assisting her in this world. I’m stunned Lore hasn’t figured it out.”

“He holds deep love for her. The depth of that kind of love is blinding,” Lahn remarked knowingly.

“Baby,” Circe murmured, those syllables dripping with feeling, and Lahn rewarded her with a look filled with shared memories and tenderness.

But Cora nodded and returned her attention to her husband. “In short, something is not right, Tor.”

He executed his own nod and looked to Lahn. “We need to get word to Valentine.”

Lahn lifted his chin and replied, “We need the Green One.”