5. Serak

SERAK

H er knock was unmistakable. No one but the young woman I’d become obsessed with over the past few months would pound on the door to a young nobleman’s room like that, impatience and arrogance in each thump. Especially not that of a nobleman who was meant to be suffering from the aftereffects of an “unintentional” poisoning.

Quickly, I set down my borrowed quill and ink, and blew on the page I was writing to my masters back on Pict. In code, of course. Anyone else reading it would think it a letter to my ailing parents. My parents, however, were long dead, and Ratter wasn’t just anyone. She was the protégée of General Vilkurn, a man who frightened me almost as much as my masters did, though he could only torture and kill me. My masters, on the other hand, could do far worse.

I shuddered, remembering standing beside the bubbling lake of fire a year before, my direct master hissing promises that I would live inside it for eternity, suffering without end, if my identity was discovered during my task. Or if I failed in what had become a two-fold mission: to return the missing obsidian dagger to its rightful home, the volcanic caldera that housed the Alldyns Vug, and to ascertain if the young woman who had stolen it and went by the name of Ratter, was in fact an Omega.

And not just any Omega, but one who had been pledged to the Lord of Fire even before her birth. Not Ratter, but Rada.

I’d no sooner stashed the letter under my mattress and slid into bed than the door opened. The previously locked door. “What the hells?” I demanded in Mirrenese.

“To the hells with you, too, Serak Zellum,” Ratter replied in the same language as she entered like a queen. No, a goddess. A storm boiled in her gray eyes, the anger she carried with her like an invisible cloak swirling around her.

Her actual cloak, the gray assassin’s garb she’d supposedly worn since she was ten, was draped over her arm, and I eyed it like I would a viper. Who knew what poisons she carried in that thing? Candellia was probably the least of them.

Today, she was dressed in her usual garb. Black boots and trousers that outlined her long, lean calves and thighs, a sturdy black leather belt with sheaths all around the backs and sides, and… I blinked. She had on a white shirt, but also a corset over it. It was black cloth or leather, stitched with some sort of pattern. But it must have been tighter than usual, as it lifted her breasts up and together so they were thrust toward me, like two ripe peaches, straining the sheer white fabric above the corset. Waiting to be plucked, tasted, devoured.

When she drew in a huge breath, I lost track of what I was saying. Or thinking. I may have stopped breathing.

Then she crossed her arms, pushing them up even higher, and the blood rushed south of my beltline so fast that I became slightly dizzy, though that could have been some residual aftereffects of the candellia antidote. I thanked the Lord of Fire for the sheet that covered me from the waist down.

“Hmph.” Ratter stopped talking and stared at me imperiously, though for the first time since I’d met her five years before, she seemed slightly twitchy.

Which made me twitchy. She was like the gemstone adders of my home island. As beautiful as they were deadly, and just as likely to kill you as glide past, depending on the weather, or their mood.

“What do you want, princess?” I finally managed to say. “Back to finish the job?”

It was entirely plausible. If she’d discovered who I was, or worse, realized I suspected who she might be, then she had good reason to kill me as quickly as possible. I hadn’t been able to ascertain why she’d poisoned me, though. Had I let my cover slip? I didn’t think so.

“No.” Her mouth worked like she was sucking lemons, but her eyes moved around the room, no doubt taking in every detail. She did that every time she entered a room, though others might not notice it. She was very good at her craft, and appeared on the outside to be a slightly spoiled, bored noblewoman—inexplicably wearing trousers, of course, as the Rimholtian court had changed over the past few years to make them very fashionable.

But I’d been trained in a similar way in Mirren and Pict, and knew what she was doing: cataloging every clue to what had gone on in this room since her last visit, and every possible weapon she might need, or that someone might use against her. Looking for hiding places, or escape routes. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the window, and I had to force myself to be still. Could she tell I’d been using it to go out into Turino?

For that matter, I wondered, as her gaze fell on me again—picking apart everything about me, looking for a flaw to poke at, as she did every time we met—whether she could tell I wasn’t truly sick. Did she know I’d been pretending for the past three weeks, so I could have time to decide how to complete my mission here, while keeping her presence a secret… and leaving an apology I hoped she would understand and appreciate?

If four dead Alphas could be considered an apology. In some countries, they would have been considered a courting gift. Not that she could be courted by me, or anyone, if she was Rada. But I could dream, and did, my cock keeping me awake night after night until I took care of myself while picturing her hands instead of mine, her lips as soft as petals as she tasted me… I shifted, moving a hand over my groin as she wandered around the room, picking up game pieces from a board, and grimacing at the pile of herbal remedies and soft foods on the side table.

No, she would never imagine how I felt about her, and I knew better than to dream of her in that way. She would never guess that I’d been the one to punish the males who’d dared to touch her, to speak of her. No man was worthy of her, but especially not those dead fools.

She was so far above all of us, by the nature of her birth, her very purpose in being born, no human male had ever breathed who deserved to kiss the hem of her… trousers. I stifled my smile as she turned to face me, her gray eyes glinting with resolve.

“I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have poisoned you. I was vexed, and took it out on you.”

I was silent until she began to scowl. “Tell me, then, why did you poison me? You owe me an explanation.”

Her cheeks turned a dusky pink, and my cock grew even harder as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Was she being intentionally seductive?

“Just let the apology stand. I’d been out of sorts all day for many reasons, but none of it was your fault, exactly. It was unforgivable to serve you candellia while we played chess.” She went on, her words mumbled so quietly, I didn’t think she intended me to hear. “Even if you were shamelessly flirting with the parlor maid.”

My heart almost stopped. She’d nearly killed me out of jealousy ? I had no idea what to do with that suspicion, so I let it go. I could be merciful. “You admit you tried to kill me, while I was a guest in your city? Your home?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “And I know Pict’s guesting laws. I have to pay a sum equal to the price of what I would have stolen.”

I fought to contain my shock that she would know my homeland’s customs. We were a small nation with strict laws about everything, including who could land on our shores. Even stricter ones covered who could leave once they’d stepped foot on the island. We had no ambassadors to speak of, and the spies who sailed to us were almost all fed to the Lord of Fire.

“Tried to steal,” I finally said. “You tried to steal my life. The value of your debt means you have to pay my worth. You can’t afford me, princess.” I couldn’t suppress a smile at the horror and rage that flickered across her face before she took a long breath. I forced my eyes to stay above her neckline this time, enjoying the unusual display of emotions.

“Don’t call me that. And I can so afford you.” She reached back—under her hair? I wasn’t sure—and threw something small onto the bed. A cloth pouch that smelled like… I held it up to my nose. Mint, and rain? Her cheeks went darker, her eyes widening at my flared nostrils. “What?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, trying to convince myself I’d imagined that scent. Omegas normally smelled like spices or flowers. They were also known to be biddable, quiet creatures. She couldn’t be one. I needed her not to be, so I could go back home and send my masters looking in another direction.

“Well, open it,” she snapped out. “It’s not an asp.”

I opened it, nervous. I shouldn’t have been.“A diamond?” It was a faceted, yellow stone, the size of the knuckle on my little finger. It had to be worth a small fortune. Perhaps a large one. Father of Pain, she could afford me. “What is this?”

“An apology. I didn’t steal that either. I worked for it. Had to sneak all the way to the border of Starlak and break into a guarded keep to earn it, so don’t go thinking it was an easy job.” She shrugged, but real regret shone in her eyes as she met my gaze. “I am sorry for all of it. Do you forgive me?”

My mind buzzed with questions. “I don’t understand.”

“I need to clean up some loose ends before… Anyway. Just tell me if it’s enough. If it’s not, come up with something else.”

I went cold. Was she offering me the very thing I needed, with no strings? I’d been worried about what I would have to do to liberate the dagger from her.

“Your knife,” I said. “Your blade.” When she pulled a plain blade out of her belt, I shook my head. “The black one.” The obsidian dagger was one of three holy blades, each one consecrated in the maw of the Lord of Fire Himself, and dedicated to a greater purpose than anyone outside our land knew.

She sighed heavily, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Can’t. I sold it.”

“ What? ” My voice was far too loud for a sick man. My hands trembled, though, and I hoped she thought it was from illness. I’d thought I had time to retrieve it. She never let it out of her sight.

I’d failed years before, when I was a guest in this palace at her adoption. I’d known her immediately, even if her name had changed. I’d been so shocked at who stood before me, at seeing the story I’d learned from my masters made real, I hadn’t paid enough attention to the dagger she’d worn even then .

Who would have thought a young girl would be allowed to even touch one of the holy blades? I hadn’t noticed it then, as my mission had been to bring back information about the supposed Omega, Queen Vali. So I’d never mentioned the girl or her blade to my masters when I returned home with news of the queen’s nature.

My order had sent a dozen others through the years to retrieve it, and investigate Queen Vali. They’d all vanished, with not a whisper of their fates on the wind. Finally, news made it back to Pict. The dagger had been seen, in this very city, by one who returned only to die of a slow-acting poison within hours of reaching our island. Almost immediately, my masters had declared my training on Pict complete, and ordered me back to the continent. To Mirren, and then to Rimholt.

I had what I’d always wanted: a mission that would secure a place as a servant in the eternal circle of flames, the Alldyns Vug itself.

Though even if I could never admit it, the thought of seeing Ratter again had been almost as enticing. After I’d encountered her again, and she’d had no conspicuous scent and no Omega mannerisms, and given no clue that she’d come from Pict at all, I’d been relieved. And willing to let the faint perfume I’d picked up go unnoted.

But to think I might fail completely… I opened my mouth to ask where it was, to demand she tell me, when she began to stand.

“Anyway, I don’t have long.”

I found myself sitting up, agitated, and grabbed her hand. And just as quickly released it, when a feeling like a cascading shower of sparks began to burn my fingers.“Ah!” It felt like I’d thrust my hand into a pile of embers, and I knew I had to pull it back out, fast, before she burned me to the bone. Her silver-gray eyes flew to mine as I cried out. I wasn’t sure what she saw in my face.

Hers only revealed guilt, or perhaps pity. “Wow, I must have given you more than… anyway.”

“More?” I managed to gasp.

“More candellia.” She patted my arm, obviously unaffected by the sensation of burning, though her fingers felt like pokers hitting my flesh. Oddly, the pain faded when she stopped, and traveled along my limbs to my cock, becoming a completely different kind of heat. What had caused that fire to race?

Fire. Could it be the Lord of Fire, punishing me somehow?

I forced myself to be still, if only because I was afraid she might touch me again, and then I’d cry, or scream, and possibly come at the same time. “What do you mean, you don’t have long? What’s happened?”

“I’m being banished. Vilkurn decreed it. I’ve earned a consequence?—”

“For killing Lukenza at the ball last night? General Vilkurn must know he was a danger to all women, and girls.” He’d been the next on my list to dispose of, except she’d beaten me to it.

She waved a hand. “Eh. It’s not just that. He thinks I killed a bunch of others, too. Don’t get me wrong. I like that when lots of men suddenly start dying, people think it’s me. Good for the reputation, right?” She drew the plain knife from her belt again, then began to flip it under and over her fingers in a lightning-fast pattern as she spoke.

“Where is he sending you?” Panic flooded me. She couldn’t ride off to some country without me knowing where she was going, how to find her. I fought the urge to grab her arm again, no matter if it hurt. She was mine , damn it.

I caught myself before I said it aloud, wondering why I’d even thought it. She was not mine. She belonged to the order. And the pain that I felt when I touched her made it clear, she belonged to someone else.

And he was a jealous god.

“Like I’d tell you that, Pict.” Ratter tossed her long, straight hair away from her face.

“Well, you can’t go,” I said. “You haven’t paid my price.”

“What did you say?” She leaned over the bed, the scent of scorched mint flooding my nostrils. Suddenly, one of those knives was at my throat, and I thought another might be pricking my erection, though it could have been her hand, with those painful sparks. I didn’t look down to see, since doing so would have meant slitting my own throat on the first knife. “What’s your price then, Pict?”

I thought for a moment. “You can keep the diamond. My price is the dagger. And a kiss.”

I really shouldn’t have pressed my luck. I should just have been grateful she didn’t stab my cock.