Higher Power (Prophecy Of The Cataclysm Book One), page 4
Tolin.
She stared around her room and sighed. The more she tried to not think about Jesse, the more his green eyes danced tauntingly through her mind. “Damn him, anyway,” she muttered. Maybe he would get whatever he needed from Ethan and she wouldn’t have to spend any time with him at all. But she’d still want her cut. No way would she let him weasel out of it. And knowing him, he would try.
CHAPTER SIX
Ethan smoothed back his hair and smiled at the woman lounging beneath the bed sheets. “I really must go, my dear.”
“So soon?” She stretched her arms over her head and smiled slow, showing the tips of her teeth between her pink lips. “Couldn’t you stay a little longer?”
“Terribly tempting, I assure you.” He pulled on his jacket. “But duty calls and I must answer.” He took her hand, brushing his lips across her palm. “My heart will yearn for the memory of your sweet face until we meet again.”
She sighed. “When will you return?”
“Were I to step outside your door and then walk back in, it would be too long a time to be separated from your side. Farewell, sweet lady.”
“Farewell.”
Ethan felt her gaze follow him as he stepped out the door onto the landing. He drew in a deep breath of coal scented air and strolled along the upper walkway whistling a merry tune. A ray of early morning sunlight broke through the haze to bathe the walk in golden light. Most of those jostling along around Ethan made faces at the unaccustomed brightness.
It was far more crowded than he might of liked, but the alternative was the street below, where one was always but a single misstep away from a pile of horseshit. It would be a pity to ruin such a fine pair of boots.
No walkway connected to the Guild house, so Ethan was eventually forced to descend to street level. He sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling at the scent of mud and horseflesh. He gave a small sigh as he adjusted the lace at his cuffs, and then started for the house along the back roads where fewer people wandered.
A whisper of sound warned him of the presence of someone in the alley he was nearing only seconds before three men stepped into the road. Ethan paused to smile at the unkempt men before him. “Good morning, gentlemen. How may I be of assistance to you on this fine day?”
The men glanced at each other. “You can give us back what you stole from us last night,” the man in the forefront said.
“Stole?” Ethan arched a brow. “Me?” He touched his fingertips to his chest. “Gentleman, I’m afraid you are mistaken. Do I look like a common thief to you?”
“You look like a cheat, is what you look like,” the second man said, rubbing his finger along the side of his overlarge nose.
“Ah, I see,” Ethan said. “You are referring to the friendly game we engaged in this past evening. I understand your ire at my good fortune, but it hardly gives you good cause to suggest I would do anything so crass as to cheat at cards.”
The first man scowled. “Don’t try any of your fancy talk on us, daisy boy. Give us back what’s ours before we break your pretty face.”
“Well, it appears as though we are not going to be able to settle this like gentlemen,” Ethan said. “What a pity. Three against one. Hardly fair odds.”
The third man grinned, revealing a row of empty spaces where teeth used to be. “That’s right. We got you outnumbered.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “You misunderstand. I meant the odds were hardly fair to you.” He flicked his wrist and the dirk secreted up his sleeve sailed through the air and came to a stop
hilt deep in the first man’s throat.
He dropped to his knees, eyes wide, hands grasping at the dirk as blood welled up between his fingers. Before either of his companions could react, Ethan’s palm pistol coughed twice, leaving smoking craters in the center of their foreheads.
Ethan stepped up to the first man, whose hands were still feebly clutching the dirk. “Allow me to assist you.” He yanked the blade free and a spray of blood splashed across his hand. The man toppled over.
With a grimace, Ethan pulled a lace handkerchief from his pocket and used it to first wipe the dirk’s blade and then his hand. He looked at the soiled handkerchief and shook his head. “That’ll never come out.”
He dropped the handkerchief onto the back of the dead man’s head, slipped the dirk back into place, and continued on his way to the Guild house.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jesse stepped into the stable and looked up. As expected, Manny was perched in the rafters, gazing out through the air slots near the roof. “Can you hear us up there?” Jesse asked, pitching his voice only slightly higher than he normally would.
Manny looked down. Narrow bands of sunlight striped his dark brown skin, accentuating the long scar which started above his brow and ended at his jaw line. Shadows seemed to gather in the puckered hollow where his left eye used to be.
“I hear,” Manny’s quiet voice drifted down to them like the motes of dust in the air.
Jesse leaned back against the wall while Brandon climbed up on the door of the nearest stall and proceeded to carry on a one sided conversation with the old mare, whom he had named Blue Bell. The mare stared at him with her dull black eyes, her ears pricked forward as if she were actually listening to every word he was saying.
Ethan’s arrival at the house had prompted Jesse to suggest they all gather in the stable to talk about the job. He’d asked Ethan to go upstairs to get Kat as he didn’t care much for the idea of knocking on her bedroom door. She was already in a bad temper and he wasn’t looking to find himself on the wrong end of her staff again.
If things went Jesse’s way, which they rarely did, Ethan would be able to tell him the identities of the nobles funding the rebellion and then he wouldn’t even have to actually work with Kat or Brandon. Plus, then he’d only have to share his paper with Ethan and Deke. A winning situation all the way around.
Kat and Ethan were talking about the job as they walked into the barn side by side. Kat sounded almost pleasant and Ethan was smiling the smile he usually reserved for one of his numerous conquests.
“Having a nice little chat?” Jesse asked, glaring at them.
“Take it easy, alpha dog,” Kat said. “Don’t go getting all territorial on us.”
“Alpha dog?” How odd to hear Kat call him by the nickname she’d given him long before they made the mistake of thinking they should couple up. Nobody else ever called him that. As he was the only one who had ever called her Kitty Kat.
Kat made a face. “Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.”
“Good. I always hated that stupid nickname.” Jesse turned to Ethan. “Well, I guess Kat filled you in on the details already. So have you heard anything about the rebellion?”
“No more than you, I imagine,” Ethan said. “Such things are hardy suitable for pillow talk.”
“So you don’t think you can find anything out by your usual methods?”
Ethan smiled. “I didn’t say that. My lady friends are bound to be a tad uneasy about talking treason. They wouldn’t want to get the Lords they’re bedding into trouble and ruin the quality of life they’ve grown used to. But make no mistake, if they know anything I’ll find it out.”
“In the meantime,” Kat said, “the rest of us shouldn’t be sitting around doing nothing. We need to be working toward getting the information some other way, in case Ethan comes up empty handed or takes longer than the Lady is willing to wait. Maybe we should bring Cole in on this. He and his brother interact with the personal servants of nobles all the time. It might be they’ve heard something.”
“No,” Jesse said. “We have enough people in on this already. Besides, I don’t much like the idea of following one of your plans anyway, seeing as how the last time I did that I almost got
my throat slit.”
She bristled. “Only because you insisted on playing hero. You fouled that job up all by yourself. It had nothing to do with me.”
“What was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Sully was going to get Marie killed.”
“Right. You had to jump in to protect one of your girls.”
Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know very well what it means.” Kat crossed her arms.
“Good God Above, woman.” Jesse threw up his hands. “Once you get an idea stuck in your head it can’t be pried out with a crowbar. I told you over and over, I never bedded Marie. I wasn’t interested in her and even if I had been, she was barely old enough to even know what to do with a man. I prefer my women with a little more experience between the sheets.”
“Oh, so is that why you’ve bedded every whore in Hyacinth?”
Ethan cleared his throat. “Far be it for me to interrupt this little lover’s quarrel, but we are meant to be discussing a job. I doubt Deke would appreciate the two of you allowing your personal feelings to cloud the issue at hand.”
“What personal feelings?” Kat snapped. “I have no personal feelings when it comes to him. I’m just not so sure I want to be working with someone whose brain shuts down every time he sees a pretty face.”
“Then why don’t you stay in my line of sight,” Jesse shot back, “and we won’t have to worry about it.”
With a snarl, Kat reached for her staff. Jesse flinched back against the wall. Nobody saw Brandon move. One second he was sitting on the stall door and the next he had Kat’s staff in his hand.
“Let’s not go losing our heads now.” He grinned amiably at her. “We’re all friends, after all.”
“Give me that, you little...” Kat made a snatch for her staff but Brandon danced away from her with a giggle.
“Katharine, please,” Ethan said. “I hate to agree with Brandon, but I hardly think Deke would appreciate you painting the stable walls with Jesse’s blood. The color would irritate the horses.”
Jesse scowled. “Thank you for your concern for my life, Ethan. It’s heartwarming.”
Ethan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m only trying to help.”
“You calm now?” Jesse asked, glancing at Kat. “Or should I run while I still have the chance?”
“I’m calm,” Kat said through gritted teeth. She held her hand out to Brandon. “My staff?”
Brandon looked to Jesse, who nodded. He handed the staff over to Kat. She favored them all with a piercing glare before storming from the stable. Jesse dropped his head back against the wall and sighed. “Women.”
“They can make a man rejoice or despair at any given moment,” Ethan said. “But really, any man should know it unwise to bed a woman he must work with. It never ends well.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Jesse shook his head.
“Thinking rarely has anything to do with it.” Ethan smiled. “The trick is to not get the heart involved. Then you can avoid these messy little scenes.”
“My heart is not involved.” Jesse pushed away from the wall. “All I want is to get this job over with. Fast. Then I can take off for awhile. Go to the Wild Lands, maybe.” He looked up. Manny was staring out through the air slots again.
It would be nice to get away. They had been gone from the Wild Lands too long. Manny
would never say as much, but Jesse could always tell when the wildling was getting restless for the wide open land of his birth.
“Sounds like fun,” Brandon chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’ve never been to the Wild Lands before.”
Jesse barely suppressed a grimace. “Ethan, talk to your lady friends. Try and get me an answer as quick as you can.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Ethan said with a smile. He walked out of the stable like he was waltzing across a ballroom.
“What can I do?” Brandon asked.
Jesse would have liked to have told the wiry little assassin to get as far away from him as was possible, only he wasn’t that stupid. Having one crazy, dangerous person mad at him was plenty, he didn’t need to add another.
“Nothing right now,” Jesse said. “I want to give Ethan a chance to see what he can find out.”
“Oh, okay.” Brandon stopped bouncing, though the ever present grin was still on his lips. “If we need to torture anybody for information, let me know.” He followed after Ethan, humming in an off tune key under his breath.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Anastasia paced back and forth in front of the library’s large window. Afternoon sunlight brightened the room, though not her mood. She knew it was too soon to expect any word back from Jesse but each passing day was drawing them closer to disaster. Closer to her marriage to Richard. Closer to her brother’s death. She could almost feel the time slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
“My Lady, you really must stop this.” Betrice looked up from her knitting, her plump face creased with concern. “You’ll make yourself ill.”
“The only thing making me ill is the idea of being married to Richard.” Anastasia sank into the nearest chair. “I know he’ll find a way to hurry things along once he’s king. There will be no lengthy engagement, as is customary. No month long wedding, as Uncle Robert and Aunt Jana had. Oh, Betrice,” she pressed her hand to her face, “what am I going to do?”
“Give your plan time to work.” Betrice took up her knitting again, but the familiar clack of the needles, which Anastasia usually found soothing, only grated on her raw nerves today. “Richard isn’t king yet.”
Paul entered the library, his narrow, lined face pinched and his thin hands clasped before him. “Begging your pardon, your Ladyship,” he bowed stiffly at the waist, “but you have a visitor.” His lips trembled around the words and fear lurked within his eyes
A sick feeling rolled through Anastasia’s stomach. Her fingers curled around the armrests of her chair. “Who is it?”
Paul’s gaze met hers in the direct look used only by those who had served in the manor house so long they were almost like family to her. “His Royal Highness, Crowned Prince Richard.”
Anastasia pushed herself to her feet. “Where is my brother?”
“Still out falconing with Simon, your Ladyship.”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly beating its wings against glass. “Thank the God Above for small favors.” She turned to Betrice. “How do I look?”
“A bit frazzled.” Betrice set her knitting aside and stood. She plucked some pins from her sleeve and used them to fix Anastasia’s hair in a more presentable manner. “There now, that’s better.”
“Thank you.” Anastasia planted a quick peck on the older woman’s cheek. “Paul, I want you to keep an eye out for my brother. If you see him heading this way before the prince departs, divert him from entering the manor.”
Paul’s face drained of what little color it possessed. “But... how will I divert him?”
“I’m sure you can think of something” Anastasia smoothed down the front of her skirt. “Where is the prince?”
“In the parlor, your Ladyship.”
Anastasia swept from the library with Betrice at her heels. As she strode down the hall, she concentrated on taking slow and easy breaths. No simple feat with a heavy knot of dread sitting in the middle of her chest.
Two guardsmen in green livery bearing the royal crest stood on either side of the parlor door. They bowed at Anastasia’s approach, and then one of them opened the door for her. With her head held high and her back ramrod straight, she entered the parlor.
Richard lounged on one of the twin divans, his legs crossed and a goblet of wine in one hand.
He smiled at her, the light of it never touching his cold eyes. “Hello, cousin.”
“Good day, your Majesty.” Anastasia curtsied. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”
“I think we can dispense with the formalities, wouldn’t you agree?” He sipped red wine from his goblet. “After all, you and I will soon be a blissfully wedded couple.”
Anastasia didn’t miss the slight stress on the word soon. “As it please you, cousin.” The word left a sour taste in her mouth. She took a seat on the second divan.
Betrice started for her proper place in the corner, but Richard raised a hand to forestall her movement. “Leave. And shut the door behind you.”
Betrice’s gaze shifted to Anastasia in a dangerous act of disobedience to the Crowned Prince. Anastasia replied with a terse nod, then clasped her fingers together in her lap and fixed her gaze on Richard. The click of the door shutting echoed inside her head.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Can’t a man visit his betrothed simply for the honor of basking in her radiance?”
“Not when that man forced her hand by threatening her father’s people.”
“Threatening your father’s people?” He arched his brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why don’t we drop the pretenses along with the formalities,” Anastasia said. “The Chancellor might not have been so foolish as to come right out with the threat, but he implied it well enough so my father couldn’t possibly have misunderstood the consequences of refusing your proposal. But I wouldn’t get overconfident were I you. You don’t have me yet.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you will be my wife. Make no mistake of it. Once I’m king, nothing will stop me from getting what I want.”
“That remains to be seen.” Anastasia knew she was playing with fire, but they weren’t children anymore and not even Richard would dare do anything to her in her own home. Or so she hoped.
“And how do you plan on avoiding it?” he asked with a smug smile. “Once I wear the crown I could have this entire estate razed to the ground with a snap of my fingers.”
“Go ahead,” Anastasia said. “Burn it to the ground. You’ll have an uprising on your hands before the sun sets over the ashes.”
