Tribute Page 4

  “You shouldn’t call me princess,” she warned. “You’ll get yourself into trouble. Besides, how could you possibly know what I am?”

  A broad smile slashed across his face, bright white teeth showing quickly in the near darkness. He would never be classically handsome, but he was—as her mother occasionally put it—easy on the eyes, regardless. There was a certain swagger, an air of confidence he exuded, despite his circumstances that gave him an almost regal bearing. He had a full head of jet black hair and a high forehead that bespoke of intelligence. His eyes were as startlingly blue as hers were violet, his cheekbones were finely etched under his sun kissed skin.

  “And who in L’Ondia and well beyond doesn’t know of the breathtaking beauty of Princess Rose Violet Azalea Fleur D’Eylly Royston?” he whispered impishly, and Fleur couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not about any part of that sentence.

  “Breathtaking beauty indeed,” she muttered in a tone that called not only his words, but his sanity into question.

  “Why, don’t they have mirrors in King Liev’s castle? I would swear I’d seen at least one or two for sale in the marketplace. Or does your father forbid them, lest his youngest become too vain?”

  A commotion outside the gate caused her not to answer his foolish supposition. Hoof beats thundered towards them, and the gate suddenly opened. There was a crush of bodies towards the opening and freedom, and they got caught in it, his body slammed abruptly up against hers from behind.

  Zay did his best to protect her from the crush of humanity, cursing the restraint he’d been saddled with as his cock, which was doing its level best to become engorged despite the tight confines it found itself in, was pressed up against the small of her back. Her skin was flawless and soft and he would have given anything—years off his life—to be able to bury himself within her at that moment, but he knew that would never happen. Still, he didn’t see how it couldn’t be a bad thing to give in to the instinct he’d successfully turned away from for the past eighteen years and protect her as best he could, not that that was much, but a grateful father who might happen to hear that he had done his best to ease her way might be willing to throw him a few coins eventually. If he was lucky.

  Zay believed in playing the long game, especially when it meant that he might curry favor with royalty somehow. That was where the money was, and he didn’t intend to spend his life without two gold pieces to rub together. And if watching out for the little princess—on whom he probably had more than a foot and countless stone—might gain him advantage in the future, he would do what he could without getting himself into trouble in the process.

  He’d do whatever it was that he needed to do to reach his goal, and he didn’t much care whether it was legal or immoral. Those were things that only people who had money already could be concerned with.

  While they were trapped there together, he hissed against her ear, “What have they told you about the hunt?”

  She shook her head. “N-nothing.”

  She was shaking, but he had to give her that she wasn’t cringing or crying hysterically like some of the women—and men—he could hear around them.

  He growled low in his throat and said, “Well, it is exactly what the names says it is and your best bet is to keep your head down and run along the inside of the crowd as long as it’s good sized. It’ll be harder for any of the hunters to single you out then. Once the herd’s thinned, try to make sure you’re near the forest, then stick to the trees and as wooded areas as possible for the same reason. It’ll slow them down some. If you can make it to the end without being captured—and no one I’ve ever heard of has been able to do so—then the rumor is that your obligation to the empress will be considered paid and you’ll be able to go home.”

  Her shaking intensified at what he was saying, and he knew that the rest was going to make that even worse. “But the gentlemen and ladies of the court—those in favor with Illeana, of course—will hunt us down as we run. They’ll be on horseback, and we’ll be on foot. They’ll all have guns that will shoot a net at you and over you, from which there is no escape until they come to claim you. Each net bears the colors of the lord or lady’s house, so that there is no confusion as to who captured you. When the hunt is over, their bounty—which is us—will be gathered and delivered to their house to be put to whatever use they decide. You could end up in the kitchen as a scullery maid,” he suggested, although he knew that as long as she looked like she did, she’d never see the inside of any kitchen, just as she probably hadn’t until now, “or as a household servant,” again, not a likely fate for her, “or, if their house is in need of money, you could be put to work as a prostitute or grace the bed of the lord—or lady—or anyone they might choose to give you to.”

  He seriously doubted that she had much idea what he was talking about. The upper class kept their women woefully ignorant of what went on between the sexes even though they blithely sent them—generation after generation—off to be tributes, with the full knowledge of what kind of experiences they were likely to encounter during their two year stint. Furthermore, Zay thought it was a shame to hide away the knowledge of something so pleasurable. He would be willing to bet that most of the women in the noble houses of the six kingdoms—except perhaps Illeana herself—had little idea that the marriage bed was for so much more than merely producing heirs.

  Fleur drew a horrified breath. She could be forced into prostitution? She wasn’t quite sure what that was, but she knew it wasn’t a good thing. She had been in town one time not so long ago and she had noticed a woman who looked almost overly well dressed, but Fleur couldn’t remember ever having met her. Their realm was so small that she thought she knew everyone of quality. But when she pointed the women out to her mother, she’d received a surprising dose of vitriol about “that kind of woman” and had been scolded for even noticing her, although her mother had flatly refused to explain to her just what the women did that was so heinous.

  But she gathered it had something to do with sex, which she knew from sneaking into her father’s library at night had something to do with “sexual congress” between a man and a woman. But she knew instinctively not to ask anyone about that. She didn’t even question her sister, since Iris was an inveterate tattletale and she knew that she’d only end up getting herself into trouble if she did.

  “What’s a prostitute?” she whispered, unable to stop herself from asking the forbidden question.

  Zay growled again, knowing his answer was just going to confuse her even more. He had to admit to being surprised that she’d asked the question in the first place, but he applauded her curiosity, too. “It’s when someone—usually a man—pays money to have sex with a woman who is not his wife.” He didn’t wait for her to ask, but figured she was better off well informed than not, considering the situations she was certain to find herself in in the not very distant future. He knew for a fact that the lords in particular didn’t always adhere to the rules of the game which said they were not to dismount from their horses during the height of the hunt—lest they be trampled, or, more likely, be tempted to sample the wares they had just acquired, or worse, that someone else had.

  “Sex is when a man puts his part–” he pressed his semi-erection against her, thrusting less than gently, “between a woman’s legs. It can hurt the first time, but if it’s done right, it feels amazing for the both of them–”

  He didn’t get to finish what he wanted to say because he was lifted bodily off her and carted away, realizing with a start that the crush was over and that he probably hadn’t done her any favors by protecting her as he had, because instead of leaving in the middle of the crowd, and thus being afforded a bit of anonymity, they were among the last to be hustled out, which assured that Fleur in all of her glory, would be on display all by herself in front of all of that slavering, drooling nobility.

  He watched her get fitted into a harness that she wouldn’t be able to shed that kept a bright white number in place acros
s the top of her back, even as one of the handlers was doing the same to him. He was also gratified to see that as soon as they’d done that to her, she made her way very close to the middle of the big pack.

  They were all being held by guards on horseback at the front of the pack who trotted back and forth and wielded fearsome big bull whips to keep them back until–

  The gong sounded, and the guards vanished. Zay knew that they would be given a ten minute head start, so he did as he’d advised her to do and did his best to try to blend in with the rest of the mass of humanity, hunching over so that he was less of a target than he would be if he stood—as he did—head and shoulders above the rest.

  They ran, some of them not getting very far at all—usually those of the upper classes who weren’t used to physical exertion. They would be the first captured, and likely the first pressed into some form of prostitution. He knew that some of the lords had quite lucrative contracts with brothels spread all over the six kingdoms, and they didn’t care much for the hunt itself, but instead were after its easy pickings.

  Chapter IV

  Fleur ran as far and as fast as could at first, heading for the woods that were across a big field, obviously designed so that the hunters were given a good opportunity for an easy catch at first, but then had to head into the forest for a true test of their skills.

  And a test of the prey’s ability to avoid being captured. The crowd around her had thinned alarmingly by the time she was only half way across the open field, and there was literally no cover to be had. She just had to continue running, full out, and she wasn’t at all sure she could make it to the woods.

  As soon as she got home she was going to take her mother to task for all of the scoldings she had gotten over the years of her childhood about being a tomboy. Although she definitely had been, she was in better shape then, too. Why her mother decided to chide her out of lifelong habits that would have given her a distinct advantage during her two years away she would never understand.

  Fleur could hear the sound of the horses’ hooves coming closer and closer up behind her as she raced towards the tree line. The rest of the herd of them—what few were left—were scattered across the field so that they were well spread out, and there wouldn’t be an attractive clump of them entering at the same time or place, which would work to their advantage.

  It was tempting, when she finally made it to the edge of the forest to want to slow down and take a break and try to catch her breath, but the sound of a net hitting one of the trees just a little behind her convinced her to try to maintain as fast a pace as possible. With Zay’s words echoing in her head, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, but if the trees would make the mounted lords and ladies slow down, they forced her to do much the same. It was an old growth forest, and roots and dead log obstacles were frighteningly plentiful on the ground, causing her to need to be very careful about her footing and expend extra energy to hurdle over them.

  She could hear the terrifying—and terrified—sounds of others either falling or being captured around her, although she couldn’t see any of them despite the huge lanterns that were lit at odd intervals about the course. She was surprised at how quickly her eyes adjusted, and, as it was the night of a full moon, it was quite a bit lighter than it might have been.

  All of a sudden she realized that all other sounds around her had stilled. She couldn’t hear the cries of anyone else being felled, nor any other horses—but the one that seemed like it was directly behind her, as if the rider was close enough that he or she wouldn’t need to shoot a net, but instead would be able to simply reach down and grab her up with an arm around her waist.

  The horribly familiar sound of a net whizzing past her to hit the tree only about eighteen inches to her right as she passed it had her changing course. She’d been choosing what she considered to be the shortest distance between two points and had been following a course straight ahead, but the near miss had her reconsidering her strategy. She began to zigzag through the trees, never stopping, but moving in an unpredictable, erratic pattern to the left then right then back again. Anything to keep him or her behind her guessing.

  She was winded, and none of the panting breaths she sucked violently in seemed to sate her aching lungs, but just when she was near to giving up, she would have sworn that she could see a light at the end of the trees, and she headed for that.

  Her stalker was still behind her, but she was enough of a horsewoman to know that even the horse’s breath was labored. If the finish line was there, where the trees must have opened into another field, she had a good chance of making it, she thought, if she could just maintain her pace.

  When she finally broke free of the forest, she saw that there was a finish line some two hundred yards away but it was another open gauntlet that she doubted she’d make it through. It would be too damned easy for the person behind her to catch her out here in the open.

  Fleur had a sudden thought. She listened hard and confirmed that she could only hear one set of hoof beats and one set of footfalls, her own. Instead of exhausting herself running for something she was never going to be able to achieve, she cut left unexpectedly, catching the rider behind her off guard. They expended the net they’d intended to wrap her up and it landed futilely right where she would have been if she had continued to run in a straight line.

  Instead, she ran past that horse and back towards the forest. The crowd at the finish line erupted in delight at her tactic and not a little outrage at her gumption—although there was no specific rule against what she was doing. Thinking herself safe, she continued to run as fast as she could towards the tree line again.

  Until a giant of a man stepped out from behind one of the huge trees, aimed his gun at her and let a net fly.

  It all happened in a matter of a few seconds, during which her entire body was completely committed to running, and she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d recognized the danger she was in. The net wrapped itself around her like a tight blanket, parts of it cushioned against the valuable commodity being hurt as it fell.

  As a sharp whistle cut through the night air, she landed with an audible thud and was hoisted up onto someone’s saddle seconds later. He must’ve dismounted for ease of maneuvering, sending his horse on behind her so that she wouldn’t know he’d done so, then summoning his horse back to him in order to claim her.

  The empress rode out on a gorgeous white stallion to meet the successful hunter. “She’s the last of them, and almost eluded even your fine hunting skills, Raiz. I imagine she could taste the freedom she lost to you. In the end, though, that was a fine display of your prowess. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, empress.” The lord dismounted, leaving her almost dangling from his saddle, still trussed up like a goose at Winterfeast, to bow to the empress and kiss her hand. He reclaimed his mount and his prize and rode triumphantly through the crowd to where he could register his captive and pay exorbitantly for the right to keep her.

  But not before he had cut her out of her bonds and stood her up, naked to not just his own eyes but to everyone’s around them, which he did not prefer, but he wasn’t going to pay for a pig in a poke. If she was ugly or had a limp or any other defect, he’d cede her to the empress by not paying her tariff and she’d end up a serving her in some capacity—he cared not how.

  He’d followed her right from the beginning—at first just because that blonde hair was a banner that he and many of his fellow riders found hard to resist—but it later became that she seemed to be almost too cunning, and he liked a challenge. The empress had been right in that she had almost been the first in memory to cross the finish line unscathed, but then she’d decided she didn’t like it out in the open and had headed back for what she thought was going to be the relative safety of the trees.

  Not a bad bit of strategy that might have worked out for her for a while, but she would have only been delaying the inevitable.

  He had miscalculated in ab
andoning his horse too late, leaving him on foot when she’d burst out into the open, which had—conversely—ended up being an advantage.

  And now that he had her, his eyes raking up and down her perfect form, he realized just how lucky he’d gotten. It was the whistles and catcalls from the other men and women around them that prompted him to doff his greatcoat and wrap her up in it rather than any misguided attempt at chivalry. It was so big on her that it dragged on the ground, and it weighed so much she could barely move in it, which would be another advantage for him, should she suddenly get a hair up her arse and decide to bolt. Some of them did—especially those who had been through the hunt. Their spirits were high, and the longer they lasted without being caught the less happy they became with that prospect.

  He wasted no time once he’d formalized the transaction and he had her papers on him all nice and legal—which if one believed the rumors about him wasn’t necessarily the way he liked to do things all the time— and gathered her back up onto his horse. The sight of her had stirred him such that the ride home was going to be a damned uncomfortable one for him. He couldn’t quite talk himself down from full mast, and the fact that his erection was forced to bob up against her little bottom—exposed as it was by her need to straddle the horse and the fact that she’d turned the coat around so that it was open in the back, where she’d garner his own natural heat against her back—didn’t help matters any.

  But there would be enough time to bury himself within her good and truly once he’d set foot upon his own soil again. Raiz Arndt spent only as much time at court as he absolutely had to in order to satisfy the empress. He knew she would have preferred that he come and stay there, and that it might well have done him a better turn if he had been able to convince himself to do that. He knew the empress wanted him; she had made no secret of that fact. And he knew that that desire—once acted upon—could manifest itself in expansions of his land, his purse, and his power of epic proportions. The empress was quite generous to the men and women she took to her bed, even those who weren’t necessarily born on the right side of it.