Defiance (Rise of the Iliri Book 3) (17 page)

"Yield," she ordered, "or I'll choke you out."

"What?" he gasped.

She tensed her arm, tightening the hold on his neck.  "Yield, Sergeant."

"Do it," Dom insisted.

But she was squeezing too hard.  Unable to answer any other way, the big guy slapped at the mud, spraying both of them as he signaled his surrender.  Sal carefully relaxed her arm, unsure if she should trust him.

"Sire?" he croaked.

"I'm fine," Dom assured him.  "Filthy, but fine."

Ilija finally nodded.  "I yield, Kaisae."

From the other side, Jase chuckled.  "Good call, man.  I think ya may have just passed."

Sal patted his shoulder and pushed back.  "Yeah, I'd say so.  Hwa, Roo?  You two ok?"

I am,
Roo promise.

Hwa was grinning, still standing over an unconscious guard. 
Maybe I should train more of them.

"Ya should," Jase agreed.  "Yer student's the only one na ta get knocked out."

Sal jerked her thumb at the man she'd struggled with.  "I need the name of that guy, too.  With a little training, he'll be deadly."

"Caein," Ilija said.  "Other one's Danku, but he's only a first year."

That caught Sal's attention.  "Any good?"

Ilija nodded.  "That's why I asked them to help.  We thought you'd flipped, Kaisae.  Had no idea this was one of your little tests."

"Yeah."  She found her feet then offered the soldier a hand.  "Wake up your friends, then escort the King back to get clean, if you would?"

"Yes, sir."  He turned to obey.

"And big guy?" she called to his back.  "Tomorrow your lesson will be against me."

He paused, then turned back.  "Thank you, sir.  So far you're the only one to keep putting me on my ass.  Good fight, Kaisae."  He snapped a professional salute, thumping his fist against his heart in the Anglian style.  Even covered in mud and grime, Sal knew that man was exactly the kind of soldier she'd been looking for.  She was going to have to keep her eye on him.  Oddly, spending time with a human didn't seem that bad.

Chapter 18

Ilija took a deep breath at the door.  Over the last month, he'd become well acquainted with the Kaisae and Ahnor, but he wondered if this would be pushing his luck.  The pair kept to themselves when off duty, rarely leaving their rooms to mingle with the rest of the Palace.  He didn't know who else to ask, though, so lifted his hand to pound on the door again when he heard the Kaisae call out, "Come."

The door opened silently in his hand, and he ducked inside.  The warm glow of lamplight softly illuminated the rooms.  His heart was pounding – and he knew it was from fear – as he called, "Kaisae?"

The Sergeant at Arms nearly growled as she stepped into his view.  Her black pants hung loosely at her waist revealing her bare back and lack of shirt.  Ilija jerked his eyes down, refusing to give offense.  Her pale white feet looked stark against the rug.  Sal reached to the floor and grabbed a dark shirt.  Shoving her arms into it, she slid it over her head, twisted her hair in one hand, and pulled it from her collar, before releasing it to fall in a cascade against her back.  Only then did she turn to him.  Ilija felt his face burning but couldn't look away from the tiny girl who broke every rule of society he'd ever known.  Her face, however, showed only annoyance.

"Ilija, your timing is atrocious, you know that?" she asked, and he couldn't help but notice the collar of her shirt hanging too far open, her bare shoulder trying to slip through it.  She beckoned him to come further into the rooms.

"I'm sorry, Kaisae," he apologized, his mind fumbling.  He'd never been in a lady's rooms – not in the palace.  As he approached, he tried to look at anything but his partially dressed commanding officer.

"Well, it has to be important, so out with it," she growled, the sound shocking to his ears. 

"Sir, an envoy from Terric has just arrived.  I had the men assign them guest rooms, but the man's refusing to retire until he speaks with the King.  He's got his party in the throne room and is saying that any attempt to remove him would be an act of war."

"Ok, and I assume the King has retired for the night.  So what do you need from me?"

"Sir, he's..." Ilija felt his face flush.  "Um, he's with..."

Sal laughed, showing her teeth – like a wolf's – in the lamplight.  "He's got a whore or a noble?"

"A whore, and a rather common one, sir.  But he's ordered the guards not to disturb him under any circumstances."  He swallowed, unsure why this small woman intimidated him so.  "I don't have the rank to command them to let me in, sir, and the delegate is trying to make this a thing.  I didn't know who else to go to."

"You're fine, Ilija.  I'll take care of it." 

She turned, and Ilija realized that the Ahnor lay sprawled on a couch behind her, his own clothes disheveled and his chest bare.  Shapes swirled along his left side, dark tattoos against his light skin.  Ilija watched her walk over and kiss the pale man passionately without any shame.  Jase returned it, his fingers wrapped in her hair, pulling her closer.

"Jase, take the mutts and the Sergeant here," she whispered, "and make sure Terric knows we aren't scared of them.  I'll get the King."

The little man smiled cruelly.  "Let him at least finish, Sal, and do na scare the girl."

"I won't.  Terric can wait long enough for a king's privilege," she assured him, kissing her partner again before she pulled away. 

Ilija was trying not to intrude on what was obviously a private moment, but couldn't keep his eyes away.  He'd never seen a couple so comfortable with each other.  Never mind that women didn't act like that!  They should, but he'd never seen it, and it made him feel uncomfortable.  All he could do was clasp his hands before him and try not to say anything rude.  The Kaisae patted him on the arm as she strode past, and he felt his face turning even more red.  When the door closed behind him, he drug a meaty hand down the length of his face.

"I'm sorry, Ahnor," he began.

Jase chuckled, pulling himself from the couch.  "Yer timing does suck, man, but it happens.  We're soldiers.  We know that.  She will na blame ya fer it."

"So, what shall I do now, sir?"

Jase walked across the room, grabbing a shirt from the floor and holding it up.  "Damn, she got mine," he grumbled, as he turned to his wardrobe.  "Lemme get some clothes on and we'll put on a bit of a show."

When he turned to the wardrobe, Ilija saw the wounds across his back.  Long red lines and gashes wove their way through the black tattoos on his body.  The Ahnor was nothing but lean muscle, and he moved as if every step was planned.

"I didn't realize you'd been in combat recently, sir.  Or was that from your check of the units?" Ilija asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

Jase looked at him, puzzled, then glanced at his chest.  "Ya mean the marks?  Nah, man.  That's na from combat."  Jase shook his head, a wry smile creeping onto his face.  "I was trying ta get some more a those when ya came banging."

"Oh," Ilija replied, suddenly understanding.  They were lover's marks!

"I did try ta warn ya that it was na me ya'd need ta fear."  Jase laughed at the man's embarrassment.  "We're iliri.  Predators.  We are na soft fluffy toys ta pet and primp.  We are na human neither, even if we have been tamed."

Behind him, he heard a whuffing noise and turned to see the gold grauori with her tongue lolling from her mouth.  Her lips pulled back in what could only be described as a smile.

"Roo."  Jase spoke to her as he pulled leather armor over his head.  "Tell Hwa we have ta put on a performance.  I want ya both ta look as feral as poss'ble, an' just barely under control.  Ilija, ya get ta be imposing.  I think ya can play that role."

"Yes, sir."

"We're gonna go secure the throne room and hold the throne fer the King's entrance.  I fig're he has about fifteen minutes b'fore he's down.  Terric needs ta understand that Anglia is na gonna roll over anytime they demand."

Now that made Ilija smile.  "Yes, sir!  I couldn't agree more, sir."

The Ahnor finished strapping himself into his armor and began arming himself.  Ilija stopped counting at five blades, and that was before the little man buckled on his scabbard.  When the grauori entered the room, Jase turned, and the three made their way to the hall without a word passed between them.  Ilija followed in their wake.

Chapter 19

Her small feet padded softly against the stone as she strode through the halls.  The guards before the King's door watched her approach, their mouths quirking, but Sal moved past them.  When her hand reached for the door, one man spoke up.

"He said not to disturb him."

Her head snapped to him, her pale eyes boring into his, and her ears locked to her skull.  "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you say either sir or Kaisae.  Pick one and use it, boy."

"He said not to disturb him, sir," the man repeated.

"He meant you, soldier," Sal replied, "not me.  These rooms are not, and will never be locked to me.  The King does not get that luxury.  Now get out of my way."

She wrenched open the door, making no secret of her intrusion, but the sounds from the far side of the suite told her that the couple was beyond caring.  Sal walked boldly into the main room and headed to the bed chamber, leaning casually against the frame.  Dominik held the petite woman pressed against the wall, one of the girl's legs wrapped around his waist, her dressed hiked up over her hips.  Her head was thrown back in passion, and she moaned with supposed pleasure as the King grunted against her.  Sal waited, smiling, trying to ignore the smell of them.

With a final thrust, the King finished, kissing the woman passionately.  The girl sighed and opened her eyes, Sal standing directly in her line of view.

"Sire," Sal said calmly before the whore screamed.  She watched the King's shoulders slump, and he sighed before withdrawing from the girl he was entwined with, then fumbled at his breeches.  Only when that was done did he turn to face her.

"I said I was not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sire.  That rule doesn't apply to me," Sal said gently, then looked at the girl.  "I'm sorry, miss, but you're done here for the night.  His Majesty has other business that requires his attention."

The girl nodded, her eyes wide, and tried to straighten her gown.  As she moved to leave, Dominik grabbed her hand and pressed something into it.  Sal knew it was her wages.

Nodding at the King, the girl moved to slip through the door, but Sal stopped her with a gesture.  "If you're not done for the evening, take the stairs across the hall, turn right at the bottom, and follow the path to the left.  That's the fastest route to the barracks.  The soldiers got paid last night.  If any of them get out of line, come see me."

The whore looked up at her, a kind but shocked expression on her face.  "Thanks ma'am.  I will."

"And tell the other girls: abuse will not be tolerated.  Stay out of sight of the nobles and I won't say a thing."

"Thanks ma'am.  Them soldiers is good ones," she said, lifting her head high before walking out of the door.

When she was gone, Sal turned back to Dominik.  "Terric has sent an envoy, sire."

"Damn it, Sal. Do I get no privacy?" he snapped.

"No, sire, you don't.  I'm sorry, but you can't.  I was pulled away as well, tonight.  This is the job we accepted.  You're welcome to abdicate, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't do any good for your people.  Now get cleaned up.  They're waiting in the throne room."  Pointedly, she ran her eyes across his rumpled clothes.

Dom looked at her, reading her glance wrong, and began straightening his shirt, tucking it into his waist.  Sal grabbed his coat from the floor and offered it to him.  As he took it, his lips curled into a smug smile.

"You sure that's the only reason you stopped in here tonight, Kaisae?"  He chuckled, but his eyes told her he was only half joking.

"They are claiming slight by you for not seeing them tonight," she replied, trying to focus him.  "I figured you might want to prevent that, otherwise I wouldn't have intruded.  And yes, that's the only reason."

He slipped the coat over his shirt, belting it closed.  "Then maybe you should put your own clothes on?" he muttered, glancing at her.

Sal shrugged and lifted her shirt, tying her own breeches before she yanked at the laces by her throat.  Finding the King watching, she raised an eyebrow at him.

Dom stepped closer, his distance no longer professional.  "Sal, were you jealous?" he asked quietly, reaching his hand toward her face.  "Every woman in this palace has thrown herself at me – but you.  Are you saying I am supposed to be trying harder?"

She ignored his touch and calmly looked in his eyes.  The man was a fool.  His position as a king made him the most desirable bachelor in the country.  Since he'd been crowned, dozens of women had promised him anything – usually sex – just to get his attention, and now he believed he could have any of them.  It was time to change how this man thought about the "fairer" sex.

She wrapped her fingers softly around his wrist and guided his hand toward her lips.  Holding his gaze, it was hard to miss how his pupil's flared at the feeble seduction.  Then she casually reached out her tongue to caress the underside of his index finger, feeling his hand stiffen at the touch.  A split second later, he relaxed, giving her permission to do anything with him she wanted.  With her eyes never leaving his, she gently made that finger caress her lips before sliding her mouth slowly and sensually around it, savoring the sweet taste.  His eyes widened in surprise and then began to close as her tongue made trails against his skin in her mouth.

When he moaned at her teasing, she opened her jaws just a bit more and let him understand what it was he played with.  She caressed his finger as she would a lover, her teeth slicing through his tender flesh easily, but shallowly.  As his eyes flew open, the King snatched his hand away from her mouth, taking a hurried step back.

Sal growled as she released him.  "I told you before.  You're not my type, Dom.  You're too soft, you're too gentle, and you taste like prey."

"What?  Like prey?"  He cradled his injured hand with the other.

"Yes, Your Highness, like my prey."  She took a step toward him, pleased when the man retreated to keep his distance.  "You may have every eligible woman in the country throwing herself at your feet, and half of the ineligible ones, but I am not one of them.  I have no intention of murdering the King – and that is the
only
thing that would happen if I slipped into your bed.  Iliri bite.  You need to wrap your mind around that.  My people were created to be the playthings of humans, but it took more than a single generation of breeding before you got it right.  Even Jase can't lay with a human without harming her.  Your kind is as attractive to me as the grauori are to you.  Accept that, and accept it quickly, sire.  We are not equals.  I may serve, but you
are not
my master."

He nodded, embarrassed.  "I'm sorry, Sal."  He moved his injured hand to his chest, looking at the marks along his finger.  None were deep enough to truly draw blood.

"I forgive you Dom, and it's not your fault.  We were created to be enticing," she told him.  "Now, start thinking about Terric.  I have soldiers and grauori in the throne room awaiting your entrance and making a statement.  Terric is hoping to intimidate you into appeasing them."

He nodded meekly.  "And why are they here?  What am I supposed to do?"

"Most likely to woo your favor.  Anglia is
the
country of interest right now.  That's why I am here, and likely why they are.  Make no decisions in haste, and I highly recommend that you involve your full council.  Make pleasantries tonight and worry about true diplomacy tomorrow."

"Thank you, Kaisae.  I will.  Are you planning to escort me?" he asked, looking down to her bare feet.

Sal smiled up at him.  "If you don't mind stopping by my rooms, first.  I should probably also get a shirt in my own size.  Jase's is slightly too large."

Dominik laughed.  "Point made, Sal.  Let's grab you some clothes and probably set some tongues wagging before we go see a few uptight ambassadors."  He clapped her on the shoulder, and together they left his private chambers.  The guards at the door smirked as she passed.

Sal invited the King into her rooms while she slipped her boots on, noticing that he turned his back while she changed shirts.  Either he was simply a gentleman or she'd made her point well enough, she thought, before closing her door securely behind her.  She had a funny feeling it was more of the second.  Together, they walked casually to the throne room.

"Sal?" Dom asked as they made their way down the stairs, "are you armed?"

She chuckled.  "Yeah.  I am."

"I don't see your swords, though."

"Sire, this is Terric.  The sight of me will be problematic enough.  Visible weapons may be taken as a personal affront to them, so I prefer to not have my weapons quite so easily seen.  Dom, I'm armed.  I'm always armed."

"That has to be interesting in bed," he teased, trying to relax around her.

She nodded, purposefully making her face look thoughtful.  "Yeah, it gets awkward, ya know?  Jase's knives under the pillows, mine under the mattress.  Get too excited and someone's going to get cut."

He looked at her quickly, checking to see if she was serious.  Sal put on her most innocent expression.

"You sleep with..." he gasped.

She finally allowed herself to laugh.  "I'm poking fun at you, sire."

Dominik hung his head but smiled.  "No hard feelings, Kaisae?" he asked as they paused before the door to his throne room.

"None.  Now be the King, and I will be your guard dog.  Use the grauori to your advantage if you need to.  They
will
follow your lead."

He nodded and stepped through the door.  Sal counted to three then followed behind him, scanning the assembly for any signs of danger automatically.  Four men and a woman sat lazily in chairs moved before the throne.  Ilija and Jase stood at attention on either side of the ornate chair and the grauori lounged on the dais steps, their tongues lolling from their mouths.

"All rise for the King!" Ilija shouted into the room.  Slowly, the Terrans stood. 

Dom marched to his throne and paused, looking them over before sitting.  Sal moved quietly beside him, taking her position at his left hand.  The Terrans stared at her openly.  Her pale skin was stark in the light of the room, the black uniform enhancing her pallid looks.

"It is too late to be concerned about the formalities of court," Dom stated, forgiving the envoy for not kneeling in his presence, "so please be seated."

The Terrans lowered themselves into their chairs again, their posture dismissing his sovereignty.  One man slouched against the side of his chair while the woman in the group twined her hair around her finger, trying to catch the King's eyes coyly. 

An aged man leaned forward and began to speak without waiting to be granted permission.  "Your Highness, we've traveled a long way to beg for your aid in our war against the Conglomerate of Free Citizens.  The Emperor has discovered documents showing that the iliri," and he glanced over at Sal pointedly, "are little more than animals – and dangerous ones at that.  The Conglomerate has been breeding these beasts and setting them loose on us in an effort to attack the human population across the continent."

When he paused for a breath, Dominik interrupted.  "I know about the iliri.  But first, tell me your name, my good man."

"I am Elius Claudiu.  With me are my daughter, Jayel, my historian, and my two guards."

"Thank you, Mr. Claudiu, and can you tell me why I would be concerned about the iliri?" the King asked curtly.

"I have histories which I would love to show you, sire, which illustrate the dangers of these beasts."  He glared in Sal's direction.

"Kaisae, is this accurate?" the King asked, turning to Sal.

"From a matter of perspective, Your Highness."  Sal ducked her head respectfully.

"And what is your perspective?" the King persisted.

"My people were created by humans.  That is true.  We've been forced to breed with them against our will in many cases, and the result has been children of mixed ancestry.  To my knowledge, my people have no intention of any sinister plans to any nation or species, though."

"You see, Mr. Claudiu?  The iliri are no real threat to you, nor to Anglia.  Why would your histories concern me?"

The older man looked confused.  "But sire?  The iliri are a lesser species, they do nothing to improve our countries, and they try to subvert our cultures.  They're a drain on our social and economic resources.  Anglia has kept her people pure," he said, glancing again at Sal, "and I am sure that I can show you the strains these beasts have put on the continent over the last century."