Mathieu (White Flame Trilogy) (5 page)

“Or what, you’ll break my arm too?”

Standing and grabbing the strap of his bag, he glared at the other man. “Maybe I will. Give me back my damn bag.”

“No.” The man opened his bag and dug through it until he found the forged identification papers. “Here we go.” Skimming through them, he recorded Mathieu’s fake name, Mathieu Isaacs, and his information. Once done, he less-than-politely shoved the papers back in his bag and threw it onto the desk, out of Mathieu’s reach.

“Give it back.” Irritation was tingeing his voice and darkening it significantly.

Michaels gave him a dirty look. “You’re a prisoner of Ateri, you have no rights.” Grabbing his upper arm, the man dragged Mathieu towards a cell.

Not.
Happening.

As they neared an open cell, Michaels’s grip loosened as he pushed Mathieu into it. Mathieu turned and punched him in the stomach. Unfortunately, the strike didn’t go over as well as planned. Michaels grabbed his wrist and bent it, dropping him to his knees. The next thing he saw was a boot as it flew at his face.

Instinct was the only thing that saved him. He dropped to the
side,
body half on the floor, half held up by Michaels. Wincing at the strain on his shoulder, he kicked the man square in the kneecap. Michaels screamed.

Heavy footfall alerted him that re-enforcements for the man had come. Mathieu really needed to stop beating people up when he couldn’t win.

It was the oldest man again. His collar read “Jaken”. “What’s the commotion about down here? Michaels?”

Michaels was on the floor next to him, panting and clutching his leg. This man had handled the pain of being hurt better than guy whose arm he’d broken. Michaels sneered in pain, but replied, “This damn girly boy kicked my knee out,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Jaken folded his arms over his chest, going the rest of the way down the stairs and staring at the pair of them. “…You,” he glared at Mathieu, “come with me.
Now.”
Mathieu only now really saw the man. Jaken was tall and broad with a scruff-lined jaw and dull, listless eyes. His nose was crooked, as were his teeth. He looked kind of like a dark haired shark.

Mathieu wrinkled his nose but got up, nudging
Michaels
knee with his foot as he did. Following the burly man, he scooped his bag up as he followed. Jaken led him up the staircase and out past the clerical floor again. They followed the foot path until it met up with the main walkway and it winded towards the beautiful castle once more.

The doors slid open smoothly as they approached them. Stepping through the foyer and into the atrium, Mathieu’s jaw dropped. The atrium’s floor was made of deep green marble tiles cut into peculiar shapes that seemed to fit together like a complex puzzle. It was mesmerizing; as were the white stone walls. They were cut in thirty by eight foot spans, tall enough to cover the wall, floor to ceiling. The room was long enough that it took nearly twenty stones to complete one wall. Gold and silver was inlaid against the stone, beautiful sweeping designs
sprawled along the wall and wrapped around the columns that were placed intermittently along the hall. The grandness continued into the room at the end of the hall and became even more stunning. The way that it was done, woven together, was elegant, not gaudy or overdone, but just the right amount of done. The room that they ended in was most probably a throne room.

It was a long, thin room with a peaked ceiling that soared above them. At the far end of the room were three thrones: A narrow, feminine wing-backed chair sat on the left, empty; another feminine, although slightly larger chair on the far right, also empty; and in the center was the larger rigid throne, only this one was occupied.

The man in the raised throne had a strongly chiseled jaw and a thin beard that followed the curve of his face. The brown eyes were deep-set and against the pale skin of his face were startlingly intense. A wide nose and a full mane of dark blond hair completed the image.

The man clad in black dropped to one knee, muttering the words “My Master”.

Mathieu did not. Instead, he cocked his hip to the side and put a hand on it, surveying the man before him. He wasn’t impressed.

The man looked him up and down right back. Curiously, he tilted his head at Mathieu. “You don’t kneel before your King?”

“I kneel before no one.” Resolutely, he centered his body over his feet, both hands on his hips now. He leaned forward slightly on the balls of his feet, ready to flee.

The King seemed to find this an interesting notion, shifting forward in his chair to look at Mathieu. “No one, you say?”

Mathieu grinned. “Not before a king. Not even before a god.” He couldn’t really get in any more trouble today, so he figured he should just be himself.

“Come closer, child. Let me look at you.” The King beckoned him with a crook of his heavily jeweled finger.

Jaken’s head snapped up, “But sir! He is highly dangerous. He’s already injured two of your officers! I would
advise
--”

Amusement danced in the King’s eyes. “You aren’t going to attack me, are you?”

Mathieu shook his head. “In all fairness, they both started it. I just finished it.” He stopped just short of the stairs, looking up at the King.

“You finish it. That’s quite funny. You look pretty harmless to me. But then again, so
does
my wife, and I wouldn’t put her into a rage. That’d be a fool’s mistake.” He gave Mathieu an appraising look. “Do you think me a fool?”

“I think you’re a man trying to do a job to the best of his ability but who finds himself constantly at an impasse because you know that political tensions are rising over Korinth, however, doing anything about it would start a war that this country isn’t ready to fight. Do I think you’re a fool? No. Do I think you should be sending your “officers” to do something more productive that bothering innocent bystanders in the street? Yes.” Where
that had come from, he wasn’t sure. Probably a rub off of all of Rebekah’s story telling and history lessons; he was pretty sure the woman would have been proud of him.

Jaken was behind him before he even finished speaking, grabbing his roughly by the hair and throwing him to the floor. “You will
not
speak to our king in that manner.”

Sitting up, Mathieu sighed. “Thank you for proving my point. This is stupid. I won’t be treated this way and I won’t stay here another minute.” Getting to his feet, he retrieved the few things that had spilled out of his bag. “Later.”
Kings be damned
. As he stood to huff angrily away, the blond man had descended the stairs and was standing just beside him.

“So you finish a fight, claim you don’t start them, and yet I just witnessed your tongue instigating.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He stood to his full height, as little as it was: around five feet and six inches. It wasn’t much, but he narrowed his eyes too, looking up at the man. “Not to you or your little puppets. I’m going home.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched in the direction of the exit. His footfalls echoed through the room ominously.

“Wait.” The king’s voice wasn’t harsh, more like a plea, calling after him.

Biting his tongue, he turned to the man. “What?” He snapped at the man, hands balled into fists. He was nearing the end of his rope.

“Come sit with me for a moment. I believe we should talk.” The King stood with his body neutral, looking at
the Mathieu with a calm, level look. For the first time since getting off the bus, someone was looking at him like he was an equal.

Still, it wasn’t enough for him to return to the arms reach of Jaken. “I don’t think so.”

“I would appreciate it.” The way the King was looking at Mathieu left no room for argument, unlike before.

Swearing under his breath, he followed the King to a sitting room off the throne chambers. Jaken followed them in, standing guard by the door. The officer’s presence made him nervous. “What do you want to talk about?”

“It seems we are both busy people, so I won’t bother with pleasantries. Jaken says you injured two of my men.
Quite a feat.”
The King sat regally even in an armchair, studying Mathieu.

“And why is that?” He dropped heavily into his own chair, arms crossed over his chest.

Jaken laughed. “Officers are the most well-trained, well-discipled force out there. They’re tested and trained rigorously until they are weapons unto themselves.” He
said,
a note of pride in his voice.

Now it was his turn to laugh.
“Really?
Cause I kicked two of their worthless hides in one day. Oh, and I gave them the slip.”

The king laughed softly under his breath at the exchange before drawing Mathieu’s attention back to their conversation. “Have you ever lost a fight?”

“Once or twice when I was younger, but not in a few years.”
He leaned back and pulled his bag into his lap. It wasn’t much, but it gave him some sort of barrier against the man’s piercing stare.

“Well isn’t that interesting…” The King tapped his chin with his fingertips. “Are you in the market for a job?”

“A job?”

“Yes. If you’re as good as you claim you are, you’d be ideal to protect my daughter. You could attend functions with her under the guise of being female, while still being crafty enough to protect her.” The King explained rather blandly.

“Uh-huh…” Mathieu said, waiting for the man to continue.

“My daughter is my whole world, and if anything were to happen to her…“ he cleared his throat, “so tell me, would you be interested in the job of protecting my daughter?”

Excitement coursed through Mathieu, but he had to play it cool.
Be confident.
“I don’t think I’d be interested. It sounds inconvenient.”

The king frowned. “How would that be?”

“Because I’d have to travel to her every day, protect her from unidentified dangers, and deal with a person that for all I know is a twit. And it just sounds like a big hassle brought upon by the pointless worries of an overprotective father.” Mathieu made a show of yawning, hoping he hadn’t pushed too far.

Laughing, the King slapped the table. “You’re probably right about the overprotective part, but that doesn’t change my desire to have someone protect her. I need to fill the position and if you agree, you wouldn’t travel unless she wanted to go somewhere. From here on out, you’d live in the castle and would rarely leave her side. You’d be more constant than a shadow. However, you’d be compensated with generous pay, time to train or whatever you wanted to do in your spare time, and your needs would be provided for at all levels. Also, I rarely hear my daughter referred to as a ‘twit‘, so I don‘t believe it should be an issue.”

Mathieu sighed. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

“No. I want you to protect my daughter and I’d order you to do it if I thought you’d listen.” The King gave him a good natured look, seemingly understanding Mathieu’s need to not be controlled.

“You do realize I’m supposed to be a prisoner, right?” He raised an eyebrow. “Your lackies put me under arrest.”

The King shook his head. “I’ve found that being the King tends to give me a certain level of leeway with how things happen. If you take the position, I’ll see to it that you don’t have a problem with my officers or with the prison.”

Mathieu took a long time to think about that. He could avoid jail time if he took this job to protect some bimbo princess.
How hard can it really be…?
“Fine, I’ll do it. Jeez, this is a pain.”

The King nodded in a definitive manner. “Good, you’ll start immediately. My daughter should be at her lessons right now. Let’s go do a round of introductions.” He stood from the chair and went through a side door.