Part 4 Chapter 2

CHAPTER 25

 

 

T

horne couldn’t help but watch as Harke falls out the window.

  After spending time in the brothel and discovering Olraym and Trugaime are staying at The Weeping Child Thorne heads there. He stays outside across the street for a moment until he sees them coming. He keeps away until they enter the tavern, and then waits longer before starting towards it.

  Before he can enter a noise occurs above him, he looks up to find a man falling towards him along with several shards of glass. Thorne quickly backs away letting them man fall on the muddy ground. As soon as the man lands firmly on the mud and Thorne looks at his face. He knows him: the Cultist who gave him a ride earlier. At first the Cultist looks dead, but a pained groan and an exhale of breathe tells him otherwise. Thorne cannot believe it, sure Olraym survived the last attempt by a Cultist but that was just luck and circumstance. But now he has survived another attempt and he doubts the woman was much help. Maybe killing Olraym is going to be more difficult than Thorne thought.

  Within moments a crowd appears around him and Harke. Thorne steps back until he is part of the crowd indistinguishable from anyone else. Thorne looks up to the window Harke fell from. He cannot see anyone else in the room from his position, but he knows it was Olraym and Trugaime who forced him through it. Harke soon gets to feet, though with difficulty, and walks around to the back, to the stables. Moments later two people, Olraym and Trugaime, burst out The Weeping Child’s entrance. They too are injured, and they too head for the stables.

  Thorne follows, keeping a good distance between him and the others, wanting to see who will be victorious in this fight to the death.

  Thorne slows down, takes his time. Olraym and Trugaime enter, soon after Thorne hears yells and bangs and faint swishes from a sword, then nothing for a while. Fifty five seconds after they disappear into the stables Thorne arrives at the door. Inside Harke is on the floor closer to him and Olraym and Trugaime is standing further away. Olraym is holding a sword, it is angling down, passive, but his hold on it is tight.

  Harke starts speaking. Thorne cannot tell what he is saying but he can hear Trugaime clearly. She says something about her anger at Harke using someone, a woman, against her. Thorne pays little attention to that, but does when Trugaime suddenly takes the sword from Olraym’s hand and rushes to Harke. Thorne watches that sword be planted in Harke’s skull.

  Thorne can’t help but enjoy the sight of one Cultist kill another, even if she is a former on now. The sight of her holding that sword as Harke makes his last twitch of life until she lets go and he falls. Thorne is starting to like her.

  When Harke falls over dead Thorne decides to leave, let them have this moment. The last thing he sees before they are out of sight is Olraym walking up to her.

  The crowd that formed for Harke has now dispersed; they see this too often and know what to do when they think it is over. Thorne takes up his original position across from The Weeping Child and waits for another sighting of Olraym and Trugaime.

 

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Moira feels like she has betrayed her husband. Even though she stopped herself and Bevil from going too far, she still thinks she betrayed Gremborlin when she let it Bevil touch her the way he did, and think she wanted more. What is more depressing is she still wants more. She wants to see more of him, to feel more of him and he wants him to see and feel more of her. At first she took it as a moment of weakness with Gremborlin’s death and then the news of Sertia’s betrayal, but now she is not so sure.

  Before now she has never felt this way about anyone but Gremborlin. Even after so many years of marriage they still wanted to make love when they could. But now he is dead and another possible suitor is showing himself. 

  She can barely concentrate on keeping Tov’ra running, her thoughts are jumbled and she keeps going back to that moment when Bevil kissed her. After finishing the assignments for both city and royal knights she finally leaves her bed chamber and heads to Bevil’s office. She finds him sitting at his desk working out a way to deal with a slight influx of Silent Brothers (members of the Brotherhood of Speechless Words) that have been arriving for the past two days. He is surprised by her appearance in his office without advanced warning and stands in attention.

  She closes the door and tells him to sit and he does, but he doesn’t relax, he looks scared. He stammers out a greeting.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot since…that happened.”

  Bevil looks ashamed as he nods understanding; he looks as if he is waiting for some inevitable punishment.

  “Have you made some decision?”

  Moira nods and she takes his hand and gets him to stand, then moves him around the desk until they are both at the end near the door with her facing the door and him facing her. His shameful expression stays, thinking he might be let down gently before being told to do something he doesn’t want to.

  She sits on the desk and directs his hand to her breast; he is shocked but understands what she wants and starts rubbing his hand up and down like he did before. Soon the embrace in a passionate kiss and each of their hands go to the others’ back. Just like last time Bevil’s hands begin working on the lace of her dress, untying it wildly. But this time Moira doesn’t stop him, she lets the dress loosen and fall down exposing her breasts to him until it stops and bundles around her waist. His hands move to them and caress them gently at first then harder.

  Her hands meanwhile are untucking his shirt, once done his hands leave her body and he lifts the shirt above his head and throw it to the floor. Once the shirt is off her hands move to his trousers, she unbuckles the belt which is then thrown to the floor with the shirt, and then she lowers his trousers to his knees, followed by his under drawers. He grabs the bottom of her dress and pushes it up to her waist then spreads her legs then moves in close between them. All the while their lips never leave each other.

  She lets out a loud guttural moan as he enters her. Her head leans back in pleasure and she nearly falls on the table if not for Bevil holding her. The feel of him makes her skin tingle with excitement. They soon find a rhythm of back and forth, back and forth, making a slapping sound as they meet each other.

  After moments of intense pleasure they finally stop, sweating all over and almost out of breath. Moira collapses back onto the table and Bevil falls with her. They take a few moments to catch their breath then Bevil stands up, using his hands on the table as leverage. He redresses himself, picking up the belt and shirt from the floor, while Moira stays on the table.

  To her this felt wonderful and she doesn’t feel any guilt, she feels better than she has in a long while. She realises Bevil is staring down at her naked form and he is getting aroused again. She feels exhausted to go again so she covers her body by redressing. He nods understanding but still looks aroused.

  “Thank you,” she says between inhales, “that was wonderful.”

  The two start laughing as Bevil helps her stand, when her feet touch the floor she finds her legs to be weak and nearly falls. Luckily Bevil grabs her by her armpits and helps her back up.

  “Thank you…your Highness.”

  “I think you should call me Moira, at least in private.” 

  The tow kiss, it starts as a peck on the lips but grows more passionate, but before they can start again they stop themselves, smile a smile of embarrassment, and Moira leaves.

  Bevil watches her leave then after a moment of thought his smile turns wicked and he leaves his office. He wants to let someone special know what has just happened.

 

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Sertia listens to every noise she can hear, whether it is mumbled voices from above her or the clink-clink of her chains or the squeaking of rats coming from inside the walls of her cell.

  So far no one has come into the cell to torture her. At times she hears someone approaching and thinks, ‘this is it’ but it never is, they stop and after a moment they turn around and walk back up the steps. After the third time she hears them approach and leave Sertia starts thinking the stories of what goes on in the Highguard cell is all false. All made up to keep royal children in line. When it happens a fourth time she cannot help but chuckle, a chuckle that quickly turns into a manic laugh that she is sure others can hear.

  Soon her arms feel sore. She lifts them as high as they can go, which isn’t much higher than they are now, in an attempt to take the pressure from the shackles off them. It helps but she cannot keep them high for long and soon they fall back. She tries to shift her body and stand on her toes but quickly suffers the same problem.

  When her feet fall back to the ground, crunching the dirt underfoot, she moans in pain. Her cut foot is better since Moira cleaned it, but she still feels it every so often. Soon after feeling another stab of pain she hears another person approaching, at first she thinks it will be another false scare, but that stops when the one approaching doesn’t. They keep coming, getting louder and louder. Sertia tenses up as the sounds come to the door. The moment of silence is filled with Sertia’s fear; she pulls at the chains but makes no progress. She closes her eyes and prays to the Twelve for help, she hears chains rattling and at first thinks her prayer has been answered and is free from the wall. But when she opens her eyes she discovers it to only be the chains on the door falling down.

  The door opens ominously and a figure steps inside. At first Sertia doesn’t recognise him but after she concentrates hard and looks him over she recognises him. Bevil smiles at her as he notices her difficulty in recognising him, then tells the city guard that followed him to close the door and leave.

  When the door does close Bevil strides up to Sertia, she is angry at him for his part in this but shies away from him, only slightly but enough for him to see. She looks away from him down to the floor. The only reason for him being in the cell with her is to brag about it and maybe seek some sort of revenge.

  “What do you want old man?” her voice attempts to portray confidence and boldness. But it betrays her and comes out more like a fearful whisper, more like a child knowing she is about to be scolded by an abusive parent.

  “Look at yourself,” his voice is menacing. He takes hold of her chin and forces her to look at him. She spits in his face, he lets go of her to wipe it off. When he is finished he takes hold of her chin again, this time much tighter. “How the mighty b***h has fallen.”

  She struggles out of his grasp, he holds on to her then lets her go. Her hair falls in front of her face; she whips her head side-to-side until her face is clear from most of it. Bevil chuckles at this and Sertia glares at him, unlike before he doesn’t back away at her glare. This time he just stress back, his eyes impassive but looming.

  “What do you want?” she asks again, much of her bravado tone is gone.

  He steps forward until Sertia cannot see the door behind him; he looms over her daring her to do something that will cause trouble. She doesn’t take the bait and lets him loom.

  “For so long you have tormented me with those looks that promise everything. You have used me to get information, make things go your own way. You would promise all and deliver nothing,” his hands go up to hers, starting at her shackled wrists then travelling down her arms, “and now look at you.”

  His hands travel to her neck, she thinks he is about to choke her. If he did she knows no one will care, Moira might hate him for it but he will never be punished, not while in the Highguard cell. His hands stop at the neck for a moment, teasing her, and then travel downward to her chest. They stop at her breasts, teasing her again but this time longer with both Bevil’s thumbs rotating clockwise. Sertia is thankful when again they travel down.

  Bevil watches her reactions to his hands moving, he smiles at her relief when his hands leave her breasts, and her shock when they reach her waist. They don’t move this time, just stay there holding her. Suddenly Bevil kneels down and his hands stop at the hem of her dress where she ripped it before. Sertia’s eyes follow his hands all the way and she knows where all this is going. With his hands still at the hem of her dress he straightens his legs, the dress coming up with him.

  When the dress reaches her thighs she kicks out, it surprises him enough to let go and step back but it doesn’t hit him. Bevil laughs at her then slaps her across the face backhanded. She screams at the sudden pain, but puts on a brave face as she glares at him.

  The dress has fallen back down so when Bevil step up to her he starts again from the beginning. This time when the dress reaches her thighs she doesn’t kick out but he stops anyway, as if expecting her to.  He stop moving the dress up, his face tells her he is enjoying this power he now has over her. He moves his hands up more and she is now completely exposed to him.

  Sertia looks away disgusted as he licks his lips. She waits for the pain of him raping her, but it doesn’t happen. She slowly looks back at Bevil, who still has his hands around her waist with the dress around them, but he is looking at her face not her legs.

  “Do you think I would go between your legs so soon? You are so much more fun this way, I want to savour it.”

  He tightens his hold on the ripped part of her dress and throws his hands apart, tearing her dress open. The sound makes her jump out of her skin for a moment. With the dress torn he legs it go and Sertia sees the tear goes from the hem to just above her knees.

  “But that doesn’t mean the guards who come in can’t have fun.”

  Bevil turns around, stops, and turns back again.

  “Oh, and one last thing…though I cannot say for sure, I’m sure if I talk to Kaila and others like her I’ll find that your mother is most likely a much better lay than you can ever be.”

  Bevil turns around again and walks out the cell. Sertia looks at him as he leaves. ‘Mother lay with him? How could she do such a thing? Or is he lying, he must be.’ Sertia then sighs in relief at Bevil not doing what she knows he wants to, but cannot stop thinking of Bevil’s last words, and the possibility that they might actually be true. She shakes her head and waits for the door to be locked again. But it isn’t, she looks up to see one of the guards looking at her and knows the stories of this cell to be true now. The guard smiles an evil smile as he enters.