08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

‘It would be beneath the king’s dignity.’ Orso stood, the legs of his chair shrieking across the tiles. ‘I’ll go.’ Savine needed him. ‘I’ll go at once.’ And the rest of the Union, of course, but, bloody hell, Savine needed him! ‘Tunny!’ he roared, striding for the door. Almost a shriek, in truth. ‘Tell Colonel Forest we march for Valbeck immediately!’

Ugly Business

She lay on her side, her cheek on his shoulder and both legs wrapped around one of his, pressed against him, huddled against him, burrowed into the blankets beside him.

Leo was always so warm, like having one of those lovely glowing winter logs from the old firepit in bed with her. Not long ago, she’d spent weeks bitter cold, not to mention hungry, chafed and terrified, so lying warm and safe, nicely balanced between sleeping and waking, was contentment to feel awfully thankful for in Rikke’s mind. Would’ve been perfect, really.

If he could’ve just kept his mouth shut.

‘She won’t let me do a bloody thing,’ he was grumbling. ‘She treats me like … a puppy on a short leash!’

‘Lion on a leash,’ she mumbled.

‘It’s a wonder she doesn’t have me packed in a box at night.’

If his mother could’ve packed his head in a box but left the rest of him available, it would’ve suited Rikke just fine, but he probably didn’t want to hear that.

‘All we do is prod at them,’ he snapped, ‘loiter around their supply lines, nibble little victories here and there.’

‘Uh,’ grunted Rikke, stroking absently at those nice grooves in his stomach and hoping vainly that might shush him up. No such luck.

‘We need to get to grips with them.’ An uncomfortable jolt went through his shoulder as he clenched his fists. ‘Need to hurt the bastards!’

‘Isn’t that the point?’ Rikke reluctantly opened one eye and lifted her head to peer at him through it. ‘Scale and Calder and Stour between ’em have more men than us. So we slow them down. Keep them split up. Keep them guessing. Every mile we draw them on, they get weaker.’ It was somewhat troubling that she, who’d never drawn a sword, was having to explain to him, a famous warrior, how their strategy worked. ‘We wait for our moment. Your moment.’ She let her head drop back onto his shoulder and wriggled into his warmth again. ‘Wait for your friend Prince Orso to arrive—’

He jerked up, dumping her head onto the mattress and bringing her fully and unpleasantly awake.

‘Oh, yes,’ he sneered, ‘the Prince of Drunkards will totter to our rescue.’

‘Well, not on his own.’ Rikke tried to pick the sleep out of her eyes. ‘My father says he’s bringing five thousand men with him.’

‘Five thousand whores, maybe. They say that’s how many he’s bedded.’

‘How old is he? Twenty-five?’ Rikke screwed her face up as she went over the sums. ‘If he really got going at seventeen, that’s eight years of fucking so … what … a couple every day? Provided none of ’em tempt him back for seconds. And he never has a day off. I mean, we all have moments when we’re not in the mood. Has he got ’em queueing down the palace corridors?’ She gave a snort of laughter. ‘His cock must be sore.’

‘Perhaps it’s only four thousand,’ said Leo, sourly.

‘More likely his reputation’s run way ahead of the truth.’ Rikke raised one brow at Leo. ‘I hear that can happen with some young men.’

‘Perhaps Crown Prince Orso’s the exception. Maybe he’ll fuck the Northmen to death for us.’

‘Fine by me, if it gets the bastards to go home.’

She tried to ease him back down beside her but he wouldn’t be moved. ‘It’d hardly be a surprise, since he’s got a Styrian degenerate for a mother.’

‘A Styrian what?’

Leo’s lip curled like it might’ve at a dead dog in bed with them. ‘The rumour is she lies with women.’

Rikke had never been able to understand why you’d care a shit who someone you’d never even met lay with. How few problems do you need to have before you count that among ’em? ‘Would’ve thought you’d understand. You spend most o’ your time with men.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Well … tight-knit group, your friends, aren’t they?’

Leo frowned, not quite getting all her point yet. ‘We’ve known each other for years. I grew up with Jurand and Antaup. And I met Jin in Uffrith, you know that. We’re brothers-in-arms.’

‘And such strong arms, too!’ And she squeezed one of his. ‘No wonder you all enjoy a wrestle.’

‘It’s good exercise, and …’ His eyes went wide and he twisted away from her. ‘That’s disgusting!’

‘Not to me.’ He’d some towering opinions, all right, but rarely built on much. She quite liked digging at their foundations and watching ’em totter. ‘Can’t think of anything more wholesome than all those muscular male bodies, glistening with sweat, grunting and straining and slithering around together—’

‘Do you have to drag everything into the gutter?’

‘I don’t have to.’ She caught his shoulder and pulled him back beside her. ‘But it is warm down here.’ She tried to nuzzle up against him but he was already on to his next grievance.