Chapter 5 Lucas
Lucas
The new man, Guillaume, unsettled me with his very presence. I could not ascertain at first whether it was his uncanny gaze, or his rail-thin frame, which reminded me of a starving wolf.
But then the words left his mouth, and I gaped at him. Guillaume had refused to talk until we were standing outside of our lodgings, a small room with cots next to Milord’s room. The lamplight illuminating the inn’s exterior cast shadows on all our faces.
“Speak up, man! What do you mean?” Benoit demanded. I was glad to have this mountain of a man by my side. My cheeks burned with shame; all I was good for was running away.
“You know only some of my gift,” Guillaume said, lifting his chin.
“The faeries enhanced my vision, making me the most skilled killer in the land, but they also gave me the ability to see through any faerie enchantments. And that is how I know that the Chevalier Fortune is not a man at all, but a woman.”
I turned to Benoit. His mouth hung open.
“You’ve been with him—her—the longest,” I said to him. “Have you noticed anything amiss?”
He shook his head.
“What of the horse?” I asked. “Clearly it is a faerie steed, but what else is it hiding?”
Guillaume looked at me with a slight smile of approval on his face.
While his countenance remained grim overall, I could see where he would be handsome.
And I could also see where a woman—or man—might melt under his intense gaze.
I knew I liked it when others noticed that I was not only fleet of foot but also of mind, though I also knew I was too cowardly to ever let myself be loved.
“The enchantments on the horse are no simple matter,” Guillaume responded. “If I cannot see through them, they are the result of more than one faerie’s spells, and they go beyond mere illusion.”
“What do you mean to do?” Benoit asked. I flicked my eyes over to him, and he stood menacingly tall and wide. I, too, was ready to defend the honor of Milord—Milady—whomever our benefactor turned out to be, so long as I did not have to do so alone.
At this, Guillaume smiled truly. I was almost surprised to see that his teeth were like those of most men, rather than sharp like those of a wolf.
“I swore my allegiance to her, did I not? Emperor Matapa is an enemy of mine as well. And she is highly principled, a worthy noble to serve at any rate.”
He leaned in a little closer to us, reinforcing his association with a predator.
“She is quite beautiful as well. If you could see her undisguised as I do, you would be bowing at her feet, praying for a glimpse of her porcelain skin. But alas, we are all three below her station, and can only hope to serve her as well as we may.”
His words were an unwelcome reminder of what we all had lost in the war, and how what we best stood to gain was revenge against Matapa, and the honor of serving a noble who might retain and reward us after. Otherwise, those bearing faerie gifts were frequently treated as outcasts.
As I knew all too well.
“A pact, then,” I said, determined to speak up even if I did not feel bold.
“We continue to serve the Chevalier Fortune, and do everything in our power to help him succeed, but we also look out for her. We withhold nothing from one another that might help us help the Chevalier, whatever physical form he or she takes in the moment. Agreed?”
Benoit gave me an approving glance before he nodded, and Guillaume also jerked his narrow chin down in a decisive nod.
The feeling of resolve left me the next day, however.
As we walked, and Milord rode, I kept glancing over at him, hoping for a glimpse of what she truly looked like.
And Milord also seemed out of sorts; he kept sighing and staring at something cupped within his hands.
Upon closer examination, it seemed to be a pendant attached to a necklace he was wearing, which he had drawn out from the neckline of his shirt.
Comrade trotted at a livelier pace in those moments, leaving those on foot behind.
Finally, I had to ask.
“What plagues you, Milord?” I had loosened the bindings on my legs somewhat, so I easily kept stride with the horse.
“Ah, um,” Milord began, a delicate rosy blush gracing his cheeks. Once again, I wished fervently to see those cheeks in their original form, gracing Milady’s face.
Comrade shot me a glare, as though to tell me to leave off the inquiry, but I would not be dissuaded so.
The Chevalier opened his hands, showing me a tiny portrait cupped therein.
It was in one half of the locket the Chevalier wore, but he kept his fingers obscuring the other half.
I recognized the image of King Aristide, for banners had been hung in all the towns nearby as we approached the capital city.
The king had a proud smile, and a head full of unruly brown curls. He was handsome, to be sure.
“I am meditating on how best to serve my king,” Milord finally said.
“I wish to know him better, so that I might serve him better. I am but a minor noble from the frontier, and thus I do not know if I will ever get to speak with him one-on-one or attend to him in private. But it is my fondest dream to do so, though I fear I should disappoint him with my rustic ways.”
“There is no shame in such dedication, Milord,” I replied. Then I dropped back to inform Benoit and Guillaume of what I had learned.
“The poor thing is in love with him,” Guillaume declared.
“Love, or mayhap hero worship,” Benoit ruminated.
I picked at the ribbons around my legs. “I think it both. And she did say she fears disappointing him with her rustic ways, and thus I am led to believe that she is, ah, less experienced, and would not know how to woo a lover.”
“That tallies with what I have learned of Milord,” Benoit rumbled.
“If he—she—were to have adapted the modern way of thinking introduced by faeries, and were not to fear acquiring some such experience prior to chancing to meet her king, I would suggest that we could best support her by tutoring her in the acts of love. Who better than her closest guardians to nurture her in this way?”
Guillaume laughed: it was almost a bark, a harsh sound. “Do not delude yourself, Strong Back. She is of noble birth and will discard us as soon as we are no longer of use to her. I have sworn my oath to serve her, and I shall serve her well, but I am not pledging my heart to her.”
Benoit turned to me, a question in his blue eyes.
“I would gladly serve her in any capacity, whether that be on the battlefield or in her bed,” I murmured.
“But I am not brave enough to offer myself to her in that way. Benoit, it must be you.” I felt a flicker of jealousy ignite in my heart and did my best to quell it; I did not yet even know if she would have me.
If she would, I would gladly share her. I would watch her with another.
I would let others watch her with me. I would act on the impulse to be with another man, something forbidden in my land of origin, and which Emperor Matapa had only further demonized, and I would take any man into my mouth if she asked it of me.
Or I would take another man inside my body, while she watched.
A sudden warmth spread throughout me. I reached down to tug at the ribbons around my legs, grunting when my hand brushed up against my pelvis, and felt the hardening there.
It had been some time since I had desired the company of another. And in such varied fashions…
The depth of my depravity surprised me. But then, I had never encountered someone like Milord before.
I realized that I had fallen behind Benoit and Guillaume. In a fraction of a heartbeat, I caught up.
I enjoyed the camaraderie with them until we reached another inn shortly before nightfall. But as novel as the feeling of belonging was, its dark twin—desire for the Chevalier Fortune—also had me in its grip. And it showed no sign of letting go.