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“Is this farce entirely necessary? We could just pretend that you convinced me to go south with the troops and you could stay in the capital.”
“It is extremely necessary,” Pellia argues hotly. “Otherwise, who will swap out the drugs they give with a harmless draught? No, we must appear to be following their plan to the letter so that they suspect nothing until it is too late.”
“But . . .”
“There can be no arguments,” she insists, drawing her mount closer to mine. My warbeast shuffles slightly at the intrusion, but I reach out to place a hand on his neck to keep him calm. Pellia’s hand then reaches out, putting her fingers atop mine. My heart kicks in my chest. How can something,someone, so small affect me so easily?
“Please, can you not just trust me?” she gazes up at me earnestly, and I have the impulse to wrench her off of her mount and pull her onto mine.Foolishness. “You know I am right. This is our chance to pull as many of the Cabal out of the shadows as we can in one fell swoop. Dame Zera is having no luck interrogating Duchess Grimble.”
It is true the human knight has not gotten more names of the secretive Cabal from the treacherous Duchess’ lips. Apparently, they all wear cloaks and masks when they meet and only address each other in code, so even though the Queen had many run-ins with them during her first marriage she could only suss out the identity of one who is dead now. And though the King was able to capture the Duchess, the Cabal’s agent, before she killed the Queen, she has been like a monk with a vow of silence. No matter what they do to her, she will not talk. The King’s spymaster, Urim, has been there with Dame Zera working on the prisoner as well and, though I know he has no scruples, even he has failed.
Pellia is right. This is a chance that has fallen in our laps.Her plan is sound. When the agents come to kidnap me, they will find themselves taken and imprisoned instead. Still, it goes against my very nature to trust a human woman, even one as open as Pellia.But my king trusts her, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. That needs to be good enough for me.
Finally, I sigh, “When will we leave?”
The human smiles at me, radiantly. It makes her appealing nature blinding. But I will remain hardened against it.I hope.
“I see no reason to wait. Grimblton is far in the south, several day’s journey even if we ride hard, and we will have to stop along the way to make appearances at many of the other affected towns to keep up our story. We can also pass out relief supplies and tally losses—which will be useful anyway for planning for winter.”
I am amused by Pellia’s mind which flits from topic to topic. “Always a plan within a plan for you, is it not?”
She merely grins, before running her fingers through her braids and then dropping her fingers to the laces of her dress.
Alarmed, I rear back. “What are you doing?”
My brusk question does not offend Pellia, and she merely responds, “I am rumpling myself. I was meant to be seducing you on this ride, the beginning of me having my wicked way with you, so when we get back to the castle, I must look the part. If I look too put-together the Cabal’s agent that visited me last night will be suspicious that I am not following their plan. We should rumple you too.”
As she talks, the human woman slightly loosens her laces, pulls the shoulder of her gown askew, and wrinkles the bottom of her gown with her fists. When she is done, Pellia looks like she was hastily put together after a quick tryst.She is good at these games of subterfuge, I realize.
I ask, “Have you been a spy before?”
She shakes her head, still smiling, “I merely have experience in showing the world what they expect to see. It kept me alive longer. Now, rumple yourself. Or would you like my help?”
She says these last words playfully, her smile growing flirtatious. She is not shy about what she wants, this human. It is just a pity that she seems to want the one orc thatcannotgive her what she so obviously desires.
“I can do it myself,” I say back sternly, trying to dissuade her advances. But she merely shrugs and waits, no inkling that she might be put off by my rejection. With deliberation, I copy her movements from before, running my finger through my hair, skewing the straps of my weapons slightly and undoing my belt partially.
I feel a little hot at the thought of Pellia watching me do these actions, as I watched her, but when I look up she is looking away respectfully and I find I am . . . disappointed. How odd.How maddening.This is why beautiful human women are so dangerous. They turn my head until I know not what is up or down, left or right. None of my reactions are what they should be.
When I finish, I clear my throat. Pellia looks back at me, her smile growing.
“You look perfect,” she says, practically purring. “Everyone will talk once we get back. And when we announce we are going on a tour of the south and then share a tent together, it will set even more tongues wagging.”
I merely nod at her words, still a little thrown by my inner turmoil.
Then I ask, “Who should be told about this plot?”
She cocks her head to one side. “Must we tell anyone else? The more people who know, the more likely we are to be found out. Who else did you want to tell?”
“My second-in-command Friza should know. She is sharper than most and would probably see through our ruse. She isn’t one to watch her words very closely and might expose our playacting if we do not bring her into our circle. A few of my most trusted orcs, the ones that would be most suspicious of me taking a human lover. Especially since you will not smell like you have had sex with an orc.”
Pellia frowns. “Smells? Will that be a problem? We cannot tellallof your orcs that are coming with us. No offense intended, but I cannot imagine that all of them have the acting skills necessary to keep up the facade we need.”
I grimace. “My clan is not one that delves deeply into subterfuge, it's true. We are as we appear. I suppose there are ways to mimic the smells, to make it appear that I am at least pleasuring you, even if we are not fully committing the act . . . but you would have to arouse the right scents . . . by touching yourself.”
She shrugs, looking not at all surprised or scandalized by my suggestion. “That is done easily enough. Though it is almost sounding like it would be easier if we just had sex.”
Flustered, I say severely, “That cannot happen.”
