Bounty Read online

  “I never wore scraps,” Godren defended himself, eyeing the crowd around him. “Now stop fidgeting inside your clothes or that’s going to give us away right there.”

  “Then stop eyeing the crowd like you’ve got a good reason to be wary of them.”

  Godren looked at Seth, blinking. He hadn’t realized what he’d been doing. “Right. Good point. I guess we would do ourselves a service if we both proceeded more naturally.”

  Seth grunted his agreement, squaring his shoulders and trying to do his attire some justice. Godren assumed a relaxed, friendly air, making a point to smile and nod every time someone went by.

  “Good day. Long live the king. Greetings. How’s the wife? Hello. My lady. Good morning.” A nudge in the ribs stopped him.

  “You’re overdoing it a little bit, Godren.”

  “Oh.”

  Seth nodded pointedly, crossing his arms. “Oh indeed. Come on, Ren. We can do better than this.”

  “Alright. Just think back to those colorful theater nights Millie put on. We were pretty convincing as the cow and the bride, weren’t we?”

  “I don’t know that reenacting that particular likeness would lend us the ideal edge we’re looking for.”

  “I suppose being dramatic would draw more attention even than being awkward. I still remember the overdone flare you had. Can you imagine trying to blend with the crowd with you swooning and shouting and waving your hands around in passionate expression?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being dramatic. It makes a good scene.”

  “Exactly,” Godren pointed out. “We’re not looking to make a scene.”

  “Right.”

  A rippling murmur went through the crowd, and then a rapt silence began to settle, and Godren subconsciously straightened his own crimson coat as the king ascended to the platform.

  His Majesty was a tall, dashing man, graying but still graced with a general youthfulness that the people were captured and reassured by. He looked strong, and his energy was catching. Even when his mouth turned grim, his eyes twinkled, the creases at their edges bearing evidence to how much he had smiled during his life. ‘Serious but happy’ was what most deemed him, and it seemed quite an accurate judgment.

  He was tanned by the sun – a well-liked indication that he did not spend all his time cooped up spoiling himself and being pampered by his servants. His hands were calloused, and though clean and polished, he had scars.

  “Greetings to the square,” His Majesty called out with a friendly air and a bit of a smile. A chorus of cheers and returned greetings met his opening words, and the smile in his eyes deepened. When everyone quieted, he began in earnest. “I hope you all have made it through the winter in good fortune and good spirits. Due to the premature mercy of the taxing weather and the early relief of spring, it is my pleasure to announce a cut in the currently pending tax rate.” Another cheer, and the king waited, fondly delighted by the people’s reaction, for them to settle down. “In addition, I would like to invite you all to remain in the square after we’ve addressed the business we’ve come for, in honor of my beloved daughter, her Highness the Princess Catris Vandelta, whose pleasure it would be to celebrate her eighteenth birthday with you.”

  Had the people ever experienced such an overwhelming chain of good fortune dropped on them so unexpectedly? His Majesty had certainly made the day of everyone present in the square – including Godren, who stared without shame as the princess ascended to join her father at the sound of her name. He had never seen her Highness before, and he was not prepared for what the sight of her did to him. She was beautiful, without a doubt, but that in itself was not what struck him. It was the type of beauty she exuded, in no way stereotypical – in no way, admittedly, a match to the idolized standard, especially for a princess – but completely proud, almost rebellious, and the way she carried herself was perhaps what mostly made her so attractive. Like her father, she had the sun in her skin – definitely a rebelliously disregarded taboo when a fair lady was a worshipped lady. Her features, though certainly not awkward and undeserving of the injustice ‘plain’, were not refined, not up to par with the sought-after idea of perfection. No – they had character. Her face was interestingly beautiful, absorbing to look at. Instead of timid and pixie-like, she had an intensity about her that drew you and held you, and Godren found himself enraptured. He was vaguely aware of the king presenting his daughter with a black pearl and diamond necklace as a birthday gift, and then he missed the rest of everything, all the following speeches he had come specifically to hear. They didn’t even go in one ear and out the other. They just went right by him completely.

  When His Majesty finally concluded the public session, two towering white cakes were brought out, and a line of commoners assembled to present flowers to the princess. She accepted them graciously, and Godren distantly felt the crowd moving around him as he made no move of his own, rooted watching every move she made like some moonstruck fool out of a hopelessly sappy fairytale.

  “Erm…Godren?” Seth asked, staring at him with pointed amusement, an eyebrow cocked in teasing sarcasm.

  “Hm?” Godren asked in return with no interest whatsoever, blankly taking his eyes from Catris Vandelta.

  “It isn’t polite to stare, and that’s the princess you’re not being polite to.”

  Godren turned his gaze back to her Highness, apparently not caring, but at least the foolish, stricken blankness was gone from his eyes. Instead of staring, he now merely looked, at least aware of himself. “Haven’t you even looked at her?” he asked Seth.

  “Briefly, until I noticed your unblinking devotion to the study of her very existence and decided I’d better watch myself and leave her to you.”

  Suddenly, a look of surety replaced what had been at first utterly lost, and then guarded, in Godren’s eyes. “I’m going to kiss her.”

  “Er…what?”

  “I’m going to kiss her.”

  Seth laughed half-heartedly, a little forcefully, and then sobered very abruptly. “Godren, you…can’t.”

  “Watch me.”

  “But…you can’t. Disregarding the small fact that she’s the princess, let’s stop and think about who you are. You’re on the Most Wanted list, you blundering, moonstruck idiot. She’ll recognize you.”

  “Not in all this ridiculous fluff, she won’t”

  “Godren…you can’t just go kiss the princess of Raven City! It isn’t done.”

  This time, Godren spared him a glance. “Watch me,” he repeated, and then he broke heedlessly away from Seth’s attempted restraints.

  For a moment Seth was left in fidgety despair as his friend disappeared impulsively into the crowd, but then something unexpected happened instead of the catastrophe he feared.

  The princess had lost her black pearl and diamond necklace. She was instantly distraught, and suddenly everyone was searching the ground for the dislodged piece of valuable jewelry, whether grasping at the opportunity to run off with it or intent on returning it to the well-loved royal.

  Oh how noble, Seth thought dryly, the only one not searching. Steal the princess’s most prized possession right off her neck and then let her reward you when you graciously return it to her. Because it was without a doubt Godren’s doing, lifting the piece of jewelry from her. He wasn’t stupid enough just to walk up and kiss her, Seth was relieved to remind himself, and he was an excellent pickpocket. Yes, it had to be him.

  It was him. Godren shrank back into the crowd before doubling back to return the necklace to her Highness, giving himself some space and time so he wouldn’t be too obvious. Cool pearls and sharp diamonds pressed into his palm where he held the necklace in his hand. He willed himself not to sweat, not wanting to return the piece of jewelry slick and musty.

  And then he was before her, and she looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he stood pointedly directly in her path. Godren ignored the duo at her back: one servant and one guard, escorting her through the crowd since she insisted
on searching along with everyone else – or perhaps he didn’t see them at all. He was noticing new things about Princess Catris up close; the exact brown shade of her hair, and her matching eyes – a plain color, really, but how lovely they looked together; the few brown freckles that flecked her skin, an imperfection that made her all the more rebelliously beautiful; the fullness of her lips, probably her one perfectly coveted feature; and the intelligence and pride, above all else, that was radiant in her eyes, that made him unable to see any shortcomings anywhere else.

  “My lady,” he managed, after a second of time that he thought he might have used to stare at her too long, stretching it out longer than any second was meant to last. “I believe – is this what you’re looking for?” He held up the necklace, letting it dangle before her.

  Relief and comprehension flooded her eyes, and her polite, expectant silence left her in a wave of gratitude. Suddenly she was perfectly involved, agreeable company, as if the presentation of the necklace was all the introduction required, and they were no longer strangers.

  “Bless the gods,” she said with a staggering smile. Godren felt the warmth of it physically, making his heart trip, and he savored the instant that her fingers brushed his as she accepted the necklace. “I can’t believe I let it slip in a crowd like this, but I certainly can’t believe I got it back. Thank you” – she swept her eyes over him briefly, something he had the fleeting pleasure to foolishly appreciate, and returned her eyes more confidently to his face – “my lord. I suppose you probably don’t know how much it actually means to me. My father would be devastated if I lost his gift to me so cursed swiftly. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, please voice it.”

  It was just polite custom, of course, but Godren was counting on it. “Actually…” Suddenly he felt stupid, light-headed, unsure of himself. Seth was right; how could he even approach such a request? When he thought of himself, he saw a shady, dark-clad figure, haunted and dirty, unmentionable filth staining the hands he had handled the princess’s own jewels with. He had to remind himself that this was not how he appeared to her, but he suddenly felt undeniably, grossly inferior. Unworthy of asking anything at all. And of course he was, seeing as he had stolen the necklace right off of her to manipulate the situation. How low. He was nothing but a conniving opportunist, full of selfish intentions and cursed with greedy eyes.

  But she stared at him with such open, innocent eyes, waiting, and just as strongly as he had been overcome by inferiority, he was counter-rushed by denial and defiance.

  “I would be honored,” he began with new confidence, but just as much humble conviction, “and forever awed and humbled”, he wanted to say, but didn’t… “if you would grant me”… He searched for the right words – different words, actually, he admitted to himself – his eyes avoiding her face, flicking this way and that as he searched. Finally he resigned himself to getting to the point, and his eyes settled back on hers without further shame. “A kiss.”

  Her eyebrows raised slightly at his revelation, but a smile tweaked her lips. Godren refused to give into the blood rising to his face, the butterflies stirring in his stomach, and look sheepishly away. He held her gaze, and held himself with dignity, waiting patiently for whatever would come. He had asked; he would suffer the consequences.

  But Catris was smiling at him, and he thought, with a thrill, perhaps the consequences wouldn’t be too horrible.

  Biting her lip briefly in a very un-princess-like, attractive fashion, the princess glanced fleetingly down in consideration before meeting his eyes in decision. “It would be my pleasure,” she said, and the world suddenly dropped from beneath Godren’s steady feet. He felt breathlessly dizzy in disbelief and anticipation, utterly caught unprepared by his luck. His spine tingled with a giddy lightness, and he stood there staring at her, awed by the mere prospect as much as anticipation of the actual experience…

  Amused now, Catris stepped forward to grant him his wish. It was only when her escorts shifted disapprovingly behind her that Godren felt a need to collect on his favor before someone stepped in and shattered the agreement. Leaning in to meet her, he claimed her perfect lips with his own. It was a delightful sensation, and he sank into them, being maddeningly careful, taunting himself. His senses were suddenly overwhelmed by every possible awareness of her, and he gauged himself, holding back.

  The guard quietly cleared his throat. “Princess,” he mentioned casually, but pointedly.

  Catris gave his lips one final probe, and then she pulled her face away. She smiled slightly, knocking him senseless – since he was already breathless. Then he mastered himself, with some deeply-buried sense of will he didn’t know he had.

  “May I?” he asked, glancing at her necklace in indication. It was still in her hand.

  For a moment she seemed to consider, feeling the eyes of her guard on her back, but in the end she proved just as rebellious as her looks. “Of course.”

  Taking the surrendered necklace from her – honestly, this time, but he shoved that thought aside – he stepped close once again to fasten it at the back of her neck. He ignored the watching guard completely as he went about the task, reveling in her intoxicating nearness. His senses screamed overload, but he filed away every detail of the moment, still not quite believing it. The rustling texture of her dress, the graceful arch of her neck, the way she held herself for his convenience, breathing easily… Then he was done, and her guard was quite ready to be moving on.

  Princess Catris offered him one last, brief smile, and then did not prolong her escort’s uncomfortable torment any longer.

  She left him in a fog. A beautiful, dreamlike fog, smelling so sweetly like she had.

  Smelling, in fact, undeniably, exactly like roses.

  11: Hunter and Predator

  It was a very good thing Seth had been there. Godren had missed everything he’d been sent for, and Seth made it very plain that he thought it brainless to risk Mastodon’s untold wrath for mooning over a girl so far out of his reach. But Godren was mostly still distracted, not paying Seth much heed, and finally Seth gave up and resolved to report to Mastodon himself. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice Godren’s moonstruck absence. Unlikely.

  “It was an extremely light occasion,” Seth explained. “The mood hardly even dipped down into serious, let alone stooping to subjects as dark as the Underworld and its insidious evil. There was cake and flowers. It was fun.”

  Mastodon visibly let the term ‘insidious evil’ pass. “Hmm. I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves,” she said with narrowed eyes, not suspicious as much as disconcertingly considering.

  Seth tried not to look obvious as he swallowed anxiously, literally twitching to get out. He wasn’t overly concerned about Mastodon losing her fatal temper if she wasn’t pleased with the incompetent state he’d brought Godren back in, but he could not enjoy being in her presence, under her scrutiny. He was uncomfortable, more than worried.

  “So I wasted my resources,” Mastodon observed, “for a day of your enjoyment. I suppose I can’t blame you for that, can I?”

  “It would be considerate of you not to take it out on us, yes,” Seth offered his agreement. For what it was worth, he felt obligated to show his appreciation.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Mastodon jutted her chin in Godren’s direction.

  Swell. “I think the, ah…heat got to him. He’s felt a little…lightheaded, since getting so much…sun.” I’ll never ask for anything again, if she buys that, he swore disgustedly to himself. But Mastodon, he could see, could divine more beneath his shallow excuse. It was just for her own indefinable reasons that she chose not to explore the matter further.

  I’m cursed luckier than I thought. I positively don’t have the right to ever ask for anything again. Drat it all, Seth thought, kicking himself for making such a noble promise to himself.

  “Well snap him out of it,” Mastodon commanded simply. “Sometime soon, preferably. I’ve no use for…uselessness.”

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nbsp; “Of course,” Seth granted, unable to say anything else. What was he going to do about Godren’s infatuated absence? Visions of him dunking his friend’s head in the courtyard fountain sprang to mind.

  “Mm,” Mastodon grunted in unenthusiastic satisfaction, glancing once more in Godren’s direction. “On your way out, then,” she prompted, and Seth turned to leave, hauling Godren with him. “Get out of those clothes and leave them for my servants to collect as soon as possible,” the mistress of the Underworld added.

  Her servants? Seth wondered. Could the ghosts intermingle with substantial objects? “Absolutely,” he assured her without directing the words over his shoulder, and shoved Godren out the door.

  When they were a few good paces down the corridor, Seth let Godren have it afresh. “Can you at least acknowledge the dire characters around you?” he demanded, clouting his friend on the back of the head. “You didn’t say one word in there. These aren’t circumstances to be taken lightly, you know. I swore to have your back, Ren but I’m not going to risk – no, waste that loyalty for some…” He caught himself and trailed off, conscious of the possible ghost lurking in the invisible layers of the proximity. It was pointless to continue anyway; Godren was somewhere else. Seth just let out his frustrated breath, and they continued walking down the corridor and then took the route silently to the courtyard. Not having forgotten the matter, though, Seth took a moment to consider his friend once they were comfortably immersed in their section of the Underworld, and then he strode forward decidedly and, grasping Godren by the nape of his neck, thrust him face-first into the fountain.

  Godren came alive immediately, jerking out of Seth’s hold and ripping his face out of the water. He shook his head vigorously, dislodging a shower of droplets from his face and hair. Trickles still streamed down his features, plastering his dark hair to his skin. “What was that for?” he challenged, standing defensively a safe distance from his treacherous friend.