"Crimson Majesty: Ch 1" by Sarah Colley

Book One
 

Chapter One

The sky is awash with vibrant colors; a dazzling array of patterns spreading out in intricate detail across the heavens. The twin suns dance their way along the horizon, locked in their eternal battle to catch the other, to know their love requited, touching almost at dusk and dawn, only to be kept out of reach again by the rise of the purple moon between their out stretched rays.

Kysda leans back against the rough stone wall, keeping to the shadows, watching the sky intently as she waits for the covering shroud of night to fully descend around her. She waits patiently as the twin suns pass below the horizon, giving rise to the purple moon, the dark goddess taking over the night. She smiles to herself as she watches the door open, the warm orange glow from within spilling out across the dark tiles of the street.

The man waves off the helping hand as he staggers out of the tavern, his steps faltering and unsure. He shakes his head, blue hair spilling down over his shoulders as he begins to move away from the street.

Her prey decided, she pushes easily off the wall and silently begins to follow the blue winged fay. Grinning, she comes up beside him, easily slipping an arm through his as she tosses him an inviting look. “Let me help you, my Lord.”

Stumbling, he turns to look at her, halting as he begins to shake her off, his gaze slowly roaming over her body. He grins, recognizing her beauty even through his drunken stupor. “Aren’t you a little young?” He questions.

“No.” Kysda assures him as she steps closer, pressing her body against his. Taking his hand, she raises it to her breasts, letting him feel them as she asks in a sultry tone, “Do I feel too young?”

He shakes his head, leering at her as he leans closer, alcohol rank on his breath. “No.”

“Then, do we have a problem?”

“No.”

She smiles, sure he is drunk enough to not pose her a threat. “Come, let us move into the trees.” Lifting a finger, she runs it along his lips. “We can get…acquainted…”

“Yah.” He flutters his blue wings, excited as he staggers with her into the nearby tree line. Laughing, he cannot believe his luck. Glancing beside him, he flushes with arousal at the sight of the violet beauty. “You good?” He questions.

“The best.” Kysda purrs as she pushes him to the ground. “You won’t know what hit you, I promise you that.” She says as she begins to undo the ties to his britches.

Settling back, he closes his eyes, reaching out he runs his fingers through her purple locks. “Make it good, baby.”

“Oh, I will.” She assures him as he finishes with his pants, smirking to herself at what she reveals. Pleasing him would require no effort. Lowering her head, she opens her mouth, easily accepting him. As he begins to moan, her hands reach down to her thigh, freeing the dagger. Lifting the blade, she glances up at the man, sure he is concentrating on nothing but her moving lips. Without hesitating she swings the dagger, easily plunging it into his chest. Lifting her head, she spits in distain and wipes her mouth clean, declaring with contempt, “Filth.”

Quickly, she begins to search his body, sighing as she lifts his half empty purse. “Bastard. You should have drank less.” She mutters, taking the coins from it and depositing them within her own. Searching him, she removes the chain from around his neck, sliding it into her purse before taking the soft green cloak from his pack. “This will be of use.” Sighing, she stands up, disappointed with the meager take.

Frowning, she considers the situation. “There are just not enough,” she smirks, “companions here.” Glancing up at the sky, her violet eyes are drawn to the soft glow of the goddess moon. “It is time to move on. You will be with me no matter where I go, won’t you my Goddess?” Stretching, she basks in the soft glow before turning away from the body growing cold at her feet without a second thought for the life she took.

Walking over to the edge of the small clearing, she squats down, rustling under the brush until she locates her light tan pack. Brushing the leaves off of it, she pauses to push the cloak in before hefting it and placing it over one shoulder, flexing her translucent purple pinks, extending them out to avoid the pack before folding them back again. Singing softly, her voice a haunting melody, she begins down the road.

 

*          *         *

Kysda frowns as she taps her fingers against the rough surface of the table. Watching the man, she switches to absently tracing the etched patterns carved in the wood. The man she is watching leans against the bar, laughing with the barkeep as he sips from the mug in his hand. He is dressed in finely spun black pants with a loose fitting shirt. His green hair is trimmed short and is neatly kept. She notes the lack of mud on his brown leather boots. He obviously had come by horse or carriage, and that meant money. He would be a perfect target, but she would have to get him to take her back to his room. She wanted access to his traveling goods and hopefully, the extra money he would have, at the least, perhaps he would have some of his goods that she could take and sell in another province.

Sighing she lifts her hand and begins to sweep her finger back and forth through the flickering candle. Watching the green eyed fay intently, she smiles to herself as he finally sets the mug down. That was her cue. Time to slip out the front door; she would entice him when he came out. Rising nimbly to her feet, she lifts the hood of the green cloak, thankfully again that she had thought to take it, and moves across the room and out the door without drawing any attention to herself.

Moving down to the next building, she waits. Moments later, the door opens and the handsome merchant steps out. Grinning she moves forward as he moves towards her. Resting her hand on his arm, she asks softly, “Going home to your wife, my lord?”

“No, I have none.” He replies, turning to look at the woman. He slowly looks her up and down, amusement in his emerald gaze. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents?”

Kysda lifts her chin defiantly, the moonlight flashing in her eyes. “I am plenty old enough.”

“Are you now?” Mareikon muses. “You look like a girl to me.”

“I am a woman.” She assures him.

He arches a brow, looking her over with fake skepticism. “You think so?”

“I know. I will show you.”

Placing his hand over hers, he smiles charmingly. “Why, my dear, your hands are freezing. Why don’t you come with me back to my room and warm yourself by my fire?”

She looks at him, searching his face. Something warns her to let him go, but her pride will not allow it. He was being patronizing to her, she knew it, and she would make him pay for it. She was not a simple child to be talked down to. Mind made up, she smiles. “Lead the way.”

He puts his arm around her waist, guiding her easily down the cobbled street. He stops before the inn, politely holding the door open for her. He extends a hand, motioning for her to enter.

Glancing at him, she steps into the room, looking around. Her gaze passes over the scattering of tables, pleased to see it is dark and that they are apparently alone. No witnesses. Just how she liked it.

“This way. We can get you warmed up and then you can be on your way, but I could not in good conscious leave you out there in the cold.” Mareikon explains as he leads her up the stairs and into his room.

“How kind.” She responds with fake gratitude. Like we do not both know what you expect in return for the warmth. Well, you will be in for a large surprise, she thinks with amusement.

“Here, let me take your cloak.”

Smiling, she shrugs out of the green material, offering it over to him. She drops her pack on the floor, near the bed. Fluttering her wings, she turns and looks at him invitingly. “Why don’t we just get to it?”

Chastising, he says, “You should learn manners my dear, they would serve you well.”

“Why? We both know what I am here for, why pretend?”

“Because, my dear, there is nothing wrong with having a little class.”

“You can be high and mighty later,” Kysda purrs as she steps over to him.

Reaching his hands out, he runs them over her shoulders, admiring the bone structure. Slipping his fingers under the rough cloth of her homespun dress, he pushes it from neck, watching as it slides off her body, leaving her naked form exposed to him. His green eyes hungrily trace over the curved lines of her body. Licking his lips, he says huskily, “Yes, I suppose that I can.”

Watching him watch her, she grins. “Told you.”

“Ah, so you did.  My apologizes, my dear.”

“Yah, it’s fine.” She says, stepping back against him, her fingers once again at his pants.

Lowering his hand, he smiles and takes hers, lifting it, he kisses her hand softly. “You may be use to standing, or a quickie on a floor, I however, am a gentleman, and will use the bed.”

Quickly calculating the position of her bag, and more importantly, the knife contained within, she smiles at him. If she had to go through with it and then kill him, fine, she would. Still holding his hand, she leads him to the bed, careful to make sure she stayed in a position to hopefully reach her bag. “Anything you want.”

“I am sure, but let us make this an enjoyable experience for both of us.”

Kysda resists the urge to roll her eyes as she perches on the bed. Moving, she straddles his hips, rubbing her body against his flesh as she covers his mouth with her own. Kissing him deeply, her hand reaches down, feeling around in her bag for her knife. Careful to keep him occupied with her mouth and the movement of her hips against his body, she draws the well used blade, holding it securely in her hand. Twisting it for a good grip she breaks the kiss, and swings the blade.

Mareikon’s hand comes up, his fingers locking around her wrist as he looks up at her and shakes his head. “Foolish girl.” Her squeezes her wrist until her fingers relax and the knife clatters to the floor.

She looks down at him in shock. No one had ever noticed what she was doing, let alone stopped her. “How…” She asks incredulously.

“You are much too transparent, my dear.” He explains as he flips her over, pinning her down against the bed with the weight of his body. “I did not make my fortune because I was unable to read people. You must learn to hide your true motivation.”

Struggling beneath him, she glares up at him, hatred in her violet eyes. “Let me go, you bastard.”

He arches a brow, a patronizing smile on his face. “This, from the woman who tried to kill me?” Shaking his head, he shifts, holding both of her wrists firmly above her head with one hand, freeing his other. “Stop struggling.”

“No.” Kysda growls, doing her best to get away from him, but unable to budge his hands even a little.

Slapping her across the fast with a resounding smack he says again, “stop struggling.”

She feels the sting of his hand across her face and glowers up at him, refusing to cease her fighting.

Sighing, as if teaching an errant puppy, Mareikon again slaps her. “Stop struggling.”

Spitting the blood from her mouth up at him she definitely refuses.

“You do realize I can do this much longer then you can stay conscious?” He questions as he again slaps her. “Now, again I say, stop struggling.”

“The god take you.”

“Maybe.” He says with a grin. “But not before he has you.” Switching his tactics, sensing a more promising one, and by far, more enjoyable, he slides his hand down along her thigh, amused at how her struggles increase.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Ah, but I think that is the key. As you tried to take my life, I think it is only fair I take something of yours, don’t you agree?” He asks rhetorically as he forces her legs apart. Thrusting against her, he whispers against her ear, “now you can struggle all you want.”

Crying out in outrage, she struggles, even knowing it is what he wants. “You bastard.” She declares.

“You should pick your prey more carefully, my dear.” His husky voice in her ear responds. “You did not choose me, I chose you.”

Giving up the struggle, she lies still beneath him, gritting her teeth in outrage as he finishes. Looking up at him as he again perches above him, a light sheen of sweat across his chest, she asks sarcastically, “Was it good for you?”

“Actually, yes, thank you.” Mareikon says with a wide grin, still holding himself with in, a move calculated only to bring her more discomfort and anger.

“So, kill me already.”

His booming laughter fills the room. “Is that what you think I intend to do? Oh you silly girl! ”

“A slave then?” she asks with dread. She could not stand that. She had been all but a slave to her parents that is why she had run and turned to a life on her own. No, if such a thing was her fate, she would rather be dead.

“Not exactly, no. More like an employee.”

“Employee?” Kysda asks skeptically as she looks up at him, moving her wrists to test the strength of his hold on them.

“Now, don’t start that again.” He cautions. “Yes. You have a great beauty, my dear, and obviously, you have little regard for men. I intend to use this.” Looking down at the violet eyed beauty, he smiles. “However, you are crude. You like refinement or subtly. Take your coming up to me. You did not even pretend, or play along with my pretense that I was being a gentleman and simply allowing you to warm up. These things are important.”

Kysda grits her teeth, but seeing no escape in sight, decides she may as well cooperate. At least then maybe he will get the hell out of and off of her. “Why?”

“Considering that you apparently murder all of your victims, I can see why this might confuse you.” He responds with a smirk. “However, we are going to change that. When you leave them alive, you must leave them with the illusion that they were not just with a whore.”

“I am not a whore.” She snaps.

“No? Is murderess more to your liking then?”

She clamps her lips and says nothing in response.

“You have a raw sensuality, I will teach you to use it, to use them, and with it, you will make us both rich.”

“How?” She questions, eying him wearily.

“Simple. A well trained woman is not a whore; she is a consort or a concubine. This is what I intend to turn you into.” He looks down at her, shifting his position against her slightly, amused by the look that flashes across her face. “Have you ever seen a rich mans concubine, my dear?”

“Yes, once, in Darval.”

“Was she beautiful?” He prompts.

“Yes.”

“Covered in jewels and dressed in fine silks and velvets?”

“Yes.” She says, beginning to understand.

“Don’t you want that? To know that power? To use a man to get everything you want?”

Kysda studies him, her eyes focusing on his dark green wings, which as if sensing your direction, he spreads and flexes for her. Finally, at length, she says, “Yes.”

“And I can give it all to you. I will teach you to be one of them, to be the best of them. Rich nobles will vie for your favor, for you to be in their bed.”

“That requires me being in their bed.” She points out.

“You are in mine now.” He counters, adding a thrust of his hips with the statement.

She mutters, “Yes, and I intended for you to be dead before it went anywhere.”

“Well, you will have to get over that. I shall hire the best males for you to use, and the best female to instruct. When you are done, there will not be a skill you do not know, a move you cannot match. None shall be your equal in the bedroom.” He chuckles. “But, that will not be all. A good screw is fine, but that will not keep you around, alive, or let you learn what I need you to know. No, I will also have you trained in speech, in the finer points of etiquette and the pleasantries of court.”

“I have no desire to be a floozy.”

“You will not be, but frankly my dear, if you do not learn these things, you would be eaten alive. It is truly amazing you have survived as long as you have. How no one has killed you, or locked you up, is beyond me.”

“I am not a fool.”

“That will remain to be seen.” Smiling, he runs a finger along her cheek. “What you are though, is beautiful, and lucky. With a little training, you will be perfect.” Staring down at her, he considers the situation. “Now, I could continue to refer to you as my dear, but we will be together for some time, how about a name?”  He flashes a charming grin at her. “I am Mareikon.”

She hesitates, but knowing she intends to take his offer, not that she truly believes she has a choice, she relents. “Kysda.”

“Ah, lovely. And I trust no one you have been with is still alive to hear it and know you?” He asks.

“No.”

“Good.”

Kysda studies him, trying to present detachment to his plan, but finding it hard to contain her excitement. “And what do you get out of this? Everything I make?”

“No. I do not need your money.  I have more then enough of my own. What I need from you is information.”

“You cannot pay someone for this?”

“Of course, but it may or may not be reliable, and they can be paid more to lie, or to tell someone who they sold their information to. Money buys tongues, but not loyalty and for more money, you can always be sold out.” Mareikon explains patiently.

“And what makes you think that I won’t sell you out for more money?” She asks with a lift of her brows.

“Simple.  Mutual need.” He answers, expounding further, “This is what will prevent either of us from selling the other out. The things you will learn about me, the information you will bring to me, will make it so you could ruin me. In return, the murders I know you have committed, the treacheries you will do for me, will ruin you, and see you in the gallows.  If you betray me, then I give you up. It is rather beautiful in its simplicity.”

“And I can keep all I get from these men?” Kysda questions, no longer pretending to be against the proposition.

“Yes. You will be rich and dripping in silks and gems.” He assures her.

“How long will I be expected to stay with these men?”

“Until I have the information I need, or until they tire of you, whichever comes first. As better targets come up, you will move on. Once the reputation of your,” he smirks, “abilities gets around, you will be in demand and moving up the ranks will only be natural. All new consorts start at the bottom and work up as their popularity grows. I intend to make you the most desired woman at court.”

“Will we be at court? I mean, the court?”

            Mareikon shakes his head. “No, not to begin with. You must be trained and tested before then. We will start with lesser courts. Darval will be your first major testing ground. But not for a while yet. First, we must get you ready.” Lifting himself up, he steps off the bed and grins down at her, holding out a bronzed hand.

Kysda considers only for half a heartbeat before she extends her hand, placing it, and her future, in his as she rises to her feet, her mind made up.

*          *          *

Kysda frowns as she stares down at the book, the flowing scrip blurring on the page into a mess of black swirls. “Stop.” She says as she looks up at the blue winged fay standing before her, a book balanced on his hand as he paces across the front of the room.

“Is there a problem?” He prompts.

“Yes. I cannot listen to this for another moment. If I do not take a break, I shall simply explode.”

The professor sighs. “I suppose I should be grateful you remembered some as semblance of manners in the request. However, you must still be even more polite. Remember, the key to etiquette is politeness, fake, or not.” He turns his gaze on her and orders, “do it again.”

Gritting her teeth, she says, “I am tired.”

“That excuse will not do if you anger one of the nobles. You must be able to do this regardless of how you feel, or what is going on.”

Kysda blows air our through her teeth and straightens her shoulders, fluttering her wings as she begins. “Please professor, if you would be so kind as to pause a moment?”

Looking at her, he nods. “Yes, Kysda?”

“I am sorry for the interruption, but I fear that I am feeling faint and would be most appreciative of a break so that I am might clear my head and stretch my legs. If you would be agreeable to a short recess?” She responds, smiling becomingly at him.

“Perfect.” He grins, closing the book in his hands. “Go, we are done for the night.”

“Thank the goddess.” She breathes as she rises to her feet, the bright silk gown swaying around her as she does. She tosses a smile and a mocking bow towards the instructor before moving from the room. Glancing around, she mutters and lifts the layers of material into her hands, hiking them up so she can move freely down the hall.

“That is no way for a lady to walk.” Mareikon notes from the doorframe he is casually leaning against.

“Then it is a good thing I do not want to be a lady.” She snaps.

“In a mood I see.”

“You have not been made to prance around in gowns, recite every noble and their linage, learn how to eat with more pieces of silverware then could ever be practical, and that is just for starters.”

“Do you not think I was?” He asks with a raise of his brows.

She snorts. “Not likely.”

“I am training you to be a noble, Kysda. Do you think I would know how to do that if I myself did not know how to be one? I have studied all that I ask you to learn, spent the same days in practice that you do, so do not think this is some form of torture that I do not understand.”

“Then you understand why I hate it.” Rubbing her sore neck muscles, she looks over at him and asks, “How much longer must I train?”

“Until you are ready. I will not risk my investment in you by putting you out there too early, my dear.”

“Wait too much longer and I will not be young enough to attract anyone.” She counters with annoyance.

“Not everyone likes little girls in their bed, Kysda. You have many years of use left to you, do not fret so.”

Dropping the folds of her gown, she moves over to him, an impish grin on her lips. “Do I now?” She prompts as she steps closer, running one hand lightly down his chest.

Mareikon takes her hand with a light smile and kisses it. “You do, but not in my bed.” Releasing her hand, he says, “If you want to practice, go find your tutor.”

Her violet eyes flash in anger as she growls, “I am good enough for you to whore out, but not good enough to be in your bed?”

“Exactly.” He responds with a grin before turning away from her and disappearing into the room behind him, letting the door close on her to prevent her following him.

“I will be good enough, no, better, and then it will be I who turns you down.” She vows quietly.

*          *          *