Lady of Chains Read online

  Lady of Chains

  Scottie Kaye

  Copyright © 2020 Elusive Press, LLC.

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at "Attention: Permissions Coordinator," at [email protected].

  ISBN: 978-1-952214-16-5 (Kindle eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-952214-17-2 (Softcover)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020910329

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Front cover illustration by Erica Dal Maso.

  Cover design and formatting by Elusive Press, LLC.

  Antro Vectra font used under license. Created by Youssef Habchi.

  Huntress font used under license. Created by StereoType.

  Printed by Kindle Direct Publishing. Published in Plymouth, MI, USA.

  First printing edition 2020.

  www.elusivepressbooks.com

  www.scottiekaye.com

  Contents

  Also by Scottie Kaye

  I. Loren

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  II. Lassyne

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Scottie Kaye

  The Sleeping Lotus Series

  The Rose Contract

  The Marigold Room

  The Morning Agent

  The Wolfsbane Cipher

  The Foxglove Shift

  The Orchid War

  The Sleeping Lotus

  World of Sense

  Lady of Chains

  To James, my plot police.

  Part One

  Loren

  One

  Captain Loren Stone woke beside a beautiful woman, in a room he could barely remember. He squinted at the slash of red light on his bedcovers, and something in his chest gave a flip.

  Numb King, he swore inwardly. What time was it? Thrusting aside the thick direskin coverlet, he jerked out of bed. His head spun from last night's plum wine, and he gripped the bedpost as he collected himself. His bedmate murmured something and rolled toward him, the silk bedsheet barely covering her. If he hadn't been so hung over, his body would have reacted to the sight.

  He shook his head. What had he done last night? Had he embarrassed himself? The woman wasn’t wearing a nullband, and—five gods!—neither was he. Diving into the nightstand, he found his dull silver bracelet and snapped it onto his wrist. Had they used magic on each other? What had hers even been?

  Calm down, he told himself. Think. What exactly do you remember?

  Nodding to no one, he thought back to the day before. He and Ragen and the entire Soma entourage had arrived to the city of Scent in the early evening, and he'd been assigning his small contingent of men to their guard duties when Ragen had pulled him aside.

  "Drinks," the big man had said.

  "I don't drink," Loren remembered himself saying.

  And Ragen—the king's huge, daunting brother—had said, "Tonight, you do."

  Hurriedly, Loren collected his clothing and thrust it on. The red-tinted windows were growing ever brighter through the lush felted curtains. If he was late to his post, it could mean a demotion. He'd only just made Captain—the youngest Captain in a generation, at only twenty-two years old—and he didn't want to lose the title just as soon as he'd earned it.

  After fumbling about his pockets for a coin or two, he left them beside the woman on the bed, unsure whether he had paid for her or not. The night was hazy, insubstantial in his mind. He grasped for it as he hurried out of the room and down to the base floor of the best inn in Scent. Not fewer than three servants asked him if he wanted breakfast before he escaped into the morning air.

  I could get used to this, he thought, as a young groomswoman wandered toward him with his horse. He hadn't even asked anyone for it, yet they had predicted his needs. It was too bad he'd forgotten most of the night. It must have been full of good wine and rich food. He wondered what the beautiful woman had done to him.

  "Milord," the groomswoman said, holding out the reins and bowing. Women called everyone "lord" in Olfact. It made him uncomfortable. In Soma, women had earned equal status in society decades ago. Sure, they weren't quite on even terms yet—it was a long time in coming, and men still took up well more than half of all government postings—but in Olfact, women were still considered lesser. Only noblewomen had any real standing.

  "Please, call me Loren," he said, as kindly as he could. He handed the woman a coin—quite a fat one, at that. "I appreciate your help, my good lady."

  The woman took the coin with wide eyes, blushing as if her life depended on it. "Thank you, mi—Loren." She looked up at him, and a shadow crossed her face as she frowned. "Is there... anything else I can do for you?"

  Five gods, he hated it here. She thought he wanted sex from her. She barely even looked the age of consent. Not that they much cared about consent in Olfact.

  "Just—point me to my camp," he told her. He smiled, trying to put her back at ease. "I may have had a bit too much to drink last night, you see. I can't seem to remember which direction to go." He chuckled.

  She didn't laugh, keeping her eyes on him as she pointed toward the north of town, her own nullband glinting grey on her wrist. She was indicating the castle of Scent, a palatial, outrageously opulent structure that looked like a peck of tufted onions placed atop a line of gold columns. Red paper lamps were strung between the pointed domes like sweet cherries on a line. He'd been told each one was handmade and worth a hundred marks, and they all got replaced when it rained.

  "Your men are sequestered in the north commons," she said, referring to a line of inns used to house the lower class members of any diplomatic entourage. "Lord Ragen, however—"

  "Is quite awake now, and ready for anything!" Ragen boomed, making them both jump. Turning, Loren watched the huge man barrel down the stone steps of the inn, making the whole building look a bit like a dollhouse. His cheeks were rosy, lit by a grin. He flipped the girl a coin. "You've done well, my dear. Run along now."

  She blushed yet again at his compliment—how had Ragen even known she'd done well? He hadn't even been here—and hurried away, while another groom headed toward them with Ragen's enormous black horse. Damn, these servants were preemptive.

  Ragen slapped Loren on the back so hard he flinched. "Have a good night, my boy?" Ragen asked. Even when he was trying to speak privately, he still boomed. "That was a fine woman who pulled you off the card tables last night. Gustatory, if I wasn't mistaken." He leaned close. "They're the best teases, you know."

  Now it was Loren who was blushing. He wanted to say that none of this was appropriate in the least, but Ragen outranked all but one person in the entire
country of Soma. Loren could not afford to offend him.

  Besides, it was hard not to like a man as effusive as Ragen. "It was a good time, Housemaster Ragen," he said. Relief suddenly flooded him; he’d been standing here in the street, worried half to death about being late, and yet Ragen had slept longer than he had. "Thank you for your generosity. I'm not used to such luxury."

  "Pah!" Ragen said, slapping Loren’s shoulder again. "I know what they pay you poor boys. Just wait until you're a general. Then you'll have all the fine things in life. Until then, I'll be happy to treat you. I always treat my men well."

  Loren swallowed. "I doubt I'll ever be a general, but thank you—"

  "Nonsense. You stick with me, and you'll be that and more," Ragen said. He leaned close. "Especially if tonight goes well. If we can convince Duke Read to give us this little loan, I can personally promise you a nice fat bonus. A promotion won't be far behind."

  Loren swallowed. Ragen liked to say things like this, to keep the people around him on the hook. Thing was, he was also known to pay his dues—and because he was a Wise mage, he was also skilled at determining the outcome of his plans.

  I bet he didn’t predict that his captain would wake up without a nullband, Loren thought. Losing one’s protection from magic was an enormous no-no for any man in uniform, and if Ragen had ever found out....

  “Oh, don’t look so put out!” Ragen said. “A promotion is nothing to be afraid of.”

  Loren smiled feebly, glancing back at the gorgeous, domed inn, complete with a tiled fountain out front. It had been a close one, but Ragen was none the wiser, and Loren might yet be promoted after this trip. He tried to imagine sleeping in a place like this every night, with plum wine in his stomach and a lusty woman in his bed. Damn, if only he could remember last night. I hope I don't end up with a bastard child, he thought. Then again, that seemed rather in vogue.

  "I never asked, Housemaster," he said, as Ragen finally accepted his horse from the groom who had been standing there awkwardly for several minutes. "Why couldn’t we simply ask our own king for this loan?" Mounting his steed, he added, "And why do you need me here for this? There are higher ranked soldiers who could serve you. The protection of the king's own brother warrants more than a captain—"

  "Nonsense, boy," Ragen said. "You undervalue yourself." The horse chuffed as the big man settled into place and flicked the reins. "Ah, but to tell you the truth, there is another reason I chose you." He grinned. "But I won't spoil the surprise."

  Loren squinted at the Housemaster of Thorns as the two clopped away down the red jasper cobbles. His hangover seemed to be returning—adrenaline must have slowed it, but that had long since faded off—and yet Ragen looked as fresh as a daisy. A particularly large and deadly daisy. Loren tried to recall Ragen's drinking habits of the night before, but the only image he could conjure was one where Ragen watched him slyly, tilting back a large glass mug of something clear. Surely, it could not have been water.

  No more drinking, he told himself, cold creeping along his skin. You can't afford to make mistakes here.

  "I'll do my best to ensure all goes to plan," Loren said. "As always, I am at your disposal."

  Ragen cocked a new smile, a different smile. He didn't look at Loren as he said, "That's what I like to hear."

  Two

  Of all the places Loren expected to find himself, the last was at a little girl's birthday party. Yet that is precisely where Ragen took him. Across the lavish tiled courtyard of the Olfactory palace, up the wide, coin-strewn stairwell of the ballroom, and straight into an enormous banquet hall full of raucous entertainers, low-hemlined servers, and a veritable flock of giggling children.

  "Oh, my dear Lord Ragen, you made it!" trilled a voice, within instants of their arrival and announcement. Bewildered, Loren tried to pick out the source of the voice in the sea of roving children and already-drunk adults. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her: a copper-skinned, hourglass woman in a flowing red sheath that did little to hide her hips or her breasts. Her clothes jingled with real gold coins as she reached up to Ragen, wrapped her hands in his dark hair, and kissed him on the mouth.

  "Lady Read," Ragen said. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

  "Isn't it always?" she laughed, turning to Loren. Her hands were still in Ragen's hair—so deep that he could barely see her nullband—and her breasts were pressed to his chest, making the round flesh rise up to the very edges of her dress. "And what have you brought me this time?" she asked, her gold eyes like the coruscating edges of burning wood. She had the face of a goddess, perfectly symmetrical, her eyebrows arched and her lower lip pulled into her mouth. He couldn't help himself; he instantly wanted her.

  That's probably the intention, he thought.

  "This is Captain Loren Stone, at your service," Ragen drawled. "Hmm. Do you like what you see?"

  The Lady Read—the wife of the leading Duke of this entire kingdom, he realized—trailed a finger down Ragen's ample beard. "Oh, yes, I like it," she said to him, her eyes sliding back to Loren. "You know me so well, milord."

  Loren had to clear his throat, his mouth was so dry. "My congratulations to you on this momentous day," he said, holding up an object bound in silk. "We've brought a gift for your daughter." He had to speak loudly to be heard over the sounds of flutes and tambourines. He glanced about, searching for Duke Read. He didn't see the man, but he saw plenty of other onlookers. The Lady Read was still clinging to Ragen, yet none of them seemed to look twice.

  The Lady Read made a pouting face. "You can put it with the rest," she said, nodding to a towering pile of silken packages overflowing a wyrmwood table in one corner of the room. Beside the pile, two boys were tussling—one had the dark skin and white hair of Optic, probably about eight or nine; and the other was Olfactory, in his early teens. They seemed to be fighting over one of the gifts, and the smaller boy was losing.

  Lady Read noticed this, and frowned, finally pulling off of Ragen. "Ossyne, darling, what are you doing?" she called out.

  The teenage boy abruptly stopped tugging on the gift. After a quick glance at the smaller boy, he simply let go, and the Optic child fell back on his rear. Loren didn't miss the smile on Ossyne's face as he faced his mother, even though it washed off his lips a second later.

  He pointed at the other boy. "Haru was trying to steal one of Sister's presents!" he said. "I was only trying to stop him."

  Haru surged to his feet. "No! You taked it!" he said in broken Olfact.

  Lady Read sighed dramatically. "Honestly," she sighed toward Ragen, her voice finally lowering, "I wouldn't allow that brat anywhere near my children, if his father didn't have the rod of a gods-damned war horse."

  Loren stared. The rod of a.... Had she just admitted to having an affair?

  Of course she did, he thought, just look at her. She clearly spreads herself around.

  He knew he ought to be disgusted, but instead, the thought excited him. This was Olfact, after all. People were... freer here. And the way that she had looked at him....

  He suddenly had a sneaking suspicion as to why Ragen wanted him here.

  The littler boy—Haru—snatched up the present, holding it to his chest. "Let me take it to her," he said. "This one's from me. I want to make sure she gets it."

  "Oh, sweetie, absolutely not," Lady Read said, her voice sugary and not a little poisonous. "Give it to Ossyne. He'll take it—"

  "Actually," Loren interjected, "I can take the gift to her, if you like.” He didn’t like the gift’s chances of reaching the young duchess otherwise—not if Ossyne’s triumphant grin was any indication.

  When the Lady Read frowned at him, he offered up a half-smile and went on, “Ragen tells me that I’ve started to stink, you see. So I'd intended to visit your famous bath house before attending our meeting. It would be no trouble to deliver our two gifts on the way."

  At this offer, the young Haru squinted at him, suspicion lining his dark gaze. Loren smiled at the child. "You can com
e too," he said.

  "That's really not necessary—" Lady Read began.

  "Nonsense," Ragen said. "Let him meet the little lady. He's a charmer. Perhaps he'll be able to make her join her own party, hmm?"

  Lady Read rolled her eyes. "Is it really so obvious?”

  Ragen touched her chin with a knuckle. "If your sweet Lassyne were here, then Ossyne would be her shadow, as always," he said. "Has she had another fit? Or is it her stomach, this time?”

  "Stomach again," she said. "She claims that Ossyne poisoned her, of all things! But the doctors found nothing, of course. They never do. Honestly, that child will be the death of me."

  "Oh, Jessyne. She's only like her mother. She loves the attention as much as you do."

  With that, Ragen very obviously trailed his knuckle down her throat and across her collarbone, pushing one of her diaphanous sleeves off her shoulder. Loren could actually see the woman's breath catch.

  "Very well," she said faintly. "Your man can take the gift to Lassyne. While we wait for him to return, why don't you come back to my rooms for a drink? All this noise has made my head pound...."

  "Of course, Lady Read," Ragen said. "I would hate to have anything pound you."

  Loren watched as she visibly shuddered, and then they both slipped away, slinking back through the wide doors without looking twice at him. It wasn't until Haru kicked his ankle that he realized what he was imagining. Just watching that—just thinking of what they were doing—