Chapter 5: Not His Bed

"Your Hounds are not mine to stake," said Emrys. "Withdraw it."

"A king may not forbid a wager made in open court," said Casimir. "Clause Eleven."

I flipped through the Treaty in my head and found it, and it was there.

"He's right," I told Emrys, quietly. "He gets to try."

"A month," said Casimir.

"I give the Witness a month to take a gift, or a favour, or a coin from any hand in the Hills."

"If she does, the Hounds are mine. If she doesn't, I kneel at the King's door."

"And if she's offered something she doesn't know is a gift?" I said.

"Then you'll be a very poor Witness."

The court laughed.

I stood and looked at four hundred faces that thought I would break.

"I'm not for sale," I said, "and I'm very expensive to rent."

That got a bigger laugh.

I sat down, and my hands didn't shake until the court was empty.

At midnight I stood outside my own door, fully dressed, and didn't go in.

I had slept four hours that afternoon, and eaten Hob's mushroom pie, and drunk my own tea.

I was clear-headed, and I knew exactly what I wanted.

I walked down to the archive with a lantern in my fist.

He was already there, standing at the long oak table with his sleeves rolled and a roll of vellum open that he wasn't reading.

He looked up and went still.

"You're awake," he said.

"I slept. I ate. I'm sober as a judge." I set the lantern on a shelf. "Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"What I want."

He swallowed.

"Nia. What do you want?"

I walked up to him until I was standing between his hands, which he'd braced on the edge of the table.

"I want you inside me," I said. "Tonight. On this table."

"Not in your bed, not in mine, but in the one place the clause doesn't mention."

His breath came out raw.

"Say it again."

"I want your cock. I've wanted it since you said you'd trade the Hills for ten minutes."

He closed his eyes for one second.

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