Page 23 of The Traitor's Curse
Would Benedict take his seat? That would be a terrible misstep, making him look power-hungry and insecure about his place as my advisor and general. But of course Benedict had better instincts than that, and as I watched him in bemused, aroused confusion, he put a hand on his sword hilt and used the scabbard to push his cloak out of the way, settling himself on the step below me and lounging back onto an elbow, entirely at his ease. Far too much at his ease for the setting and the occasion, and disturbingly close to me, his hip pressed against the side of my ankle.
That one point of contact burned through me like he’d burrowed a hot coal under the leather of my boot and under my very skin.
“No need,” Benedict said airily. “This is more than comfortable enough for a soldier. I believe His Grace said he was ready for the next case, Lord Chancellor.”
“Step forward,” Zettine said, voice tight.
And court proceeded: I heard their petitions, and I rendered judgment, and the clerk took notes, and the guards escorted those deemed guilty away.
But it might as well have been happening to someone elsefor all the notice I took of any of it. As a boy I’d had a book filled with tales of far, exotic places and adventures, and one beautiful illustration had shown an emperor with a great, deadly tiger in a jeweled collar lying down beside his throne. Benedict sprawled at my feet in the same way, all coiled, dangerous power and lazy willingness to pretend to be tame. Like the tiger, he could shake the collar off and rip everyone in the room to shreds anytime he wanted.
His choice to remain there, guarding and supporting me and pretending I had him on a leash, left me flustered and too hot and with my heart pounding so hard it rattled my ribs. I knew damn well he’d stop pretending once no one else was watching us, but what form that lack of pretense would take…
At last the final petitioner filed out, the assembled courtiers rose and bowed, and Lord Zettine declared the session at an end. Benedict moved at last, sitting up straight and stretching his legs.
When he turned his head, I turned mine too, as if that leash were attached to my neck. Benedict’s mouth quirked up at the corner, showing me a hint of tooth. Apparently the barely restrained tiger wanted me to be on my guard.
He didn’t stand up with everyone else, and when I shifted my weight he slipped a hand under my robes where no one could see and wrapped it firmly around my calf, giving me an almost painful squeeze. His eyes gleamed silvery.
Well. Message received. And the defiant courage that had carried me out of my study and into the throne room without waiting for Benedict to arrive and escort me had finally withered away under the force of his presence.
“I would be alone with my thoughts for a time, Lord Zettine,” I said. “Thank you for your diligence, as always.”
A few whispers from the departing court, magnified by the echoes of the high ceiling, suggested that at least someof them thought it odd that being “alone with my thoughts” included Benedict. But they were outside the bubble of space that included me, rooted to my throne, and Benedict, poised to pounce the moment they were gone.
The tall double doors shut behind the last pair of guards with a muted thud.
And Benedict and I were alone.
Chapter Eight
Silence fell. Benedict didn’t move. I braced myself, gripping the armrests of the throne, sitting up painfully straight with all my muscles rigid.
He still didn’t move.
When he spoke it made me jump, and all the breath I’d been holding whooshed out and dizzied me.
“I’m not sure what to do with you,” he said in a meditative tone that absolutely terrified me. He slid his hand under my robes again, tickling the tips of his fingers up the back of my leg to my knee, sending flickering sparks of sensation along all my overstrained nerves and making me twitch. My breath quickened. The muscles in my lower abdomen clenched almost painfully.
Benedict’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “It’s obvious enough whatyouwant me to do with you, at any rate. And there’s the rub, Lucian. I can’t reward you by giving you what you want. After you slipped away without me, without the guards I’d assigned or even the guards you’d chosen for yourself? Do you understand how stupid that was?”
“I went from my private study, which your men were guarding, through a private passage and into private rooms only accessible through there or through the heavily guarded throne room!” I’d rehearsed my argument as I took that walk, knowing I’d need to defend myself later. “No one could possibly have—ow!”
Benedict’s hand had tightened around my knee, fingers digging in with startling force.
He lunged forward, eyes blazing, and even though he still sat at my feet I shrank back. “The same way no one could possibly have put poison in your wine? Damn it, Lucian, you have to take this seriously! If you won’t cooperate, I told you I can’t and won’t—”
“I can still feel you inside me, how much more fucking cooperation do you want?”
“—be bothered to—you can feel me—fucking gods, Lucian!”
Benedict rolled to his feet too quickly for me to react, leaning down and pinning my wrists to the armrests under his big hands. He blotted out the rest of the world and filled my vision. All of my senses, because his heat surrounded me and I breathed him in with every rough inhale.
“Don’t try to distract me,” he ground out. “That’s how you’re paying me for my efforts. That’s not the kind of cooperation I mean, and you know it. Every time you’re alone, you’re in danger. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because you apparently couldn’t be bothered after all. I only had a few minutes to try to eat. I’d been working all morning, after you, after we—I barely had the time to look over the day’s petitions before I went into court. Because of your orders to your men, I had to spend hours here without even a fucking cup of coffee, Benedict. And you know damn well if I’d been late Zettine would’ve made me look a fool, as he always does.” I hated admitting that aloud, but it wasn’t as if Benedict hadn’t noticed for himself. “You can’t expect me to neglect my duties while I wait for your convenience.”
Benedict tilted his head, examining me as if I’d been displayed solely for his perusal. “I was furious with you,” he said at last, and his grip on my wrists loosened. I blew out along breath, wincing as my hands tingled. He sighed, his gaze softening into something like ruefulness. “But it took some of the wind out of my sails when you told that idiot that I spoke for you, right there in front of everyone.”
