Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,42
Quinn asked.
“He brought me into his household when he didn’t have to. Paid off my debts. He’s putting my boy through school.”
“So, he’s bought your loyalty, then,” Quinn deadpanned.
Lorraine’s eyes flashed with something akin to anger. Draeven didn’t say anything, but his shoulders stiffened slightly.
“Money bought my services,” Lorraine said quietly. “I work for him for compensation, but he did not have to do everything that he has for me. He didn’t have to help my family or give us asylum.”
“Asylum?” Quinn frowned. “What—”
“We all have our secrets,” Lorraine interrupted. “Your curiosity does not entitle you to answers, just as we aren’t entitled to yours.”
She was right. Quinn nodded her understanding as Draeven spoke up.
“Lazarus is a complicated lord,” he said, securing her attention once more.
“How long have you been with him?” she asked as Lorraine moved away.
Draeven blew out a breath, leaning back and staring up at the tree tops. “That’s a good question. I’d like to say forever, but I know that at one point in my life there was a time when I didn’t know him. It’s just been so long now that I can’t recall it.”
“How did you meet?” Quinn prompted.
Draeven laughed. “I was dancing with Mazzulah when Lazarus found me,” he said, his eyes carrying him away to a far-off place that Quinn couldn’t see. “He yanked me up by my bootstraps and pulled me away from the hangman’s noose. He handed me a sword, and with it, a purpose. I never knew how much I needed it until later,” he paused. “I still follow him because he still gives me that. That’s what keeps us going when times are not well.”
“Purpose?” Quinn repeated, frowning in confusion.
Draeven nodded. “He’s not a good man, I know that. But he’s not evil, either. Lazarus is my friend and my lord. He is the wielder, and I his weapon.”
“You follow him to let him use you?”
“Everyone uses someone, Quinn,” he said, his eyes slowly refocusing as he tipped his head back down and looked at her across the fire. “I follow him because I trust him. Lorraine follows him because she trusts him. He has proven himself to be a leader worth following. Not to you. Not yet.”
When Quinn expected him to go on, he merely stood up and patted her shoulder, eliciting a jerk from her as she leaned away. He sighed. “Go to sleep, Quinn. We have a long ride into the mountains tomorrow,” Draeven said as he ambled away, heading for his own mound of blankets.
Quinn sat there, staring into the heart of the fire as the rest of them fell into slumber.
The birds were silent. The night creatures of the forest were quiet. And finally, Quinn gave up on waiting for Lazarus to return from wherever he had disappeared to. She crawled beneath her own blankets alongside Lorraine and stared upward as she willed her mind to shut off. But it wouldn’t. It continued to circle that one word—trust.
Trust Lazarus. Trust him and follow him. How could she when she didn’t even know who he was or what he was capable of? As Quinn finally felt herself slipping into oblivion, she wished she could use that field of vision of hers to see inside Lazarus—to know if he was someone deserving of her trust.
The Hand that Feeds
“Darkness is far more powerful than light, and far more destructive if not controlled.”
— Lazarus Fierté, nobleman, murderer, dark Maji, and keeper of secrets
He woke before day break, lulled from his sleep by the sweet torment that was her. She slept on the opposite end of the fire as him, the absolute farthest place away. Yet the scent of her still called to him, even in his sleep.
Lazarus sat up, his actions silent as he rose to his feet and began to move through the camp, to the forest beyond in a vain hope of escaping her, of outrunning what he knew in his blood was beginning to become an obsession. A raw need. A dangerous desire.
He ran a hand down his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he inhaled a fresh breath of air. Even here, her magic tinged the air. It whispered of sweet promises, delicious dreams and so many things wicked. Today was going to be another rough one, riding so close to her, all while keeping the distance that they both needed him to—not that she realized it yet.
For as much as she saw, in this, she was completely oblivious.