Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,52

before he burst into laughter. Lazarus glared at her with a silent promise of a later scolding. Quinn didn’t care. She’d rather get it from him than Lady Manners any day.

“If that’s the case, then you’ll have to watch out, my friend. Your vassal—Quinn, was it?” He turned his eerie red eyes back on her and she nodded. “Quinn is a very beautiful woman and you know how my warriors feel around beautiful women.”

“Oh?” Quinn stepped forward, once again ignoring Lazarus even as, this time, he put his hand on her arm, intent on holding her back. “And how do they feel about beautiful women?” she asked.

Thorne laughed again. “They are just as protective over their women as your master seems to be of you, little one. Because I can assure you that he is not necessarily thinking with his larger mind and therefore, he cannot be thinking about me.”

Quinn grit her teeth at his arrogance and shrugged off Lazarus’ hand. “I can protect myself.”

Thorne’s laughter faded as he examined her—noting the way she held herself, apart and separate from the men, but still close enough as though she were an equal. She did not mind stepping in front of them or alongside them. With a sharp look to Lazarus, Thorne nodded at her. “I can see why you are so vigilant,” he said.

“Quinn is of no concern to your men, Thorne. She is merely a vassal on a mission with me. If you are so inclined, I would like to start our treaty discussions.”

Quinn glanced back at Draeven, confused, but the blond giant merely shook his head and nodded for her to take a step back. Although she bristled at being commanded, Quinn recognized that her being silent and not the point of interest made it easier to catalogue their interactions. She took a step back and let Lazarus approach Thorne.

Quinn’s brows drew down low as Lazarus leaned forward and spoke to Thorne in a tone just low enough that she couldn’t make it out. Thorne’s head didn’t move, holding still for a brief moment before he began to nod. “Of course, my friend, we can talk about that in more detail at the feast tonight.”

Lazarus shook his head. “I’d like to discuss it now, if possible.”

Thorne looked to Quinn and Draeven. Without turning, Lazarus spoke to them. “Draeven, take Quinn and join the others. I will be with you shortly.”

“But—”

“Go, Quinn,” Lazarus cut her off.

Draeven didn’t waste any time. He had Quinn by the arm and was dragging her out of the treehouse hut before she could think of anything further to say to get him to allow her to stay.

“You have a death wish, don’t you?” Draeven asked with exasperation.

“Of course not,” Quinn answered seriously.

They strode along the pathways, over the bridges that had been strung up between the homes built into the sides of the large oaks. Several men, sans animal skulls, walked by. It didn’t escape Draeven’s notice that many stopped along the way and allowed Quinn to walk through, all the while giving him analyzing looks.

He snorted.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

Draeven shook his head. “Lazarus has his work cut out for him, that’s all.”

Bargain’s Struck

“In times of desperation, sacrifices must be made to ensure that the worst does not come to pass.”

— Lazarus Fierté, nobleman, dark Maji, collector of men

Thorne watched as Quinn went with Lazarus’ left-hand. “She’s a wild one, that woman,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot. “Her aura is rather untamed.” Lazarus shot him a look and Thorne shrugged with nonchalance. “I’m just warning you now, my friend. I’d watch that one very closely if I were you. She’s obviously unaware of the Cisean customs, especially for women. She might well be taken from you before you realize it.”

“For all her faults, I doubt that Quinn is someone who goes back on her word and even if she wanted to forsake me, she has sworn a blood contract with me. Still, I will take your counsel into consideration,” Lazarus said, careful to keep his words neutral and not let on how much the very idea of that got under his skin.

Thorne gestured towards an open doorway to the side of the small throne room. “Come, I’m sure you’re thirsty after your long travels. Let us get a drink and then talk.”

Lazarus nodded, following behind the Cisean leader as they strode into a separate portion of the treetop hut—a tiny room with a table and two chairs. His