A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,210

a curse.’

‘It’s made me the useless cunt I am.’

‘You can’t argue with those results.’

‘I’m told you’re a witch who can see the future.’

‘Witch, no. Future, sometimes.’ She winced, pressed a hand to her left eye as though it hurt. ‘A bit too much, lately.’

‘What’s the ring for?’ he asked.

‘Keeps me tethered to the earth.’

‘Or you’ll float off?’

‘I’m prone to fits.’ She thought about that, then snorted laughter and blew some snot onto her top lip. ‘And shits,’ she said as she wiped it away. ‘I’m told you’ve bedded five thousand whores.’

‘I’d be amazed if it’s more than four thousand nine hundred.’

‘Huh.’ She gave him a long, lazy, utterly shameless look up and down. A look that no one within thirty paces could have doubted the meaning of. A look that made him feel at once slightly embarrassed and rather aroused. ‘They teach you anything?’

He realised he had not even glanced at Savine since they started talking. He looked over now. Felt a sour pang of loss as she touched a grinning Leo dan Brock on the chest with her fan.

‘I used to be with him,’ murmured Rikke. She was watching them, too, and looking more than a little sour herself.

‘Fancy that,’ said Orso. ‘I used to be with her.’

‘Doesn’t bother you? Being second-best to the Young Lion?’

‘I’ll confess it stings, but I’m used to being the absolute worst.’ Orso drained his glass and tossed it rattling onto a side table. ‘Second best is an immense improvement.’ He offered her his elbow. ‘Perhaps I could accompany you on a stroll around the palace gardens?’

She turned those bewitching grey eyes on him. ‘Long as it ends in the bedroom.’

A Bit About Courage

The cold nipped at Leo’s ears as they made their way through the darkened streets, but the fires of excitement were burning ever hotter inside. Jurand looked as eager as he was. A playful sparkle in his eye. A handsome flush to his cheek.

‘Where are we going?’ he murmured, his hand on Leo’s shoulder and his voice a little squeaky.

‘Somewhere far from prying eyes, I suppose.’ Leo nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Wouldn’t want to cause a scandal, would we?’

‘Honestly,’ said Jurand, with that grin at the corner of his mouth, ‘I don’t care.’

Leo wasn’t listening. He’d seen the street sign. He’d seen the number. ‘This is the place,’ he whispered, breath smoking in the chilly night.

It was a tall terraced house, a little smoke-blackened, just like a dozen others in this street, which was just like a dozen other streets on the way from the Agriont. Not the most exciting building. But a chink of light shone between shutters in an upstairs window, and Leo felt almost as skittish looking up at it as he had towards that bridge on the day of the battle, ready to order the charge.

‘Thanks for the directions,’ he said. ‘You’re a good friend. The best. I’ll see you tomorrow. At the parade.’ When he turned, grinning, Jurand had the strangest look on his face. Shocked. Dismayed. Let down.

‘Who are you meeting?’ he whispered.

‘The Arch Lector’s daughter. Savine.’ Leo felt a shiver of nerves as he said the name and lowered his voice. ‘Probably best if you don’t mention that to anyone, though.’

‘No.’ Jurand closed his eyes and gave a disbelieving little laugh. ‘You’re right. Of course.’

‘Cheer up.’ Leo hugged him roughly with one arm, looking back to the building. The one lit window. ‘There are plenty of ladies for all of us.’ Though he couldn’t think of any close to Savine dan Glokta’s class.

‘Plenty of ladies,’ Jurand echoed, gloomily. ‘I hope you know what you’re getting into.’

‘Sometimes it’s better if you don’t.’ And Leo handed Jurand his cane, gave him a parting poke in the stomach, then strutted across the street, trying not to let the pain show. They didn’t call him the Young Lion for nothing, after all. He knew a bit about courage, and the secret is to dismiss the whole notion of choice and just do. He lifted his fist and gave four smart knocks, twisting his face into the kind of self-assured smoulder he imagined the great lovers of history might’ve used.

It slipped straight off when the door opened. There was a dark-skinned woman on the other side he’d never seen before.

‘Oh … I was expecting—’

‘You must be the Young Lion,’ she said in common that probably had less accent than his.

‘Some people call me that—’

She snapped her teeth at him with a surprisingly lion-like growl