The Trouble with Peace (The Age of Madness #2) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,41

am my own woman and do things my own way. I do not plan for that to change.”

“Wouldn’t want it to.” He admired her spirit. So independent. So determined. So fierce, even. Isher might like a gentle temperament but Leo couldn’t think of anything worse.

“It might help if you look at it as a business arrangement.”

“Is that how you’re looking at it?”

“Force of habit. And it does make excellent sense. A partnership, between your title and my wealth. Between your fame and my connections. Between your leadership and my management.”

Put that way, it did make excellent sense. He enjoyed listening to her talk. So sharp. So confident. So commanding, even. He liked a woman who could take charge. He imagined the admiration when she spoke on his behalf.

“I can share the burden,” she said. “Take the politics and the paperwork off your hands. You can focus on the military aspects. The things you enjoy. No more dusty meetings.”

He thought of that stuffy room, those tottering heaps of papers, those endless grumbles with Mustred and Clensher and the rest. “Doubt I’ll miss them.”

She didn’t seem to take anything so tasteless as steps, but still she drifted closer. He enjoyed watching her move. So graceful. So precise. So regal, even. He liked a woman with pride, and Savine dripped with it. With her on his arm, he’d be the envy of the world.

“Look at it as… a political alliance,” she said. “You are popular. You are celebrated. You are loved. In Midderland, in Angland, in the North, even. But you do not know Adua.” She was looking at his mouth as she came closer. Looking at it in a way he very much enjoyed.

“It’s true,” he murmured. “I’m a lost little lamb here.”

“Let me be your shepherdess. I can help you get your way.” By the dead, she was close now. “With the Closed Council. With my father. With the great men of the realm.” He could smell her. That sweetness, that heady sharpness. “I know everyone worth knowing. And how to use them.” Her scent brought all the excitement of that night rushing back.

He found he had held up his open palm, blue stone on the ring twinkling in the sun. “My mother gave me this.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Savine softly.

“Best I could do on the way from the room to the terrace, anyway— ah.”

To his surprise, but by no means disappointment, her hand was between his legs. Already halfway hard, and it took no time for her to get him the rest of the way. It only made it more exciting that they were in full view of half the Agriont with their mothers not ten paces distant.

“Look at it…” she whispered urgently in his ear, her breath tickling his cheek, “as a business arrangement… and a political alliance… that makes superb sense.” She kissed him, ever so gently, while her hand worked less than gently down below. “Then anything… we can get from it… on a personal level…” She bit his lip, pulled it and let it flap back. “Let’s call it a bonus.”

“Let’s.” He caught Savine’s free hand and slid his mother’s ring onto her finger. It proved too tight to go over the knuckle, but he didn’t care a shit.

He caught her in his arms and kissed her, the Agriont spread out below them.

To anyone watching, they must have looked truly spectacular.

Minister of Whispers

“How was the vote?” asked Vick as Lorsen stepped into his office and shut the door to the gallery.

Apparently, the Superior had remembered how to smile. His thin lips had a noticeable bend. “The vote was the most fun I have had in some time. They’re already arguing over points of procedure down there, but that’s what they do when they know they’ve lost. One hundred and fifty-nine votes to stay in the Union. Fifty-four to leave.”

Vick couldn’t keep the slightest curl of satisfaction from her own mouth. “Not even close.”

“Never mind Shenkt, you must have some unnatural powers.” Lorsen pulled a cork and poured an ungenerous measure of wine into two glasses. “Shutting that bastard Shudra up was more than I hoped for, but to bring him over to our side? It could only be sorcery!”

Vick shrugged. “There’s no magic for changing your mind like a glimpse of the knife meant to kill you. The Styrians hoped to make him a martyr for their cause. Vitari knew she could win far more votes by killing him and blaming us than by killing any number