Joe Abercrombie - Last Argument of Kings

As though she were a slave.

“Ssssss.” She hissed in his face as she shouldered past him. He gave an outraged snort and his guard gave Ferro a hard look. She ignored it. Hard looks mean nothing. If he wanted her knee in his face he could try and touch her. But he did not. The two of them went in through the door.

“Ah, Lord Isher!” she heard Bayaz saying, just before it shut. “I am delighted that you could visit us at short notice.”

“I came at once. My grandfather always said that—”

“Your grandfather was a wise man, and a good friend. I would like to discuss with you, if I may, the situation in the Open Council. Will you take tea…?”

Jezal lay on his back, his hands behind his head, the sheets around his waist. He watched Ardee looking out of the window, her elbows on the sill, her chin on her hands. He watched Ardee, and he thanked the fates that some long-forgotten designer of military apparel had seen fit to provide the officers of the King’s Own with a high-waisted jacket. He thanked them with a deep and earnest gratitude, because his jacket was all she was wearing.

It was amazing how things had changed between them, since that bitter, bewildering reunion. For a week they had not spent a night apart, and for a week the smile had barely left his face. Occasionally the memory would wallow up, of course, unbidden and horribly surprising, like a bloated corpse bobbing to the surface of the pond while one enjoys a picnic on the shore, of Ardee biting and hitting him, crying and screaming in his face. But when it did so he would fix his grin, and see her smile at him, and soon enough he would be able to shove those unpleasant thoughts back down again, at least for now. Then he would congratulate himself on being a big enough man to do it, and on giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Ardee,” he wheedled at her.

“Mmm?”

“Come back to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” Strange, how the more he said it, the easier it became.

She gave a bored sigh. “So you keep saying.”

“It’s true.”

She turned round, hands on the sill behind, her body a dark outline against the bright window. “And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve been fucking me for a week and you haven’t had enough yet?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Well,” and she pushed herself away from the window and padded across the boards. “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in finding out, is there? No more harm, anyway.” She stopped at the foot of the bed. “Just promise me one thing.”

Jezal swallowed, worried at what she might ask him, worried at what he might say in reply. “Anything,” he murmured, forcing himself to smile.

“Don’t let me down.”

His smile grew easier. That was not so hard to say yes to. He was a changed man, after all. “Of course, I promise.”

“Good.” She crept up on to the bed, on her hands and knees, eyes fixed on his face while he wriggled his toes in anticipation under the sheet. She knelt up, one leg on either side of him, and jerked the jacket smooth across her chest. “Well then, Captain, do I pass muster?”

“I would say…” and he grabbed the front of the jacket and pulled her down on top of him, slipped his hands inside it, “that you are without a doubt…” and he slid his hand under her breast and rubbed at her nipple with his thumb, “the finest-looking soldier in my company.”

She pressed her groin against his through the sheet, and worked her hips back and forward. “Ah, the Captain is already at attention…”

“For you? Constantly…”

Her mouth licked and sucked at his, smearing spit on his face, and he pushed his hand between her legs and she rubbed herself against it for a while, his sticky fingers squelching in and out of her. She grunted and sighed in her throat, and he did the same. She reached down and dragged the sheet out of the way. He took hold of his prick and she wriggled her hips until they found the right spot and worked her way down onto him, her hair tickling at his face, her rasping breath tickling at his ear.

There were two heavy knocks at the door, and they both froze. Another two knocks. Ardee put her head up, pushing her hair out of her flushed face. “What is it?” she called, voice thick and throaty.

“There’s someone for the Captain.” The maid. “Is he… is he still here?”

Ardee’s eyes rolled down to Jezal’s. “I daresay I could get a message to him!” He bit on his lip to stifle a laugh, reached up and pinched at her nipple and she slapped his hand away. “Who is it?”

“A Knight Herald!” Jezal felt his smile fading. Those bastards never seemed to bring good news, and always at the worst possible times. “Lord Marshal Varuz needs to speak to the Captain urgently. They’re all over town looking for him.” Jezal cursed under his breath. It seemed that the army had finally realised he was back.

“Tell him that when I see the Captain I will let him know!” shouted Ardee, and the sound of footsteps retreated down the corridor outside.

“Fuck!” Jezal hissed as soon as he was sure the maid was gone, not that she could have been in too much doubt about what had been going on for the past few days and nights. “I’ll have to go.”

“Now?”

“Now, curse them. If I don’t they’ll just keep looking, and the sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

She sighed and rolled over onto her back while he slithered off the bed and started hunting round the room for his scattered clothes. His shirt had a wine stain down the front, his trousers were creased and rumpled, but they would have to do. Cutting the perfect figure was no longer his one goal in life. He sat down on the bed to pull his boots on and he felt her kneel behind him, her hands sliding across his chest, her lips brushing at his ear as she whispered to him. “So you’ll be leaving me all alone again, will you? Heading off to Angland, to slaughter Northmen with my brother?”

Jezal leaned down with some difficulty and heaved one boot on. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” The idea of the soldiering life no longer inspired him. He had seen enough of violence, close up, to know it was extremely frightening and hurt like hell. Glory and fame seemed like meagre rewards for all the risks involved. “I’m giving serious thought to the idea of resigning my commission.”

“You are? And doing what?”

“I’m not sure.” He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’ll find a good woman and settle down.”

“A good woman? Do you know any?”

“I was hoping you might have some suggestions.”

She pressed her lips together. “Let me think. Does she have to be beautiful?”

“No, no, beautiful women are always so bloody demanding. Plain as ditchwater, please.”

“Clever?”

Jezal snorted. “Anything but that. I am notorious for my empty-headedness. A clever woman would only make me look the dunce the whole time.” He dragged the other boot on, peeled her hands away and stood up. “A wide-eyed and thoughtless calf would be ideal. Someone to endlessly agree with me.”

Ardee clapped her hands. “Oh yes, I can see her on you now, trailing from your arm like an empty dress, a kind of echo at a higher pitch. Noble blood though, I imagine?”

“Of course, nothing but the best. One point on which I could never compromise. And fair hair, I have a weakness for it.”

“Oh, I entirely agree. Dark hair is so commonplace, so very much the colour of dirt, and filth, and muck.” She shuddered. “I feel sullied just thinking of it.”

“Above all,” as he pushed his sword through the clasp on his belt, “a calm and even temper. I have had my fill of surprises.”