Disclaimer: An idea of mine based on a book of hers. Even the thought of claiming to be Anne Bishop gives me the shivers.
Author's Note from Erkith: I'm working on PD and Betrothed; I promise I am, but this little one shot came to me at 4am. So I typed and typed and typed away until I finished this little ficlet today. Meant to come before Witch, I wondered if every Queen was truly a bitch. Welcome to a fic where Daemon is more than a toy. Read, review…
And as always,
Enjoy!
Erkith
PS. excuse the momentary compulsion to rhyme… a mood of mine.
To Strike a Deal
Terreille's Whore was not to be underestimated. He was a tool – a useful tool – but unpredictable and dangerous. Courts were left in shambles in his wake. Unwise Queens lay like butchered meat in their beds, but Dorothea still made a gift of the infamous pleasure slave. Daemon Sadi was the proverbial white elephant.
He was a gorgeous animal. Preciously rare in strength, skill, beauty, and bloodline… and required such careful handling.
One had to take care not to arouse the deadly side of his nature from beneath the dispassionate, uncaring façade – the side the Blood called the Sadist. That side of him killed without remorse and massacred when provoked.
Some handlers are better than others…
Daemon Sadi – Terreille's Whore – was standing in her throne room.
Queen Sariah Carmelline had dismissed her court at the mere sight of him. Her blood pounded with the sudden threat to her court. They were imperfect, but they were Blood, and they were hers to protect. Having Sadi in your midst was never a good sign. What was he doing here?
As if in answer, a letter appeared, dropping into her lap. She looked up at Daemon who watched her with bored gold eyes from where he leaned against the wall. Sariah called in a small knife to slit the Priestess's seal.
Dear Sister,
I make a gift of him to you, a loan of sorts. His last keeper is permanently indisposed. I trust you will do your outmost to keep our pet at heel. Your service to the Court is noted.
My sincerest wishes, dear Sariah,
Dorothea SaDiablo
"Sincerest wishes", Sariah thought bitterly. That might even be sincere. After all she doesn't specify what she's wishing for. Calmly and methodically, she tore the letter into tiny pieces. She met his gold eyes with anger shimmering behind hers.
"Well, Prince Sadi. It seems that I am stuck with you."
He raised his eyebrows in a very cynical question, but said nothing. She was older than he'd expected. She could have been of age with him, but then one could never tell with the Hayllian race. At any rate, she was certainly more mature than the last giggling queen he'd killed.
"I'll be honest with you. I don't want you here."
"Oh yes, do be honest," he said in a voice that was velvet wrapped sarcasm.
Sariah ignored his disbelief. "And so the question becomes what am I to do with you?"
He shrugged, looking very nonchalant with his hands in his pants pockets. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."
Cocking her head to the side, Sariah studied him for a moment, finally saying, "What makes you say that?"
"Your kind always does." His tone was icy.
She gave him an amused look, as if he were so very naïve and thought far too highly of himself. "I have no particular use for you, Prince."
Daemon's expression finally shifted from boredom. He pushed away from the wall to eye her with interest. He moved to her with deliberate grace, watching her follow the motion with the admiration one reserves for the beauty of dancers and large zoo cats. There was nothing sexual in her appreciation.
His handsome mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You surprise me."
She gave him a very frank look. "I surprise a great many people."
"I would imagine so," he replied courteously. There was no mockery in his tones.
Sariah smiled and relaxed back into her chair comfortably. She gestured an invitation to join her on the adjacent couch. When he took it, she shared her thoughts. "They are very, very stupid to approach you as they do." When he only raised an eyebrow in question, she continued. "They should never have treated you as an object, as a dangerous toy."
"I'm a pleasure slave, Lady. I am an object."
"No." It was a weighted statement that brooked no argument. "No, you're not an object. They should have treated you with respect. You're a Warlord Prince, Sadi; they should have asked you to serve."
His expression tightened. "And if I said no?"
Sariah didn't speak until he raised his golden eyes to hers. "That is your right." Taking in his startled look, she offered him more than she had planned. "You deserve the right to choose who you bed and who you serve. There is no trust in slavery, only fear on both sides. Locking you up serves no purpose."
"Lady, I'm a Queen-killer."
She waved his words away. "I'll bet those bitches finally got something they deserved. Beneath your hatred you are worthy of trust. I believe you may be much more honourable than you pretend, Prince."
His expression was incredulous. "I believe, despite your age, that you're naïve."
Sariah laughed. "That is certainly a possibility and a faintly charming belief as well. I'll overlook the comment my advanced years."
Daemon shook his head in reluctant amusement. "You are certainly original."
"Thank you."
"I'm not entirely sure I meant that as a compliment," he admitted.
Sariah grinned. "That's okay. I'll take it as one anyways."
"Apparently."
The series of quick comebacks had inspired an idea. "Can we strike a deal?" she asked abruptly.
The smile on his lips turned wary. "That would depend on the terms."
Spreading her hands, she said, "State them."
"No sex. No safframate."
His expression had turned dead cold, Sariah noted, at the mere mention of the bedroom. "Simple enough. Anything else?"
"I won't assassinate anyone without good reason on your behalf."
She wondered what happened to get that condition as part of his terms. Frowning, she nodded. "Agreed."
Distrust still shadowed Daemon's golden eyes. "What do you want then?" She agreed far too easily. His mind searched for the trap.
"I want your skills." When his eyes frosted over, she corrected herself. "Oh, not like that and not for me exactly… I want to use you as a distraction."
"A distraction," he repeated.
"Walking, talking eye-candy, if you like."
He lifted a brow. Well, this was a new one. She was a strange creature this new Queen of his. "I accept." He said it softly, but he knew she heard. "Who am I to be distracting? And how in Hell's name did you come up with this idea?"
Sariah let out her breath in relief. He'd accepted! Thank you, Dorothea! She thought smugly, she sent me exactly what I need. She smiled at Daemon. "I came up with the idea when one group of aristos from a neighbouring court came to negotiate last year. One of them brought a woman from a Red Moon house with him – an intriguing, sharp-tongued one at that."
Rolling her eyes at her own daftness, she admitted. "I found her somewhat distracting, and I believe this group noticed my mind wandering. But lord that woman has the most extraordinary mouth on her…" Sariah sighed. "Anyways, I have reason to believe that they have contracted her again. Since they got more than I would have liked at our last meeting, this is where you come in."
"So am I distracting you? Or your neighbours?"
Sariah lifted an eyebrow. "Me? My darling Prince, my interests lie elsewhere."
Daemon lowered himself to his knees before her and took her hand. "Sariah, Sariah, Sariah… Your naiveté is showing."
"Is it?" she challenged.
His eyes on hers, Daemon brought her hand to lips. "For some things sex has nothing to do with pleasure." Sensation radiated in a sweet fire from the contact. Her cheeks heated as blood rushed through. His body was no more a sexual object to her than before but his touch was drugging. "For some things touch A creates sensation B."
Sariah blinked as he sat back, shook her head. She snatched her hand back, rubbing the skin, and looked at it as if it were a foreign object. Frowning at him, she said, "You're just scary."
It was honestly said with such fervor that his lips twitched a little at her petulant expression. "Thank you."
She harrumphed. "As it happens, I'd like you to distract my distraction."
"How?"
"I don't care as long as you don't do her any lasting harm. She's a pretty bit of ass." Sariah said with a wink.
Daemon raised an eyebrow as he sank back into the couch. "You don't strike me as the type to be easily unfocused from your task."
"She's a very interesting woman."
"When can we expect them?"
"Very soon," she said. "Part of why we were so alarmed to have you here. You're a rather unpredictable variable to have hanging over our heads during negotiations."
He could hardly begrudge her that. His last three courts had been left as rubble – one within hours of his arrival. He sensed the group approaching before they reached the door, only one of them was making any effort to be quiet, probably the whore. They had an instinct for danger. Daemon motioned that Sariah should stay seated, and moved to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of brandy. The golden liquid was expensive and fragrant. He used the familiar action to sooth the Sadist that wanted to rise at thought of games – even ones as harmless as these.
When the knock sounded on the doors, it was hesitant but audible. No doubt a very nervous servant stood on the other side. Sariah glanced over at the back of Terreille's most beautiful man, and prayed she'd done the right thing to diffuse the man who was strung tensely and currently drinking her brandy. She wondered is she imagined the flickering instinct to still like a dazed animal under threat.
"Come in," she invited. Her voice felt thick past the rush of nerves.
The man-servant presented the group of visitors.
Tarek, the group's burly leader, stepped forward, his smile enigmatic. "Sariah, you grow more lovely with each passing year. You are the northern star that shines through the dirt and dust of the journey to lead fair travelers to their destiny."
"If I grow lovelier in my antiquity, my dear Tarek, it is merely because you grow sillier. You're compliments will soon be beyond the pale of the ridiculous if you continue to insist on overtopping your last." Sariah said sourly. "It is well we do not meet more often, for I fear you should long ago have exceeded even your powers inestimable charm."
He bowed low with a laugh. "You keep this traveler honest, my lady."
"I should hope so."
"May I present my companion this eve, my lady?" Tarek asked. "I believe you met last time…" He pulled the woman forward by her wrist so that she stood behind him, but clearly visible.
Beneath black lashes, the woman sent the man a very dark look. She looked up at the Queen with her head held high, regal as her green-gold eyes clashed with her targets' and then widened as she felt the spell trying to fool her peripheral vision.
Daemon's laughter was full-bodied but seemed to come out of nowhere. It filled the room with rich sound. The aristo group all turned to him, Tarek stepping back onto the woman's toes. She shoved him off impatiently to greet the host they'd all somehow overlooked. Her new orders where practically screamed through her head.
Daemon didn't immediately speak to her, but without breaking eye-contact brought a glass to the throne and addressed himself to Sariah instead. "I believe I owe you an apology, my dear. I can easily understand how you could be… put out of sorts, by Lady Surreal."
"That bitch isn't a Lady," one of the men muttered. "She's a whore."
Pitiless gold eyes singled out the man who abruptly grabbed his balls with a shriek as phantom touches used nails as a clear threat of where further comments would lead. No one moved to help him as he was held immobilized and then brought to his knees by a sensation that far on the side of pain. The Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince took a lethal-looking step towards him.
"Daemon," Surreal said softly, drawing his deadly attention back to herself, "it's been a long time."
He regarded her for a moment before offering her his hand. She walked to it without hesitation. The air was slightly chilled around him. Because he hadn't warned her off, Surreal took his hands in hers, and met his eyes straight on. To her relief they showed only hints of the ice she'd feared.
Daemon gave her slow smile and led her to the sideboard. She watched as he poured the rich liquor and put the Sadist back to sleep inside him. They both sipped at their drinks in silence as Sariah struck up the beginnings of the negotiations as if there hadn't been something vicious loose in their midst only minutes before.
"What a nice girl like you, doing with swine like that?" Daemon finally asked.
Surreal snorted derisively at her characterization as a nice girl. "Just a distraction job. One I would certainly have never taken if I'd known my opponent. I'm just glad they changed the terms of the contract."
"Oh?"
"I'm to distract you." Surreal said with a grin. Shooting for complete unsubtlety, she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Apparently I'm to distract you."
Surreal grinned. "Excellent. It'll be the easiest contract I've ever made."
"I could make it difficult."
"Please, Daemon, I'm a working girl." She answered beating the pun to death. "I could use an easy night."
He lifted an eyebrow. The expression so familiar she laughed.
It's good to see you, Daemon. She was smiling but sounded tired even over the thread.
You look well.
The confusion over the inconsistency seemed to reach her. She let some of the glamour drop for him. He probe her with tendrils of power.
Eating something would help. He fairly growled in her head. She was much thinner than she appeared. The hollows in her cheeks had been brushed over with makeup and magic to hide the dramatic decline. Her skin was a touch too pale beneath the golden Hayllian tint. Sleeping would be an improvement. He sifted out a surface thought that revealed more.
Daemon's eyes narrowed in warning at her. Take care of yourself, little one, or I'll find someone to make you.
Happy hunting to you too, she thought grumpily.
He smoothed a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. It's one thing to help those that need it, Surreal, and another to put yourself at risk by hunting when you can barely afford it physically. His eyes locked hers. Take a break, or I'll force one on you.
She snarled at him, but settled against the sideboard to drift as they both listened to the heated banter of negotiations. Sariah was refusing to budge on some point, looking very queenly as she argued against Tarek's offer.
She makes a good Queen. Surreal thought to him idly. You've done better than usual.
Daemon nodded. She was fighting to keep her people from falling fully into Dorothea's shadow. He'd take Sariah and her court under his wing even as he left it. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be here long… At least one of Tarek's men was tainted.
Indeed, it was not a week after that he was removed from Sariah's care. Dorothea second letter was no more welcomed than the first.
Word of Sariah Carmelline's fate reached Hayll a week old. The tale distorted and slowed by the deliberate execution of the messengers. But news still fled her Territory by mouth and by web as dream-weavers caught the screams of the Queen Sariah's betrayal at the hands of a neighbouring province.
Within days, Terreille's Whore had vanished as if unbound by the Ring which summoned him home. His latest Keeper lay floating in her reflecting pool, strangled by the scarf at her throat.
He stood atop her frosted grave, cold. They'd buried her without marker, yet the Darkness had provided one. Crimson bloomed over the ground under which she lay – a Queen brutally murdered – guarded and remembered by Witchblood.
He remembered her words: "You're a Warlord Prince, Sadi; they should have asked you to serve." Only she had offered him a choice. This slain Queen of the Old Ways was worthy of his grief, worthy of more respect than she'd been given.
A bubble of Grey lay over the grave, a message for him.
I'm sorry, Daemon. I heard too late. Surreal's voice cut through the gloom. They didn't even mark her burial. She deserved better. I planted the flowers on a hunch… let me know if they bloom.
Even Sariah's distraction had returned for her, and had known he would as well. And as the ground bled for the Queen lost here so would those responsible.
"A fair handler deserves fair play," the Terreille's Whore spoke into the Darkness.
Several aristos' disappearances went un-mourned that winter.
It's always a mistake to play with the Sadist.
A/N: So that's the end of the tale today. If you enjoyed it, I hope you'll say. Readers and reviewers make me smile, and their messages remind me to write once in a while. And because you all cheer me when I'm feeling blue…
Thank you, all, Happy New Year and may the Darkness bless you.
Erkith
PS. Again… the rhymes lol.