-Chapter Four-

-Reaver-

The moment she disappeared into nothingness, I sighed, my hands falling from my hips. The Queen had proved to be a great distraction from the documents I had been preparing to give that Page-woman what she needed to start out as my liaison to the workers. She was sure to be amusing to break under my command. She seemed the type that would fight me at every opportunity, and that excited me. I did like a good struggle for power now and then—so long as I came out victorious.

The rest of the night would most likely prove to be boring, as many of my nights had become since my return from Wraithmarsh. I had rather hoped that my newly-restored vigor and youthfulness would draw people in like flies to honey, but perhaps that was hoping too much of the simpletons I surrounded myself with. Murphy was good fun in a pinch, but he was still rather meek and timid. I would draw him out eventually. His adorable little stammer had been what had drawn me to him in the first place. It made the manner in which I spoke flawless in comparison, though not many in Albion were as well spoken nor were they as gifted as I was. I had been blessed with stunning good looks as well as a commanding and eloquent voice. One could call it 'the luck of the draw.'

Another that had been so very fortunate in all manners of being was The Queen, and she seemed to have no idea. She had been born beautiful, and she had been taught to be graceful and well spoken. Her mother had been a beauty, yes, but she was unrefined, wild, and common. Her spirit persisted through all, and she emerged triumphant, as people like her always did. She was also terribly boring and let her morality guide her course of actions far too closely. Her one demonstration of self-preservation in Wraithmarsh had been her only step onto my side of that fine gray line. I had hoped she would prove to be more of a complex being, but I was sorely disappointed.

Her daughter, on the other hand, The Queen—Keira...Now, she was a puzzle to be solved. She moved through Albion like wildfire, dispatching evil-doers and gathering loyal followers in her wake. On my first encounter with her after she'd fled the castle, she was all purity and light and utterly boring—like her mother. I was heartily disappointed. Though, I still would not have thrown such a youthful beauty out of my bed had she chosen to accept my offer that night. I would have taken my fill of her and been done with it, but now...

She was different. She had condemned her brother to death, shocking even me. That twist of darkness struck a cord with my own sombrous inclinations. Though her later decisions had proven to be in favor of the people, that inky cloud of doubt and corruption hung like a tangible thing over her, changing her, molding her into something else. Something better suited to my tastes.

I could not explain my draw to her. Nothing like it had ever taken hold of me in such a way. Lust for power, yes. Lust for the warm bodies of men and women alike, yes. But lust for a singular woman? Unheard of. Perhaps I had gone mad in my centuries of existence. Perhaps it was the heroic flourish in my blood singing to merge with the similar legacy in hers. She was a descendant of William Black. The epitome of heroic potential lived within her, yet she had barely even scratched the surface. Something primal in me wanted to posses her, bend her, make her in my image. This was not love. It could never be love, but it could be fun.

A shuffling of feet passed by my quarters, and I strode to the door, throwing it open. I'd had a discussion with my people about picking up their feet when they walked. The soles of their shoes grating against the fine floors of my home made the most unpleasant noise. Having such keen senses proved to be terrible burden, at times.

It was Murphy, my poor Barry Hatch's newest replacement. I had run through young men like tissue-paper in the past year. I'd had this boy for a little over a month now, yet he still seemed so slow to learn. The Queen, having met him now, would surely notice his absence if I put him down as I had his predecessors. I would have to endure his flaws and little faults.

I cleared my throat, my hands once again finding their way to my hips. I tilted my head and arched a brow at his back, waiting for him to acknowledge my summon.

"M-m-master Reaver!" He stumbled over his words. He whipped around, his own feet getting in his way. He tumbled forward, but his handsome face remained fixed on me. The color of his eyes was striking, and his lips were so very soft and petal-like. I momentarily cursed my shallow tastes, for I had trapped myself with the most beautiful, inept manservant.

I heaved a breath and I stepped forward, setting him to rights. His height could not compare to my stature, so I had to look down my nose to observe his reaction. "What have I told you about dragging your feet like an ape, Murphy?" I held him by the shoulders, my fingers squeezing the soft, unpracticed flesh beneath. He required much work, but he also had much potential. A few more months in my employ would undoubtedly ripen him to as near to perfection as he would ever get.

"Th-that only lower-class riff-raff and those th-that serve lower-class riff-raff d-do it?" He asked, his eyes trying so very hard to stay fixed on my face, but they drifted downward to my nudity in the end. His face turned an irresistible shade of pink.

"Precisely," I said steadily, my voice taking on a dangerous, low rumble. "And are you serving lower-class riff-raff?"

"N-no sir," He bumbled, shaking his head.

I moved a hand to grasp his softly squared jaw with a ferocious tightness, and I caught his deep bronze gaze. "Do not let me catch you again, do you hear, boy?"

"Yes, s-s-s-sir." His breath was hot and quivering, and his face was full of fear. It stirred the insatiable hunger within me.

"Do you promise to remember this conversation or must I strike you to burn it into that pathetic little brain of yours?" I growled tempestuously, my face moving closer.

"I-I..." His eyes flashed with restrained excitement.

My hand collided with the side of his face firmly enough to prove the point, yet too gentle to leave a mark. I preferred to keep the faces pretty, and I had much more imaginative thoughts as to where else I could leave a mark.

His eyes rolled, and his body was unsure whether to enjoy my touch or reject it. He swayed gently, and his lips parted. He had settled on enjoyment, I saw, and his eyes focused once more on my face, sure not to look me directly in the eye. "D-do you require anything m-more of me, sir?"

A dark grin spread across my lips, and I nodded. "Oh, yes, Murphy. I require much, much more of you."

-Keira-

I slept through the night without a single dark thought. My dreams were sweet and warm and soft and inviting. I opened my eyes, and I felt totally refreshed. It wasn't until I moved to stand that I was pulled from my hazy, dreamlike state. My muscles were sore, but I was recovering. I could only imagine what a night like the last would have been like before my Heroic constitution was unlocked. I pushed free from the bed, and I stretched my muscles before glancing back to Angus, who still slept deeply in his place beneath the covers.

I walked toward the balcony door, peeking at the crack between the curtains. The day was still gray, but the rain had stopped. I was thankful for that because I had hoped for a little time outside of the castle walls. If my schedule allowed, I would take a regiment of guards and visit The Old Quarter to check on its progress. If it didn't, I would have to have a word with Constance about repeating her duties from the night before. I did not care if I were accompanied or not, I needed time away.

I dressed myself, deciding it would be better to summon Page to me as soon as possible. I would also, in the coming days, need to investigate Reaver's accusation of The Duke of Millfields' intrigue and plot to plant discord among my council. I had hoped to have a stretch of peaceful days ahead of me, but I knew that was a light that was far in the distance. There were so many things that needed to be done.

I strode toward the door, and as my hand reached for the knob, someone knocked on it. I pulled the door open to find a shocked Hobson holding the tray with my morning tea, which I had taken in my room the past few days. I stepped aside to allow him into my chambers. "Just set it at the table, Hobson," I told him. "I was on my way to fetch you, actually."

"How may I assist you, Your Majesty?" He asked, almost excited at the prospect of being trusted with an actual task. Since I'd defeated The Crawler, his duties were those that could easily be carried out by a maid. I hadn't wanted to replace Jasper at all, and I supposed I was holding out hope that he would decide to abandon his duty in The Sanctuary to return to me.

"I require a meeting with Page this morning," I said. "Send for her, and ask that she come as soon as possible. I do not want this to go any further."

"May I be so bold as to inquire the 'this' to which you are referring?" Hobson asked as he strode to the table with my tea. He set the tray down delicately and his face reddened from bending down so low.

"It is personal business for Mister Reaver," I said, moving to sit down in my chair. I leaned forward, pouring myself a small cup of the piping hot tea.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he said, nodding. "If I may offer my opinion: I rather hoped that your correspondence with Mister Reaver was more personal, Your Majesty. He, despite being lowborn, would make an excellent suitor for you when the time comes for you to marry. I imagine the people of Albion will be clamoring for a royal wedding any day, now."
I spooned a bit of sugar into my tea, and I poured the cream slowly, almost disregarding what he had just said. "You know well that a monarch cannot marry someone who is lowborn, Hobson."

"A little birdie has told me that Mister Reaver hopes to gain a title soon," He said. "It would be most well-deserved, considering how much has assisted you in the past year."

"Hobson, if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," I said. "And I did not—on this issue, nor on the issue of whom I should take on as a suitor. Thank you."

He pinked around the edges, and he bowed, knowing when not to push the issue with me, finally. He backed out of the room and closed the doors.

I sipped at my tea, and I leaned back into the soft comfort of my favorite chair. It had been one that was being threatened to be replaced during the renovation of the castle, but I had requested that the chair remain in my chambers. After another few draws on my tea, I could feel the warmth permeating the cool of the room, and I sighed in relief.

Once my tea was through, I moved toward the vanity, weaving a quick braid into my hair and tossing it over my shoulder and out of the way. I leaned in to see a fading red mark on the side of my neck, a signature left by Reaver the night before. It was hardly noticeable and looked like only a minor irritation. I smoothed my hand over it, suddenly thinking of how it had gotten there.

I was not sure if I wanted to repeated the actions of the night before, but the door was certainly open, I could tell. I left Reaver wanting, and that was something, from what I'd heard, that was simply not done. The man was a legend in his own right. Not that I had much experience, but he was a thorough and surprisingly considerate lover. He saw to my needs in the process of fulfilling his own. Then again, one does not gain such a reputation by seeing only to his own completion.

"Angus," I said, looking back to my companion. He still lay on the bed with a lazy look in his eyes, as if he were bored of watching me dote on myself in the mirror. "Do you want to take a walk in the garden?"

In an instant, he had jumped to the ground, his tail wagging and waving all over and his tongue lolling from his open, smiling mouth. He rushed to my side, his black and white head bobbing up and down with anticipation.

"Come on, then," I said, giving him a rich, truly genuine smile. I stroked behind his ears briefly before we exited the room. The guards outside my door bade me good morning as I made my way down the hallway, and I returned their greeting. There was a noticeable change in demeanor in me, and I was sure people would notice. I could only hope that Constance would be discreet about with whom I had spent my evening.

As we exited into the garden, the brisk air brought an immediate chill. I pulled my arms in toward my body, trying to keep the warmth against me. I should have worn a coat, but I would be able to endure a little chilliness as long as it didn't rain as well. Angus trotted off in the direction of Walter's memorial statue, and the sadness that had been buried beneath my distraction surfaced once more. I followed him, and I pressed my hand against the plaque that I'd had inscribed with the words 'Forever in The Light.'

"You know, I could use you at a time like this," I said. "Page is being...well, you know how Page is, and I hate to admit it, but Reaver is probably the closest thing I have to a friend right now." My laughter caught in my throat, and I sighed. "I miss you, Walter. I hope that wherever you are, you are at peace—no longer in darkness." I stroked the plaque once more, and I felt Angus nudge against my leg, whining.

"It's okay, boy," I sighed. "I know you miss him."

"Keira," said Page breathlessly. She strode toward me, and her eyes were wide. "You summoned me, but did you forget that we'd been planning to meet this morning?"

I blinked, "I'm sorry. I did."

She laughed a little bit, and she patted my shoulder. "It's alright. I've got a lot to discuss with you."

"Maybe we should head inside to my study," I offered. I motioned toward the steps, and Page followed, keeping stride beside me. We moved swiftly inside of the castle, and warmth flooded over me. I felt slightly more confident about this discussion we were about to have. Why had I been so nervous in the first place?

She leaned, trying to inspect my face. Perhaps she was already suspicious of what I would say to her proposal. She was probably very sure that I would strike down Reaver and name her the head of the Industrial District, as I had bent to her will so many other times before.

"So, I heard that Reaver has returned from his hiding place in the country now that The Darkness has been defeated," Page said. "And I heard that he had you for lunch at his manor in Millfields. Is that true, Keira?"

"Yes," I said with a nod. "He had something to discuss with me."

"Well?"

"Page, I really can't discuss it until I know more," I said. We had reached the study, finally, and the guards opened the doors for us as we approached. Once within, the doors closed, and I motioned for Page to take a seat before the letter writing desk.

She sat, and she pulled open the satchel at her side. She pulled a small stack of parchment, and she laid it across the desk. "While you have been mourning, I have been working very hard to keep the people in Industrial happy."

"Are you saying that I've been neglectful, Page?" I asked, my body flaring with anger.

"No, no," She said, shaking her head. "I'm just stating facts. Another war has ravaged the people of this city, and they needed someone strong. A leader. And just where was Reaver?"

"I don't know," I said. "But it is not his duty to protect the people of Industrial. That is my duty, and the army's duty. His duty is to run the businesses—the factories, the markets, the real estate."

Page pressed her shapely lips together. "But he should care about those people, Keira. Don't you agree?"

"Page, I'm going to be honest with you, I know what you are about to propose," I said. "And I do not believe it is in Albion's best interest to put you in charge of Bowerstone Industrial."

"What do you mean 'Albion's best interest,' Keira?" She asked. "I wouldn't mistreat the people. I wouldn't shoot at them for taking a break."

"Precisely, and that is why I am offering you an alternative," I said.

"This is ridiculous," She sighed.

I ignored her petulance, and I said, "I have spoken to Reaver, and I-"

"So this is what that little date was about, isn't it?" She asked. "He wanted to pull the rug from underneath me. Keira, you cannot let him control you. He will only manipulate you into doing what he wants."

"Like you have?" I asked, raising my brows, my anger rising once more. "I have done everything you've asked of me and more, Page. I cannot hand Industrial to you because I do not believe you would run it like Reaver can."

"Reaver has run this country into the ground!" She argued, raising her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, and she exhaled heavily. "He is an evil man, and I don't see why you haven't put him before a firing squad!"

"My brother ran this country into the ground, and he paid the price for those crimes," I said, my stomach twisting unpleasantly. "And Reaver shows genuine interest in helping to better things, Page."

"He'll say anything to remain on top," She scoffed. "You are being foolish, Keira. You are letting him manipulate you."

I stood suddenly from my chair, my palms slamming angrily into the desk. "I am the Queen of Albion! I am not a fool, and I realize that Reaver is a manipulative man. For the moment, working with him is what everyone needs. You would never be able to do what he does. Now, you will desist your circulation of that little petition of yours, and you will do as I say, for once. I've kept so many promises to you, and you have yet to fulfill any of yours to me."

Her eyes widened, and she sank backward into her chair. She blinked a few times, and she nodded. "I was only-"

I drew in a sharp breath, and I gulped the growing lump in my throat. "Page, this is my decision, and Reaver and I have come to a compromise which will hopefully benefit all. You will become a liaison to the workers. You will keep Reaver's bad behavior in check, and you will see to it that the people's needs are met."

I could tell immediately that the idea of working directly with Reaver on a daily basis frustrated her, but she said nothing except for, "That will suffice for now."

"It will do more than suffice, Page," I said as I resumed my seat. "Your place is with the people, not running the businesses. This will be much suited to your talents, you will see."

There was a sudden knock at the door, and it cracked open. Reaver's walking stick entered the room first, followed by his long legs, and he came into view. He was dressed in an all black suit with a burgundy shirt where he would have usually worn his favored black. He swept his top hat off of his head, bowing graciously to me, and nodding curtly toward Page. "Your Majesty, I had rather hoped I would find you alone. I have brought some documents regarding some of the things we discussed yesterday."

"We are currently discussing Page's new position," I said. "This concerns you, as well, Reaver. Sit down, please."
Reaver placed his hat on the rack by the door, and he leaned his cane against the wall nearby. As he strode over, his dark eyes fixed on Page, his mouth tightening into a line of disapproval. He grabbed the chair, scooting it a good distance away from her, as if he were afraid he would catch something. He sat, and his expression softened as he crossed one leg over the other. "I do hope that this will be brief. There is an unpleasant smell in this room, and I had hoped to have an appetite some time today."

Page made a rough, angry noise in the back of her throat, and she angled her body to face away from him while still keeping her eyes on me. "Do you truly expect me to work with him, Keira?"

"I believe Her Majesty has the right to do as she wishes," Reaver said, rubbing his chin. "I am not terribly thrilled with the prospect of working with you, but I suppose I could always place more potpourri around the factories to stave off the dreadful stench you bring in."

"Reaver," I chided him. I felt as if I were dealing with a pair of unruly children that had gotten into a school-yard scuffle. I folded my hands in front of me on the desk, and pressed my lips tightly together. "I realize that this is not an ideal situation for either of you, but it is what will produce results that will benefit Albion. This is not negotiable." I glanced between the two. "There is to be no violence between the two of you." I looked decidedly at Reaver for that remark. "And if I catch rumors of a coup, I will take care of matters personally." I shifted my gaze over to Page. "Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, My Queen," Reaver said with a nod. His mouth was fixed in an unreadable smirk. I wasn't sure if he was amused with my show of power or if he was undressing me with his mind. The way his eyes drifted all over suggested that he was pursuing the latter.

"Yes, Keira," Page said tightly.

"One would do well to remember to address your betters by their titles," Reaver injected into the silence.

Page merely ignored him, her eyes finding me once more.

I rose, and they followed suit. I stepped around the desk, and Reaver's eyes continued to drink me in. "Page, I know that after time to adjust, you will be pleased with your new position."

"We'll see," She replied.

"You know, ," Reaver said turning his eyes away from me to stare her down. "If I were you—and I thank providence daily that I am not—I would be pleased with any position in which The Queen placed me." His eyebrows bobbed up and down suggestively.

"I'm sure you would," She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You are a pig, Reaver."

"Better a pig than an ungrateful little worm," Reaver spat. "You should learn your place before you come to work for me. There are many non-violent ways to make your life hell."

Page stepped forward, her fist drawn back and flying forward. I stepped between the two of them, sending a gentle push of force outward from my body. Both stumbled backward, and I raised my hands out, putting my back to Reaver and facing Page.

"That is enough, Page," I said.

"So this is who you ally yourself with?" Paged asked, her eyebrows raising and her mouth pursed in an angry little 'o'. "Be careful putting your back to him, Your Majesty. He's likely to stick a knife in it."

"If you remember, my little firecracker, my weapon of choice is a pistol," Reaver's voice said steadily. When I glanced back to him, I saw that he had put his hands on his hips, pushing his coat away. His pair of Dragonstompers glittered even in the soft interior light. Having one of the legendary guns was a feat in itself, but it was rumored that Reaver possessed all but the one that lay safely in my armory. Now, he was displaying them as a threat.

"That is enough," I seethed. "From both of you. Page, I expect you to be good to the people in Industrial, and Reaver, if I catch any word-"

"I understand, Your Majesty," Reaver said quickly.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Page said as she headed toward the door. "This could be disastrous, keeping him in charge." She strode out, closing the door with such force that a painting on the wall jiggled, threatening to fall.

I turned to Reaver, heaving a sigh. "Reaver, now what-"

His finger pressed against my lips, silencing me, and he slipped an arm around me. As he drew me close, he removed his finger only to run it down the curve of my cheek. "You left me most unsatisfied last night, my dear."

"Oh?" I questioned, raising my brows.

"Yes," He said. "That is not something that people simply do to me."

"Perhaps you need a little lesson in patience," I told him, though my heart was pounding in my throat.

He pulled me tight against him, and he said, "Even after I sought release in others, you continued to frustrate me." His mouth pulled up at the edges. "You made quite an impression." His lips touched briefly to mine with a searing heat. "I hope you have had your rest, for I am positive--"
A fervent knock at the door interrupted his words, and he drew away from me his eyes dark with chagrin. He reached into his breast pocket, producing what were probably the documents he'd mentioned earlier.

Hobson entered the room slowly, as if he knew that he would be interrupting a discussion or something of the sort. "Excuse me, Your Majesty, Mister Reaver, I have your schedule for the day."

"Ah, Hobson," Reaver said almost unpleasantly. "I see that your timing is impeccable, as always. The Queen and I were just discussing some business. I suppose she has time on her schedule for that, yes?"

"Well, yes, Mister Reaver, of course," Hobson said nodding. "She has nothing planned except for a sitting with the artist that is to start her portrait, and a visit from The Duke of Millfields this afternoon. It seems he has come under the assumption that someone has been spreading some awful rumors about him."

"Oh, dear," Reaver sighed, playing surprised.

"Can we reschedule my session with the painter?" I questioned him.

"I'm afraid not," Hobson said. "He has arrived early, and he has already begun to set things in order for the painting. I believe I could stall him, if that is what you wish."

I rubbed my temples. I had completely forgotten about that, as well. I ran my fingers through my hair, and I nodded. "Give me time to get dressed, and I will come as soon as I am able."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Hobson confirmed with a little nod. "Mister Reaver, am I to assume that you will be lingering around the castle for the day? I can have a meal brought to the two of you before the painter is fully prepared." His tone lowered, almost suggestively.

"I think that privacy is all we require, Mister Hobson," Reaver said. "We still have much to discuss."
Hobson backed out of the room, a knowing smirk fixed on his mouth. I almost wanted to strike it away, but he was gone.

Reaver went to stuff the papers back into his breast pocket, but I caught them from his hand. I opened them, and I saw that they were blank. Of course. He wasn't here to discuss business. He'd wanted to continue what we had started the night before. He merely shrugged as he took the papers back from me, tossing them on the desk.

"It seems we are to discuss business now, " Reaver said, putting his hands on his hips, his back straightening. He looked like the cutthroat business man, now, and not the playful lover.

"Is there any way you could summon your...ah...witnesses of Goulding's treasonous plots?" I asked.

"I am sure that I can arrange that rather quickly," Reaver said, but he then laughed. "I can only imagine the look on the man's face when he realizes his own wife has betrayed him."

I was not looking forward to this at all. I felt tension building inside of me, and I turned to pace the room. "I can only hope that he acts with grace and dignity."

"I hope he causes a scene," he said in contrast. "The man is a foul old codger, and he deserves whatever is coming to him."

"What exactly has he said, Reaver?" I asked, turning to face him. "If I am to ruin this man's life, I need to know."

"I think it would be better if you heard it from his wife," Reaver told me. "She has a hilarious impression she does of the old bat I couldn't possibly replicate it." His mirth lit up his eyes, and his smile was nearly infectious.

"I am being serious," I returned, shaking the humor away. "This man was a great favorite of my mother's, and to depose him would be to tarnish her memory. If am to do it, then I need the right reasons."

Reaver closed the distance between us, his hands seizing me by the hips "You are quite nervous, my dear. Allow me to ease some of your tension." He tilted my head back, and he leaned closer. "It is one of the many services you can expect of me when I am the Duke of Millfields." He scooped me off of my feet, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"I felt the blood pulsing in my veins, and I captured his face between my palms. My breath came in short, ragged spurts as the excitement grew within me. "Reaver, there's nowhere to..."

He strode and deposited me on the edge of my desk. "I beg to differ, dear. There are so many places in this room where I could have you. This is merely the most convenient." His mouth crushed against mine, and I forgot all else except for his overpowering warmth and the heat it inspired in me.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I love hearing what you have to say. There is more to come soon, so follow/favorite!