Raffe the Rake

Part One

Chapter One

 

“You don’t need to pay for it, Raffe,” said Vanda as they entered her room within the bordello. “Not that I mind…”

Once again she sized up her client and tried not to offend the gods by gleefully announcing her good luck. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scar that ran along the side of his face from eat to chin. His dark hair was longish and kept in a wild style that matched his personality. She curled up on the bed as she watched him strip, taking off his jacket and boots, before he wandered to the window and looked outside. The gaslights had just come on, pushing back the gloom of the evening. Vanda frowned. Raffe didn’t need to pay for it, and he wasn’t. He was merely using her. Again.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” she fumed. “Who are you hiding from? Is it the husband of a lover or someone you cheated at cards?”

“Neither,” he said absent-mindedly as he unbuttoned the front of his breeches and started to remove them. When he realized what he was said, he winced at looked back at the pretty prostituted he had hired for the night, though in actuality he had hired her more for the safety of the room than the promise between her legs. “I mean—” be began before Vanda swung a pillow at his face. He easily batted it aside and joined her on the bed. “Can’t a man do two things at once.”

“I don’t want you dragging any trouble in here!”

“Me?” he asked innocently. It was a question he had formed a hundred times before with the same affected innocence. No matter how much he practiced, no one believed him.

“Yes. You. Trouble follows you.”

“But all I want is a nice, quiet night between your heavenly thighs,” he told her, pushing up the dress’s dem that barely came down to her mid-thigh. She allowed him to push it up high enough to just barely afford him a glance at her cunt. Then she stopped him. “The goddess was working her magic the day she created you,” Raffe told her.

“You’ve told me that before.”

“Let me worship at your temple,” he begged her.

Vanda knew it was an act…and yet she still fell for it. Pulling her dress all the way over her hips, she opened her thighs and let him gaze upon her cunt.

Like all sophisticated prostitutes, Vanda removed all her body hair. It was partly it was tradition and partly protection from body lice. No woman of good breeding or status would do such a thing, of course, so men looking for something mildly exotic had to hire sex workers.

When Vanda realized he was gazing upon her sex for much longer than seemed normal, she pulled his chin up so she could look directly into his eyes. “It’s not like you haven’t see it and others just like it before,” she told him.

“Untrue. It is beauteous beyond measure of any other woman’s,” he claimed. “Such a cunt should be on display for all the world to admire and other women to aspire to.”

Vanda slapped him across the face. “Why don’t you shove your lying tongue into my needy little hole? Words only get you in trouble.” Before he could reply, she pushed him down to her sex; Raffe didn’t resist.

Although he was paying her for their encounter, it was Vanda who had the first orgasm. Raffe took his responsibilities as a lover very seriously and no matter who he was with, he took every effort to make sure they came first, even if his partner of the moment was a pretty prostitute just trying to survive in the very harsh Kingdom of Laquire.

“Oh goddess,” she cried out right before she came. Her noises then became something more animalistic before recovering herself enough to maintain a conversation. “Why do you do that to me?” she panted at Raffe.

“Because you are never more beautiful than when you are in the love goddess’s embrace.”

“Most men just call it cumming.”

“I’m not most men.”

“I’m the one who is supposed to be servicing you,” she said, sitting up and pulling her dress all the way off, up over her head, and tossing it aside. Her one small lacking attribute as a prostitute was her breasts. They were nice, but hardly huge and she couldn’t form a decent amount of cleavage to rival a young lady at her debut, even with the assistance of a corset. In a word, they were small, capped with small nipples and small areola that were blood pink.

“They are stunning,” Raffe said with enthusiasm as he pressed his lover back down onto the bed and ravished her tits, pinching and sucking and twisting them. She let out a little shriek of appreciation but at the same time her hands searched for the opening to his underclothes. The bulge of his erection was easily palpated through the material, but she wanted to hold the real thing in her hand.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said. “They are like a young girl’s.”

“Even better,” he said between kisses. “You can hide your age and continue to service the needs of horny men until the day you die.”

“Do you think I’ll work the rest of my life on my back?” Vanda asked him sharply. The women who worked at Lady Bellechose’s Bordello were the finest in the kingdom, both in skill and beauty. Lady Bellechose herself made sure her girls saved enough of their earnings that they could retire, after a fashion, with a comfortable income.

“To undertake any other occupation would be a crime,” said Raffe, moving his fingers into her slippery quim. She gasped and then sighed as he penetrated her. “To not share this lovely bit of placket-lace with the world would be a sin against the love goddess herself.”

“You make me sound like a whore,” Vanda teased.

“Aren’t you?” he asked as she freed his manhood and stroked the length.

“So beautiful,” she murmured.

“Yes, you are,” he replied.

Slapping him with her free hand she said, “No. Your cock. It’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen or held. Not too long or short. Neither too stout or slender. Gently curved and deserved to journey to every Mount Pleasant in the kingdom.”

“Would you like to suck it before I shove it into your quim?” he asked. “After all, a lady has needs, does she not?”

“Right now my biggest need is satisfaction. Put it in my cunny.”

It was an easy request to fulfill. One of the reasons that Vanda was an excellent prostitute was her ability to get very wet very fast and stay that way. Raffe’s hard work between her thighs made her doubly wet and so when he went to slide his cock into her he met no resistance but was pleased with how hot her cunt was. She arched her back and squeezed down on his cock. This maneuver caught him unexpectedly and he gasped in appreciation.

“You’re worth every gold ducat I paid,” he moaned in her ear.

“I take pride in my work.”

They fell silent as they continued to fuck. While Raffe had the reputation of a flirt and shameless lover, when he was in bed with any partner, freely willing or happily hired, distaff or not, he took great care to make sure they enjoyed themselves. His reasoning was if a prostitute would sing his praises as a lover, everyone would listen and believe.

Vanda knew all of this, of course, and she let Raffe fuck her like he wanted. After all, he was paying for the privilege. He wouldn’t stop, not until she had climaxed twice; Raffe was reasonably certain that she had actually climaxed based upon her body quiver and how her cunt heated up. Only when she was satisfied did he decide to finish himself off. When she didn’t stop him from cumming inside her, he assumed she was either looking for a pregnancy in an effort to escape her current life, or she was certain she wouldn’t fall pregnant. Either way, Raffe didn’t care.

“If you’re looking for a lover, you won’t find one in a bordello,” she told him after they were done.

Arching an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Most men visit here looking to get off and leave. They don’t care about what happens to the whore they fuck. You do. You’re looking for a lover.”

Raffe affected an offended tone and gently rested his hand on his chest, as if struck by a blow. “You wound me, my lady. Anyone who joins me in bed is entirely deserving of the gift of the goddess which I can only assist them with.”

“I think you don’t understand the value of the ducats you throw around every time you come to Lady Bellechose’s,” she said sharply.

“I don’t think you actually know that Lady Bellechose isn’t a lady of noble breeding,” replied Raffe.

Before she could answer, there was a sharp rapping at the door. That was highly unusual. The clients at Lady Bellechose paid dearly for their privacy and all the time they wanted with their hires. There were plenty of spy holes in the walls to make sure the employees were safe, but to be interrupted was an extreme breech of etiquette.

“Lord Rafferty? Please open the door. I know you’re in there.”

A mildly panicked look crossed Raffe’s face. “They’re looking for the wrong man,” he said to Vanda. “No,” he quickly corrected himself. “They think I’m someone else. I need to hide.”

“Hide?” she asked. “Where?” Instinctively Vanda knew that Raffe wasn’t telling her the truth, but she wanted to believe him. He seemed entirely sincere. It was easier just to go along with him.

“Under the bed or in the wardrobe,” he said softly, quickly casting his eyes around the small bedroom that was also Vanda’s place of work.

There was another round of thumping from the door. “Lord Rafferty, please open. This is an urgent matter!”

She shook her head. “Not there. That’s where they always look.”

Raffe jumped out of the bed and started pulling on his clothing. “The window,” he said as if announcing a new discovery that would change the course of the world’s economy. “We’re only on the second floor, right?”

“Yes?” Vanda was unsure. But she knew that her room actually projected over the street. There was no ledge or balcony on which to escape or hide.

“I wanted to spend the night, but…” Before she realized what was happening, all of Raffe’s clothing was back on except for his boots. Obviously he had practiced—or done this—a hundred or more times before. It impressed her. It also made her wonder how many women’s windows he had escaped through before.

The knocking at the door now changed to a pounding. “Open the door, my lord!”

Just as he was about to open the window, he remembered his manners and rushed back to the bed and planted a firm kiss on her lips, before dashing back to the window, throwing it open and throwing out his boots.

The door to the room was smashed in, the heavy wooden slab slamming open on its hinges. A large figure hulked through the doorway. Raffe took that as his queue to exit and he jumped out the window to join his boots below.

The fall wasn’t bad. Raffe had had worse. Much worse. The cobblestones were as hard and cold as he remembered, it was nearly the middle of the night. The street was poorly lit and he was certain that would give him sufficient cover to escape. He had left houses, bordellos, barns, public parks, mansions, and caves with even less than the clothes on his back. Scooping up his boots he managed three good steps before a hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

“Didn’t think we’d watch the street too, my lord?”

Raffe briefly attempted to twist out from the iron-like grip on his shoulder and now his elbow but when he saw the end of the street blocked off by a rider and the opposite end blocked by a coach, he knew it wouldn’t be worth the struggle at the moment. Turning to face his captor he glanced up at the figure that loomed over his impressive six feet.

“Ord, isn’t it?” Raffe asked casually, correctly identifying the servant-cum-enforcer undoubtedly sent by his uncle.

“Yes, my lord.”

Above their heads the window slammed open and two heads poked out along with Vanda’s small, but still impressive breasts, now slightly more impressive that they were hanging down giving them a rarely seen perspective. Raffe admired the prostitute’s breasts for a second before calling up, “Is that you Ort?”

“Yes, my lord,” rumbled Ord’s twin. The two enforcers were the best of friends and rarely went anywhere without the other.

“Be polite to Miss Vanda, she’s just an innocent bystander.”

“Not so innocent,” Vanda called, blowing him a kiss. “Are you going to be okay, hon?”

“Of course. I just need to go see my uncle. He’s given me an invitation I can’t resist.”

Ord escorted him down the street where they were met outside the couch by a much smaller and much scarier functionary sent by Uncle Raymar. “Novolo!” Raffe greeted the man. “Good to see you! It hasn’t been long enough. I’m glad Uncle Raymar has sent you. You understand a man’s needs and wants. It’s a long trip back to the family castle. I could use some sleep.”

Novolo’s mustachioed face was impassive as Raffe tried to adopt a casual tone to their meeting. He was wise to the young lord’s tricks. “I’m glad I didn’t have to convince you,” he sneered.

“Of course not. Just wanted a bit of time to myself. Sow my wild oats and all that. You understand. You were young. Once. Once long ago.” He made to mount the steps to the coach, but Novolo stopped him.

“One thing, my lord, before we start our journey.”

“What’s that, Nov, old chap?”

The henchman nodded to Ord who abruptly clapped iron manacles around Raffe’s wrists. Raffe spluttered in complaint, which gave Ord time to add a set of irons to Raffe’s ankles. He gave Raffe an apologetic smile and nod. Ord wasn’t a bad chap, just one used to following orders.

“Just a precaution, my lord,” said Novolo. “I wouldn’t want you running off. Again.”

Raffe adjusted his hat to a cocky angle. “This would be the eighth again. For you, at least.”

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

It wasn’t that Raffe hated his family’s home. It was beautiful in the summer, high up in the hills, bordering the mountains. The castle protected the mountain pass that was the only way for the northern orc to invade the human kingdoms in the south. Supposedly the family maintaining the castle and guarding from invasions was to have high status among the kingdoms, in fact, no one wanted to go there because except for three months out of the year, it was a cold, icy wasteland.

Although it was easy to find a partner with which to warm a bed.

“I can’t have you disappearing for weeks on end, Raff!”

Raffe sighed. “Yes, Uncle.”

“You’re the heir to our lands!”

Raffe looked up to meet his uncle’s gaze. They were in the semi-private study his uncle used for important matters. The only important matters of the vanRivenscuv family were making sure there were enough troops to protect the pass and enough food to feed the castle during the winter months.

“I don’t want to be heir to the vanRivenscuv lands.

“Well, godsdamnit, you are and you’ll have to deal with that when I’m dead.”

“You have a new wife, uncle.”

The conversation stopped. There were only a few trusted retainers and advisors in the study. They all were silent.

“Yes. And she hasn’t given me an heir yet. And she might not. And that child might not live to suffer the rule of these lands like I have.”

Uncle Raymar wasn’t an old man, but he was old enough. Life in the vanRivenscuv highlands was difficult between the weather and the occasional orc invasion and the slightly more frequent orc scouting party looking for food (which often included human flesh). Raffe’s father had fallen in battle, his mother had died of plague, the same as her sister, Raymar’s first, and now dead, wife.

Zussanna was a pretty young woman Raffe’s age, but married to Raymar. She and Raffe had decided it was for the best that Raymar never know that they had been physically intimate with one another more than once.

“Well, uncle, maybe I should say I was out looking for a wife so that I may one day have an heir as well.”

“If only,” the older man groused.

“If that’s all the lecturing I’ll be suffering today, I think I’ll take my leave,” said Raffe, rising to his feet off the hard, wooden chair situated directly in front of Raymar’s desk. “Don’t worry. I won’t be running off. Winter is settling in; I saw the leaves changing on the journey up here. I suppose I spend this winter amongst family and friends in this delightful old castle.”

“No, you won’t,” said Raymar.

Raffe paused halfway to the door. “I won’t?”

“I brought you here for a reason. I need a representative to go to Ashton and treat with the queen.” Saying the words seemed to pain Raymar.

In contrast, Raffe brightened considerably. Going to Krylex’s capital city of Ashton would be a far cry better way to spend the winter than among the cold and ice of the north. “Well, when do I leave? Winter snows are coming, uncle. You wouldn’t want your only heir to die in an avalanche.” He was vastly overstating the current travel danger, but Raffe was eager to leave, even if it meant he had to play politics in Ashton.

“Tomorrow morning. But you aren’t going to like the task I’ve given you.”

“How horrible could it be.”

Raffe saw Raymar’s teeth behind the thick beard that his uncle had worn since he could grow whiskers. It made him nervous. “Queen Froanta is looking for a spouse for her daughter.” His smile grew wider.

“You can’t mean me, dear uncle.”

“Do you see any other marriageable men in this room?” he asked gesturing to the old men who surrounded him.

“No. But to marry a Krylexian…”

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to come home in the spring with a princess on your arm. You merely need to make sure that Queen Froanta continues to send us her tithes. And maybe you can find a bride of a lesser noblewoman.”

Once he was free of his uncle, Raffe started to head back to his room, which he liked to consider more akin to a monk’s cell because of both the small, cramped quarters it had along with all the surreptitious sex that had occurred within its walls. The easiest place to find a bed partner was at the semi-approved social club near the soldier’s barracks within the castle. The warriors would drink and tell tall tales and find a sex partner for the night.

In the tradition of the soldier’s hunt, when he went to the semi-surreptitious club Raffe sought out one of the younger and newer soldiers. He was a young man with girlish looks that he tried to masculinize by cutting his blonde hair short while also growing a beard. The beard was thin and fine and did nothing to hide the soft curve of his jaw. The short hair only made him look adorable instead of fierce.

Raffe found himself attracted to the youth and brought him a mug of ale even though he didn’t drink ale himself. He preferred harder liquors.

“Farm with too many siblings or looking to make a name for yourself?” Raffe asked.

“What?”

“No one volunteers to come to Castle vanRivenscuv unless they have to—because of too many sibling on the farm and the family can’t afford a mouth that can feed itself—or because he’s an adventurer looking for glory and fame. Which it is?”

The boy sipped from his cup though Raffe saw his glassy eyes and slight weaving of his body as he stood in the cramped space; he wasn’t completely drunk. Not yet. That was good because Raffe didn’t want him completely drunk. Just…open to new ideas.

“A little of both, I suppose.”

Raffe smiled. He tried not to seem like he was menacing the youth or forcing him to do something he normally would not. “Farm or town?”

“My father was a farmer. Sheep farmer, mostly.”

If that was the case the boy had undoubtedly spent a lot of time on his own watching the sheep. A boy by himself got lonely and horny…and was often willing to try new things if there were no girls about on which to slake his lust.

If Raffe was less honorable he would have gotten the boy drunk and taken him back to his cell. Instead, he insisted that Trant put down the ale and have a real man’s drink with him in private.

Trant was more than willing to go along with Raffe.

The bottle of whiskey that Raffe kept hidden away in his cell behind a loose stone had a bit of dust on it because he hadn’t opened it since his last excursion into the world. He produced a pair of tiny crystal glasses and pour for them both.

“It burns,” Trant said after swallowing his shot and coughing.

Raffe laughed and pounded the youth on his back. “That’s how you know it was distilled for a man.”

Trant laughed along with him for a moment and Raffe didn’t let the boy go. They weren’t in an embrace, exactly, but the closeness was intimate. Raffe didn’t let him go as their faces came close together. And then it was nothing more than pressing the opportunity and kissing Trant.

It was quite possible that the boy had never been properly kissed in his life. He barely knew what to do when Raffe pressed their lips together and pushed his tongue into the youth’s mouth.

“Should we be doing this?” Trant asked when Raffe back up for a second to let them both take a breath.

“We should,” said Raffe firmly. “I’ll teach you how to fuck like a man.”

Trant didn’t know what to say but he let Raffe kiss him again. They were both a little drunk at this point and when Raffe started undressing him, it was just easier to go along with the connection they were making.

Getting Trant naked was easy. Raffe even took off his own tunic and shirt. The boy wasn’t ashamed of his body—and he had nothing to be ashamed off. While he didn’t have any chest hair, his cock stood up proudly from a nest of dark blonde hair. He might have been young and thin, but his muscles were well-formed and Raffe appreciated the lankiness of his limbs.

It had been a while since Raffe had sucked off a man, but the old skills quickly returned. Trant gasped when Raffe surrounded his already hard cock with his mouth and the older man looked up at his youthful lover. “You aren’t going to cum too quickly for me, are you?” Raffe asked after removing Trant’s cock from his mouth for just a moment.

“N-n-no,” he stammered out.

Raffe nodded and got to work.

It didn’t take a lot of effort to get Trant excited. When Raffe got Trant’s breeches off he was already half-hard. Applying his mouth to Trant’s cock only made him that much harder. The youth’s scent was strong and pleasant. Raffe could tell that Trant was nervous; this might have been the first time that the boy had been with someone. Surely he had practiced onanism out in the sheep fields; maybe he even fucked a sheep in his time. Still, doing it with yourself or with a sheep wasn’t the same as sex with a man—or woman.

In the span of less than a hundred heartbeats, Raffe had taken Trant from mostly soft to about to climax. Raffe backed off the young man’s cock. Trant’s eyes had been clamped shut and he had been looking up at the heavens, even though he couldn’t see through his eyelids or the thick stone ceiling. “Why…why did you stop?”

“I don’t want you cumming too soon,” said Raffe, standing up and kissing the young man again while holding his balls in the palm of his hand. When he squeezed just a little, Trant moaned beautifully and kissed back anxiously, wanting some relief from the wonderful torment Raffe was inflicting on him.

Breaking off the kiss, Raffe asked, “Have you ever been fucked before?”

Nervously, Trant shook his head.

Seeing his opportunity, Raffe pushed the boy onto the narrow cot that was his bed. Before joining him, Raffe went to the secret compartment where he kept his whiskey. There was a second bottle in the pigeonhole.

“Your turn,” said Raffe, pulling off his breeches and thrusting his mostly-hard erection at the boy. The nervous look returned to Trant’s face, but he gamely went along. Raffe had had better blowjobs from both men and women, but he gave Trant credit for the attempt. He’d need practice, but he’d get it eventually.

When Raffe tired of Trant’s attempt at oral pleasure, he pulled back and picked up the second bottle. Uncorking it, he poured some of the precious olive oil onto his hand and then rubbed it onto his cock. “Put your legs up to your chest,” he told Trant.

The young man didn’t understand at first, but Raffe showed him what he wanted. It might have embarrassed Trant, but Raffe was beyond caring. Her poured a liberal amount of the olive oil on Trant’s anus, coating his taint and bottom. There was a shocked look on Trant’s face, but he didn’t object. Raffe was more than happy to introduce the young man to sex.

“Should we?” Trant asked as Raffe got on top of him, planting his arms on either side of Trant’s supine position.

“Most definitely,” said Raffe, getting his cock into the proper position, head at Trant’s entrance, before pushing forward.

Trant gasped and seemed about to protest, but then he realized exactly what Raffe was doing and he realized Raffe was an expert at fucking. He never expected to be fucked by another man, but once he settled into what they were doing, he realized it was more enjoyable than doing it to himself or using a sheep cunt.

“By the goddess!” he burst out as Raffe sunk his cock all the way into Trant’s depth. He thought that only women could enjoy having a cock inside them, but whatever it was that Raffe was doing to him, it was too much too resist.

“Don’t curse like that when we are performing her ritual,” Raffe teased.

“What?”

“Nothing, my lovely,” said Raffe with a kiss. “Just lie back and enjoy it. Actually, you might enjoy it more if you play with yourself. I like to watch that.”

There was a moment of awkwardness as Trant moved his hand and found his cock, but with Raffe encouraging him, it was easy to do. There wasn’t much shame left in his body, after all. They were two men having an illicit love affair in the room of the lord of the manor. The fact that the older man was nephew of the lord of the man made the moment even more piquant.

It was strange having a man’s cock—or a man’s anything—up his ass, but Trant quickly grew to like it. Combined with abusing his own flesh, it was easily the best sex he’d ever had, but mostly because it was the only sex he’d ever with anyone else. He knew he should have felt some shame, but he was too taken in the moment.

“You’re going to cum,” Raffe announced to Trant’s surprise.

“What? No.”

“I can tell.” Raffe adjusted his thrusts and sped them up. Trant stopped pulling on his cock, not wanting to cum, but even after letting go, he came anyway, spilling his seed across his belly and chest.

“Told you,” Raffe grunted, pulling out of Trant’s ass before pulling on his own cock a few times and then unleashing his own load onto Trant’s body so their seed mixed together. The young man looked surprised at what Raffe had done to him and was even more surprised when Raffe scooped up some of the thick liquid and offered it to Trant.

He hadn’t been a soldier for very long, but he had learned the basics of control and authority. While he didn’t know Raffe’s exact status in the manor and the army that protected the pass, he knew from the man’s manners and dress and how everyone seemed to defer to him that he was someone important. Trant took Raffe’s cum covered fingers in his mouth and sucked.

He was certain that he would do worse things as a soldier.

“You are such a beautiful boy,” Raffe said, rejoining his lover in the narrow bed with a rag in his hand. Wiping off the remains of their lovemaking he curled up next to Trant, enjoying the sensation of the youth’s muscles against his.

“I’m not a boy,” Trant said sourly.

“Sorry. It’s so easy to forget that…younger men are so worried about their status in the world.”

“I don’t think I should stay here much longer.”

Raffe chucked the boy under his chin. “You can stay here as long as you want,” he told him. “There’s no reason to run away.”

“I have guard duty tonight.”

“They’ll either find you here and bring you out to your post when it’s your time, or they’ll know you’re here with me and they won’t bother interrupting us.”

Even if he was a little drunk, Trant wasn’t stupid. “Why would the captain let me spend the night with a man if I have guard duty?”

Raffe rolled his eyes. “I just might be Lord Raymar’s only nephew. There is some…leeway when it comes to me seducing his soldiers.”

“You didn’t seduce me,” Trant said, suddenly offended.

It was hard for Raffe to remember not to bruise the tender ego of the youth. “No. Of course not. I’m so used to convincing the young ladies to join me in the bedchamber that I forgot with whom I’m actually dealing.” He smiled and kissed the boy, sliding his hand down to Trant’s cock. It was soft, but Raffe could easily solve that.

“I’d better go,” Trant said when his cock began to stiffen.

“No, don’t go,” said Raffe, annoyance in his voice. It was obvious the youth wanted to stay, but thought he might be judged for his lusty nature. Raffe had to convince him otherwise. “Let me suck your beautiful cock again. Or better yet, you can suck mine. I have such wonderful things to show you.” He gasped and his eyes lit up. “NO! Best yet! We’ll suck each other’s at the same time. Let me show you that.”

“I don’t think so,” said Trant, struggling against Raffe for a moment before the rake relented and let Trant slip from his bed and his fingers. “This was nice and all, but I’d prefer to spend the night with a woman.” He hurriedly gathered his clothes and threw them on.

“Wouldn’t we all?” asked Raffe. “But you’ll find precious few of them here in Castle vanRivenscuv. I suppose it’s for the best. I leave tomorrow morning for Krylex. It would be cruel to start a romance with you tonight and leave you hanging for the next six months before I return.”

Trant paused in his dressing. “You mean you’re…you fucked me with the intention to leave?”

Raffe nodded. “Welcome to being a man of the north,” he said coolly now that he had lost his bedpartner. “I’m sure you’ll be happy with the selection of…partners during the winter.” He waved his fingers at the soldier, indicating he should leave. “I’ll be back to check on you in the spring.”

Defeated and disappointed without knowing why, Trant retreated from the room. Raffe settled back and considered what lay ahead of him.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

“Am I the only one who finds these ceremonies dreary and boring?” Raffe asked of the delegate to his left. They were in the second hour of the greeting ritual in Queen Froanta’s throne room. It didn’t seem like the ritual would be ending any time soon.

The delegate was carefully dressed in formal robes, highly polished boots, and artfully crafted makeup. Raffe supposed the delegate would have looked good under all that makeup, but he preferred a more natural look. The delegate sniffed and ignored him. Unperturbed Raffe turned to the noblewoman to his right. “I don’t suppose there’s an easy exit from this pomp and circumstance?” he asked her.

She seemed much more affable with a practical thick brown braid that fell all the way down her back. Her dress was form-fitting, but Raffe wasn’t so easily fooled by such deceptive clothing. Her face was exceedingly average, but he didn’t judge possible lovers on looks alone. There was also body appreciation and bedroom skills.

“The easiest exit would be to drop dead of a heart attack,” she said softly, not moving her eyes from the queen’s throne. If he hadn’t been looking directly at her and saw her lips move, he wasn’t certain that he would have heard her. Her profile was nice enough, so…

“I’m certain I could give you a little death if you are so inclined,” he proposed to the woman. He judged she was his age or slightly younger, certainly well-maintained because she was from the upper class. She was nothing special to look at—and the formal gown and headscarf she wore did nothing to enhance her image—but he was willing to give her a chance.

“Do you, Sir, think it wise to proposition women in the presence of the queen?”

Glancing at the dais where the queen’s throne sat, Raffe was unconcerned. He was more than halfway back in the crowd. He knew he was no one important, and neither was this woman who clearly wanted to engage with him.

“It’s Lord, actually. Lord Rafferty vanRivenscuv. And who might you be?”

“Uninterested,” she said coolly. “And you haven’t answered my question.”

“What an unusual name. It is traditional or were your parents freethinkers? Also, I think I have answered your question. Clearly you are interested otherwise you wouldn’t be conversing with me.” He gave the woman a smile. Sometimes a little flirting could be fun. Sometimes it was necessary to bring a woman into the bedroom. Sometimes it was a little of both.

By now the pair were drawing attention because what drips and drabs of their words were overheard by those around them were more interesting than what the queen was doing with some ancient ambassador from one of the tertiary kingdoms of the free folk.

Uninterested flicked her eyes toward Raffe and then sniffed. “You are an amusing distraction, sir.” She gave him the slightest of smiles. “Excuse me. You are an amusing distraction, Lord.” She inclined her head ever so slightly and slipped back into the crowd.

Raffe took that as in invitation, waited a few moments, and then retreated toward the back of the crowd as well. The corridors of Palace Ashton were complex and confusing as well as being large and winding. Hundreds of years past the palace has been a castle, the final defense for the Effervin family. They had taken that final defense and conquered a third of the human world, the southeast third. The northern third was still held by the free folk of which Raffe was a proud member. And then there was the third in the southwest, the Empire of Novarn.

It took him a few minutes to catch up to Uninterested; she was walking alone, steadily but not hurrying, but with a destination in mind. Raffe fell in step next to her. “Is there anything I could do to change your interest?” he asked her.

Once again Uninterested barely gave him a glance. “Aren’t you supposed to be representing your family and trying to negotiate a marriage with the queen’s daughter?”

“I am,” he said, happy to be in conversation with her again. “But everyone knows that the queen is never going to consent to marry a minor lord from an unimportant chunk of land nobody wants. I’m just here to make sure nothing untoward happens.”

“Are you that minor lord?”

“That I would be.”

Uninterested stopped and looked Raffe over. “Yes. You would not make an appropriate husband for the princess.”

“It’s good to agree on something.”

“There are a whole host of young women the queen has instructed the matriarchs to marry this season. Perhaps you will do well to join yourself with one of them.”

Raffe let out a polite laugh. He knew the game of politics and royal courts. He just hated the game and rarely played. “I doubt it. Any woman I married would have to accept the fact that I’m going to have many, many partners in my bed.”

“I see,” she said primly.

“Women of Ashton don’t fancy their husbands bedding anyone other than their wives,” Raffe said unnecessarily.