Bloody Whispers

Prologue

PROLOGUE

She nearly shattered the wine glass when the knocks intruded. Years of pleasure-making had contributed to her uncommonly good reflexes, and she managed to catch the crystal without spilling a drop. She untangled her legs and swept the stiletto off the table, the metallic sound ringing in her ears. The poisoned blade quivered against the ripples of her spine as her sandals made silent way to the door.

 “Who goes it?” Damn her voice, it shook as badly as her hand.

 “Gianna.”

 Her nervousness squeezed out from her lungs. “The night is late,” She said, tossing the jeweled stiletto onto the bed. In one smooth motion, she unbolted and opened the door. “My Queen.” Her skirts pooled below her curtsey. Gianna waved away the etiquette.

 “I’m here for business, whore. Rip off that sweet little face you fool the men with.”

 “Of course.” Murmured Zaire, hardly vexed like she should. “I won’t offer you any-”

 “Wine.” With a second thought, Gianna added with spite, “Of the un-poisoned variety.”

 So she was to be treated as a servant. This she suffered silently; she had seen darker days. Wine poured and the Queen seated, Zaire asked what was expected of her.

 “How may I be of assistance, my lady?”

 For a second, Gianna’s golden eyes flashed fire at the mockery. It was slight, yes, but the Anjou was more than able to detect any trace of disrespect, a skill vital at court. She let it pass, for what she had to ask was great, and marred her honour.

 “A favor.” She said, chin jutted high.

 “Favors can be…costly, ‘specially in brothels.”

 Gianna was not please at the comment, and it was laid plain on the grooves her face. “Yes, I’ll know the measures you little whores go for gold. A small favor.” She clucked her tongue dismissively.

 “I suppose it should be my place to judge.”

 “Hm.” The Queen eased a small laugh from her throat and a careless smile to match. “Pity then that you’re in no place to. Your establishment; the Bishop frequents himself, I understand?”

 Zaire cocked a brow, but only for effect. After all, it was no surprise that the Queen would possess the knowledge over such a thing. “‘Tis our greatest secret.” She japed in the stead.

 “Your greatest honor, too, I’d suppose.” The sneer distorted her usual beauty. It was peculiar how the most beautiful woman in the kingdom could become so hideous so quickly. “To service a holy man sworn off the world’s temptations.”

 “Gives us a false sense of power, your Highness.”

 Another stab. Queen Gianna restrained herself from turning her nose, but her lips formed into a tight line of disgust. “Enough. The old goat knows full well I am looking for him, and has avoided my attempts purposely. Warn him what comes of those who defy the throne, and remind him of his duty to the crowned.”

 The Queen spoke a threat to, not only the Bishop, but also to the brothel owner. Zaire was willing enough to comply. “A small favor, indeed.” It wasn’t often that she agreed.

 “When I find him in my chambers ‘fore the night morrow, a messenger will be dispatched with a years worth of rations for your inhabitants, in print.”

 “That’s... very generous, your Highness.” More than generous, in honesty. Generous enough for Zaire to consider it a curse rather than a blessing. There was more to her role than the Queen was telling. Before the Queen could take her leave, Zaire held her back with a question.

 “And what may his duty be?”

 Gianna paused at the door, and for several moments, she trained eyes flickering with amusement on the other woman. The Queen was so unnervingly pleased that Zaire’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t until she could feel herself tremble when the Queen finally replied.

 “Why, to help me kill the King.”