FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses
SEBASTIAN - Have A Drink, My Queen

Nightway Castle, Nightway

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian crept silently through the halls. Moving from shadow to shadow. The vial of RiderStone Mardichi had brought him, tucked into the pocket of his tunic. It was easy enough to navigate the corridors following the overpowering scent of rose oil as Alazareth had directed, to reach the queen’s chamber.

Once within, he strode to the decanter across the room. Hearing soft footfalls in the hall and quickly unstopped the jug to pour a swill of rich red wine in a glass. Adding a hearty portion of RiderStone before tucking the vial back in his discreet pocket. Turning, glass in hand, just as the steps entered the room.

There you are. She was a dark haired, dark eyed woman with a beaked nose. Alazar was right.

“And who might you be?” The woman’s authoritive tone cracked like a whip.

“Yer new server, Mum.” He lowered his head in deference.

“Oh, are you?” She questioned. “Though you do well mimicking uneducated words there’s a cultured note in your voice.” Her swaying step carried her a slow circle around him.

He wore a scruffy tunic that itched and breeches a bit too short. But he saw it there on her face. She’s not deceived.

“You look the part.” She plucked at the drab shirt. “But you don’t stand it.” She swatted his lower back. Dragging a clinging hand down his spine. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Not slouching enough? Not hunched enough?

Duly noted for my next venture.

He found himself leaning forward to escape her touch. It feels like the scraping of cheesecloth.

“You’re no serving boy.” She purred. “Are you here perhaps for something else?” Her shrewd eyes moved to the glass still casually resting in his lifted hand. She took it from his fingertips.

That’s it. Drink. He began to unwind.

“Perhaps you’re here for my pleasure.” She ran a finger down the open collar of his tunic. He felt his lip curling and fought the urge to withdraw.

I can smell Radix on her. The awful cross between ash and death that stung his nose.

She reached to clasp the fullness below his waist. Making his teeth grit and his jaw tick as he longed to throttle the woman.

I could snap her wrist in an instant. He refrained from letting his hands work into fists.

“Have some!” She commanded shoving the glass back in his hand and lifting the bottom to tip it to his lips and pour the fluid in his mouth. He swallowed rather than spitting it out as she’d thought he would.

Her effort to prove I’m a fraud.

“It’s quite fine.” He purred. “Have some with me.” He turned his head to meet her dark eyes. Letting his soften as he gave her a prolonged look.

Her eyes are too dark and her face too square. And despite her relatively thin frame now, she had strange excess skin on her thighs and upper arms which swung as she moved, making her dress move abnormally. But it was her surety that she was quite attractive which made her exactly the opposite.

Her face softened. Posture melting.

“Drink with me…” He offered. Turning his voice incredibly beckoning.

My Voice of Persuasion.

“I must.” She conceded. Eyes brightening with lust.

Yes, you must. He offered her the glass. Drown in it.

“But not that one...” She whispered, tipping onto her toes to speak against his full lips.

The stench of her was nearly overwhelming. His stomach heaved. Take effect soon, RiderStone. Before I wretch in this woman’s face and reveal my distaste.

“I prefer a full glass.”

“Ah. Of course.” He spun to get away from her. Swiping the decanter and another glass. He poured wine in it as well as adding all that remained of the RiderStone in his haste to dump it. Likely five times what I put in the first glass. He spun to face her.

Her astute eyes lifted from the glasses to his face.

And he was certain that despite his speed, she was very aware of what he’d done. Or at least suspects.

“I’ve changed my mind. A woman of quality must not consume too much drink in the presence of an attractive man.”

She plucked the emptier glass from his hand and pressed it to her lips.

Thank you for choosing that one, you hideous demon whore. He thought dryly. Knowing he was now left with the drink with the huge dose.

“Drink.” She tapped the bottom of the other glass.

Dammit. He put it to his lips under her careful eye. Making certain his swallowing was readily apparent.

She lifted her drink and he tinked his to hers in a toast. They drank heavily. Before Marod tossed what remained of hers in the fire and turned on him, eyes rimmed in orange red.

Cimmerii eyes.

She gasped. Falling to her knees.

Bast watched dispassionately.

She clawed her cheeks. “Why can’t I see?” She wailed. “My eyes!”

He knelt before her, already feeling less steady on his feet. He lifted her chin with a finger. Leaning to whisper next to her ear. “You’re evil has a cost.”

Marod screamed, raking fingernails over his face and down his chest.

Ouch! He lurched back with a hiss. Eyes turning gold and scales rising over his chest around the wounds.

Servants arrived in her chamber. Finding her kneeling on the fur before the fire. Howling hysterically and clawing her eyelids. But despite her crazed ranting, there was only her.

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