Page 105 of Ruthless Scoundrel
The towering green trees of the forest give way to swaying fields of fruiting trees. The sight has me stopping in my tracks as I admire the orderly rows of flowering branches filled with red, orange, yellow, and pink. The air is warm and sweet, with a tinge of the salty breeze off the sea.
Beyond the orchards is a city to rival the Upper Kingdom. The buildings are tall and proud, constructed from light stone and colorfully painted wood. The city climbs up the edge of a cliff, and at the very top is a small castle of white and blue. It blends into the sky as if it were made of clouds itself.
Jasper tucks me under his arm and kisses me just above the ear. “What do you think, sunshine?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he says.
I groan and give him a playful shove. “You’re getting sappy.”
He pulls me back roughly, his hands cupping my behind as he presses us together. “You love it,” he rumbles against the tip of my ear, and fire spreads down my stomach to my lower belly.
Yes, I do.
I love the thought of being more than just a weapon, a tool. I love being loved and wanted, needed beyond myuse.
I love being the center of his world.
I suck his earlobe between my teeth and nibble it. He whispers a curse and grows hard against my belly. “Even if I did, I’ll never admit it,” I whisper.
“You never have to. I’ll keep being the sappiest fool of them all whether you like it or not, because I know you do.”
I chuckle, kissing his scruffy jaw.
“Come on, you two, or we’re leaving you behind,” Anthony calls back at us from down the hill.
Jasper groans as he pulls away. “I’ll have you all to myself soon enough.”
“Let’s hurry so that soon can be now sooner,” I say, threading my fingers through his as we make our way to the city.
Getting through the gate to Hammon is much easier than I expected. There’s no paperwork to be checked like when coming into the Upper Kingdom of Fynren, and no guards harassing us less-than-stellar-looking travelers. It’s a wide-open gate, inviting trade and travelers alike.
The city is chaotic, but peaceful—at least for now. I know the monsters lurk in the dark, and the full sun is preventing anyone from doing anything too shady. Still, Jasper holds me close, and I appreciate it. I don’t want to get lost.
He asks for directions in Illyan, and I catch a few of the words, like “where,” “trade,” and “reasonable price,” which is a single word in the Illyan vocabulary. They’re merchants by trade and lifestyle, and their language reflects it.
Everything is vibrantly colored, from their clothes and the canvas coverings of the merchant stalls to the doors leading into the inns and brothels. Jasper stops at a nice-looking building with a bright green door and Illyan script above it. I can’t read anything, but I assume it’s some kind of merchant trader.
The interior has light sandy walls and golden magus lights. Every surface seems to be covered in mismatched finery—men’s suits, women’s ballgowns, shoes, tiaras, capes, cloaks, and even travel clothing. It all has a “slightly worn” feel to it, but that doesn’t take away from any of its niceness.
A woman emerges from the short stairs at the back of the room. She’s in purple and green robes with her braided hair twisted in a large pile on top of her head. A few of the dark strands dangle down her neck and shoulders, tinkling as her runic beads clack together. She approaches Jasper with a grin and a typical Illyan greeting. Jasper gives the woman a shallow bow and I follow, tightly clutching his hand.
Jasper reaches into one of his many pockets and produces earrings that are definitely mine. I glare at him for only the briefest of seconds, but the merchant catches the look. She grins, and then asks something directed at me.
Jasper changes to Common Fynish. “She doesn’t speak Illyan.”
“Ah,” the merchant woman says with a wide grin. “These are yours?”
“Yes, they are,” I say, glaring at Jasper again.
She leans in and slides a thick glass over her left eye. She turns her head side to side as she inspects the earrings in Jasper’s palm.
“Yes, very fine. You are important,” she says, looking at me.
“Wasimportant. Now I’m just this bum’s wife,” I say, nudging Jasper.
“Hey,” he grouses, but the merchant laughs from her belly.
