“Couldn’t I?” Maria countered. “You don’t think I could have brought back a fully armed fighting-band with me, and given them detailed instructions on how to get into your cellar?”
The words rang with power, with truth — because they were, in fact, entirely true. The orcs had been willing to wager their whole peace-treaty on this, because — as Lady Norr had told Maria, with determination blazing in her eyes — there would never be any hope of lasting peace, if that damned Council wasn’t dealt with. If this man wasn’t dealt with.
Of course, the fighting-band was intended as a last resort, if all else failed — and they’d travelled separately from Maria and Joarr and Baldr, and remained well hidden throughout. Making sure they could be called upon if needed, while not providing this asshole with any more fodder for his war.
“You —” Warmisham said now, and his gaze had sharpened on Maria, flicking up and down. Looking more closely this time, and perhaps catching on the new strength filling out her new dress, or even on the still-present trace of teeth-marks against her neck.
“You lyinglunatic,” he gasped, his eyes fixed unblinking to Maria’s throat. “The orcs — the orcsdidget you. Theydid!”
His voice had risen to almost a wail, grating against Maria’s clenched teeth, and she reflexively reached into her reticule, and drew out first her dagger, and then a stone. And as Warmisham stared, aghast, she began sharpening the stone, the sound whirring through the room.
“No,” she said smoothly, “the orcs gotyou, just as you feared. Now either sign my contracts, or gain a reputation as a warmongering fool, or a cuckold. Or” — she dragged her stone louder, slower — “watch your whole household fall around your feet, while I sit back andlaugh.”
Duke Warmisham’s eyes were darting desperately between the contracts, and Maria’s face, and her dagger. And she could see his foolish plan forming, his mouth opening, clearly about to scream for help, guards, protection against his hysterical wife —
But before a sound could escape, Maria had lunged around the desk, and thrust her dagger flat against his pale, convulsing throat. And when he flailed and scrabbled against her, she swiftly kneed him in the groin, grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and let him truly feel the freshly sharpened edge of her blade.
“Or, we can do it this way,” she said, only slightly out of breath, though her heart was thundering in her chest. “Should I keep going,husband?”
Duke Warmisham’s eyes were white-rimmed with terror, his body gasping and flailing beneath her — but another swift, purposeful shove of Maria’s knee against his groin jerked him back to stillness, his breaths heaving in his chest.
“You willnotget away with this,” he snarled at her. “This is blackmail. This is extortion. This isillegal!”
Maria shrugged, and flicked her knife against a bit of grey stubble his valet had clearly missed that morning. “It’s no worse than the kind of things you doevery damned day,” she replied flatly. “Creating horrible new laws, stealing money, starting wars, sending people to theirdeaths. Oh, and manipulating an innocent, recently bereaved girl into marrying you, so you could squander her father’s money, and then throw her away like yesterday’srubbish!”
Her husband’s glare at her was pure loathing, though he’d begun looking rather white around the mouth. “I shouldneverhave married you, witch. Better yet, I should have sent you off to the asylum months ago, where you fuckingbelong!”
The anger was finally bubbling, hissing and skittering in Maria’s chest, and she nudged the dagger harder against his throat. “Too late, asshole,” she snapped at him. “And now we’re doing things my way. Are you going to sign, and save your reputation, and make me go away forever? Or would you rather be the weakling duke who lost his own wife, and recklessly started a war? Or better yet” — she smiled viciously — “the fool whose so-called fortress of a house got overrun by orcs, while he wasn’t fucking payingattention?!”
Warmisham kept spluttering, still protesting, but Maria wasn’t listening anymore. Because behind him, there was a window, leading out into the garden beyond — and the sash on the window was slowly, silently sliding up. And clutching it was a clawed grey hand, attached to a familiar, silent grey form.
Joarr leapt in without a sound, flashing Maria a sly grin — and then he smoothly strode around the desk, and dropped himself into the chair. While Warmisham twitched, and then goggled, and then would have shrieked, if Maria hadn’t had the forethought to knee him again, and clap her hand over his mouth.
“He’s still making up his mind,” she told Joarr, over her shoulder, “but he’s going to sign. Aren’t you,husband?”
Warmisham was still gaping toward Joarr, his body trembling beneath Maria’s touch. “You —disgustme,” he croaked at her. “You left your pampered, privileged life as a duchess, so you could be used and ravaged by the likes ofthat?!”
Maria glanced back at Joarr, and again felt her lips pulling up into an icy smile. “Oh, I wasn’t ravaged byhim,” she said coolly. “My orc is much,muchbigger, and far more terrifying. Perhaps next he’ll pay you a visit as well, if you need a little extra incentive to keep your mouth shut? I know he’d dearlyloveto meet you.”
All the remaining colour had drained from Duke Warmisham’s face, and he finally sagged under Maria’s grip, his mouth twisting into a petulant little pout. “You’reinsane,” he insisted, as though it were the last offense he had left, as though he still held that power over her. “You’ve lost yourmind.”
“No,” Maria said, “I’ve found it again. And now” — she thrust a nearby quill into his trembly hand — “you’ve been defeated. For good.”
36
For the rest of the day, Maria puttered around Preia’s capital city, and finished securing her victory.
She left her horror-stricken husband in Joarr’s capable care, and went out together with her husband’s general Gerrard. Who had been helpfully waiting just outside the study’s closed door, and at Maria’s request, had loudly agreed to help arrange her return journey to Sakkin Province at once.
The servants had been avidly watching and whispering all the while, not that Maria had cared — keeping them quiet was another hurdle her husband would need to sort out, once she was well out of his life. And after a quick stop in the estate’s furthest gardening-shed, Maria was once again dressed in disguise — back in her nondescript men’s clothing — and ready to face the world.
Of course, it was a significant help to have Gerrard with her, hand-delivering his employer’s urgent communications — and as they moved from lawyer to council-hall to yet more lawyers, Maria teased out Gerrard’s tale of how he’d been compromised by orcs. Or rather, by one particular orc — the craggy-faced Olarr, of Clan Bautul — after chasing him down in Preia’s southern forest.
“Thought I could defeat him in single combat, and take back his head to the duke, and get myself a promotion,” Gerrard said, with a wry, wincing grin toward Maria. “Turns out, these orcs aren’t so easy to defeat, are they? I paid for my pride, let me tell you.”
Maria laughed, but searched his handsome face as they crossed a busy street. “And you…wantedto keep supporting the orcs, after?” she asked carefully, her voice dropping. “Youchoseto change your allegiances, and serve as a spy in Warmisham’s house?”
Gerrard shrugged, a faint stain of red creeping up his cheeks. “Not right away,” he said. “But Warmisham doesn’t do a good job of earning loyalty, or taking care of his people, does he? And the more time I spent with Olarr, the more I, well” — he shrugged again — “I started to see things differently. Started wanting to help find a new way.”
