Page 32 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

He oughtn’t have. For the want of a foot, Elena’s son was dead, and now Morfran was about to be maimed by a pirate captain in her living room full of cat paraphernalia.

“I ought to expose you,” Elena said, bringing him out of his thoughts, which he was relieved about, as his thoughts had veered towards doom and regret. “I don’t care if you helped them this one time. You’re doing it for a selfish end. I’d make their lifetime if I told them their vile ruler was within fingers’ reach.”

He was still standing on the couch. “But that won’t bring Oliver back,” he said, and when she raised her broken bottle at the mention of her son’s name, he went on. “And it won’t get you the revenge you want since it was Ravana who—”

Elena interrupted with a harsh laugh. “You’re here! I don’t know how, but I’d bet everything you’ve been dragged into this unwillingly, and there’s something keeping you from fleeing like a rodent in the light.” She flipped the bottle up into the air, catching it back on the nose. “I can get my vengeance on you. If I can’t get to her, I’ll happily take the one who created the beast.”

He didn’t like the mad glint in her gaze. But she was between him and the door, so he couldn’t run. He’d have to talk his way out of this, and Elena had a notoriously bad temper. He sighed, stressing, “Yes, I created her. Yes, I married her. And yes, she grew too much for me to handle so I bailed like a boneless or spineless chicken or what have you. But I know her. I know her mind, and I know her tactics, and I can help these rebels—which could include you, if you’d be willing—take her down.”

Her face was twisted into a hideous scowl. He continued, using his next words to shock her and make her think so she’d at least lower the bottle.

“Declare you’re fighting on the side of the rebels. Openly. Formally. News is going to spread about Ferndock to every corner of the kingdom. If they hear that you—the Pirate Lady of Lake Dumast—have joined the fight against me and Ravana, rebels from all over will come out of the woodwork to fight. I know they will, too, because I’ve been fighting for twenty years trying to keep them cowering and afraid, and a lot of that had to do with you being on my side.”

The bottle was ever so slowly lowering. Her eyes were narrowing now, deeply suspicious. “Why would you do this? You’d be destroying everything you’ve worked for. You’d be wrecking your reputation. Your legacy.”

He dropped his shoulders with a puff of a sigh and then stepped off the couch so they were on equal footing. “Frankly, Elena, I don’t care anymore. Well—I still do care about it a little, but being a Dark Lord is boring. I’ve been doing it for twenty years! I’m ready to pick up new hobbies. I’ve started making jam and taking lute lessons, and I had a farm until my men invaded, but I enjoyed all of that before I had to run! I even met someone. Her name is Benjamin.”

“Her? Benjamin?” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were still married to Ravana.”

“I held the marriage officiant’s feet to the fire until he signed off on a unilateral divorce contract, so technically Ravana’s my ex.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “And Beni is a goat, anyways, but she’s my pet goat. And we’re going to raise her two kids and name them and live on a farm again, and this next one won’t be littered with limbless torsos!”

Elena opened her mouth as if she had questions. Then she shut it, obviously thinking better of it. “So you fled Ravana’s side, changed your name, and grew a beard. And now everyone here thinks you’re some heroic outlaw?”

“Please don’t ever call me a hero in any grammatical form again. Besides, it’s not at all like that. They think I’m a general of Lord Morfran’s who abandoned post, and they’re holding Beni hostage so I’ll do what they want.”

She looked somewhat humored at that, before her face darkened once more. “You’re going to ditch them the moment there’s an opening.”

“No, I’m not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

He totally was. “Didn’t I just tell you I want to live alone with my goats, on a farm somewhere, peacefully? How can I do that if my ex-wife is using my ex-soldiers to ravage the land? How can I have peace of mind if Ravana is actively searching for me?”

She frowned. Her silence was a good thing. He went on.

“Besides, you brought me in here to speak to me privately because you can’t expose me. We both know that ‘Bernard the Necromancer’ has already shaken Ravana’s men, and Brim and his men need me to maintain that persona to propel this rebellion forward.”

“Gods.” She finally lowered the bottle, setting it atop the coffee table and rolling her eyes. “You’ve become even more unbearably pompous than before.”

He couldn’t help but grin the tiniest bit at that. When Elena rolled her eyes, it meant she no longer saw you as a threat, but as a joke. He could live with that. “But am I unbearably pompous and right, or unbearably pompous and wrong?”

She crossed her living room and began picking up knocked-over books. “If you were wrong, I’d have taken my cutlass and filleted you like a fish already.”

He perked up. He wasn’t going to die tonight, at least not by the pirate woman. And it seemed she would go along with his deception. Which was good. With her committed alliance with the rebels, the kingdom would be in so much chaos he could slip away without too much fuss.

“It’ll be just like old times,” he tried.

“Morf, it’ll never be like old times. For one, you weren’t wearing hose back then. You do know you can wear breeches? You look like a ninny.”

He looked down at his pants and nodded in agreement. “A new change in attire? I can do that.” He then gestured around her living room at the many pictures and statues and pillows full of cat faces. “While we’re on the topic of turning new leaves, might I suggest you get rid of all this nightmarish—”

“Insult my decor tastes and you die.”

Morfran wisely chose to stay silent.

13

The Gold Thief of Lake Dumast