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Wylder nodded and continued. “I may not like you, but I respect you as a man and as a warrior. I know you’ve defeated every assassin who’s come for you, yet saving them from the torture chamber.” Wylder nodded again. “I respect that.”
“I appreciate your respect.”
Wylder leaned in closer. “So, listen to me now. I’m not here to overthrow your ridiculous prince. No one wants to see the succession preserved more than me. I just want Balduin to act the part, rather than acting the fool.” He leaned back into his chair and took another heavy sip of his brandy. “Now you tell me, ‘Master’ Nicolo, man to man, will Balduin ever be the kingIwant and the king this Gath needs?”
Nicolo took his time to respond. He continued to swirl his brandy, looking into it as though he were deep in thought. After a few seconds lapsed, he looked back up at Wylder and cocked his head to the side. “The prince is his own man.”
Wylder breathed out his pent-up breath. “One day, you and I will cross swords and I hope you’ll have the decency to kill me clean.”
Nicolo met his gaze. “You I might leave for the torturer.”
***
The next morning, one of the guards fetched me to inform me that I was to meet Nicolo in his bedchamber. Of course, I immediately wondered if my time to truly seduce him had just arrived but when I walked through his door, I was glum to find Gauthier standing in front of him, a heap of clothing on Nicolo’s bed.
“Good morning, Charlotte. Come in,” Nicolo announced and appeared to be in a good mood—at least he was very animated this morning. I wasn’t—after suffering nightmares all night, in which I failed in my duty to the Guild. My nerves had begun to visit me in full force recently, owing to the fact that my allotted time to finish my deed was looming down on me. Now every hour of every day counted.
“A happy morning to you, master.”
Nicolo faced Gauthier. “Please set yourself up and all the costumes I ordered over there.” Then he pointed to the corner of the room where there stood a three-sided privacy screen picturing a tapestry of lovers in the forest.
With the day of the Masque quickly approaching and Nicolo informing me I’d have to go, I’d broached the question of my costume, unsure what was appropriate for a squire.
Nicolo’s reply took me by surprise. “I’ve had Gauthier run up some potential outfits for you to try on and see which you prefer.”
Far less of a surprise was that Nicolo would be in attendance while I tried the costumes on. And, despite his words, I was well aware that the decision would be more his than mine.
“There’s a good selection,” grinned Nicolo, already enjoying himself. “At first, I thought it would be good to put you in something masculine, to reinforce your position, but then I decided to go quite the opposite direction.” He grinned at this.
“Oh?” I asked.
He nodded and for a split-second I could see the young boy in him—a naughty child up to no good and grinning in the face of danger. “Your sex has upset so many people already, we may as well continue to upset them,” he answered, chuckling as the thought occurred to him. Clearly, he enjoyed upsetting the status quo.
“Where shall I change, sir?”
“Gauthier, the screen.”
Gauthier erected a second folded screen, this one decorated with oriental dragons. Apparently, the lump of clothing was now occupying the chaise behind Nicolo’s privacy screen.
“Let us try the slave girl first,” Nicolo said jubilantly.
The ‘slave girl’ costume confirmed my suspicions about Nicolo’s motives.
I doubted the costume had any resemblance to what was worn in eastern harems (if such places existed), but Gauthier’s inspiration had come from the illustrations of a series of prurient books on the subject, purporting to be cultural but they were really the drooling fantasies of their author, catering to the drooling fantasies of his readers.
Nicolo had the full set of books (a gift from Balduin). But, as Nicolo’s wish was my command, I soon found myself battling with the costume as I tried to ascertain just how to put it on. A thin golden veil covered my face, so diaphanous that ‘covered’ was the wrong world. The rest of the costume was of similar golden material so I was fully dressed, yet very much on display. A gold-plated brassiere covered the essentials while providing no support, and the gold, embroidered, satin panties were opaque but alarmingly brief. The effect was completed by curly-toed velvet slippers and a gold band encircling my throat from which a slim chain hung, so I could be led about.
Nicolo had reclined into his chair, ready for the show, and when I stepped out from behind the screen (which I noticed had been backlit so Nicolo could enjoy my silhouette as I dressed), the look in his eyes was one I recalled from the day he’d watched me bathe.
“Turn around,” his voice was low and thick. Sultry.
I executed a brief pirouette, Nicolo’s eyes roasting every inch of me while Gauthier coughed and turned a shade of red that was so dark as to be almost purple. Or perhaps he was choking, I couldn’t be sure.
“It suits you,” Nicolo said after a lapse of another second or two. “But I wonder if it might be a bit…muchfor some people.”
“Then ‘no’ to this one, sir?”
“‘Maybe’ to that one,” he responded as his eyes boiled with lust. “Next costume, Gauthier!”
