Cethe by Becca Abbott Page B

stil pondering that when sleep final y took him.
    It seemed he’d hardly slept a wink before a knock on his door announced it was morning. With Marin hovering at his elbow, he
    crossed the hal and unlocked Eldering’s door.
    The earl was awake, as wel . Marin had left him a blanket, but he’d clearly been struggling, for it had fal en to the floor and the
    earl himself was dangerously close to tumbling off the bed after it. Nothing in his flushed face suggested he was in any way
    chastened. Michael changed his mind about untying him.
    “Wrap him up in the blanket,” he told Marin. “If he makes any noise, gag him.”
    Turning his back on Eldering’s outrage, Michael left the inn, stepping out into the predawn gloom where their coach waited. It
    was nearly a quarter hour later before Marin arrived with his squirming cocoon of blankets and angry earl. Eldering was dumped
    unceremoniously on the seat opposite Michael. Marin departed, chuckling, and the coach door slammed.
    “Untie me!” demanded Stefn, rigid in his confining blankets.
    “I don’t think so, my lord.”
    “Do you think I’m going anywhere with my foot like this?” Stefn demanded furiously. “At least give me my clothes!”
    “No. And if you aren’t quiet, I’l take the blanket.”
    That threat was enough to make Stefn close his mouth with a snap. Defeated, he lay on his side and contented himself with
    directing evil looks at Michael. Michael ignored him, leaning back in his seat and pretending interest in the slowly brightening
    morning outside.
    “My lord?”
    He looked around. Stefn looked back at him, mouth tight. “When we get to Blackmarsh, what then?”
    “I have some business to attend while I’m there.”
    “What has that to do with me?”
    “My grandfather wil want to have a look at you. Don’t worry. You’l be kept wel out of the way. I have no intention of insulting
    my family by forcing the company of an Eldering on them.”
    Green eyes flashed, then fel . Stefn looked like he might have said something, then thought better of it. He lapsed back into
    sul en silence.
    The day passed, miles rol ing away under their carriage wheels. Sunset arrived, a blaze over the western hil s. As soon as it
    was ful y dark, they would stop. Michael looked forward to Eldering’s reaction when he was carried into the inn, wrapped up like a
    sausage in his blanket again.
    Fortunately, the inn had a back stairwel , because the earl was not amused. He struggled and swore, even managing to kick
    Marin in the jaw until Michael threatened to bewitch him into docility.
    In the smal bedroom, Michael dismissed Marin, then regarded the wriggling bundle at his feet thoughtful y. Stooping, he
    grasped the edge of the blanket and unrol ed it with a single, mighty yank. His captive ended up face down on the dusty floor,
    treating Michael to an excel ent view of tight, round buttocks.
    And the scars. So many of them. Michael felt an involuntary tug of pity.
    Taint.
    Finding himself reaching down to help the other man to his feet, he stopped, closing his open hand into a fist. This pup was
    raised on generations of hatred for the h’nara, the spawn of a family who had terrorized al those unfortunate enough to be born with
    mixed blood.
    Michael untied the rope and ordered Eldering to his feet. The youth tried to grab the blanket, but Michael kicked it away.
    Furious, mortified, Eldering jumped up and promptly lost what little color he had, swaying perilously. Michael pushed him back onto
    the bed.
    It wasn’t difficult to tie him again, this time fastening his wrists to the iron bars of the headboard. At once, Stefn tried to curl into
    a bal , but Michael grabbed a leg and pul ed it straight. Deliberately, he twisted Stefn’s foot to show the heavy ridge of scar running
    along the outside.

    “How many times have they amputated?” he asked.
    Stefn’s green eyes closed tightly. Michael could see the tension in the slim, rigid body. “Why me?” Stefn