deep breath. “Come, let us take a walk. It might be nice to spend a moment away from prying eyes.”
Laila had a sudden wish that her dagger was strapped to her leg.
No, she thought. Don’t think that way. Not everyone is after something. This was a prince. He could have almost any woman he wanted. He had no need to take. Besides. If they were to be married soon, he would have ample opportunities. No reason for him to force the issue now. Relax, Laila, do not allow your Fifth Point insecurities to destroy things.
Smiling to the Prince, she said, “That sounds wonderful. I too have heard about these famous gardens. Do you have nice grounds at your castle?”
The Prince didn’t answer her as his hand reached up to take hers. “This way I think,” he said, as he gently pulled her onto a dark path.
Every alarm began to go off in Laila’s brain. Why this way? It was too dark to see anything of interest.
The crunch of gravel let her know that the Guardsman were following them. For some reason, the thought was not reassuring. She was positive in the depths of her soul that she could not rely on these men to protect her.
No, as always, she had only herself. Well, except for that time in the alley when Flint had saved her. But, other than that, it had been herself and her dagger.
Of course, her damn dagger was sitting on her dressing table, helping absolutely no one.
Don’t be silly, Laila, she told herself. But, she couldn’t really believe it when she said it. This man was not to be trusted. Especially in dark, lonely places.
Pulling back, she said, “Your Highness, it is rather dark. I did want to see the rest of the garden. Or, perhaps, we should return to the party. I am sure our host is wondering at our absence.”
The Prince scoffed and continued to pull her deeper into the darkness. “To hell with the Ambassador and what he wants. It is what I want that is important.”
Without warning, the Prince twisted and pulled her into his arms. He immediately locked up both of her hands behind her back and smiled at her. As if asking her what she was going to do about it.
He wants me to fight, she realized. He wants me to whimper and beg, but first he wants me to fight. That is the pleasure for him. Physically overcoming a woman so he can take what he wants.
She glanced over her shoulder at the two Guardsmen. Her stomach jumped to her throat. Both of them stood there, watching, ready to help their master at his slightest command.
“Come, Laila, you can’t expect a prince to marry without a little taste of what he should expect.”
Bending forward he tried to kiss her. His breath smelled of garlic and old stockings. The kind that had been worn for two weeks.
Her stomach threatened to rebel. If she had eaten that meal Mrs. Peabody had suggested she eat, she might very well have been sick all over him.
“Jeffery,” she said, as she twisted away from his lips. “Not here, not like this.”
“Why?” the Prince said. “I would have thought a whore from Fifth Point would enjoy it.”
Her mind froze, and her heart sank. He knew. He knew all along. He had been only toying with her, like a cat playing with a mouse.
How had they failed? What had she done to give herself away? Poor Flint, he would be so disappointed in her.
“What are you saying?” she asked, as she tried to figure out a way to convince him. He continued to pin her hands behind her back, as if afraid that he let her go she might fly away.
“You know perfectly well what I am saying. An orphan, mason’s daughter should be intelligent enough to understand.”
“Your Highness …”
The man’s eyes grew narrow as he stared at her, the hate behind them building as the seconds ticked by.
“I am going to take you here in the garden, you whore. Then, I am going to give you to my men here.”
Laila set her spine, do not let him see you beg, she thought. Never that.
“And, when they are done,” he continued, “I will give you to the
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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