Lord Of Danger by Stuart, Anne (android based ebook reader .TXT) 📕

of Navarre’s skill relied on others’ gullibility. He took a pinch of sulphur and tossed it on the fire, and the resulting explosion and stench was gratifying indeed. He could see the various knights cross themselves devoutly, and he intoned a few words in Arabic to add to the effect. No one in the household of Richard the Fair understood Arabic, and they thought it was an unearthly language for communing with devils. If they knew its true origins they’d be convinced they were right.

The magician stepped back from the fire, deliberately pushing his long hair away from his face with his bad hand. The young woman draped against Richard shivered and averted her eyes, which amused Simon. There were any number of missing limbs, hideous scars, and marks of battle on the inhabitants of Summersedge Keep, and most people took them in stride. But the sight of the wizard’s twisted, claw-like hand made even the strongest knight shudder. It was a sign of the devil, they said. He’d traded the use of his good right hand for the powers of the night.

“The omens are good,” Simon intoned in his deep, golden voice. It was well-trained, and could carry over any number of angry conversations, but he seldom had to bother nowadays. When Simon of Navarre spoke, the world hushed in curiosity and fear. Grendel they called him, after Beowulf’s bone-cracking, blood-drinking monster. It amused him.

Richard pushed the clinging young woman away from him and stood up, swaying slightly. “Never thought you’d be married, did you, Grendel? To one as high born as my sister?”

Simon of Navarre turned slowly. “Did I mistake the matter? I thought your sisters were bastards.”

The silence in the great hall was deafening. Those watching would be hard-pressed to decide who was the more dangerous: the wizard with his untold powers, or Richard the Fair, with his bloody rages that went unchecked.

Simon of Navarre knew which of them was the more dangerous. Richard knew as well. After a moment he managed a boisterous laugh. “Base born of de Lancie blood is better than properly wedded and bedded blood of any other family in all of England. You’re a lucky man, Simon of Navarre. Alys may not be as great a beauty as Claire, but her lineage is better, and she’s the elder. She’s pretty enough, I hear, and all cats are gray in the dark.”

“You don’t know?” Simon of Navarre murmured.

“Haven’t set eyes on the brat since she was a puling child and I had her taken away from her mother. I keep an eye on ‘em, though, and they’re both pretty-behaved young ladies. Alys will suit you very well indeed. Much more so than Claire. She’d lead you a merry dance, if what the nuns say is true.” Richard chuckled.

“And what if I prefer the pretty one?” Simon of Navarre asked.

Richard frowned. “Already sent word to Alys that she was to be married. She’s expecting it.”

“And you wouldn’t want to face your sister’s wrath,” he said gently.

Richard was just too damned easy to play, particularly after a night of heavy drinking. “The wench will do as I say or I’ll have her beaten. You want the pretty one, take her. One sister’s as good as another, to my way of thinking. Take ‘em both.”

Simon of Navarre bowed low, keeping his expression well-hidden. In truth he didn’t care which of Richard’s sisters ended up in his bed. The fact that one of them would be there was enough to ensure his position and power in the household of a man who was only a few lives away from the throne of England. Granted, the lives that stood in his way were strong and powerful ones, well supported by the Barons of England, but Richard didn’t let that daunt his ambitions. And neither did Simon of Navarre.

The magician’s own power was mysterious and enormous. One of his secrets was the use of well-placed spies. The woman who last shared his bed had newly come from a visit to the Convent of Saint Anne the Demure, and her knowledge of Richard the Fair’s bastard sisters was gratifyingly complete.

Claire, the younger one, was headstrong, flighty, enormously beautiful and strong-willed. Her elder sister, Alys, was fair, calm, and peaceful, and while not the beauty her sister was, in all she was well-enough.

He was pleased to accept the older, plainer, more peaceful one, until Merren added one more disturbing bit of information.

Alys was clever.

While Claire did everything she could to avoid studying, Alys had excelled in Latin and Greek. While Claire had run wild, Alys had studied medicine and philosophy. Even the nuns were in awe of her excellent understanding, and that was one risk Simon of Navarre couldn’t afford to take. A clever wife would be the very devil.

No, he preferred something flighty and beautiful to a creature who might possibly begin to see past the mysterious and frightening surface he presented to the denizens of Summersedge Keep. And the wild young Claire would soon enough find someone young and whole and handsome to distract her, so he could concentrate on the work at hand and not be bothered by an importunate wife.

Richard had barely flinched at the idea of substituting one sister for another, another sign of how powerful Simon of Navarre had become. Handled properly, Richard would end up doing anything the wizard wanted him to do, and never realize it hadn’t been his idea in the first place.

“I rejoice to think of my future happiness,” Simon murmured, keeping the light note of cynicism out of his voice. “I’ll make my decision when I see them.”

“Well, as to whether you’ll be happy or not, I doubt any woman has the power to make it so,” Richard said with a smirk. “God knows Hedwiga has been a curse from hell. But that’s neither here nor there. They should be coming soon enough, and I imagine Alys will count herself lucky if she manages to escape the marriage bed.”

“Entirely?” Simon