He followed the elf lord toward his palace home, Keita dropping back so that they walked side by side.
“What are you doing here?” she softly asked.
“Watching your back.”
“I don’t need you to watch my back.” And for a brief second he thought he had the old, intolerable Keita back. Until she added, “Although it’s greatly appreciated, my lord.”
Dammit! “Keita—”
She hastened her step and entered the doors with their host.
Traveling behind them, Ragnar walked inside but had to stop at the very entrance. He’d heard of places like this, but had never seen one. Even the human queen’s castle looked nothing like this. The entrance hallway to this place was made of pure marble, the intricate designs etched into the wall accented with pure gold. Standing gold torch-holders lined the hallway as did lit crystal chandeliers overhead, setting the entire space ablaze with light.
And framing the entranceway—two six-foot-high phalluses.
“Something you need, brother?” Reidfurd’s assistant asked him.
“No. Thank you.”
“Then if you’ll please follow me.”
Ragnar followed the small group down the incredibly long hallway, passing room after room, each with a closed door or doors. Yet it took him only a moment to recognize the sounds coming from behind those closed doors—the sounds of f**king. Plus the smell of sex permeated everything, making it clear what kind of castle this was. Gods, had Keita been so angry and hurt at what he’d said that she’d come here, looking for solace? Looking for cold, anonymous sex?
Then again, if he was honest with himself—and for the last two days he’d been forcing himself to be brutally honest with himself—that didn’t seem Keita’s way, did it? Getting cold, anonymous sex might be her way, but to do it because she’d been hurt or angered by his stupidity? No. Keita’s way seemed much more direct—likely she’d stab him with her tail again. Or wait until he was asleep and roll him off a mountain. Yes. That was more Keita the Viper’s style, he now realized.
Then why the hell were they here?
Eventually they reached a private room at the end of the hallway. A den for Reidfurd himself, it seemed. Once inside, the assistant closed the door and offered chairs to Ragnar and Keita. When they were all sitting comfortably in the leather chairs, Athol asked, “So what brings you here, my beauty?”
“I’m looking for someone, and I heard they’d been here a number of times in the last few months.”
“Lots of people come to Castle Moor, Keita, you know that.”“And you know each and every one who does. So let’s not play games.”
The assistant held up a decanter of wine, but Keita waved it away. He offered the same to Ragnar, and after the long day he’d had he seriously considered having a glass until he saw Keita give a very quick shake of her head.
He dismissed the assistant with a wave.
“No wine, brother?” Reidfurd asked, watching him closely.
“No thank you.”
“Fruit then?” Athol held a plate of freshly cut fruit in front of Ragnar.
Hungry but knowing something could be slipped into food just as easily as wine, he shook his head. “You sure? These are from the trees surrounding the manor. I have fresh ones picked every day,” he told Keita. “They’ve become big hits with many of my guests.”
“No thank you,” Ragnar said again.
“As you like.” Athol dropped the plate onto the side table and sat back in his chair. “So, old friend, who are you looking for?” He seemed amiable enough, but as Keita opened her mouth to speak, Ragnar saw her change her mind about what she was going to say. He didn’t know why or what it meant, but she suddenly came out with, “Any Sovereigns been by?”
“Sovereigns? From the Quintilian Provinces?”
“Do you know other Sovereigns I’m not aware of, Athol?”
“Ahh, yes. Your sarcasm. One of my least favorite uses for that mouth of yours.”
Gods, she’d forgotten what an annoying twat Athol could be. And while that had not changed about him, something else had. She simply didn’t know what. But he made her uneasy when, at one time, he’d made her feel anything and everything but unease. So she handled him carefully, not taking his attempts at insult too much to heart and ignoring the Northland battle dog growling at Athol from his leather chair. Keita held up her hand to silence Ragnar and said to Athol, “I know, I know. My sarcasm always annoyed you as your tiny c**k always disappointed me. These are things we’ve decided to overlook in the name of friendship.” Athol’s smile faded away, and Keita giggled and said, “I’m only teasing, old friend. You know that.”
“Yes. Of course.” Although he didn’t look too sure. “I’m sure a Sovereign or two has made his or her way into my home. I get many willing to risk much just for a night here at my manor. But you know I don’t share names, Lady Keita. People come here for private pleasure. Not everyone is as forthcoming as you about where you go and who you f**k.”
“I refuse to feel shame about who I f**k or don’t f**k, but that’s just my way.”
“Perhaps if you give me the name of this Sovereign you search for…”
“I have no name, but he would have been here in the last six months or so.”
“Well, you know, old friend, so many come…and come and come.” Athol glanced at Ragnar and said, “Old joke.” Ragnar’s response was to stare so intently at Athol that for the first time Keita could remember, Lord Reidfurd shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and not even because someone was naked and being whipped for his entertainment.