Chapter 6

I stared at the golden liquid as he held it casually in his hand, my heart beating wildly. How much had he drunk? One sip? Two? More? I hadn't even noticed when he'd obtained it. Richard must have slipped it into the count's hand in my panicked focus on my master's rising fury. The man was infuriatingly silent as he paced the back of the room.

Master's tight grip on his own glass told me just how furious he really was behind his calm facade. The two Sterling counts had outmaneuvered my master, setting his men up to be captured, and ultimately bringing about his downfall. And now, Master was going to kill the count. Poison the man.

Bile rose in my throat as I glanced back at the glass the count held so casually. I couldn't let it happen, could I? I had to do something. On the other hand, Master would beat me half to death if I interfered.

Yet the angry glitter in his eye told me that was going to happen anyway.

"I suppose, we'll just have to wait to see what happens," Master said calmly, taking another sip of his own drink, in hopes the count would mirror his movements.

"Probably a good idea." Of course, the count shifted to raise his glass. He was going to drink more of the tainted liquid. Damn it.

So I shifted too, sliding my body over the count's lap, casting a hooded gaze to my master, whose eyes and small smile reflected his slight surprise and approval. He thought I was just following orders to distract the man. I hoped that's what he continued to believe.

I moved casually—I couldn't just grab the glass out of his hand or Master would know what I was really up to. I figured I could surprise the count into not drinking more.

It worked.

Lord Rowland gaped down at me as my hand slid over his thighs. I cast one more glance back at Master before slipping up onto the seat next to the count.

Master burst into laughter. "I believe my pet likes you, Lord Rowland."

I managed to insinuate myself sensuously up into the count's lap during his stunned silence, putting myself between his lips and his glass. He'd have to move me to take another drink of the poisoned liquor.

"What in the Gods name, Barrett?" The count didn't seem to know what to do with me, holding out his arms—and therefore, the poison—afraid to touch me. "Get your companion—" he spat the word out, "off of me."

"Oh, relax and drink up, Rowland," Master chuckled. "He's only playing with you."

I felt Lord Rowland tensing under me, obviously angry at my advances, yet I couldn't think of any way to warn him without betraying myself completely to my master. So before he could react more violently and throw me on the floor, I quickly nuzzled at his chin, licking up his jaw to his ear, biting briefly at his earlobe.

"Drink. Poisoned." My whisper in his ear was enough to still his squirming. I used my hand caressing his face to shield his shock from my master. Gods, I prayed Master didn't figure out I'd warned the man.

My small shaking hands turned his head, kissing his lips. I wondered how much of the bitter taste was liquor and how much was the hemlock. I kissed my way to his other ear.

"Go. Now," I urged. He needed to move, get away from my master. Get water to help flush out the poison, get to a doctor. I pulled back enough to see the questioning shock as his gaze flitted over my face. Maybe he didn't believe me. Whether he did or not, he still needed to leave. Now.

Why the hell was he still sitting there? I needed to get him moving.

I reached between us—and squeezed his cock.

"What the hell!" he gasped, shooting up from the couch and dumping me on the floor. I hid my smile against the wood, pretending to be contrite.

My master was up instantly as well, worry tingeing his voice. "I'm sorry. Kye can be a bit forward. Why don't you sit back down? Kye will apologize, and we can finish our drinks."

Master was already pulling me up by my arm, his eyes shooting daggers at me and I cringed—hell, I was going to pay for messing up his plans. Of course, I was already going to pay for the count messing up his plans, so what did it matter?

I peeked at Lord Rowland from behind my curtain of golden silk. The man was staring at me in shock and wonder—I wasn't sure if it was because I warned him about the drink or because I'd touched his cock. Maybe both.

"I, uh, think I will take my leave now," the count stated, placing the tumbler of liquor on the small table next to him.

"Oh, surely, you have time to finish your drink," Master crooned, trying to placate the count into staying.

Lord Rowland's copper eyes met my blue ones, and I could already see his eyes starting to dilate, a sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip and brow. "No, I've tarried long enough."

Master's fingers tightened painfully on my arm. "I see. Well, let me see you out then."

Lord Rowland headed swiftly for the door. Master paused and glared down at me. "I said to distract him, not molest him so he runs out the fucking door."

I dipped my head. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Damn it all to hell," I heard Master muttering under his breath. I could barely hear him. "Huxton needed that shipment to supply our men."

Richard swept by us, following Lord Rowland. I shivered under the gaze he pinned me with. It looked almost like he knew what I'd done. Hell. Had he been close enough to hear me? I hadn't paid much attention to the steward. He'd been somewhere behind where Lord Rowland was sitting, I think. Could he have heard anything?

Master called Samuel over, shoving me at the man.

"Take Kye to my room, now."

Samuel seemed surprised by Master's angry tone directed at me. Master never showed the servants this side of himself. "Yes, sir."

I stumbled as I glanced back toward the foyer. I was dismayed to see the count's gait falter. Fucking hell, maybe he'd had more than I thought.

Samuel grabbed my arm, shoving me toward the master's bedroom. His lips were pressed tight as he practically threw me in the room.

"If you've hurt him—" he growled.

I fought with the need to stay silent. Hadn't I helped enough? Hadn't I already risked enough to save the man? Still, I'd already broken my training, hadn't I? When I'd told the count about the poison. What did it matter now? I was already going to face Master's wrath no matter what.

I abruptly clutched at Samuel's sleeve, surprising him. "He's been poisoned. Hemlock. Get him to a doctor. Now."

"What?" Samuel gaped at me in shock, but I just shoved him back into the hallway, hoping he'd leave to help his true lord. "You fucking poisoned him?"

"Yes, now go!" I shoved him again. I had to get the man to leave before Master returned. Maybe he could make sure Lord Rowland made it to a doctor. There was a town nearby, right? They'd have a doctor, wouldn't they?

I was trembling as I made my way across the room to my small alcove. I sat in the window seat, my legs drawn up and my arms pulled into my chest. Safe. I was safe for the moment, staring out into the darkness. I couldn't see much. Just the stars. It seemed so black out, I thought it could swallow me up.

I hoped it did.

Because then I wouldn't have to face Master when he returned. And I was sure I wouldn't be safe anymore.

****

I must have dozed off in my post-adrenaline haze. I wasn't sure how long it had been, but Master's ire hadn't dissipated any. Not from the look on his face.

He carried a drink in his hand as he stalked drunkenly towards me, and I wondered if he'd been drinking this whole time. His eyes blazed like they had a week ago, and my heart rate spiked.

I knew immediately it would be bad. Worse probably, than last week. My fingers tightened as they clutched together against my chest.

"So, pet," he sneered as he stalked over, hovering above me. He hadn't even demanded I get up into position—and that worried me as much as his tone. "I thought you might like a bit to drink."

What? That made no sense. He never let me drink any of his—

My eyes widened at the tumbler in his hand. Oh fuck. It was the rest of Lord Sterling's drink. My heart thudded wildly in my chest. Master wanted me to drink it? Knowing what was in it? He wanted to kill me with the poison he'd planned for the count?

His eyes glittered in the dark as he shoved the glass towards me, and I cowered into the corner.

"What's the matter, my pretty little Kye? Don't you want a taste?" he taunted.

I shook my head. "N-No, Master."

"Why the fuck not?" he demanded, the glass hovering in my face.

"I-I don't think I'd like it, sir," I managed.

"TRY IT!" he ordered, pressing the glass to my lips.

However, I clamped my mouth shout, lashing out my arm and smacking the glass from his hand. It splattered the liquid on my silky blue shirt before the heavy glass broke on the floor in several large pieces.

Master stooped down and picked up a jagged piece of the glass. "Look what you did, pet."

I could only stare at the splintered glass as he seemed even more menacing than usual. "After all I've done for you, rescued you from that filthy hovel, saved your parents from dying in poverty on that infertile heap of land?"

I didn't even see him move before he had my neck in his hand, my head smacking against the stone wall. My vision tunneled briefly as I cried out in shock. Instinctively, I struggled under his restraining hold. So much for my discipline and control.

"This is how you repay me? By betraying me?!" he snarled, and I panicked at the sudden feel of a sharp prick against the side of my throat.

And instantly I knew why he didn't care that I wasn't in position, why he didn't care about my control or my silence. He was going to kill me this time. He was going to cut a hole in my throat and watch my life's blood slip away.

Oh, by the Gods mercy, I felt my heart race. Tears pricked at my eyes as the realization of my imminent demise set in. Funny how last week I was praying for it. Now, I was fighting it, praying to some mysterious deity who'd never found mercy for me before to please save me.

"Please, Master," I whimpered, pulling at his unyielding hand.

"Please? Please? You're fucking begging me to spare your miserable life after you betrayed me to the count!" he yelled as he punctuated his words by slamming my head against the wall.

My ears rang as my head exploded in pain, blurring my vision. Maybe he'd knock me unconscious first. Then I wouldn't have to feel the jagged glass ripping open my throat. I wanted to just succumb to the darkness, even as my body, my mind, still wanted to fight.

It made no sense. Why would it want to fight to stay in this miserable life, this world of hate and pain? I should have drunk the damn tainted liquor, then there would be no choice.

"Barrett!" A door banging open preceded the shout. The pressure on my throat eased slightly. "We need to leave now—to your northern estate."

Richard.

Master turned, the glass slipping away from my throat.

"Lord Ashton is on his way here now! He's already gotten word about his brother falling ill. They know he was poisoned."

"Bastard!" Master roared, shoving me one last time, cracking my head against the stone.

"Lord Rowland made it to town. Someone told them it was hemlock." Even in my fading consciousness, I could tell he was talking about me. I almost managed a smile. "He's sick, though, delirious already. Fell off his horse on the way, hitting his head. So he may still succumb... but Lord Ashton knows. And he's out for blood."

I vaguely heard movement as Master cursed, and I thought I saw him reach for me again. However, the steward grabbed him, yanking him away. "You don't have time to torment your traitorous whore. We have to go! NOW!"

Richard. Richard must have heard my warnings.

There was a flurry of activity—drawers thrown open, things banging around—but at least I was left blissfully alone, forgotten. Within minutes, the room was silent again. I tried to move, but the smell of the liquor and the sharp pain in my head caused my stomach to revolt. Instead, I curled up tighter, closing my eyes against my swimming vision. I exhaled slowly, trying to fight for control of my fading vision. Unfortunately, I just felt like I was spiraling deeper into chaos. Stupidly, I shook my head, thinking I could stay my fall—it just made everything worse.

My head dropped back lethargically, smacking the tender spot on my skull, and I let go, plummeting into the darkness.

Be... strong. Be... good.