The Betrayal of Rhiad

Part 1

"Caledon, catch!"

The blonde-haired mercenary flicked out a dagger and deftly speared the thrown apple. He inclined his head at the green-eyed girl beside the fruit cart. "Many thanks, Mistress Alena." He smiled as she blushed, making the freckles on her face stand out in sharp relief. He took a bite of the apple and walked to her. Taking her hand, he pressed some coins into it. "Treat your man to a feast at one of the inns, tonight, love. You two deserve a nice night out."

"Oh, Caledon, you don't need -- "

He curled her fingers over the coin, refusing to let her return them. "Sorry, love. Can't take them back once they've left my possession."

The red-haired girl colored again, but nodded shyly. "Thank you, Caledon. You're a sweetie."

"Why are the ladies always telling you that?"

Caledon rolled his eyes at the familiar voice. Throwing a last wink at the girl, he turned to face the newcomer. A tall, lanky man with dirty blonde hair and mellow brown eyes was currently grinning at him from the middle of the street. Mercenary that he was, he was dressed like Caledon in shades of black. However, instead of carrying the various daggers that Caledon did, the lanky man wore only a single sword sheathed over his shoulder.

"They always say that because it's true," Caledon replied, with a long-suffering sigh. "Maybe if you possessed half as much charm, you'd fare the same way, Tye."

The other man laughed, his tobacco-stained teeth spread wide. "Charm and a lack of discrimination. You best me in both."

Caledon shrugged. His preferences in bed were no secret. "I appreciate a pretty face. Gender is beside the point."

"Hmm. So I suppose you'd be interested in that walking beauty."

Caledon followed his friend's knowing gaze to a tavern several yards away. Stepping from its doors was a raven-haired creature of such unexpected beauty that Caledon forgot to blink.

"By the gods," he breathed, gaze riveted to the slender figure that, if it hadn't been for the gait, he might have mistaken for a female. Shoulder-length black hair framed a face whose alabaster skin suggested a life spent indoors. The stranger's high, graceful cheekbones were almost exotic in this place where classic beauty was near unheard of. And his eyes ... Caledon felt his body stir. Even from the distance, he could see that the stranger had impossibly wide grey eyes the color of storm clouds and rain. "Amazing. Who is that?"

Tye laughed, stepping beside him to join in his study of the stranger. "He's in Rhiad recruiting men for a temporary army his father is trying to build. Seems there's a dispute that needs a few sharp swords to settle. The usual." He elbowed his friend meaningfully. "I spoke with him earlier this morning. He's even more breathtaking up close. You should meet him."

"It was never a question," Caledon replied distractedly as he watched the stranger cross the street and enter Caledon's favorite tavern. "What is his name?"

"Hadrian."

~~~~~

The Bell and Buckle was Caledon's favorite place to relax in Rhiad because it was the closest thing to sitting in the sun. The tavern possessed more windows than any other building in town: four, to be exact -- two on either side of the front door and one in each of the side walls. If one sat at the bar stretched across the back, one could almost imagine oneself outdoors. Or at least, that's what Caledon liked to tell himself. Since he invariably spent the majority of his waking hours either working in the pitch black of night or lurking about in the shadows of the seediest places imaginable, when his time was his own, he sought the light. He wanted to cleanse himself, if only for a little while, of the darkness.

Today, the B&B was his favorite tavern for another reason. It was where his quarry had gone. Having followed the dark-haired stranger inside, Caledon now lounged at the bar, surreptitiously watching him from over the rim of a mug full of foamy ale.

Gods, but when had anyone walked into Rhiad looking as this one did? Caledon traveled extensively as his jobs warranted, but always it seemed he ended up lurking in places where dirt was the cosmetic of choice and baths were few and far between. Caledon had grown accustomed to dirty faces and questionable hygiene. Seeing someone like this stranger, whose clean garments and well-kept appearance indicated that he obviously came from a far different background, was worth staring at even if he wasn't beautiful.

But to Caledon's immense enjoyment, the stranger was nothing less than stunning. His long dark hair was the shade of a raven's wing, thick and glossy. It, combined with his black tunic and grey cloak, made the stranger's fair skin look almost translucent by contrast. Caledon's eyes traveled up the stubborn jaw and full, pink-petaled lips, tracing the high arc of cheekbones until they came to the stranger's gaze. He needed to see those magnetic eyes up close.

"You takin' a bite of what he's offerin', Caledon?"

The mercenary nearly choked on his ale, quickly wiping at his chin. He turned on the stool and regarded the barkeep with amusement. "I assume that was deliberate, Rankin. Are you trying to make me waste good ale by spilling it all over myself?"

Rankin, who owned the Bell and Buckle, shrugged innocently. "Just means you gotta buy more." He picked up a dirty rag, moved it around in his hands until he found a patch that wasn't as dark as the rest, and used it to wipe out a mug. He inclined his head towards the stranger in the corner. "You goin' to talk to him? Heard he's lookin' to hire."

"Mmm," Caledon murmured noncommittally, spinning around to regard the man in question again. "Who's he talked to so far?"

"Everyone. Doesn't seem to care 'bout skill or price. Seems like he just wants bodies. He'd probably want yours."

Caledon rolled his eyes at the innuendo. "Never were one for subtleties, were you, Rank?"

The barkeep snorted. "Like you weren't thinkin' the same thing when you followed him in here."

Caledon laughed. All right, so he had a reputation. It wasn't something he was about to change. He enjoyed his life for the most part. Caledon lived to live. That meant enjoying the more pleasant aspects of life as often as possible.

It was an attitude he had long ago learned to adopt. Killing people for a living wasn't the most heartening of occupations. He found himself in unsavory positions more often than not. And sometimes it took more ale and sex than was probably normal to make himself forget what he had willingly committed for a bag of coin. He had a conscience, somewhere deep down. But if he tried hard enough, he could almost make himself forget it.

Someone like this stranger was the perfect means of doing so.

"Gonna make yourself available to 'im?" Rankin asked with a smirk as Caledon slid off the stool.

Caledon threw a grin over his shoulder. "In every way possible, my friend."

~~~~~

Hadrian decided that he didn't much care for this place. Not just this tavern, which reeked of sweat and and old ale, but the entire town of Rhiad. This was why he never left the island of Shard's Point. Why should he, when this was all there was to look forward to?

He took a tentative sip of his ale and suppressed a grimace. Was his father punishing him for something? Is that why Hadrian had been chosen for this task when any member of the Order could have accomplished the same? Hadrian wouldn't be surprised, if that was the case. Since he could remember, his life had consisted of him attempting not to displease his father and inevitably failing. Somewhere, somehow, he had done something wrong yet again. Now he was trapped here with what must surely be the scum of the land collected for his perusal.

Hadrian rubbed at his forehead idly, thinking on the men he had encountered during this mission. Killers, all of them. Why his father needed to employ them, he had no idea, nor would he ask. He had learned long ago that simply being the great Gavedon ni Leyanon's son did not mean he was privy to the man's mind. Hadrian was as much a stranger to his father's inclinations as the rest of the members of the Order. Every day, he was reminded of that fact as Gavedon's eyes looked through Hadrian as though he didn't exist.

He looked up as the chair directly across from him slid away from the table. A man's booted foot had pulled it back and now rested upon its seat. Hadrian's eyes traveled up the muscled leg, clothed in worn, black breeches. Daggers were strapped on either side of the man's thigh and another one hung at his waist. The strap of a sheath ran across the front of the man's dark tunic, drawing the fabric tight over a broad chest. Hadrian could see the smooth hilt of a sword peeking over the man's shoulder. A mercenary. A well-armed one, at that.

Then his eyes lifted to the man's face and Hadrian at once forgot his dislike of Rhiad.

"I've heard you're looking to hire a few swords," the man said in a lazy drawl, his voice deep and nuanced.

Something wild fluttered in Hadrian's stomach. He didn't understand the sudden tightness in his chest that made it difficult to draw breath. The man before him was not much older than himself, but the tiny lines around his bright blue eyes spoke of an experience far beyond Hadrian. He was well traveled; Hadrian surmised as much from the deeply tanned skin and the straw-colored hair that held pale strands of sunlight. He had a strong, square face that Hadrian sensed could look frighteningly dangerous should the moment warrant it. But right now, the man was grinning at him with wide white teeth that looked even brighter set within his dark countenance.

Hadrian realized he was staring. He felt heat steal into his cheeks and that only made the man's smile widen further. Someone who definitely knows how handsome he is, Hadrian decided, dropping his eyes. And most likely with the charm to match. Hadrian might not have had much experience dealing with the outside world, but he had come to recognize those few to whom charm came second nature. Admitting his own lack of social skills, he had learned to be wary of them.

"Are you a mercenary?" Hadrian asked him as calmly as he could. He wanted to wipe his sweating palms against his breeches, but feared it would give away too much to the man. Those blazing blue eyes looked unerringly sharp.

"For a price," the man replied.

"The very definition of a mercenary, is it not?" Hadrian said, glancing up at him. The man was still smiling, watching Hadrian with undisguised curiosity. Cursing his fair skin that revealed too much, Hadrian struggled to remain calm. "Money is not an issue."

"Money is always an issue." The booted foot lifted from the chair. "May I sit?"

The prospect of having the man join him was both daunting and exciting. Hadrian nodded, trying to appear unaffected. He knew he failed by the amusement that creased the mercenary's face as he lowered himself into the chair and leaned both forearms on the table between them. The man had rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, allowing Hadrian to see the muscles of his forearms flex beneath the light dusting of golden hair. Hadrian quickly looked away.

"Why are you trying to appear disinterested in me?" the man asked.

"What -- what do you mean?" Hadrian stammered, caught aback.

A twitch of the lips showed the other man had caught his slip. "You need men for your father's army, don't you?" the mercenary said, cocking his head innocently. "And you've said that money is not a problem for you."

Frowning with the fear he was being played with, Hadrian sat back to build some distance. "If you're willing, then yes, I want to hire you. My father needs every mercenary in Rhiad."

The other man steepled his fingers, his sky-blue eyes looking over them at Hadrian. "What is it you're hiring for, exactly?"

Would that I knew, Hadrian thought somewhat resentfully. Aloud, he said, "My father owns a great deal of land in northern Jeynesa. It's been in his family since beyond memory, passed to the eldest son of each generation. However, an illegitimate son has appeared, contesting my father's claim." Hadrian leaned forward again, trying to appear concerned. "My father has been facing threats of violence and he fears serious fighting. He sent me here to gather enough mercenaries to form a small army. I think he hopes that a show of force will forestall any actual confrontation. Therefore, I need men like you."

The words, given to him to repeat by Gavedon, and having been used countless times already, suddenly sounded transparently false as he spoke them to this mercenary. Maybe it was because the blue eyes that watched him as he spoke didn't blink. He sensed that this man wasn't a fool. It made him add, "My father will be here in a fortnight to explain everything. You may decide then whether or not you wish to remain in his employ. I don't particularly care if you don't trust me."

Hadrian knew he was taking a risk. He wasn't supposed to leave the option to refuse. Gavedon had impressed upon Hadrian the importance -- no, the urgency -- of ensuring that every mercenary in the town be convinced to meet with Gavedon. But Hadrian was unnerved by this mercenary's confidence. He was different than the others Hadrian had already spoken to who had radiated various degrees of danger and recklessness. This man's threat seemed layered in something else that Hadrian didn't quite recognize.

"You're a bit swift to jump to conclusions," the mercenary said with a laugh. It was an easy laugh that Hadrian sensed came often. Some of his tenseness fled at the light sound. "I never said I don't trust you. I simply don't know you. Yet," he added with a grin. "My name is Caledon ni Agthon."

Hadrian found it disconcerting that the man could look so open and friendly when he was obviously a paid killer. Still, Hadrian did manage to relax somewhat. "I am Hadrian."

He hoped he didn't sound overly suspicious by not giving his surname, but Caledon did not seem to mind. The mercenary smiled with genuine warmth. "Now forgive me if it is I who is jumping to conclusions, Hadrian, but I'd wager you don't venture into the likes of Rhiad very often, do you?"

Hadrian nodded, intending to play up his role as the spoiled, sheltered son of a wealthy land owner. "I am unused to such ... places, yes. But this is important to my father, so I will deal with it as I must."

Caledon's eyes glittered. "Your father must have great faith to send such a lamb to the wolves."

Except this lamb is no mere lamb, Hadrian thought. Revealing his true nature, though, was out of the question. Gavedon had made that painfully, memorably clear. "I suppose my father thinks the prospect of future wealth under his employ will dissuade anyone from murdering me outright. Better to hold out for a future reward that is sweeter."

Caledon grinned. "Oh, yes," he murmured, eyes intent on Hadrian. "Anticipation is much sweeter."

Flustered by the interest he saw in the blue eyes, Hadrian could not hold Caledon's gaze. Reactions like that of the other man's were something Hadrian had been trying hard to understand since stepping onto the mainland. Perhaps it was his admittedly odd coloring or maybe it was his garments that clearly marked him as a stranger, but he had been subject to more attention in the last five days than he could remember receiving in his entire life.

"Don't look so uneasy," Caledon said gently. "If I intend to work for you, I'm not going to attack you. You needn't be afraid of me, Hadrian. Relax."

Hadrian wanted to laugh. He wasn't afraid of being attacked by the blonde-haired mercenary. Not when he knew that, with a glance, he could send the larger man flying across the room. What made him uncomfortable was that deep down, he understood that Caledon presented a threat to him that he had had little experience countering.

Hadrian had never before considered his secluded upbringing to be a burden. What did it matter if his contact with those outside the Order was limited to a handful of fanatics? But now, forced to interact with the mainland, he glimpsed one of the ways in which such social inexperience would leave him vulnerable.

"Doesn't your father worry that you might be kidnapped and held for ransom?" Caledon asked. "You're making it far too obvious that you come from a family of wealth. To those less scrupulous than myself, you're something of a temptation." He smiled. "In many ways."

Hadrian shifted in his chair uneasily, wishing the other man were ugly or rude or anything other than what he was so that Hadrian would want to conclude their business. But Caledon was handsome and charming and seemed genuinely interested in him ...Would it hurt to indulge in the man's attention? Gavedon's face rose in his mind. Yes, it would.

"I can take care of myself, you needn't concern yourself on that matter," Hadrian replied.

Before he could react, Caledon's hand shot across the table and took hold of his wrist, turning his palm up on the table. Hadrian tugged halfheartedly as a calloused fingertip drew lightly across the skin of his palm. His eyes widened at the bolt of sensation that the small touch sent through his body. He held his breath as Caledon drew a lazy circle in his palm.

"You aren't proficient with the sword," the blonde mercenary commented, watching his finger trace the contours of Hadrian's palm. "You ride often enough, but your hands are too soft for you to convince me you're adept with weapons, love." He raised dark blue eyes to study Hadrian. A small smile played at the edges of his lips. "So tell me how it is that you take care of yourself, hmm? Because I wouldn't want to see a pretty thing like you get hurt. Not if I could have prevented it."

Love. Pretty thing. Hadrian stared at Caledon, stunned at the casual endearment, the lazy compliment.

A mild incredulity flitted through Caledon's eyes as he studied Hadrian's reaction. "Don't tell me I'm the first ..." He trailed, off shaking his head with a small laugh at himself. "''Course not."

But you are, Hadrian thought helplessly. Say them again. He frowned slightly when Caledon released his wrist.

"You playing the innocent just convinces me further that you need someone to watch your back while you're in Rhiad."

Hadrian mentally shook his head, clearing his senses as the words sank in. "What are you talking about?"

Caledon shrugged, sitting back in his chair. The pale light picked out the highlights in his hair, making Hadrian want, for the first time in his life, to touch someone else. "That coy little game of yours might work for you in your social circles when your father is around, but it's guaranteed to make you a target in a place like this. For some men, nothing is quite as seductive as the chance to 'break' someone like you."

Hadrian felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He didn't want to be having his conversation. Though he didn't fully understand all of Caledon's references, he could guess.

"I'm not playing at anything," he insisted, dragging his hand into his lap and scrubbing at his palm to erase the mercenary's touch. "And I don't need your assistance. I will only be here another three days. I shall be fine."

Caledon merely smiled.

Becoming irritated, Hadrian squared his jaw. "You're not the only one I need to speak to while I'm here. My time is short. I have others I see. May I count you among those interested in my father's employ? As I said, he will be here in a fortnight to explain everything further."

Caledon sat back, studying him thoughtfully. "Why the haste? The sun hasn't set yet. We've time to share in conversation, don't we? You're like a skittish maiden."

Hadrian knew the comment was deliberately intended to provoke him. He forced himself to ignore it, unwilling -- gods, afraid -- to engage this dangerous man further. Hadrian was out of his element and they both knew it.

"I haven't come to Rhiad to share in conversation," he said carefully, making sure the mercenary understood every word. Only the memory of his father's mood kept him from looking away from Caledon's heated blue eyes. If Hadrian failed in this, the punishment when he returned would be unbearable."I'm sorry ... Caledon, but I need to conduct my business." He hesitated, then recklessly added, "Maybe -- perhaps we could meet another time."

He immediately blushed at his own forwardness. What was he doing? He would never come back here. And if his father found out he was -- interested -- in someone on the mainland, Hadrian would be forbidden to ever step foot off the isle again. But when Caledon's eyes lit up, a lazy grin curling his lips that shortened Hadrian's breath, Hadrian knew why he had said what he had. Because he hoped it would be true.

"Not today then," Caledon said, deliberately misunderstanding. Before Hadrian could clarify, the mercenary rose from his chair and came around the table. He braced a strong, tanned hand on the table beside Hadrian and leaned over him. Hadrian dropped his eyes to the table, afraid to look up into the blue gaze right beside his face. Caledon's breath was soft and warm against his cheek, stirring his hair. The rumble of his quiet voice against his ear made Hadrian's body flood with heat.

"I'm glad I met you, Hadrian. It's been a long time since I've encountered anyone like you." Rough fingertips brushed a strand of dark hair from Hadrian's temple. His lashes fluttered in unconscious response. "I'll see you again before you leave. I promise."

Something long repressed made Hadrian turn his head and blurt, "Will you?"

Momentary surprise was replaced by a lush confidence that had Hadrian's insides melting. Caledon's eyes lowered to Hadrian's mouth a moment before the mercenary's thumb brushed over it, slightly parting his lips. "Mmm. I always keep my promises, love. And this is one I want to keep, very badly." He stroked Hadrian's bottom lip. "Very badly, indeed."

Hadrian's heart was pumping so hard he feared it would explode. Oh, gods, he wanted to lick Caledon's thumb. He wanted to grab him and, and -- what? Sadly, he didn't know what he wanted, just more of this luscious, blood-stirring feeling that was making him ache in all those secret places and left him hungry. Hungry for touch, for taste, for feelings...

He knew he was trembling by the way Caledon's eyes darkened as they looked over him. "Gods be damned," the mercenary said abruptly. "Meet me in the stables beside the Fickle Harper Inn."

Hadrian started to nod automatically, then stopped himself as reason began to intrude. "No, I -- I can't. I need to meet too many --"

"Later tonight," Caledon breathed. "After you've had your supper. I want to see you."

Gods, if his father ever found out ... But, found out what? What if the mercenary only wanted to speak with him? Ah, but what if he wanted more? Hadrian had little idea what that "more" could entail, but he wanted to find out.

He nodded, regretting the action as it dislodged the touch from his mouth. Caledon smiled faintly at his expression. "Meet me tonight, and I'll give you more," the blonde promised.

More. Whatever it was, Hadrian wanted it. His eyes locked on Caledon as the blonde backed away and strode casually from the room. When the man had left, Hadrian ran a hand down his face. He was flushed with heat and his heart was still pounding. He almost smiled. He normally only felt this way when he magicked. He wondered if what he had just experienced with Caledon wasn't its own form of magick. He vowed to find out.