Akira Rises Read Free Page B

that made the shy little boy smile and feel as if he, too, had much to offer the daughter of a baron.
     

CHAPTER THREE
    L ady Shy noticed the hungry look in her husband’s eyes as they lingered on her daughter when he thought no one was looking. When he was drunk, when his eyes were glazed after visits from the mages, he was not so careful to shield his unnatural appetites. Inhibitions that governed acceptable behavior seemed to slip away. The day that his hand had slipped from Akira’s waist and cupped her bottom, was the day Lady Shy knew her daughter was in more danger than ever. Startled, Akira shoved her father back, picked up her skirt and bolted from the great room.
    That his wife saw the forbidden touch seemed to please the baron. The curl of his lip, the challenging glare was not lost on his wife. This time the touch had been for her eyes. She needed to be reminded that she had much to fear not only for herself but for the daughter she loved. The surge of red color creeping up his wife’s neck, up to her cheeks pleased him. It made him feel powerful. His threat had struck hard and deep, and he knew it. The feeling of power was heady.
    Akira was aghast. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from them butcher block table. She steadied herself against the table. Mary, the head cook was just cleaning the pin feathers off a goose, while her assistant was sloshing water about cleaning blood off the flagstone floor.
    Mary looked up. “Who are you going to kill this time, Akira? Who has your embroidered pantaloons in a knot?” Mary had a way of calming the young mistress. It was not the first time Akira had exploded into the kitchen asking for a knife to stab into her brothers. But this time, it did not seem like sibling drama. Akira was pale and shaking.
    Akira inhaled sharply. “He put his filthy hands on my ass!”
    Mary scowled, ready to box someone’s ears. “Who dared insult my young mistress? Hand me that knife and I will carve him a new asshole!” Mary grabbed her sharpest knife.
    Akira looked pained. “Would that you could … but you can’t!”
    “What do you mean I can’t? There are no young bucks around here my knife can’t handle.” Mary huffed. “Now put that knife down before you cut yourself waving it around. My god girl, you are in a state! Who dared touch you? Spill it to old Mary.”
    “One you cannot ever touch,” Akira said angrily. Akira paced, agitation expressed itself in every move, every nuance of her face. She put the knife down, picked it up and put it down again.
    “And what manner of man or boy can’t be touched?” Mary wiped her hands on her apron and put her hands on her ample hips.
    “A baron cannot be touched Mary… a bloody baron.”
    Mary frowned as she suddenly comprehended the anger and indignation.
    “Oh that bastard! Did he slap your ass for being cheeky? You are a tad too old for him to be doing such a thing. You’re not a child anymore.”
    “No Mary, he fondled my ass. It was not a slap one could excuse! I was not being impertinent or cheeky.”
    “Is he drunk? Not that drunkenness excuses the bastard.”
    “When is he not in some state of drunkenness? He knew it was me… his daughter.”
    “Oh my poor girl, tis no wonder you are in a dither.” Mary wrapped her arms about Akira for a brief hug. “Shall I lace his foods with salt peter?” Mary looked serious. Her scowl was fierce.
    “And put yourself at risk? No, dear Mary, as tempting as that is, you would have to pour it on his food and he would notice.”
    “Aye, you are right. It would require massive amounts of the stuff. Perhaps it would preserve his meat, if you know what I mean. We would not want that.”
    Akira rolled her eyes then hugged the cook. “How do you always know what to say to keep me from screaming.”
    The cook hugged her tighter. If she could get away with it and gather her courage she would put poison in the bloody baron’s food. She had confessed her thoughts to her