Much Fall of Blood-ARC Read Free Page A

installing herself as the power behind the prince.
    Manfred was changing. Command on Corfu had altered him. He didn't realize it yet, but he was ready to move on.
    She'd seen it before as a courtesan. She recognized the signs now.
    Therefore it was time for her to move on too. Quickly and neatly, retaining the contacts and friendships that she'd established. Alexandria called to her. It was supposed to be a warm, cultured and seductive city. Well, that sounded just like her sort of place. She gave a wicked little chuckle. Besides, the city would need something to counter Eneko Lopez and his companions' piety.
    Manfred came in quietly. For a big man he could move remarkably silently when he chose to. "I thought you might be asleep," he said.
    The solicitousness too was unlike him. Manfred was not inconsiderate, or even particularly self-centered, for a prince of the blood. Erik had seen to that. Manfred could be very considerate—when it occurred to him that his normal way of life might be less than pleasant for someone else. That much she had tried to teach him, along with politics and a less brute force approach to everything.
    "A glass of wine?" he asked pleasantly, running a big hand down her spine.
    Francesca swallowed. She'd dismissed many lovers before. Some of them had been powerful, big, violent men. She'd taken appropriate steps to deal with that sort of problem, and moved on. Anyway, she had no such fears from Manfred. Why then, was she afraid? It suddenly came to her. Yes, he was powerful and influential. But she was afraid of hurting him. That was not something that had ever bothered her before. She'd spent a long time with Manfred, though, longer than with any other lover. Long enough to know that he too had his soft spots, and where they were.
    "I thought you were still in church," she said.
    "The bishop got tired of me. He threw me out." Manfred smiled. "The church loves me . . . and loves me to leave when I sing."
    He walked across the room and poured out two goblets of wine. "The truth is that I had a feeling I should come up and bid you farewell."
    She gaped at him.
    "I didn't want you to go without at least saying goodbye."
    Her eyes narrowed. "Eneko?"
    He handed her the goblet. "He's as mum as an oyster, my dear. You know that."
    "Then how . . .?" She was never at a loss of words. Suddenly, she found them scarce.
    "You said so, a while back. And I've been seeing the signs. I was taught by a selection of women, Francesca. As well as you."
    "You've learned a bit too well," she said wryly. "What do you intend to do about it?"
    "Help with the organization. I've learned over the years that you usually do exactly what you plan to do. And I value you too much, both as a friend and a lover, to stand in your way."
    "It is not fair to play emotional games, Manfred." Her voice was slightly gruff in spite of the superb self-control she prided herself on.
    "Nothing is fair, Francesca. But I'm not good at games. I'd rather hope that I could see you in Alexandria one day, than be stupid enough to try and keep you."
    "You've grown a lot, Prince."
    "I hope not. Getting armor altered is more complicated than you may realize. Now, do I lock the door to keep Erik out for a last few minutes or not?"
    "Oh, I think I can spare you more than a few minutes, and make it last a little longer than that too," said Francesca, lowering her lashes.
    * * *
    Erik Hakkonsen, bodyguard and mentor to Prince Manfred of Brittany, forced the attacker's blade point into the wood of the door behind him. In the process he might just have broken the man's fingers. Erik hit him with pommel of his knife to silence him. The last thing that he wanted was to attract extra attention. Narrow alleys were not his choice of fighting ground. Kari was still fighting with the other two. Erik grabbed both of Kari's opponents by their loose garments and slammed their heads together. Hard.
    Kari looked reproachfully at Erik as he dropped the two limp bandits.