own vocation as the seer was with his gift of second sight.
Alvar, son of Erland, beamed as he shuffled the cards.
He pulled one from the deck and studied it with a single cocked eyebrow.
‘Your name is Tavia, twin sister to Caitrin and younger sister of Inghean. You’re the daughter of Duncan, castellan of Blackheath.’
She started to pluck the gold coins from the floor. It had not been the impressive display of second sight she had hoped to witness. ‘You could have recognised me from your dealings in Blackheath. I’m known in my father’s court. You might even have overheard the gaoler addressing me before I came in here.’
Alvar sniffed.
He plucked another card from the top of the deck and studied it with an unreadable gaze. ‘You’ve recently had an experience.’
She flashed a silencing gaze in his direction.
He chuckled. It was a low and lewd sound but not entirely unpleasant. He studied the tarot card in the fluttering torch light as though it showed moving pictures. ‘It seems it was a very exciting experience,’ he decided. ‘A pleasant experience. And it’s clearly an experience you want to repeat.’
Tavia’s blushes deepened.
She figured she had retrieved as many of the gold coins as she was likely to find in the dark. Drawing the strings on the purse closed she put it back into her kirtles as she stood up.
‘The cards seem to tell you so much and so little,’ she said primly. ‘Perhaps your cards could say some things that don’t sound like the cold-reading comments of a cheap court conjurer?’
Idly, he plucked another from the pack and studied it before responding. ‘The cards tell me that you’re willing to do a lot in return for my assistance. Is that true?’
‘I have gold.’
She reached for the purse but he stopped her. The warmth of his hand on hers was surprisingly pleasing. She wanted to refuse the suggestion of pleasure that came from his touch.
‘I have a life sentence to serve in this dungeon. As I’ve already told you, I own a tankard and a bucket. With those essentials covered, I don’t have a lot of need for your gold.’
‘What do you want?’
His lips settled into a businesslike frown that she wanted to kiss.
‘I want three things,’ he decided eventually. ‘First and foremost, I want you to organise my freedom from these dungeons.’
‘I can try to organise something,’ she allowed. ‘I can’t promise success because I’m a mere maid and –’
‘You will petition for my freedom,’ he broke in. ‘Your father is Duncan, castellan of Blackheath. You’re one of his daughters and he is sufficiently corrupt to heed the advice of his kith and kin in matters of justice.’
He raised his hand to stop her from interrupting.
‘The cards tell me you will do all that for me.’
Perplexed, she asked, ‘What else do the cards tell you I’ll do?’
He plucked a card from the top of the deck. It made the crisp sound of stiff paper snapping from the darkness.
‘The cards tell me you’re going to suck my cock.’
Tavia rolled her eyes. She had expected he would try something sexual. A part of her was almost tempted to go along with his suggestion because she did find him vaguely attractive. The heat from the dragon horn still nestled in her loins making her hungry for the taste of a man. But she had hoped the seer would try something that didn’t sound like such a blatant insult to her intelligence.
‘Good morrow, Alvar, son of Erland,’ she said tiredly. ‘Thank you for being honest with me earlier and admitting that you are no longer a seer. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.’
She turned her back on him and headed toward the dungeon doorway.
Behind her she heard the sound of him flicking another tarot card from the top of the deck.
‘Do you want to hear my third condition?’ he called.
‘Not really.’ She tossed the words back over her shoulder. ‘I’m bored now.’
He sniffed. ‘My third condition is not open for negotiation. I want a share in the dragon horn you’re going to import.’
Tavia stopped. She turned and glared at him. ‘How the hell did you know about the dragon horn?’
‘Suck my dick and we’ll talk about that.’
‘If you were a genuine seer …’ she began. She shook her head. That wasn’t what she wanted to say. ‘If you were able to offer me some genuine assistance …’ Again, that wasn’t quite right. ‘If I didn’t think you were an absolute charlatan,’ she decided finally, ‘I might consider your proposal. But –’
‘How much more proof do you need that I’m a genuine seer?’
He asked the question with a forced innocence. Snapping a card from the top of the deck he glanced at the contents and then said, ‘You’re not wearing braies.’
She blushed. It was true. She wasn’t wearing undergarments beneath her kirtles. But he could have guessed she wasn’t wearing braies.
‘So?’
He snapped another card from the top of the tarot.
‘You had twenty-five golden pfennigs in your purse when you set off this morning. But now you’ve only got twenty-three. I don’t know if two of them are still on the floor of this dungeon from when you dropped your purse. Or if you used the other two pfennigs to bribe your way in here. But there are now only twenty-three pfennigs in your purse.’
Tavia caught a startled breath. He was right. She had counted twenty-five golden pfennigs into her purse before leaving home that morning. The guard had insisted on two gold pfennigs in payment for opening the dungeon door. She studied the seer with renewed respect.
Was it possible that he really did have the gift of sight?
‘Tell me something that only I would know,’ Tavia demanded. ‘Tell me something that no one else in the world but me could know.’
He pulled another card from the top of the deck.
His salacious smile glittered in the darkness. When he glanced up to grin at her she could see the sexual interest that sparkled in his gleaming eyes.
‘You masturbated twice this morning. Once with a carrot.’ He winked and added, ‘You came hard with the carrot because it was pushed into your arsehole.’
Tavia stepped back. ‘I’faith,’ she gasped. She touched her brow to ward off the dangers of the evil eye.
‘Now, if that’s enough proof for you, you can get down on your knees and suck my cock,’ he said boldly. ‘It won’t suck itself you know.’
She didn’t hesitate.
Falling swiftly to her knees, Tavia lifted the hem of his tunic to find his braies. The linen pants, tied at the waist and hanging down to his knees, were distended at the crotch by the bulge of his excitement. She stroked the shape of him with sincere and hungry affection.
‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Suck it.’
She reached for the drawstring at his waist. As the braies fell to his ankles she pushed back the folds of his tunic to expose the thick length of his throbbing manhood.
A swatch of curls as dark as those on his head, covered his sac. The pale stalk of his erection protruded snake-like from the forest of his dark hairs. She traced a finger against the sweat-slick skin and sighed when she reached the swollen end of his glans. It was fat, bulbous and already dewy