Chapter 213: That Kind of Proposal
It’s dusk when I find him. Out by the training yard, in his shining bloody armor like some sculpted idiot from a bard’s wet dream. Sir Odran the Magnificent. Sir Odran the soon-to-be-married. Sir Odran, soon to be financially liquidated by yours truly.
“Hello, darling,” I purr, leaning against the fence post with one leg bent just so. “Got a minute? Or are you too busy pretending you know how to joust?”
He flinches like I’m a bee with tits. “Saya. No.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Yes, you absolute knob. Listen.”
He sighs, defeated, because of course he is. They always are.
“I have a business proposal,” I say, “A professional one.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you here to stab me, seduce me, or steal something?”
“Why not all three?” I grin. “But mostly, I’m here to make you rich.”
That gets his attention.
“Alright,” he says cautiously. “Go on.”
“Ok look,” I begin, pacing in front of him like a general briefing a very dumb lieutenant. “You’re engaged. Congrats. But you and I both know the real bride in this story is the dowry.”
“Don’t talk about Iselda that way,” he says, but even he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
I wave it off. “Anyway. Here’s the pitch. We kidnap you.”
He stares.
“Not for real.”
He keeps staring.
“Ok fine, real enough to sell it,” I admit. “You vanish. Tattered tabard, a broken sword tossed on the roadside. Your precious in-laws panic. They cough up ransom—a lot of ransom. Dragon and I split it three ways with you. Boom. Everyone’s happy. You don’t have to marry lace-knickers. I get to humiliate some nobles. Dragon gets to torch a barn. Win-win-win.”
He blinks. “You’re insane.”
“No I’m practical. You get the money without the marriage. I get revenge and a cut. Dragon gets to light something on fire. Think of it as… ethical crime.”
He puts a hand to his forehead. “Is this seriously your plan? You come here—after everything—and propose we fake a kidnapping?”
I lean in. Real close. Whisper: “Don’t tempt me, Oggie. We could do a real kidnapping. I’m flexible. We know a cave.”
He actually backs up a step.
I grin wider.
“I can have you bound, gagged, and dangling from a tree before sunrise. The Dragon has a rope fetish and excellent handwriting for ransom notes.”
He hesitates.
“You are considering it.”
“…No I’m not.”
“You so are.”
He exhales like a man who just realized he left his virtue in a different pair of pants. “Three ways, huh?”
“Split down the middle. Except my third’s a bit fatter for logistics and emotional damage.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “You’ll betray me.”
“Probably. But I’ll warn you first. That’s practically love.”
He groans. “Fuck it. Fine. But I’m not climbing into a burlap sack.”
I clap my hands. “That’s the spirit!”
“Wait—is this legal?”
I stop. “Odran. Sweetheart. I once forged emancipation papers using a tampon string and goat blood. Nothing we do is legal.”
He puts his face in his hands. “I’m going to regret this.”
“Definitely,” I say, already planning the fake bruises, the dragon’s dramatic entrance, and the matching hostage outfit. “But we’ll regret it together.”