back into the saloon, either scared off or gone for help. I care not either way.
The man circles behind me so he and his companion are on either side. I draw my dagger in preparation for the simultaneous attack they’d be fools not to attempt. They don’t disappoint, at least not from a strategy point of view. In terms of skill and challenge, they offer little more than their dead friends. Dodge, stroke, parry, thrust. In less than fifteen seconds, they are both lying in the dirt, their blood draining to feed the worms and I haven’t broken a sweat.
“Look out,” the woman at the railing calls.
I look toward the door and see the fifth man has returned, and he’s brought companions. Ten, perhaps more. I smile and raise my sword to the woman, thanking her for the warning; she goes back to getting fucked against the railing. I ready myself for the men and hope one amongst them isn’t too drunk, at least one who will provide me the challenge and practice I crave. They spill down the stairs and sparks fly as steel pounds against steel.
The worms will eat well tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
The chill wind stroked her flesh, hardening her nipples and spilling goose bumps down her arms. From the window, she saw little activity in the fortress; a few men wandered the courtyard, but the atmosphere lacked the revelry normally accompanying the end of a battle. To the Erechanians, the battle likely didn’t feel as though it had ended, and the Archon’s soldiers mistrusted them for it. No one truly felt this thing was done yet.
There was much work still to do, but she found patience difficult. Every day the power within her grew; she could use it to make things progress more quickly if she wanted but knew doing so would jeopardize everything.
A group of loud and garrulous men strode by and one of them looked toward her window. His gaze lingered upon her nakedness, his mouth fell open; he prodded his companions and pointed. They all looked up to ogle her, friendly arguments put aside. In the dark, she couldn’t tell whether they were Kanosee or Erechanian—more likely soldiers of her own army—but one of the men must have recognized her. After a harsh whispered word from him, they averted their gazes and rushed past, suddenly with other places to be.
It hadn’t always been like this. Once, she was like other women, a time when men didn’t fear her. Sometimes she missed those simpler days, but she hardly remembered them now, they were so long ago. Only remnants of feelings remained, so few it never took long for the power brewing inside to overcome sentimentality. Despite occasional regret or longing, she’d do nothing differently, given the choice.
“Come away from the window.”
She faced the man in her bed, the red duvet pulled up to his chest against the chill air. His eyes dropped from her face to her breasts and lower, then back to her eyes. A wave of nausea and regret washed through her. She hid it expertly.
What must be done, must be done.
She strode to the side of the bed and looked down at the man.
“What are you whispering to the people, Hanh?”
Hanh Perdaro smoothed a stray hair back from his high forehead. “Exactly what we talked about. The king is dead, long live the king. The message is unchanged.”
“And the council?”
She sat on the edge of the bed and he reached out to stroke her arm with his fingers; she subtly leaned out of his reach.
“They have it in their heads to secretly rally the kingdom and banish their Kanosee foes. I’ve told Therrador to do as he’s told so you won’t catch on.”
She nodded, blond hair caressing her back. “We must be careful. If he organizes the people behind him, it could mean problems.”
“He won’t. That isn’t the whisper reaching the ears of the people, he only thinks it is.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the arm. When she neither reacted nor looked at him, he paused. “Why not be done with him and put me on the throne
The man circles behind me so he and his companion are on either side. I draw my dagger in preparation for the simultaneous attack they’d be fools not to attempt. They don’t disappoint, at least not from a strategy point of view. In terms of skill and challenge, they offer little more than their dead friends. Dodge, stroke, parry, thrust. In less than fifteen seconds, they are both lying in the dirt, their blood draining to feed the worms and I haven’t broken a sweat.
“Look out,” the woman at the railing calls.
I look toward the door and see the fifth man has returned, and he’s brought companions. Ten, perhaps more. I smile and raise my sword to the woman, thanking her for the warning; she goes back to getting fucked against the railing. I ready myself for the men and hope one amongst them isn’t too drunk, at least one who will provide me the challenge and practice I crave. They spill down the stairs and sparks fly as steel pounds against steel.
The worms will eat well tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
The chill wind stroked her flesh, hardening her nipples and spilling goose bumps down her arms. From the window, she saw little activity in the fortress; a few men wandered the courtyard, but the atmosphere lacked the revelry normally accompanying the end of a battle. To the Erechanians, the battle likely didn’t feel as though it had ended, and the Archon’s soldiers mistrusted them for it. No one truly felt this thing was done yet.
There was much work still to do, but she found patience difficult. Every day the power within her grew; she could use it to make things progress more quickly if she wanted but knew doing so would jeopardize everything.
A group of loud and garrulous men strode by and one of them looked toward her window. His gaze lingered upon her nakedness, his mouth fell open; he prodded his companions and pointed. They all looked up to ogle her, friendly arguments put aside. In the dark, she couldn’t tell whether they were Kanosee or Erechanian—more likely soldiers of her own army—but one of the men must have recognized her. After a harsh whispered word from him, they averted their gazes and rushed past, suddenly with other places to be.
It hadn’t always been like this. Once, she was like other women, a time when men didn’t fear her. Sometimes she missed those simpler days, but she hardly remembered them now, they were so long ago. Only remnants of feelings remained, so few it never took long for the power brewing inside to overcome sentimentality. Despite occasional regret or longing, she’d do nothing differently, given the choice.
“Come away from the window.”
She faced the man in her bed, the red duvet pulled up to his chest against the chill air. His eyes dropped from her face to her breasts and lower, then back to her eyes. A wave of nausea and regret washed through her. She hid it expertly.
What must be done, must be done.
She strode to the side of the bed and looked down at the man.
“What are you whispering to the people, Hanh?”
Hanh Perdaro smoothed a stray hair back from his high forehead. “Exactly what we talked about. The king is dead, long live the king. The message is unchanged.”
“And the council?”
She sat on the edge of the bed and he reached out to stroke her arm with his fingers; she subtly leaned out of his reach.
“They have it in their heads to secretly rally the kingdom and banish their Kanosee foes. I’ve told Therrador to do as he’s told so you won’t catch on.”
She nodded, blond hair caressing her back. “We must be careful. If he organizes the people behind him, it could mean problems.”
“He won’t. That isn’t the whisper reaching the ears of the people, he only thinks it is.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the arm. When she neither reacted nor looked at him, he paused. “Why not be done with him and put me on the throne
Similar Books
