Frolar hissed before waving at the tall figure emerging from beneath the portcullis. “Colonel Cassius. It’s been a while.”
“Ha! I thought I recognized you. Wait, is that you, Blaise? What in the blood-stained hells happened to you?”
“Colonel!” Frolar gasped.
“Ah, my apologies. I’m afraid I must impose on your hospitality. You’ve been summoned, Bishop Frolar, and I’ve no doubt that the same summons applies to you as well, Bishop Blaise. I’m surprised. It seems you were here at your leisure.”
“I’d rather be in the blood-stained hells,” Blaise muttered under his breath before managing a smile. “I was seated with His Imperial Majesty today, Colonel, and he felt blue was a more fitting color.”
“I’ve always thought you best suited for red, but one doesn’t argue with His Imperial Majesty. Please, come with me.”
“What’s going on?” Frolar asked.
“The Archbishop requests your presence,” Cassius replied.
Frolar’s mouth dropped open. “What could be so important that His Holiness would ask the military to—”
“Not now,” Cassius interrupted, shaking his head. The stench of the man’s fear burned Blaise’s nose, so strong it nauseated him.
Blaise swallowed back bile and gestured to the opened portcullis. “We should hurry, then.”
Cassius jerked his head in a nod. The man’s terror overwhelmed the stench of smoke, blood, and death hanging in the still air.
Blaise glanced up at the sky. The last shred of black clouds dissipated as if it, too, was frightened.
Chapter 5
The vase shattered against the divan Terin crouched behind and the shards clattered to the marble tiles. The fragments of glazed ceramic bounced across the floor, gleaming in the glow that manifested in the air overhead.
“Slippery child,” Zurach spat. “How long do you plan to run for? Didn’t you want to fight me?”
Terin rubbed at his smarting jaw and tried not to let the man’s words bother him. It’d taken one blow—a mere clip to his chin—for Terin to realize if he got caught, he’d live to regret it, and he’d pay for his failure with pain.
The collar didn’t even bother to punish him, as though sensing what waited for him when he was captured by the man who mocked him.
Crawling across the floor, Terin dodged the broken pieces of vases, bowls, cups, and plates, as well as the broken arm of a silver candelabrum. The crunch of ceramics under foot froze him in place.
“You can’t hide behind the furniture forever,” Zurach said, laughter lightening the man’s tone.
“Why not?” Terin muttered the question, glancing around the arm of the divan. Silver glinted in the Speech-wrought light and cracked gainst the wood above his head. He jerked back, catching a glimpse of his nude opponent across the room.
“You can do better than that, my little slave,” Zurach said in a rumbling voice. Terin shuddered.
“What in the darkest, coldest depths of the bloodstained hells do you think you’re doing?” Emeric bellowed from the doorway across the room. “I leave you for no more than three hours, and I come back to this? Why are you naked?”
Zurach laughed again. “I was teaching the boy a lesson.”
“By scarring him with the visage of your nudity?”
“You’re just jealous.”
“If you want a pleasure slave, Zurach, I’ll send a few of my girls to you tonight. For the love of our mother, at least tell me you didn’t ruin the bath,” Emeric muttered.
Zurach snorted. “I might have cracked a tile or two. No worries, no worries, I’ll fix it.”
“I hope you intend on fixing the rest of this mess, too. What in God’s name were you trying to do? Kill him?” Emeric asked.
Zurach sniffed, and Terin dared to peer around the arm of the divan again. A cushion slapped him in the face. With a startled yelp, his heart leapt into his throat. Terin scurried to the middle of his shelter and crouched down. The broken candelabra lay beside him, and the
“Ha! I thought I recognized you. Wait, is that you, Blaise? What in the blood-stained hells happened to you?”
“Colonel!” Frolar gasped.
“Ah, my apologies. I’m afraid I must impose on your hospitality. You’ve been summoned, Bishop Frolar, and I’ve no doubt that the same summons applies to you as well, Bishop Blaise. I’m surprised. It seems you were here at your leisure.”
“I’d rather be in the blood-stained hells,” Blaise muttered under his breath before managing a smile. “I was seated with His Imperial Majesty today, Colonel, and he felt blue was a more fitting color.”
“I’ve always thought you best suited for red, but one doesn’t argue with His Imperial Majesty. Please, come with me.”
“What’s going on?” Frolar asked.
“The Archbishop requests your presence,” Cassius replied.
Frolar’s mouth dropped open. “What could be so important that His Holiness would ask the military to—”
“Not now,” Cassius interrupted, shaking his head. The stench of the man’s fear burned Blaise’s nose, so strong it nauseated him.
Blaise swallowed back bile and gestured to the opened portcullis. “We should hurry, then.”
Cassius jerked his head in a nod. The man’s terror overwhelmed the stench of smoke, blood, and death hanging in the still air.
Blaise glanced up at the sky. The last shred of black clouds dissipated as if it, too, was frightened.
Chapter 5
The vase shattered against the divan Terin crouched behind and the shards clattered to the marble tiles. The fragments of glazed ceramic bounced across the floor, gleaming in the glow that manifested in the air overhead.
“Slippery child,” Zurach spat. “How long do you plan to run for? Didn’t you want to fight me?”
Terin rubbed at his smarting jaw and tried not to let the man’s words bother him. It’d taken one blow—a mere clip to his chin—for Terin to realize if he got caught, he’d live to regret it, and he’d pay for his failure with pain.
The collar didn’t even bother to punish him, as though sensing what waited for him when he was captured by the man who mocked him.
Crawling across the floor, Terin dodged the broken pieces of vases, bowls, cups, and plates, as well as the broken arm of a silver candelabrum. The crunch of ceramics under foot froze him in place.
“You can’t hide behind the furniture forever,” Zurach said, laughter lightening the man’s tone.
“Why not?” Terin muttered the question, glancing around the arm of the divan. Silver glinted in the Speech-wrought light and cracked gainst the wood above his head. He jerked back, catching a glimpse of his nude opponent across the room.
“You can do better than that, my little slave,” Zurach said in a rumbling voice. Terin shuddered.
“What in the darkest, coldest depths of the bloodstained hells do you think you’re doing?” Emeric bellowed from the doorway across the room. “I leave you for no more than three hours, and I come back to this? Why are you naked?”
Zurach laughed again. “I was teaching the boy a lesson.”
“By scarring him with the visage of your nudity?”
“You’re just jealous.”
“If you want a pleasure slave, Zurach, I’ll send a few of my girls to you tonight. For the love of our mother, at least tell me you didn’t ruin the bath,” Emeric muttered.
Zurach snorted. “I might have cracked a tile or two. No worries, no worries, I’ll fix it.”
“I hope you intend on fixing the rest of this mess, too. What in God’s name were you trying to do? Kill him?” Emeric asked.
Zurach sniffed, and Terin dared to peer around the arm of the divan again. A cushion slapped him in the face. With a startled yelp, his heart leapt into his throat. Terin scurried to the middle of his shelter and crouched down. The broken candelabra lay beside him, and the
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