The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) by RJ Blain Page A

filigree bit at his fingers when he picked it up to test its weight.
    “Well?” Emeric asked.
    “Well what?”
    “How good is he?”
    “He’s a slippery little runt, I’ll give him that much. Got a hit on him once—ah, twice, if you count the pillow.”
    “Really, Zurach? All of this for one hit? Are you serious?”
    “I told you, he’s really slippery.”
    Terin heard Emeric sigh. “Did he hit you?”
    “Just what do you take me for, Brother?”
    “A fool for letting a slave run you in circles for three hours. Bring him out, then.”
    “Do it yourself, you know where he is,” Zurach grumbled.
    “I’d hope so, seeing that there is only one piece of furniture left that is large enough to protect him from your stupidity.”
    A slow clapping of hands answered the Citizen. “Your powers of observation amaze me.”
    “Come out, slave,” Emeric demanded.
    Terin hesitated, and the collar burned. Sucking in a breath, he snatched at the back of the divan and stood, his gaze slid over Emeric to fix on Zurach.
    Zurach leaned against the doorway and blocked Terin’s one route of escape from the room. The man’s tanned skin glistened with sweat.
    “You’re going to decrease his value if that scars,” Emeric said.
    “Nonsense. We’re not selling him, anyway. Little cut like that isn’t going to scar. The gash on his side? That’ll leave a scar, for certain. I really should’ve killed that bronzeling instead of just taking his eye,” Zurach replied with a shrug.
    Terin’s brow furrowed and he lifted his hand to his chin. Heat radiated from his swollen jaw, but there wasn’t any pain. When he pulled his fingers away, his blood stained them.
    “That’s not his face, though. Some like their boys scarred up, but not on their faces! Were you taking it easy on him?”
    Zurach chuckled. “I wanted to test him, not kill him, Brother.”
    “So you destroyed an entire wing of my villa instead. Unbelievable.”
    “You’re in quite the mood. What’s wrong now?”
    Emeric stepped forward, and Terin flinched. The Citizen smiled. “Come here, slave.”
    A shiver ran through Terin, and he glanced over at Zurach. The man nodded and made a curt gesture for him to obey. The collar warmed and Terin hurried forward before it could punish him further, avoiding as much of the broken ceramics, cracked tiles, and splintered wood as he could.
    Terin stopped within arm’s reach of the Citizen and stared down at his feet. Blood smeared against the white marble from a gash across the top of his foot. Lines of red streaked between his toes. Like his jaw, the wounds didn’t hurt.
    “Did you manage to hit my brother, slave?”
    Terin trembled at the man’s emotionless tone. Before he had a chance to reply, the back of Emeric’s hand cracked against his sore jaw. “Answer me.”
    “Yes, Citizen, sir,” he whispered.
    Another hit jerked his head to the side and tears flooded his eyes. He blinked until the room refocused.
    “How many times did you strike him?”
    “Th—”
    Zurach’s arm curled around him from behind and the man’s hand clapped over his mouth and silenced him. With the other hand, Zurach captured his brother’s wrist. “That’s quite enough. He’s my slave, Emeric, and I won’t have you damaging him.”
    “You have no idea what you’ve brought into my house,” Emeric snapped back.
    “I don’t care what I’ve brought into your house,” Zurach rumbled. The arm wrapped around Terin pulled him out of Emeric’s reach. With a low laugh, Zurach shoved Terin away and shifted his grip to take hold of his wrist. “Judging from your oh-so-pleasant expression, this should be good. Do tell me what I’ve brought your house, Brother,” Zurach said.
    Emeric jerked free from Zurach and let out a snort. “You’ll like this.”
    “Oh?”
    “Not only did you steal a General’s slave, you stole from the Emperor’s favorite General. It gets better.”
    Zurach’s grip tightened on him and the man grinned.