Apollo looked up to Tor.
Tor dipped his chin.
Apollo then looked to Joseph. “It clearly wasn’t as ludicrous as you thought, for they succeeded.”
Joseph shrugged.
Tor felt himself sneer.
Gods, this man.
“Do you know where this Jell is?” Apollo queried.
“The last time I saw him was when the procession was travelling from Fire City to Notting Thicket for True and Farah’s wedding. Then again, Fenn took my hands about that time and then pressed me into service for The Rising in exchange that I would continue to be seen to by priests with advanced healing knowledge. Thus, I really wasn’t paying much attention to anything but no longer having hands.”
“So it is Fenn who maimed you,” Apollo murmured.
“Yes,” Joseph hissed. “And thus, I do not feel very badly to know his head was struck from his body by the Beast.”
“And you were then ‘pressed into service,’ as you say,” Apollo went on.
“Would you carry on for a cause who treated you thus?” he asked, uncrossing his arms and lifting his stubs for them to see.
“No, I wouldn’t be in that place at all,” Apollo shared. “But if I found I’d gone astray, after that happened, I would find the nearest constabulary and share about my mistake and help them put a stop to plans that would end in a good number of people suffering greatly.”
“Of course you would. With hindsight, anyone would know all the best plays,” Joseph muttered irritably.
“What I know is, you took none of them. And when the forces you helped to critically injure a high-ranking Nadirii warrior to bring down The Enchantments were defeated, you still did not seek a local constabulary. You were caught impersonating a Zee who had lost his tribe in order to escape.”
Joseph’s lips thinned and he again crossed his arms on his chest.
“Do you have any idea where this G’Jell might be?” Tor asked.
“None,” Seph answered. “I’m just sorry not to hear the news that his body was found with the others.”
“Do you know anything about who is in this Society or where they might be found?” Tor kept at him.
“No, for as I said, I didn’t even know they were still in existence,” Joseph answered.
“Is there anything further at all at this juncture you wish to share?” Tor pressed.
“What would be the point?” Joseph asked in return. “You won’t even give me fresh water. The water they offer in the cells is fetid, at best.”
“You look hearty enough to me,” Tor muttered.
Joseph began glaring again, at Tor.
“We will share with Sir Alfie what you told us,” Apollo told him, gaining his attention. “And perhaps that will mean nothing in the end. Or perhaps it will mean something. Though I wonder if it’s a waste of words, what I’ll tell you is that, just now, for once in this mess, you did the right thing.”
“I can sleep better on my wafer-thin pallet with my holey blanket in the chill of a Dellish winter knowing this,” Joseph sneered.
“I think with that, we will be done,” Tor decided, pushing from the wall.
Apollo rose.
As they made their way to the door, Joseph’s voice came at them, so they turned.
“It was for faith,” he said dejectedly. “I thought I was serving the gods.”
“When your gods tell you to rape and murder and bend people to your will,” Tor began. “It is time to find new gods.”
And with that, he and his friend walked out.
Sir Alfie Henriksson
The King’s Informal Study, Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket
WODELL
“I’ll dispatch trackers to find Jell immediately and send word to True,” Alfie said on a sigh.
The sigh was of annoyance.
And relief.
This part was done.
The Rising dismantled.
Now it was just war in Airen.
And the Beast.
Weighty circumstances.
But at least one issue was settled.
“With this concluded,” Tor started, “we should be away to Sky Bay.”
Alfie nodded.
“Go knowing you will be missed,” he said with feeling, for they would. Good men he considered friends. “And it is True who will decide how Wodell will thank you for your efforts. But knowing him, I will advise you, he is generous. So be certain to keep a hold empty on your ship, for he will fill it with wool and pewter for your return journey home.”
“Personally, I was just glad for the adventure. Peace and harmony was getting boring,” Tor muttered.
Alfie did not know if he jested, though he did see Apollo stare at his friend as if he were mad, so for both reasons, he did not attempt to stop his laugh.
Both men stood and said their goodbyes, these consisting of two variations of, “We shall see you at supper.”
They then left.
Alfie did not waste time writing the orders, nor the message for the raven to True.
He then called his corporal to deal with these missives with haste.
After the corporal had left the study, he put his hands to the locks on the wheels of his new chair. He unlocked them, shifted it back, relocked it, reached for his sticks and took them up.
He pulled himself out of the chair and moved to another one, this by the fire.
He eased himself down, set his eyes to the blaze and stared at it.
He had no idea how long he sat there before he heard the knock with the immediate sound of the opening of the latch, thus he didn’t bother even to begin to call out.
He heard the door open, close, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bronagh sit in the chair at an angle to the side of his.
She didn’t say anything for long moments.
She broke their silence, stating, “It is getting late, Alfie.”
He had not told her of his suspicions that The Rising had conspired, and succeeded, in raising the creature that forced Silence to Mars, Farah to True, Elena to Cassius as well as all the other events that occurred.
He did not want her frightened.
So he didn’t speak of it then.
He kept his gaze to the fire and said, “Faith.”
“Faith?” she asked softly, clearly having fallen into his mood.
“The prisoner Tor and Apollo have been interrogating said that he did what he did due to faith.”
“Alfie,” she whispered.
He looked to her. “What god would take my legs? What god would take my queen’s life?”
“I do not know.”
“You were right, Bronagh. Life is more than work. And it is tragedy that I learned that when my life was reduced to,” he indicated his chair, “this.”
“Your life is not that small,” she replied.
“Really? When I leave this place, I will need to purchase a new house, for my home will need to be one story, with widened halls so I can negotiate it in my chair. I might be able to manage stairs, but in all frankness, although the ascent holds no concern for me, the idea of attempting a descent scares the shite out of me. I cannot sit astride a horse. I will not stand at an altar and take a woman to wife. I cannot—”
“We can have a transport created for you, so you can command a horse, but it will be low, so you can get yourself in it and out of it. Or, say, wheel your chair in it and lock it in place.”
“Bronagh—”
“And you can stand fine, with your sticks, so if you were to take a wife, you could meet her at the altar upright, if that means so much to you. Though I don’t know why you wouldn’t just meet her in your chair. She would be marrying you, not your legs.”
Marrying you, not your legs.
His chest started to warm.
“I—”
“I have seen injuries less than yours, I have seen injuries worse than yours, a good deal worse,” she continued. “And far too many of them. So do not ask me what war means.
What god or king causes man to do what man does to man for the sake of anything. All I know is it happens and forces all manner of men to do different, but no less heroic things. Those being, discover reasons to find ways to live their life to the fullest, no matter what became of their person. And then go about living life to its fullest.”
She stood after saying these words and came to Alfie’s chair.
With no choice but to tip his head back when she arrived, she bent to him the instant he did.
Her face so close, her so close, he could smell her perfume.
Something he had scented often and something, from the beginning, he had adored.
She smelled of green grass and mossy woods and flowers.
Gods dammit.
His cock stirred.
“And now that you are asking these questions, my champion,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “I will stop pussyfooting about and tell it to you true. I want to be part of the new meaning to your life because I think you’re marvelous. And I don’t care one whit about your legs.”
And with that, she pressed her lips to his.
Her there, her scent, her words, her spirit, the time spent in her company, the vision of her burned in his brain, on his heart, Alfie did not fight his hands reaching to her, his fingers sifting into her hair, holding her head to him, or the very ungentlemanly act of touching his tongue to her lips, insisting they open.
On a sweet mew, she gave him this, and if all had not been lost before—when he had to admit it was—it was lost then, he was lost, when he had her taste.
He was lost to anything but deepening the kiss, angling his head to do so, drinking more.
More of Bronagh.
More of her spirit and sweetness.
More of life.
When his body had responded to the point he’d desire to take the kiss somewhere else, he broke his mouth from hers and whispered against her lips, “We must stop.”
“Hmm?” she hummed dazedly, and he felt her weight in her hand at his chest.
He grinned against her mouth and watched as her eyes slowly opened.
That was life too.
“I’ll take dinner with you tonight, honey,” he murmured. “And vol-au-vents filled with stew for lunch tomorrow.”
She snapped into focus and gifted him with relief and excitement filling her eyes before they got wet.
He pressed his mouth to hers and pulled away, saying, “Now we must change for dinner.”
She suddenly shot straight, he lost the feel of her hair, but she gained it as she smoothed it, then smoothed her skirts at her front, and said nonsensically, “Yes, quite.”
“Yes, quite, what?” he asked, unable to remove the teasing thread of his tone.
“Yes, quite, I shall meet you at your chambers to go with you to dinner and…and arrange for us to go on an outing tomorrow.”
“Please allow me,” he murmured.
“Of course.” She touched her throat and her eyes grew somewhat wild.
In turn, he grew concerned he’d been too forward.
“Have you not been kissed, Bronagh?” he asked gently.
“I, yes, well…” She smoothed her hair again. “Well, yes, but not like that.”
He fought his grin.
“You’re very pleased with yourself, Alfie Henriksson,” she snapped when she saw his struggle.
“I am, indeed, very pleased, Bronagh.”
She huffed.
He chuckled.
She stared.
He took her hand.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
She grew adorably awkward again.
“My pleasure,” she mumbled.
“I do not know how to—” he began.
Her hand twisted so she could hold his fingers in hers tightly. “We will find our way.”
Alfie nodded. “Dinner, honey.”
“Oh, right.”
He smiled at her again, squeezed her hand and then let her go.
She hesitated, rubbing her lips together while gazing down at him, then nodded and began to move away.
When he lost sight of her, he looked to the fire.
“Alfie?” she called.
He twisted to look at her around his chair.
She was at the door, her hand on the latch.
“You’ve made me very happy,” she said.
And then she rushed out the door.
Alfie stared at it for some time after it was shut.
He then turned and stared at the fire for more time.
Finally, he took his sticks, hefted himself up and made his way to his chair.
He set the sticks across his lap as he wheeled himself out of the room.
He had only one thought and it was the only thought on his mind since Bronagh’s words were spoken before she left the room.
This thought was that he had it now.
Absolutely.
He had it.
You’ve made me very happy.
A new meaning to life.
139
The Drawing
Queen Ha-Lah
Riding through Sky Bay to Lowgate
AIREN
“I should not be here.”
I was riding at Serena’s side on the way to Lowgate, along with a grand procession of guards. A procession that included all of our husbands.
And in Serena’s case, her lover, Chu.
As well as, considering he felt it imperative to make up for time lost and thus was frequently found close to his little sister, Jorie.
We were intent to perform the ritual that would draw down more power.
Elena had suggested that we should more than likely do this ritual amongst ourselves, only the Sisters of the Beast (and Serena, who we had all adopted, so really, we felt she was one too) in attendance, but the men would not hear of it.
Elena then shared that it would not hurt that they were there.
“It’s just too bad it won’t be just a sister thing,” she had finished on a mumble.
I agreed.
However, my husband was on edge, and if being close to me assuaged that in any way, I would give him that.
“Elena thinks it important you are at your fullest power,” I told her something Elena already had. “You leave to go to Dunlyn after the wedding. There is much danger for you there. I believe it will help her in her worry with you far away performing perilous deeds, that you are steeped in magic.”
Serena appeared confused by this for a moment, and I did not understand her reaction.
I then harkened back to all the things I had heard of Serena of the Nadirii before I had come to know her and wondered if she might not understand how a loved one worrying would come about.
I allowed what I said to settle before I went on, “And I am glad you’re here. It gives me the chance to tell you that your training has been very helpful these last days.”
She turned her head from watching the lane we were on that traced the city to the side at the base of the incline to the cliffs that surrounded the Bay.
She looked at me, now appearing surprised.
I smiled at her. “We are no Nadirii warriors, but please trust in the fact it helps my state of mind having the skills you’ve taught me as we face what we might be facing. Thus, I must give you my gratitude for your time and sharing of expertise.”
“I enjoy doing that, the training, so there is no need to express your gratitude,” she replied.
“What you give is what you know. What I received is what I need,” I returned. “Thus, I disagree. Gratitude should be expressed.”
“Well,” she shifted in her saddle, “you’re welcome.”
I looked away, smiling at the lane and enjoying the air, which was becoming saltier the closer we got to the sea.
“He wishes to make children with me.”
Serena’s words, sounding forcefully divulged, came to my ears, and I looked her way again.
“Pardon?” I asked.
She turned
her eyes to me.
“Chu,” she pushed out. “He says he wishes to make daughters with me.”
I smiled tentatively at her. “Are you not…at that point in your mind with him?”
She cast her gaze forward. “I would give him a dozen children, if this was his wish.”
I felt my brows go up.
“I am no longer me,” she whispered.
“I am no longer the me of yesterday either,” I shared, and her head whipped around to face me again. “This is best, if we are to learn and grow, that every day we wake up a new person, learning from the day past, going into the future smarter and stronger.”
“This is wise,” she stated, like she did, as well as didn’t quite believe her words.
“Well, I hope so,” I replied with humor.
“I wish sons. Or at least one son,” she said.
“It’s my understanding you can magick the sex in your womb, so have a son,” I returned.
“He does not wish sons.”
This surprised me. “Truly?”
“He has…family issues,” she muttered, turning her face away.
I studied her profile.
Then I noted carefully, “You wish very much to have a boy child.”
“It is not very Nadirii of me, but he is handsome. He has…has…well, he has a manner about him that is unique. I simply enjoy watching him walk or contemplating his face when he is thinking. I would give that to a son. Or I would watch Chu teach a son to be thus.”
“And you worry because of his…issues he will refuse this.”
She didn’t reply.
“Tell him how badly you want it,” I advised.
“There are reasons behind why this is not what he wants. Reasons that I cannot deny, especially for him.”
“I am certain,” I replied. “I still think, if this is something you want badly, Serena, that you should talk to him.”
“I do not want…”
The Rising Page 22
