Текст книги "Eyes of devious burgundy"
Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
13
I’d left Hadvezér Trol at the front, taking the brunt of the Angel’s advance, along with over one hundred thousand males. Hadvezér Rapp had returned to Uzhhorod with me, along with the other half of the army, to await the new recruits that should add a third to our numbers. Rapp, along with all the Parancsok beneath us, had been enjoying their reprieve in the city, which was probably why all but my only friend looked displeased as I gathered them in Xannirin’s study to discuss the arrivals streaming in day after day.
Rapp was a Binder—ruthless, clever, and a touch crazed. But he was like a block of ice under pressure, which made him perfect for my second-in-command. We’d come up in the army together, both our burgundy eyes winning us attention and enemies immediately.
He stood by my side across the large planning table from the Parancsok, while Xannirin positioned himself at one head, boots propped up and chewing on pium leaves. A plate of them rested in the middle of the table for others to take to help with the change in altitude. The miracle plant grew in abundance around Uzhhorod and even into the Paks Desert to the north, and the thick, thorny bushes flourished in every available pot in the city as the people showed their support for their Kral. The leaves, once ground and mixed with water, formed a potion that stopped bleeding instantly, a literal lifesaver to what would be near-fatal blows that our innate healing ability could not compete with. Not only that, but they provided a much needed awakening, their minty flavor as invigorating as it was refreshing, especially after the multiple late nights I’d had with my cousin.
“Parancsok Olet,” I began, leveling my gaze at one of my officers, “how many have returned for you?”
“Only half, Halálhívó,” he reported, dipping his head. “Százados Jaku was sent furthest south to House Olmuth’s vidék. It will take him some time to return.”
Rapp’s charcoal stick flew across the page as he took notes. I went around the room, each of the officers providing updates on numbers, returnees, and those they had sent back out again. The Demon Realm was vast, and though Uzhhorod was centrally located, the terrain was rough, especially in and around the Skala Mountains. A map, secured at its four corners by ebony weights in the shape of skulls, displayed every inch of that topography.
Running my hand along its curves, we spoke of strategy, troop movements since we’d returned to the capital, possible choke points to feed the Angels to stop their advance, and any traps we could set ahead of time should we need to retreat quickly. I wasn’t one to let any stone go unturned, preparing for every possibility, no matter how small the probability.
“Right, that should do it until the remainder of the conscripts arrive,” I announced when every last question in my mind had been satisfied or shelved for later. The relief in the Parancsok’s faces was evident as they made for the door. A few snagged any leftover food from the meeting, no doubt to store away in the camp for later when they were faced with the typical gruel.
Rapp and Xannirin remained behind, and I waited until the last of the Parancsok had closed the door behind him before speaking again. “You need to whip up more propaganda, Xannirin. They’re bringing in great numbers, but it sounds like some of the Százados have noted the unrest in certain parts of the realm.”
My cousin rubbed a hand over his chin, nodding like he heard me but staring at the books hugging the wall opposite him with a faraway look in his eyes. “This is Kiira’s area of expertise.”
“Well, Kiira still hasn’t come to Gyor,” I grumbled. Xannirin and I had been occupied with quelling the unrest with the nobles, and despite repeated attempts to send messengers to fetch her, she’d refused every time.
Her absence was gnawing on my nerves.
“She’s busy at Varbad,” Rapp interjected. “I only saw her for a brief moment when I visited. She shooed me away with promises she was coming to see us all.”
Rapp shifted his weight, his burgundy leather armor moving with his powerful body. Tall, stacked with lean muscle, and tattooed nearly as much as me, he was a formidable force in the air, leading all the winged divisions of our army. I’d never seen someone fire three arrows simultaneously and land them all between the eyes of three different targets, but it was a talent Rapp possessed by the cartful.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t like this.”
“Everything is fine, Rokath. Even if the civilians and nobles are restless, the Százados think the conscripts are more than ready to fight to the death against the Angels. That’s truly what matters,” Xannirin pointed out.
I grunted, flattening my hands on the table and studying the miniature figurines spread across the map. “I can’t argue with that.”
A wicked laugh slipped from Rapp, his smoky voice filling the room. “Dissent should be punished among the civilian population as it is among the army. Swiftly and without mercy.”
“And have my people turn on me in an instant? You’re mad, Rapp. We must walk a fine line between giving them something to believe in higher than themselves while maintaining their quality of life. So long as they are happy, they won’t pay attention to the nuances in our words and deeds,” Xannirin explained.
I slashed my gaze at him. “The conscripts will make people unhappy purely based on the loss of labor. That should be what Kiira addresses. Perhaps her priestesses can volunteer their time making up for that rather than forcing people on their knees to pray three times a day.”
Xannirin shrugged, boots smacking against the floor as he dropped his legs. “I want to enjoy a lovely summer afternoon on my balcony before the formal dinner this evening.”
Rapp and I groaned together. “I swear on the Reaper, Xannirin, if your coordinator placed me by Olrith–”
A twinkle appeared in my cousin’s eye as he stopped me. “He did not, but that does not guarantee she won’t approach you regardless.”
I snorted. He had a point. I hoped that after our encounter upon my entrance into Gyor Palace that she’d finally get the hint and stop pursuing me.
“Kiira has indicated that she will be in attendance, at least,” Xannirin added.
A band of tension in my chest eased. If something was wrong with our alliance, she certainly wouldn’t show up to a trivial dinner designed to smooth over relations with the noble houses. She understood the importance of quelling the discontent with them.
“We’ll see you later then,” I told him, jerking my head for Rapp to follow. His tongue flicked out to play with the bronze metal pierced through his lip as we entered the hall.
If Kiira were coming, at least then I could figure out if our alliance still held strong or if there were some underlying threat I needed to squash. I mulled over the reports as we strolled to the opposite end of the palace.
“Where are Grem and Zeec? I figured they’d be in attendance at the meeting,” Rapp asked.
“Does everyone like my dogs better than me?” I grumbled.
“You’re kind of an asshole, so yeah,” Rapp laughed, running a hand over his hair. He kept the dark mess long on the top and cropped close on the sides, though the snakes tattooed on either side of his head were only barely visible, unlike mine.
“And you’re insane,” I shot back, lifting a brow and regarding him.
A crazed grin spread across his face, matching the glint in his eye. “But that’s why we’re such a great pair, Rokath. You make people fear you from your temper. I make people fear me by being incredibly unpredictable.”
“You mean unhinged and erratic,” I replied.
“And you’re irrational when you’re pissed, grumpy when you’re not,” he laughed back.
“You’re starting to sound like Xannirin,” I grumbled, taking a sharp right down a servant’s hall. I’d have to deal with enough simpering nobles tonight, there was no point in putting myself in their way prior to that.
Sometimes, being the Fates’ gift to the Demons was exhausting. Between the pressure of their mandate to conquer all of Keleti and the attention that came with being so highly favored by our deities, sometimes I simply wanted to disappear for a while.
The burden was a heavy one to bear, and not one I could share with anyone.
Even Rapp.
Rapp predicted my move and remained right at my shoulder. Equal in height, but not in brawn, we did make a formidable, frightening pair to any who saw us together.
The serving female that squeaked when she picked her head up and discovered our approach was a prime example. The sound sent a wicked thrill humming through my veins. There was nothing I enjoyed more than people’s fear.
Grem and Zeec were snoozing on their respective beds when we entered my sitting chamber. Grem, at least, cracked an eye when the door clicked shut behind Rapp and me. With a yawn, he eased himself to standing, stretching forward and back and then shaking out his long fur. Zeec merely flopped on to his side, knowing from experience that Rapp would go to him and rub his belly.
“Utterly useless,” I mumbled as the dogs greeted my friend.
Zeec’s tail thumped against the plush bed as Rapp settled onto the floor, and Grem shoved up against him, using his snout to lift Rapp’s hand to his back. He laughed and tackled them both, eliciting a bark from Grem.
“Let’s take them outside, maybe I’ll let you throw their ropes for them,” I sighed, succumbing to the battle I was going to lose.
Rapp shot me a devious grin.
“You can get your own dogs you know,” I added, crossing my arms over my chest.
Pushing to his feet and shoving the wild beasts down, he said, “But annoying you by making them love me more is half the fun.”
“They don’t love you more,” I grumbled, finding the cabinets storing their favorite treats and toys. The moment they noticed the direction of my path, both were hot on my heels, barely giving me enough room to navigate the remaining distance. “See?”
“Psh,” Rapp laughed, “they know what comes out of there.”
Reaching for the rectangular bronze handle, I pulled open the long, narrow cabinet, a waft of stinky, dried meat blasting my nostrils. Grem and Zeec sat on their haunches immediately, licking their lips in anticipation of what was to come. By the time I turned around, strings of drool dripped to the thin rug beneath my feet. Grem shuffled himself as if to tell me that he was growing impatient waiting for his treat.
Throwing a go-fuck-yourself look at Rapp, I tossed one strip at Grem and the other at Zeec. Both launched themselves into the air and snatched the treats, munching quickly and swallowing audibly.
The two ropes my hounds adored flew in Rapp’s direction with more than enough force to ensure they reached him. When he caught them in mid-air, I said, “Good boy.”
“Did the great Halálhívó make a joke?” Rapp shot back, grinning as we made paths for the balcony door, the dogs trotting between us.
“Never,” I replied, tone carrying a hint of sarcasm.
He snorted. “Guess there’s no hope you’ll change after all.”
“Why would I want to? I am the most powerful Demon in existence. I command hundreds of thousands. The Kral respects what I say. I have everything I need,” I replied coolly.
“Don’t forget you’re the most humble too,” Rapp teased. I rolled my eyes.
How this male remained my friend after all these centuries was beyond me. At first I’d tolerated him because of our proximity and power, and somewhere along the way he’d become one of the few people I trusted.
The summer heat greeted us as we exited Gyor Palace onto my private balcony. The stone splayed into the distance, unencumbered so Grem and Zeec could bound from one end to the other, showing off their prowess. Further down, though, a set of stairs waited, spiraling to the ground where plush grass and thick hedges sprawled over the remaining space on the palace grounds. Around us, a high wall held off any would-be intruders, if the deterrent of the rocky hillside wasn’t enough.
Our ancestors were wise in choosing this location as the seat of power for the Demons.
My hounds pranced in front of Rapp, spinning and sitting and spinning again as they waited for him to toss their toys. “Grem, stay,” he commanded, and my obedient hound sank to his haunches, eyes sad as he waited his turn.
With one powerful throw, Rapp flung the rope, sending it sailing end over end while Zeec raced forward. His black fur flattened as he picked up speed, legs bunching beneath him before he leaped into the air and snatched it. He wasted no time in spinning and bounding back in our direction. The rope dropped at Rapp’s feet, and he sat, glancing from my friend to his toy and back again.
“You have to give your brother a turn,” Rapp chastised Zeec, and with a huff, the dog settled on the ground, head between his paws. Grem shot to his feet, ready to chase his prize. Rapp repeated the throw, and again, my hound raced and snatched the rope from the air.
When he returned, I said, “Give me one.”
Rapp tossed me Zeec’s toy, and together, we offered them a grueling challenge, pitting them against each other and ribbing one another when a throw fell short.
“You know, if Thast was still here, you’d have to have a third dog,” Rapp commented casually.
Ice grew around my already cold, dead heart. “Stop.”
“It’s been centuries, Rokath. You need to–”
“Move on? Forgive myself?” I seethed, fist tightening over the rope as it hung limply by my side. The memory of that fateful day smashed to the forefront of my mind. But where Thast’s cherry eyes normally seared into me, those burgundy ones appeared instead. “I’m tired of this conversation, Rapp. Let’s just never speak of it again.”
Rapp’s tongue flicked over the metal in his lip, but he raised his hands in supplication. Grem jumped for the rope dangling from one.
“Down,” I commanded, and he obeyed, though his eyes did not leave the toy despite his open-mouth panting.
“You’re not the only one who lost him, Rokath. Sometimes I want to talk about it, you know,” Rapp said quietly.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out again. “Not now. When we’re sitting on the Koron’s throne, we can.”
Opening my eyes, I saw Rapp nodding. “Deal.”
Clearing my throat, I tossed the rope, sending Zeec racing away again. “We should probably get back inside and clean up before dinner tonight.”
Rapp groaned, our previous conversation forgotten. “Remind me, why do I have to go?”
“Because I have to,” I replied, snatching the toy from Zeec when he returned. I rubbed his head and patted his side, then turned toward the double doors that led to my sitting chamber.
“And you have to because?” Rapp asked, joining me with Grem at his heels.
“Because Xannirin wants me there.”
Rapp snorted. “What was it you said before? ‘I am the most powerful Demon in existence?’ You don’t have to go.”
“I also said that the Kral respects what I say, so that part is important to maintain,” I reminded him, though there wasn’t a sharpness to my tone. I was merely stating the facts, despite Rapp’s obvious attempts at humor.
The cool interior of the palace was a welcome reprieve from the heat, and both the dogs flopped to the cool stone in front of the doors, before the wood slats picked up and covered the rest of the space. Their tongues lolled against it, chests rising and lowering at a rapid pace.
“See you tonight?” Rapp handed me the rope.
“Aye,” I replied, accepting it. “And before you ask, no, your current attire will not do.”
Rapp glanced down at his burgundy flying leathers. “But these show off my physique so well. And if Orith is going to be there, you might need me to distract her for you. That’s what friends do after all.” He winked as he made for the door.
I snorted. “You don’t need those, only power, to get her father’s attention.”
Grinning, he opened the heavy wood and wedged himself between my room and the hall. “Fine, I’ll ensure my clothing is crisp and clean and appropriate for all these stuck up nobles.”
And with that, he departed, leaving me to stew on the past, the present, and the future.
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14
Donning a black satin cape with skulls embroidered in a fine burgundy thread, I straightened the last of my formal attire in preparation for dinner. Despite my preference for armor, I understood the importance of one’s appearance in all social settings, and this dinner was no exception. I abhorred the black fabric draped over a single, muscled shoulder. At best it encumbered eating; at worst, it made one an easy target for attack.
I never went anywhere without daggers strapped to my person. Not like I needed them. My magic was potent enough to kill anyone who dared assault me. But again, appearances were important, and the sharp edges were part of that facade.
My black, knee-high boots shone from their fresh polish, the gold buckles gleaming to match. Satisfied that no wrinkles sullied the wool pants and cotton dress tunic beneath my formal jacket, I strapped two additional weapons to hidden loops inside the cape and exited my sleeping chamber.
Rapp was sprawled on the angular loungers in my sitting area. He’d changed from his burgundy leathers to a similar ensemble, complete with a burgundy cape to match his eyes. That was the way of the Demons—as many reminders of our power as we could manage. As for me, I preferred black so no one forgot who I was and what I could do.
“Ready?” I asked gruffly.
Rapp caught the rough crystal as it dropped back toward his face, then sat upright, returning the stone to where it belonged on a wooden table jutted against the leather sofa. “Unfortunately.”
As we made for the door, Grem and Zeec started to follow, but I called them off, giving each a scratch behind their furry ears before sending them to their beds.
We met Xannirin in the hall. The Kral of the Demons wore a gold cape dripping in tiny burgundy gems that matched the crown resting upon his brow. A sharp point jutted down his forehead, the tip nearly resting between his brows, with mirror ones reaching for the sky. A thick, intricately etched circle of gold ringed his head, attaching the spikes and other delicate details. The crown reminded me in a way of the ebony horned helmet I wore in battle, though the trail of precious gemstones in every shade of red would have been out of place on my head.
“My Kral,” Rapp and I greeted him with sweeping bows.
Six of his red-armored guards waited behind him, and I glared at them all as I straightened. Only one of them flinched under my gaze, and I noted which male it was. I would not allow my cousin to have sloppy sentries.
“Hadvezér Rapp, Halálhívó,” he greeted us, the formality of the situation filling the air. Gone was our earlier casualness. In front of the others, the hierarchy needed to be maintained. “Join me as we make our way to the dining hall.”
“Certainly,” I replied, and we fell into step, the marching of boots echoing ahead of us and alerting all to move out of the way.
Servants swept into bows as we passed, but Xannirin paid them no mind as we turned one sharp corner after another, winding to the heart of the palace where the evening’s formal dinner would take place.
“Which houses will be in attendance, cousin?” I asked, if only to brace myself for the inevitable.
“Houses Edar, Varrir, and Tiris, as usual,” he started. The three Nayúr held lands closest to the capital, which meant they were always present, unfortunately for me, since Orith’s father was head of House Varrir. “And House Turrokar, since they have nowhere else to go.”
Turrokar’s vidék was entirely controlled by the Angels, so that one was unsurprising. It was their new permanence in the capital that had contributed to so much questioning of Xannirin’s leadership from the other noble houses and one of the reasons we were having this fucking dinner tonight. They’d walk away reassured of our unity and my commitment to our cause.
Or so Xannirin had explained at least.
I wouldn’t call my presence in Uzhhorod a ‘commitment’ but rather an ‘abandonment’ of where I truly needed to be.
“House Nuul will also attend, though Kormánzó Ergad won’t remain through the entire evening as his wife is due to deliver their fourth child anytime,” Xannirin finished.
So, not as many houses as I had anticipated, which pleased me.
“Four children for the Kral, you must be pleased,” Rapp commented.
“Indeed, perhaps he will earn himself a title of Nayúr after all,” Xannirin replied, coming to a halt in front of a set of dark wood doors. They muffled the sound of mixed voices beyond, and when the two servants reached for the fine metal handles and tugged, they unleashed the true volume of the dinner’s attendees.
While only a handful of houses were in the space, it seems they arrived in droves to compensate for the lack of representation. Table after table, laden with polished metal centerpieces, dining ware, and serving platters, greeted us, some already seated, while others mingled among the crowd. Males and females, from younglings to matrons and cousins as distant as they could be filled the space, laughing and carrying on like there wasn’t a fucking army camped outside the city walls to defend against an equally large and fervent one pushing down from the north.
A hush fell over them as the three of us entered, and then an eruption of applause assaulted my ears, many prostrating themselves as we sauntered toward the head table.
“The Fates-given conquerors of Keleti!”
“Glory to the Kral! Glory to the Halálhívó!”
On and on they went with their fawning, Xannirin soaking up every moment, while I pointedly ignored it. With the rare, powerful magic Xannirin and I possessed, it was hard to believe that the Giver had blessed us with these gifts at random. Add Kiira’s direct connection to the three into the mix, and our path was certain. The thought had taken root so deeply within the Demons that it was easy for Kiira and Xannirin’s propaganda to compel the entire population into making sacrifices to ensure their Kral sat on both thrones.
Our cousin, dressed in a delicate black silk dress that dipped low between her breasts, waited at the high table for us. Around her brow, a golden circlet perched, securing a thin, sheer veil over her face and down her back. Rounding it, I approached her, and she lifted out of her seat to plant a kiss on either cheek. “Halálhívó, it’s been too long,” she trilled, lifting her dining cloth and placing it in her lap again as she settled.
“Yes, High Priestess, it truly has been,” I replied, pausing for a moment to allow Rapp to greet her. The two of them were close, and they exchanged countless letters while we were way. Sometimes, she wrote to Rapp more than me. After a chaste kiss on her cheek, he continued to the head of the table with Xannirin. I lingered, needing to speak with Kiira, though any real conversation here was impossible. My seat was always at the right hand of the Kral, we’d be too far apart for an extensive conversation regardless.
“Is everything okay between us?” I lowered my voice, and she nodded.
“I’ll be free in a few more days, then I can meet,” she whispered back, her long lashes brushing against the ebony veil.
“Is Vardbad keeping you that busy?” I asked, cocking my head.
She lifted her goblet and maneuvered it to her lips. “Like you wouldn’t believe. So many newcomers arrive on our doorsteps by the day. I’ll tell you more when we meet again.” She slashed her eyes at the females around her, most of which were wives, daughters, and cousins to the males that headed the noble houses.
It wasn’t something she wanted to say in front of them.
“What about the drawings? Why do you continue to send them to Xannirin?” I pressed. Every night since I’d seen them, those burgundy eyes had followed me into what little sleep I managed. The parchment I’d taken from Xannirin lived on my bedside table now.
Her thin brows dipped together over her round eyes. “What drawings?”
Before I could question her further, Xannirin pointedly cleared his throat.
“We’ll speak later, Kiira.” Squeezing her shoulder, I departed, finding my seat at the opposite end of the table with Rapp on my right. Across from me, Kormánzó Sorn Turrokar looked exhausted, with heavy purple bags under his eyes, and cheeks gaunt. Even his normally well-kept hair was a mess, as if he’d been tugging on the strands endlessly and couldn’t smooth them down again.
I couldn’t blame him. After all, his home had been destroyed not even four months prior, and most of the people in his vidék were slaughtered like cattle. Those who couldn’t escape would always die at the hands of the Angels, since their sole mission was to eradicate Demons from this world. Their Goddess had deemed it so, according to Koron Stadiel, which was why he had won out over the others to become their monarch.
“Kormánzó,” I greeted him, settling into my seat and draping the dining cloth across my lap. With an annoyed flick, I cleared the ridiculous cape from my shoulder, freeing up my left arm.
“Halálhívó,” he greeted me in turn, sounding just as tired as he looked.
More males plopped into their seats down the table and across the room now that their Kral had arrived, and the females took their respective positions, separated from their counterparts.
“How are you enjoying your time in the capital?” I asked, attempting to be courtly.
He grunted, then swigged from his goblet. “It’s not home.”
“We’re pleased you’re still with us,” Xannirin butted in, shooting me a pointed look. “Grateful, in fact. With the Halálhívó’s new plan, you should be able to return to your vidék within the year.” He chuckled, lifting his glass of scale and letting it hover in midair. “Fates, you’ll have twice the vidék to manage after we rout the Angels.”
I raised my own and clinked it against his. “Aye, as the Weaver has spun us a great path to victory. This new wave of volunteers will turn the tide and allow us to overwhelm them.”
“I sincerely hope so, My Kral,” Sorn sighed, taking a sip as well.
Beside Sorn, Nayúr Ollmond Varrir chimed in. “And then, you’ll both be able to settle down, put your focus on building families of your own.”
The scale nearly killed me where it lodged in my throat. Rapp smothered a laugh as I leveled a hard gaze on Orith’s father, choking down the last of the burning liquid. That didn’t stop the harsh words from crawling up my throat. “Did your daughter tell you of our last encounter, Nayúr?” I evoked his title with a much derision as I could muster, wanting him to feel just how beneath me he was. The fucker couldn’t wait for the first course to be served before pushing his agenda, for Fates’ sake.
Xannirin’s head whipped to the side, and I shrugged. It wasn’t my fault that the male couldn’t understand the word never.
“She did.” The words slipped out casually, like they meant nothing, and I almost pitied the female for being little more than a tool to be used by her father. Almost.
My neck heated, and a tremble of rage built in my chest. “And my words to her didn’t deter either of you?”
“You’ll come around once this war is finished. After all, if you want House Varrir’s continued support, Orith does need a match–”
A hand clamped down on either arm as Xannirin and Rapp sensed my infamous temper about to explode. How dare he insinuate that he’d pull what little support he offered for the sake of his own ambition. We didn’t need him if that was how he decided to play this political game.
“You know, Nayúr, if you’re looking for a Hadvezér to wed your daughter, I am available,” Rapp said from beside me, sporting a wicked grin. He made a show of looking down the table for the female, licking his lips appreciatively when he found her. As if she sensed our attention on her—or rather that she’d had her attention on us, waiting for this moment—she batted her lashes in our direction, the flimsy fabric covering her shoulders dropping away and revealing more skin than necessary.
Ollmond coughed, clearly taken aback by the forward offer. Xannirin and Rapp’s hands retreated, though the latter braced his forearms on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. “Rumor has it that Kormánzó Ergad is about to have his fourth child. I’d love to get a head start on life after the war, earn a bit more of the Kral’s favor since my position as Hadvezér will be all but useless.”
Rapp was a true friend, throwing Ollmond off like this, and a better courtier than I would ever be. With bated breath, I waited for the male’s response to Rapp’s offer.
Rapp’s sexual appetites were as varied as my own, and so long as Orith didn’t mind another male or female joining them while they coupled, she’d be fine in Rapp’s hands. Wealth, power, and sex ruled everything in this world, and all the worlds beyond. The rules were different for those of us at the upper echelons of society, even more so for the Kral’s inner circle. Rapp would see to it that Orith kept her mouth so full she couldn’t tell another soul.
Finally, Ollmond recovered. “Your offer is…very generous, Hadvezér Rapp. I shall think on it and return with an answer for you.”
I didn’t hide my derisive snort at his nonanswer. Of course, Rapp didn’t have enough noble blood for Ollmond. Rapp’s burgundy eyes didn’t come from his father’s lineage; it was gifted from the Giver, and he used it to escape his abusive parents and make a name for himself.
Servants carrying bowls of soup saved us from any further comment on the matter. The clear broth steamed into my nostrils, carrying a salty, spicy scent that made my mouth water.
“Your cooks are far superior to the ones on the front, My Kral,” I said, hoping to appease my cousin for my near-outburst.
All these centuries of life, and I still didn’t have my temper under control.
Xannirin’s pinched expression smoothed, and he slipped his spoon into his mouth. “The finest in all of Keleti,” he affirmed after savoring the soup.
After that, Rapp engaged the head of House Tiris in conversation, while Xannirin and I spoke with Sorn about the Angel’s advances into his territory and possible movements we could make. After all, he knew the land better than me, and I was humble enough to listen when the information would help my efforts.
