Bring the Heat
Page 34
“I doubt that. Kachka doesn’t seem to care about anyone enough to torment them.”
“You could say the same thing about a diseased jungle cat, and yet they still love to torment the large rats that live in burrows beneath them.”
Izzy laughed. “I guess you’re right.”
They reached the first floor and walked toward the head table, taking a moment to easily leap over the bodies of Celyn the Charming and Branwen the Awful as they rolled by, fists and curses flying.
“How many legions do you command now, General?” he asked her.
“Three. The Fifteenth, the Twenty-Third, and the Thirty-Ninth. All good, strong soldiers I’m proud to lead. I’ll be heading off to the base camps in a few days for inspections. Making sure everything is prepared for whenever Annwyl is ready to move.”
“We’re doing the same. But quietly.”
“Why quietly?”
“The Senate hasn’t approved our armies joining this war.”
Izzy stopped and faced him. “But don’t they understand—”
“Oh, they understand perfectly. But this is Sovereigns’ politics, which is a breed unto itself. I wouldn’t worry, though, Iseabail. Politics is what the House of Domitus is known for. Between me and my sister, they’ll give us what we want.”
“But it’s not about what you want. It’s about what’s right. If you’ve seen what the cult has done to some of the temples . . .” She briefly glanced off before snarling, “The orcs were kinder to their victims than the Cult of Chramnesind.”
Gaius grasped both the general’s hands, looked directly into her eyes. “Izzy, you and I . . . we have a very long history. And I owe you much.”
“Gaius—”
“No. Let me finish. I owe you much. But even my debt to you does not match the loyalty I have to my people. I will do whatever is necessary to protect them. I play the game now, with the Senate, because it’s in my best interest. But when the time comes, when it is necessary, nothing will stop me and my sister from doing what is right. Don’t forget who I am, General Iseabail. Who I’ve become at the talons of Overlord Thracius himself.”
Izzy—General Izzy—studied Gaius coldly. “Those were days past, Rebel King. With your sister back, many say you’ve . . . lost your edge.”
“And what do you think?” he asked her. “Do you think I’ve lost my edge?”
Her smile small, Izzy again took Gaius’s arm and continued toward the main table. “I think Duke Salebiri had best pray that you have.”
Talan pushed open the door to his sister’s room and walked in. Sitting up in the bed, she was in complete darkness. Even the pitfire was not lit, nor any candles or wall torches.
And, in that darkness, she gazed forlornly out the open window.
“Could you possibly look more pathetic?” he asked, in no mood for one of his sister’s dark episodes.
“Get out.”
Talan lifted his hand and, with a wave, lit all the candles and torches and the pitfire.
“Do stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he ordered her.
“I want to feel sorry for myself. I want to sit in the dark and be miserable.” Talwyn snapped her fingers and everything went out again.
Becoming truly annoyed, Talan flicked a finger and brought the light back. Snarling a little, Talwyn snapped. Growling back, Talan flicked. And it went on like that for so long that when Rhi walked in carrying a tray of food for Talwyn, the siblings were about to start lobbing the giant fireballs they held at each other.
“Stop that!” Rhi slammed the tray down on a nearby table. “Right now!” She clapped her hands together and the fireballs fizzled out. “Are you trying to set the whole house on fire?”
“She’s being a prat.”
“You’re being a right bastard!”
Talan geared up to start lobbing things at his sister again, Talwyn more than happy to fight back, her fingers twitching.
Rhi stomped across the room and pressed her hand against Talwyn’s wounded leg. The pain she was feeling as the bone quickly knitted itself together with the help of Morfyd’s magicks slashed through Talan’s system. Rhi was allowing him to feel what his sister was feeling but, in Talwyn’s usual way, refused to show anyone.
Talan dropped to one knee, unable to support his weight on that wounded leg.
Looking up at his sister, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you were in so much pain?”
“Pain is a part of life.”
“See?” he told her, again lighting everything with a flick of his finger. “This is why I want to throw fireballs at you. Pain is a part of life, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer in silence. Or, even worse, wallow in that pain.”
“It does when you’ve been an idiot.”
Rhi winced for Talwyn and asked, “Because you tried to kill your mother?”
Talwyn looked down at her hands, shrugged. “She made me mad,” she admitted.
“The big thing is,” Talan noted, moving over to the bed and sitting next to his sister as the pain he’d felt eased away, “is that she never got mad.”
“What?”
“Our mother is rage. Especially in a fight. But with you . . . she was calm, controlled . . . precise. Plus, I’ve never seen her fight like that before. Those new skills she has, combined with this newfound control of hers, just made her attacks on you more devastating. You need to find out what she did to get like that. Who she’s been training with, learning from. And then you need to start learning too. Learn everything you can.”
“He’s right,” Rhi agreed, placing the tray of food on Talwyn’s lap. “I’m sure if you talk to Auntie Annwyl—”
“How can I talk to her?” Talwyn asked, clearly ashamed. “I tried to kill her.”
“Oh, come on! You act like you’re the first in the family to try. You, sister, are not the first and, honestly, I doubt you’ll be the last.”
Rhi gave a sad little nod. “He’s right.”
“You’ll sit here. By Annwyl,” Izzy said, tapping the chair.
Gaius cringed. “Do I have to?”
“Of course. She’s the queen and you’re a king. Grandmum will be up here with you as well.” She leaned in and whispered, “But don’t worry. Annwyl mostly reads at these things. And Grandmum is too busy sniping with Ghleanna about . . . well . . . everything to bother paying any attention to you at all.”
“Excellent.” He took Izzy’s hand and kissed the back of it. “As always, General Iseabail, it’s been a delight. You’ll have to save me a dance tonight.”
She giggled. “I will!”
“Izzy?”
Izzy cringed before plastering on a big smile and spinning around to face her mate, Éibhear the Contemptible. He stood behind her, his untrusting gaze locked on Gaius, his small team of Mì-runach warriors behind him. The lot of them were covered in travel dirt, wearing the heavy fur coverings of the Northlander.
“Éibhear!” Izzy cheered. “You’re home!”
The youngest offspring of Queen Rhiannon nodded at his mate, but kept his angry gaze right on Gaius.
“You could say the same thing about a diseased jungle cat, and yet they still love to torment the large rats that live in burrows beneath them.”
Izzy laughed. “I guess you’re right.”
They reached the first floor and walked toward the head table, taking a moment to easily leap over the bodies of Celyn the Charming and Branwen the Awful as they rolled by, fists and curses flying.
“How many legions do you command now, General?” he asked her.
“Three. The Fifteenth, the Twenty-Third, and the Thirty-Ninth. All good, strong soldiers I’m proud to lead. I’ll be heading off to the base camps in a few days for inspections. Making sure everything is prepared for whenever Annwyl is ready to move.”
“We’re doing the same. But quietly.”
“Why quietly?”
“The Senate hasn’t approved our armies joining this war.”
Izzy stopped and faced him. “But don’t they understand—”
“Oh, they understand perfectly. But this is Sovereigns’ politics, which is a breed unto itself. I wouldn’t worry, though, Iseabail. Politics is what the House of Domitus is known for. Between me and my sister, they’ll give us what we want.”
“But it’s not about what you want. It’s about what’s right. If you’ve seen what the cult has done to some of the temples . . .” She briefly glanced off before snarling, “The orcs were kinder to their victims than the Cult of Chramnesind.”
Gaius grasped both the general’s hands, looked directly into her eyes. “Izzy, you and I . . . we have a very long history. And I owe you much.”
“Gaius—”
“No. Let me finish. I owe you much. But even my debt to you does not match the loyalty I have to my people. I will do whatever is necessary to protect them. I play the game now, with the Senate, because it’s in my best interest. But when the time comes, when it is necessary, nothing will stop me and my sister from doing what is right. Don’t forget who I am, General Iseabail. Who I’ve become at the talons of Overlord Thracius himself.”
Izzy—General Izzy—studied Gaius coldly. “Those were days past, Rebel King. With your sister back, many say you’ve . . . lost your edge.”
“And what do you think?” he asked her. “Do you think I’ve lost my edge?”
Her smile small, Izzy again took Gaius’s arm and continued toward the main table. “I think Duke Salebiri had best pray that you have.”
Talan pushed open the door to his sister’s room and walked in. Sitting up in the bed, she was in complete darkness. Even the pitfire was not lit, nor any candles or wall torches.
And, in that darkness, she gazed forlornly out the open window.
“Could you possibly look more pathetic?” he asked, in no mood for one of his sister’s dark episodes.
“Get out.”
Talan lifted his hand and, with a wave, lit all the candles and torches and the pitfire.
“Do stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he ordered her.
“I want to feel sorry for myself. I want to sit in the dark and be miserable.” Talwyn snapped her fingers and everything went out again.
Becoming truly annoyed, Talan flicked a finger and brought the light back. Snarling a little, Talwyn snapped. Growling back, Talan flicked. And it went on like that for so long that when Rhi walked in carrying a tray of food for Talwyn, the siblings were about to start lobbing the giant fireballs they held at each other.
“Stop that!” Rhi slammed the tray down on a nearby table. “Right now!” She clapped her hands together and the fireballs fizzled out. “Are you trying to set the whole house on fire?”
“She’s being a prat.”
“You’re being a right bastard!”
Talan geared up to start lobbing things at his sister again, Talwyn more than happy to fight back, her fingers twitching.
Rhi stomped across the room and pressed her hand against Talwyn’s wounded leg. The pain she was feeling as the bone quickly knitted itself together with the help of Morfyd’s magicks slashed through Talan’s system. Rhi was allowing him to feel what his sister was feeling but, in Talwyn’s usual way, refused to show anyone.
Talan dropped to one knee, unable to support his weight on that wounded leg.
Looking up at his sister, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you were in so much pain?”
“Pain is a part of life.”
“See?” he told her, again lighting everything with a flick of his finger. “This is why I want to throw fireballs at you. Pain is a part of life, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer in silence. Or, even worse, wallow in that pain.”
“It does when you’ve been an idiot.”
Rhi winced for Talwyn and asked, “Because you tried to kill your mother?”
Talwyn looked down at her hands, shrugged. “She made me mad,” she admitted.
“The big thing is,” Talan noted, moving over to the bed and sitting next to his sister as the pain he’d felt eased away, “is that she never got mad.”
“What?”
“Our mother is rage. Especially in a fight. But with you . . . she was calm, controlled . . . precise. Plus, I’ve never seen her fight like that before. Those new skills she has, combined with this newfound control of hers, just made her attacks on you more devastating. You need to find out what she did to get like that. Who she’s been training with, learning from. And then you need to start learning too. Learn everything you can.”
“He’s right,” Rhi agreed, placing the tray of food on Talwyn’s lap. “I’m sure if you talk to Auntie Annwyl—”
“How can I talk to her?” Talwyn asked, clearly ashamed. “I tried to kill her.”
“Oh, come on! You act like you’re the first in the family to try. You, sister, are not the first and, honestly, I doubt you’ll be the last.”
Rhi gave a sad little nod. “He’s right.”
“You’ll sit here. By Annwyl,” Izzy said, tapping the chair.
Gaius cringed. “Do I have to?”
“Of course. She’s the queen and you’re a king. Grandmum will be up here with you as well.” She leaned in and whispered, “But don’t worry. Annwyl mostly reads at these things. And Grandmum is too busy sniping with Ghleanna about . . . well . . . everything to bother paying any attention to you at all.”
“Excellent.” He took Izzy’s hand and kissed the back of it. “As always, General Iseabail, it’s been a delight. You’ll have to save me a dance tonight.”
She giggled. “I will!”
“Izzy?”
Izzy cringed before plastering on a big smile and spinning around to face her mate, Éibhear the Contemptible. He stood behind her, his untrusting gaze locked on Gaius, his small team of Mì-runach warriors behind him. The lot of them were covered in travel dirt, wearing the heavy fur coverings of the Northlander.
“Éibhear!” Izzy cheered. “You’re home!”
The youngest offspring of Queen Rhiannon nodded at his mate, but kept his angry gaze right on Gaius.
