Scorpion

  Kendras laughed breathlessly at the thought that the officer had rescued that bottle from his cell when he hadn’t even been wearing many clothes. It showed at least what he thought was important.

  “What?”

  “Just… go on.”

  “You’ve been treated badly too often, Kendras.”

  Did that mean the officer always saw the scrawny injured youth he’d rescued when he looked at Kendras? Still? After so many years? “I don’t… care.” Kendras drew breath sharply when the oiled fingers pushed inside him, and he opened his legs wider in invitation.

  “Yes. But I do.” The officer took his own cock in an oiled hand, and continued to prepare Kendras’s opening. Kendras grew more impatient as the fingers reached deeper and further, teasing him, promising a pleasure he knew well and craved more than ever.

  Kendras opened his lips and grinned at the concern. Oh, this was good. “More than ready,” he murmured.

  The officer chuckled and pushed his legs further up, angling him just so, and then wiped the oil from his fingers on Kendras’s thigh, before he closed the distance and plunged inside.

  Kendras groaned at the invasion, needed it, craved it, but bent like this all he could do was take the fucking and clutch at the officer. It was strange to be bared like this, watching another man’s face like this, the dark features, dark eyes that spoke of nothing but fierce joy at being alive and fucking Kendras with relish.

  The sensations washed over him in waves, the pleasure fierce and intense with every stroke, and he barely remembered to remain silent. Widow. Even though, if the man had any soldier senses at all, he was probably awake and waiting for them to finish.

  He reached down to stroke himself, the pleasure impossible to contain. The officer’s thrusts got much harder and faster, rocking him on the ground, but that was exactly what Kendras needed.

  Kendras tightened, stroked himself, riding his own pleasure and that of the other man until he felt the officer come inside, burrowed balls-deep inside him, weight and strength and fierce pride. Their sweat ran together when the officer moved again, but this time, he leaned in closer, staring into his face while he took Kendras’s hand and helped him jerk off. Kendras kept the contact, but closed his eyes in a reflex when he finally came, unable to bear the attention as his own pleasure washed everything else away.

  Another kiss, gentle, slow and intense, tore him out of the deep, contented satisfaction that was about to pull him under into sleep, and he lowered his legs and rolled onto the side. The officer lay down beside him and pulled Kendras closer. He came to lie on the man’s arm, and the officer watched him. But all Kendras could think was that it was good this way, and he could sleep now.

  “LET him sleep a bit longer.”

  “We should get to Fetin before half the temple’s on our asses.”

  Kendras breathed deeply, then opened his eyes. The officer stood there, wearing very little apart from that cloak, but Widow was fully dressed. The officer towered over Widow, yet Widow didn’t seem intimidated so much as uncharacteristically polite.

  “I’m awake.”

  The officer turned toward him and tossed him an apple. “We’ll prepare the horses. Come when you’re ready.”

  Kendras groaned and stretched, then stood. They were right. They’d better get a lot more distance between themselves and Dalman. He gathered his clothes, which were less damp than yesterday, dressed, took the sword belts and closed one around his waist, then ate the apple in a few hungry bites.

  The morning was crisp and clear, which lifted the spirits, but wasn’t good for hiding. He found the officer and Widow behind the hut, Widow saddling the horses while the officer checked the horses’ legs.

  Kendras handed the second sword belt to the officer, then one of the saddlebags to Widow, and fastened the other one himself. It would be much easier to take a boat up the river, but again, that was also the easiest way to run into temple guards.

  They traveled in silence for the most part until they encountered a trader selling cloth, and a little bartering got them a full set of clothes for the officer and a cloak for Kendras. Widow paid without hesitation or so much as a foul word.

  They attached themselves to the trader’s guards, who seemed nervous over three obviously armed and dangerous men, but even they had to realize that they wouldn’t have paid for their clothes if they meant to rob the merchant. It simply drew less attention.

  That something was amiss was evident in the number of couriers. Dressed in blues and silvers, several times per day a courier would race past at breakneck speed. Kendras was tempted to shoot one down and see what missives he was carrying, but the officer reminded him that the letters were most likely coded.

  “Who are they talking to?” Kendras asked.

  “Maybe other temples. The king’s allies. Spies in Fetin….” The officer shrugged. “We know what they’ll do, so we’ll just have to be ready.” He turned to Widow. “How far are they with repairing the wall?”

  “Making good progress last time I saw them.” Widow shrugged. “Fighting on Fetin’s side next time?”

  “That remains to be seen,” the officer said.

  “They have Riktan, Dev, and Selvan,” Kendras said.

  “I know. Still. I can’t sacrifice the last Scorpions if there’s a chance we’ll lose.”

  “I’m sure they’ll pay you what you’ll ask,” Widow said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “I fail to see how five Scorpions can make a difference.”

  “I’m not talking of the other four,” Widow snapped. “Fine. None of my business.”

  Chapter 18

  “THE wall might hold,” the officer said as they rode into Fetin. The damage to the city was still dramatic, but the gate was repaired, even though the gap in the wall wasn’t completely closed yet. The supporting structure of wood, filled with stone, debris, and earth was erected, and masons worked on the stones. Bricks were being fired, all watched by a number of Fetinye soldiers, who doubtless reported progress to the Lady Protector.

  One of the soldiers turned at those words, brow dark. “How dare…” he paused, his face twitched, then emptied.

  The officer’s lips curved into a smile. “Yes, get the Flames.”

  The soldier barked an order to that effect, looking flustered at the officer’s presence. “We are working as fast as we can, my lord,” he said.

  “I’m nobody’s lord.” The officer waved. “Get more men, these walls will very soon be tested. Pay the masons what you must… no other piece of construction is as important as the walls.”

  The soldier swallowed dryly. “I will present this to my commanding officer, s…, eh.” He faltered, clearly wishing to not act against a direct order not to call the officer lord or sir. Kendras wondered if that excessive respect was because of the officer’s bearing, his reputation, or because he was originally from Fetin and the soldier recognized him. The officer had mentioned his personal feelings in that last entry in the book.

  The Flames were upon them like a hornet’s swarm. They refrained from attacking, but Kendras felt their anger. Ten warriors to control three—five on horseback, five on foot. They either planned to intimidate them into compliance or thought too much of their strength.

  “Follow me,” the officer, a tanesh, told them.

  They dismounted and left the horses with the guards at the gate. Kendras and Widow took their saddle bags and slung them across their shoulders. None expected to have to fight, even though the Flames’ anger was tempered only by their harsh discipline. Of course, they had to know that the officer was a Scorpion. Yet, Kendras didn’t spot the same hostility from the officer.

  They followed the Flames on foot into the city. The damage here was being repaired, but what struck Kendras before they passed through the Horse Tamer Gate was how many Vededrinye were in the city. Just on that short way, he saw at least four, if not five.

  The Lady Protector is about to marry the Vededrinye Elder.

&
nbsp; Kendras didn’t like the thought. If he had understood correctly, the three city states had always been in an uneasy balance with each other. Skirmishes were common, but overall, everybody kept their independence and let the others be. Marrying the Elder meant upsetting this balance. With the old king dead, what would the new king do about this? Dalman would have to attack before Fetin and Vededrin became one.

  This time, they weren’t guided through the back of the Flames’ barracks, but walked toward the main entrance of the palace citadel. Kendras lowered the saddle bags off his shoulder and tried not to stare at the soaring spirals of the palace.

  Courtiers and guards eyed them, and Kendras could imagine what they looked like. Three bedraggled, road-weary warriors being paraded by the Flames.

  “They must have news from Dalman,” one courtier said to another as they passed.

  They were ushered further into the palace, past a barrier of Flames, and then came into the Round Chamber, which was clad in wood on one side and opened to the city on the other, covered by fine stone work, the stone broken in a thousand places, like honeycomb, providing protection against the city while at the same time opening the throne room to its surroundings. Flames inside and out watched that nobody exploited this.

  In the throne room stood, just as before, the dark-skinned lady, who handed back a white cat to a servant when they entered.

  Widow knelt, and Kendras assumed now that he could move again, he should do the same, so he knelt as well. The officer seemed torn for a moment whether to kneel or stand, then knelt too.

  “Rise, Adrastes.”

  Kendras half-expected this was Widow’s name, but the officer stood. “Mother.”

  Kendras stared at both of them, and saw what he had missed all along. Each resembled the other. The lady was as tall and imposing as the officer was. Both carried themselves with a pride and calm that few people possessed. Her skin was darker, but that only meant that the officer’s father had been white.

  Kendras stared, then shook his head. He was a fool. He should have seen it but hadn’t.

  “Rise,” the officer said, half-turning to them. Kendras glanced at the lady, who gave her son a harsh stare but didn’t protest. Widow stood, fluidly, a pinched smirk on his face as he took a step back. Kendras thought that was wise and stood next to Widow, leaving the nobles to their games and the fight that was clearly in the air.

  “I have summoned you for a purpose, Adrastes.”

  The officer inclined his head briefly. “There will be another battle with Dalman.”

  “Yes. The Lady Protector plans to marry the Vededrinye Elder.”

  “She can’t be that desperate,” the officer said, “To give up the city like that.”

  “And what else would you have me do?” a woman’s voice asked from behind Kendras. He turned and saw the Lady Protector enter the room.

  She must have just come in from weapons practice. Her fine gambeson was dusty and had sweat-patches on the back and under her arms; her blonde hair was tied back, but individual wisps had come loose during the fight.

  “Good work finding him,” she said as she passed Widow, who for a moment touched his heart with splayed fingers in a strangely devoted gesture. “Not that I’m entirely convinced it’ll make a difference,” she added with a long look at the officer. “Brother.”

  The officer bowed. “I was prepared to live my life as nobody’s brother… or son.” He indicated the lady. “But my mother didn’t see that quite the same way. While I understand I follow her summons, I’m amazed that she chose Widowmaker to convey the message.”

  The Lady Protector grimaced as if she’d bitten into a bad fruit. “Widowmaker follows his orders.”

  “Yes. Yours.” The officer shook his head. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Believe me, we had long discussions on whether we should just let you rot. Much better, more loyal men died during the last battle with Dalman. The king had our officers killed or sold into slavery. Fighting the next war without generals….” She balled her hands into fists, raised them, then dropped them in a show of frustrated anger.

  “What about the academy?”

  “You’ll agree that fighting a war with a few almost-graduates is not the way to win it.” The Lady Protector crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I told your mother that you’ll do what you’ve always done—pull your tail between your legs and go into hiding, pretending it’s not your business. You’re a coward, Adrastes. So. There’s the door. If you’re not standing with us, then there’s the door. You can take your tattooed criminals and riffraff and pretend you’re just some mercenary. We don’t need you here. Your men are hale and hearty. They can leave the moment I tell the Flames to let them go. But if you go, you have no right to interfere with my decisions. If I marry that scaly old reptile, it is none of your business. At least I do what it takes to keep my city safe.”

  “Are you done?” the officer asked.

  “Just about,” she snapped back. “What do you have to say?”

  “Nothing.” The officer lifted his shoulders. “Can I think about it?”

  She snorted. “Sure. It’s your home. Your quarters are still free. You know where mine are, when you’re ready.” She glanced at the officer’s mother. “With your permission.” It was mere politeness. The real power in the room came from the Lady Protector.

  When the older lady nodded, the Lady Protector turned and, walking off, tapped Widow on the shoulder. Widow lowered his gaze like an obedient courtier and trailed behind.

  “She’s glad to see you alive,” the lady said when both had left the room.

  “I know.” The officer chuckled. “And I did leave her alone with all this. There are enough hard feelings to fight a war with. Which might be exactly what we need in this case.” He stood there for a moment, as if listening to an invisible voice, thoughtful and withdrawn, then bowed deeply. “Allow me to rest and think about it. First I need to visit my men.”

  “Granted,” she said, reached out and touched his head. “They will be brought to you.”

  “Thank you.” The officer took her hand off his head and kissed it, then let it go. He gave Kendras a nod as he passed, and Kendras followed, too stunned even to think. The old Lord Protector must have had two wives—first the lady who had given birth to Adrastes, then a white one who’d born him the Lady Protector, whatever her name was.

  Kendras would have never assumed the officer had had a life before the Scorpions. None of the others ever wanted to return to where he’d come from. A fair few of them never spoke about their origins. But now that old life claimed the officer back, and Kendras could see that this troubled him deeply.

  Servants led the way to rich and wide quarters in the palace. Kendras was stunned by the opulence. There was enough space here to drill a unit of men without having to move a single piece of furniture. It began to sink in that the officer was indeed Adrastes, older brother of the Lady Protector of Fetin.

  “At ease, Kendras.” Adrastes closed the doors behind them. “Wine, food? Do you want anything?”

  “To understand.” Kendras cleared his throat. “I want to understand.”

  “Yes.” Adrastes made an inviting gesture. “Just a moment.” He turned to a servant who’d stood so quietly in a corner that Kendras hadn’t spotted him. “Fresh clothes for myself and Kendras. Prepare a bath, and bring scar oil. Watered wine, and something to eat.”

  The servant stepped forward and bowed. “Shall I take the bags, Your Highness?”

  Gods below. Your Highness, Kendras thought.

  “No. Go.” Adrastes turned to Kendras. “Ask your questions.”

  “You’re her… older brother.”

  “Half-brother. Yes.” Adrastes shrugged. “None of us can choose to whom we are born. My father was the Lord Protector of Fetin. My mother a Jaishani noblewoman. I was conceived during a “sacred marriage.” The Jaishani believed that his powers were waning, so they replenished his life force with a son of their blood.
Of course, he then had to accept me as his own even though he wasn’t married according to Fetinye custom. But he honored his word, even though it wasn’t politically expedient.”

  Kendras couldn’t begin to imagine what those words meant. Merely that Adrastes indeed had a claim on the rulership of Fetin. A city, he reminded himself, on the verge of a political marriage to an enemy and besieged by yet another, possibly worse, enemy.

  “He must have been a strong leader.”

  Adrastes nodded. “He did what needed doing.”

  With every revelation, with every word they spoke, the distance between them increased. He was a nobody. Adrastes was a ruler’s son. Firstborn. A noble. Well, not nobody. He was a Scorpion, but what did that mean when the officer, their leader, would be forced to leave?

  Would he? Who would the man choose to be? The “officer,” the man the Scorpions followed without question to death and beyond, or Adrastes of Fetin? He couldn’t imagine the answer.

  He walked toward an armor standing in the corner. It looked a lot like that of the Flames—the high conical helmet with horse tail—but instead of burnished copper, this armor had been burned dark, almost black, but with a reddish tinge. The plates of the armor underneath were nearly black, too, but finely adorned with beaten silver around the edges. This armor was a masterwork, the best Fetin could do. It also was nothing like any of the Scorpions wore or could afford. Not even the officer.

  “I understand nothing of this,” Kendras said.

  “You wouldn’t. You’re too pure.” Adrastes stepped close to him and placed a hand between Kendras’s shoulders. “You’re pure Scorpion. Maybe the best of them.”

  Kendras shuddered; the desire was instantaneous and gut-wrenching. “You’re the officer. That can’t change. It’s been like that forever. You… can’t.” He swallowed. You can’t leave us. Me.

  “Kendras. Look at me.”

  Kendras turned with difficulty. He didn’t want to give away how he felt. Couldn’t possibly express what he felt.