They laughed, and for a little while, Kendras forgot the lies and fears.
Chapter 21
THE Elder of Vededrin was an old man, white hair falling to his shoulders like the hood of a cobra.
Kendras felt his chest swell with pride when Adrastes strode into the Round Chamber, and he followed with the others. Lockstep, their strides in unison like those of well-drilled soldiers. Kendras noted one of the Flames raising an eyebrow at their display. Black armor, plates, and scales. Adrastes wore a little gold, but other than that, their simple black stood out in the room.
“With your permission, Elder, I’ll join the war council,” Adrastes said, but there was nothing amused about his tone.
The Elder looked up from the planning table, surrounded by a number of priests and two generals. His dark eyes seemed to look far beyond, as he stared through everybody, even Adrastes. They were planning the defense of the city against a force that was probably meant to be Dalman.
“I’m Adrastes of Fetin, firstborn of Besh of the Jaishani, and firstborn of Lord Protector Ashangul, who, in his time, was called the Wise, the Strong, and the Gods-Blessed, depending where he was.” A minuscule smile appeared on Adrastes’s face. “And I’m the Lord Protector of Fetin.”
“Are you?” The Elder glanced at Adrastes’s sister, who nodded.
“He is. Adrastes was thought dead, but he has returned.”
“Interesting.” The Elder glanced between them. “So will you challenge each other for the power in Fetin? I understand that a Lord—or Lady—Protector never retires.”
“And you would forge an alliance with the survivor?” asked Adrastes.
“As far as I’m concerned, this is an internal matter of Fetin. I’m here as a bridegroom, however. But if you, Adrastes, carry off victory, we could find a way to assert Fetin’s standing in the eyes of the gods.”
Whatever that meant. Kendras kept his face expressionless, but he watched both men closely. He didn’t want Adrastes tied to any other man and didn’t believe that Adrastes would be any man’s slave, certainly not that of a Vededrinye with his innumerable bizarre gods.
“You are right in that Fetin cannot afford strife. And we would prefer to call you a friend.” Adrastes clearly arranged the words very carefully before he spoke them. “But there will not be a fight between my sister and me.”
The Elder watched him with cold dark eyes. “What is your proposal?”
“The only way to prevent civil war is for me to marry my sister,” Adrastes said. “Which, unfortunately, leaves you a bride short. We do have many well-bred ladies who would be blessed to take my sister’s place at your side, and she would show our friendship and devotion to peace between Vededrin and Fetin.”
The Elder straightened, and his lips grew tight. “Brother marrying sister is against the will of the gods.” He seemed genuinely outraged. “The custom is barbaric. Our ancestors did away with that blood shame.”
Adrastes nodded. “I understand this goes against what you believe is right and in accordance with your gods. However, after reading the letters exchanged between Fetin and Vededrin, I noticed that there is no written record stating whom you’ll marry. The letters only state that Fetin will ally with Vededrin through marriage. Take your pick among our women.”
The court was silent, breathless. Nobody moved. No general, soldier, Flame, or Scorpion. Kendras could see the Elder thinking, weighing his possibilities, and still, his expression spoke more of disgust than anger. He accepted the logic of the proposal but railed against its immorality. A tightness around Widow’s features betrayed that the spy watched with utmost concentration.
“You know, Adrastes, that not even you will be able to turn the Dalmanye tide by force.”
The choice of words implied the ocean priests too. Kendras read it as the threat it was.
“Maybe not. If you join ranks with them, I won’t.”
“I’m not fighting with those heathens.” The Elder’s lips twitched with disdain. “And I rather suspect they will be enough to finish Fetin. At which point I will be upon them like the sacred raven.”
Adrastes nodded again. “One of the three cities will resurrect the glory of Shara once the other two are subjugated or brought in line. The king of Dalman has made his bid, and it is time to respond to the challenge. I bear you no ill will, Elder. You were ready to help us in our hour of need—which has now passed. I thank you and offer you safe return. You and your people can leave the city unharmed, but you will leave before the sun is down.”
“In return for your generosity, I shall offer you a chance to reconsider once Dalman has beaten you.”
“Thank you.” Adrastes straightened, clearly expecting the Vededrinye to leave. The Elder took his time gathering his wide robes, and his entourage did likewise.
The Elder paused briefly to nod to the Lady Protector, but only in courtesy. There was no warmth there, and Kendras wondered what kind of marriage she had just escaped. Likely nothing else but to be presented as the Elder’s wife, losing her own power out of political necessity.
Once all the Vededrinye had filed out of the room, the courtiers breathed a sigh of relief, and a few clapped their hands.
Adrastes acknowledged it with a smile, but then stepped up to the planning table and took off the units that represented Vededrinye troops. He handed them to a servant to return to the Elder’s generals, then with a few sweeping gestures cleared the area of troops.
Both hands flat on the table, neck bowed, he stared at the map, the river, the city and the fortress inside for what felt like forever, then began to place the units. The Lady Protector stepped to his side and between them, they began to talk about strategy, how to defend, how to attack, and Kendras felt that the courtiers needed this show of unity. Whatever else had gone on or would go on between the two Protectors, it would no longer be public. Now they were just two generals planning the defense of their city.
“Widowmaker, you find out the strength of the king’s army and its composition. My idea is that he will throw everything he has at us, leaving Dalman vulnerable,” Adrastes ordered.
Widow bowed deeply, as always, with a lot more irony than most people could afford. “Immediately.” He sauntered out.
Kendras expected an order, too, but none came, so he stood and waited, watching Adrastes and his sister discuss possibilities. He’d never been nearly as excited about strategy or tactics—if it couldn’t be done with a unit of devoted men, he wasn’t good at it. Adrastes, of course, had been trained to lead armies.
Kendras was at a loss about what else he could do, and as the afternoon turned to night, more and more courtiers were sent away on one errand or other. The Protectors’ main concern was the wall, but others were sent away to report on the amount of grain available in the city and to do everything possible to get more. They clearly expected another siege. That was, if the wall held.
“It’s madness to hold the celebrations when war is coming,” the Lady said tersely.
“I disagree. The city expected a marriage feast. They shall have one to lift their spirits, but this kind of union will mean that nobody will fear that we’ll become the thrall of Vededrin. The people will want to celebrate our freedom while we have it.”
“And then? Will we rule together?”
“No. You can keep the city. I have other plans,” Adrastes said. His sister seemed not to believe him or maybe refused to be so easily lured. Kendras felt his heart lurch inside his chest, but stayed silent, standing in a corner like any other guard.
“Return to the road?”
Adrastes seemed to consider. “I won’t run from my responsibility.” He straightened and surveyed the map. “Hopefully, none of this will be necessary.” He turned toward one of the courtiers. “Make it known tomorrow that whoever places the last stone in the wall will be a rich man or woman.” The courtier glanced quickly at the Lady Protector, who nodded. Only then did the courtier leave.
“We don’t want shoddy work.”
“No. But it can’t do harm to make the masons work harder.” Adrastes breathed deeply. “Dalman’s siege engines are the best in the world, but they will have to build them first. We can delay their work for a fair while. I hope the battle is decided before.”
The Lady Protector lifted an eyebrow. “Get some rest, brother. If you will marry me tomorrow, you better be rested.”
Adrastes laughed. “Indeed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gathered his cape and walked toward Kendras. He touched him on the armored shoulder, and Kendras walked by Adrastes’s side back to the Lord Protector’s quarters.
The thought of the marriage made him uneasy, but he understood it was political necessity. It displayed unity in a time when strife would break the spirit of defiance that the city would need to resist the Dalmanye onslaught.
“It’s maybe wise that you sent Widow away.”
“Oh yes. He’d put a poisoned dagger into my back if he was anywhere close.”
“Do people know about him?”
“Know what?”
“That he’s… with the Lady Protector?”
“Some courtiers know. Such a long relationship is difficult to hide.” Adrastes pushed the doors open and closed them behind Kendras. “The court will know that my sister’s and my own affections are with different people, but to the commoner in the street, we’re just one of many brother-sister pairs that shared power. It wasn’t uncommon in the past. Our ancestors in Shara believed in marrying brothers and sisters to breed truly outstanding individuals. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the offspring was deformed, but those never made it beyond the gates of the citadel.”
Kendras wondered if Adrastes planned to have children with his sister, but he struggled with the idea. He’d never considered that Adrastes felt drawn to women. Many of the Scorpions were, and several had been “released to life,” when they’d settled down with a woman or a craft that wasn’t war. A couple had even come back after a while. But what on earth was Adrastes planning?
“And then?”
“I have a vague idea,” Adrastes said. “Wait and see.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I prefer you not laughing at me if it fails.” Adrastes’s smile was gentle. “Maybe I do want to look like the infallible officer in your eyes, whose plans always work out and whose judgment is always correct.”
Kendras laughed. “Really? And why?”
“Maybe if you believe in me, I can believe in myself.”
Kendras fell silent, too stunned to say anything, not even banter or confirmation of those feelings. He’d never stopped believing in the man, nor could he imagine he would. No matter how this turned out, even if he left the Scorpions to defend his city, or came back like a comrade who found that life outside was not what he’d imagined.
“We are looking for new Scorpions. We need to replace the fallen.”
“Good.” Adrastes smiled at him. “Keep an eye open during the battle. I will also give the prisoners the chance to fight for their city. You’ll recognize a Scorpion who’s waiting to be born. They stand out.”
“You’ll have to take them up that mountain.”
“When the time comes,” Adrastes said, and Kendras felt he was evading that part of the duty.
But it was hard to care when Adrastes took him to bed. He found that he was willing to do whatever Adrastes asked, accept any of his decisions, even if it was painful or went against his own wishes. Obedience, duty—mixed with a tenderness that took away all other considerations. He trusted Adrastes to do the right thing. Whatever that was and whatever it meant.
He still felt strange just a few hours later when, on the stairs of the citadel, surrounded by courtiers and cheered by the people of Fetin, Adrastes knelt before the Lady Protector and slid an iron ring on her finger, and when she then knelt in front of him and placed another iron ring on his finger. Flowers were thrown at their feet as they stood there, clasped hands raised to show the rings, and took the applause of the crowd.
“The marriage of day and night,” said one courtier and made a pious sign.
Kendras could see why. Adrastes in his black armor and dark skin, and the fair-haired Lady Protector in her polished steel armor.
A strange shudder coursed through him at that image. Maybe the hand of fate. In moments like this, he could imagine that Adrastes was more than human, maybe one of those heroes that minstrels sung about. He’d always been that for the Scorpions, but seeing now hundreds—no, thousands—of people’s eyes shine with hope and joy because he promised them protection and leadership, promised to fight side-by-side with the Lady Protector, Kendras couldn’t help but believe all this himself. The man went into his blood like spiced wine, and every time he saw him like this, his own emotions cut deeper, and deeper, until he could feel that bittersweet pain in every bone and fiber of his body.
There was a public feast with song and dance, musicians playing, the market places in the city lit with torches. Adrastes and the Lady Protector mingled with the commoners on the street. Kendras followed, watched them banter and chat with the people, share wine, accept toasts and cheers gracefully while clasping hands. There was no doubt they were close, and Kendras spied the occasional, if not affectionate, then caring, gesture as they offered each other wine or sweet meads. To everybody else, they could have been a couple in love, or at the very least, good comrades.
After several hours, they returned to the citadel for more celebration, now with the courtiers. Morning dawned, and still the sounds of carousing echoed up from the streets when Adrastes and the Lady Protector retired.
Kendras returned to Adrastes’s quarters, worried that the man might not come, feeling strangely alone in that wide, too-soft bed. He fell asleep waiting.
And woke from a touch on his back. He was bared, the blankets pushed down, and immediately a hard cock pushed inside him, thankfully oiled, but it felt almost like an attack. In the morning light, he saw a dark hand with a dull iron ring clasp his, and he opened wider to the harsh thrusts that claimed him with half-pain and half-pleasure.
The hand released him and began to jerk him off, forcing his pleasure with little tenderness, all fiery need. Kendras groaned, knew this was a fight he’d lose. He didn’t want to fight or resist, just wanted to take it all and repay it in kind the moment he had the chance.
“I want to fuck you like this every night,” Adrastes said.
Kendras huffed, half of that the air being driven from his lungs with those thrusts. “I’ll… fuck you… like this every morning, then.”
Adrastes groaned. “We got the order wrong….” Kendras bared his teeth in a grin, almost laughing now, and every thrust stripped the bitterness and worries away. He was truly, madly, fiercely happy to be what Adrastes so clearly needed and desired. Right now, they belonged together. Whatever else happened would happen later. He pushed back, demanding more cock and more pleasure, and came helplessly when Adrastes pushed him down onto his belly, one hand on his throat as if to stifle the groans.
Adrastes followed soon, coming deep inside, seemingly forever, making sounds full of lust and need. And maybe more than that.
Kendras caught his breath and reached behind himself, stroking the sweat-damp flank. Adrastes on top of him relaxed, kissed his neck, the side of his throat, then his breath deepened, and they fell asleep like that.
The next days went as Adrastes has promised him. After the day ended, Adrastes fucked him. Kendras paid him back in the morning, before the day began. During the day, Adrastes belonged to politics, mustering troops, overseeing preparations for the defense of the city—counting pigs, barrels of grain, war horses, men and women in arms, and holding speeches in the city’s war academy. The city was restlessly active now, expecting the worst that Dalman could offer. During the night and early morning, though, Kendras and Adrastes belonged to each other.
Chapter 22
“THEY are taking the temple guard as well. The high priest fancies himself some kind of genera
l,” Widow scoffed. “The temple guards need that. The fucking cowards wouldn’t go to war without some priests telling them what to do.”
“That’s where they get the superior numbers,” Adrastes said and stared at the map. “That’s good news. The more temple guards, the better.”
“They are turning all of this into something of a holy war.” Widow lifted an eyebrow. “Good news?”
“Yes. Very good news. Their superstition will work for us.” Adrastes nodded to the courtiers. “When do you think they’ll arrive in meaningful numbers?”
“Tomorrow. They are coming by ship; a short march inland, then they’ll be right outside the gates, waiting until their equipment has arrived. The vanguard will begin harassing Fetin as soon as they can.”
“Cut off the road and access to the river and deny us any more supplies.” Adrastes nodded. “We’ll decide this quickly.”
“A battle outside the gates?” Widow glanced at the Lady Protector. “I thought you’d wait behind the walls.”
“We don’t have enough supplies to withstand months of siege. No, we’re just waiting here until the king arrives.” Adrastes smiled, his expression that of a cat that saw a mouse coming out of its hole after a long time of hiding. “Well done.” He turned to the Flames. “Close the gates tonight, and then don’t open them for anybody but couriers and our soldiers. Have the guards on the battlements collect as many arrows as they can store.”
“Do it,” the Lady Protector confirmed, and then looked at Adrastes. “I will defend the walls. You lead the counterattack.”
Kendras felt a ripple of worry, but he realized that this had been agreed between them. It wasn’t the Lady Protector getting rid of a co-ruler. And the choice was good. Adrastes was much better suited for attack than defense.
“We should choose a few good men and attack the temple city… burn it to the ground. Kill what priests we can find…,” Widow said. “If they strip the temple of protection, we could attack their faith.”