Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Tell me about the Kher’zenn,” I demand.
“What do you want to know?” Nyrica asks, his fingers tapping out a pleasant rhythm on the wooden table. I think, if he wasn’t a warrior, he’d be a musician. He’s always humming a tune or clapping out a beat.
“Do you find the Kher’zenn … attractive?”
He hums an affirmative as he cuts into a hunk of venison that’s bigger than his head. “Very, though I don’t think that’s the right word. More like … irresistible.”
Interesting.
“Do the Kher’zenn have any … gifts? From the gods?”
“From Kheris. Yes.”
I stare at him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate, just shovels another bite of meat into his mouth. “Nyrica!”
He shoots me a grin but swallows his food before he answers. “They ride a beast straight from the fiery depths of Lako’s hells, they’re fast and strong as hells, and they’re made even stronger by death.”
I lean forward, hands on the table. “And?”
Nyrica’s easy smile twists down. “They ride savage, monstrous creatures that are nothing but sharp teeth and claws—even their godsdamn wings have serrated edges. They are made stronger by every life they take, and they look like something you’d want to fuck while they’re sucking out your soul.
What other powers do you want them to have, Leina? ”
I growl a little in frustration. “But what does that mean ?”
Nyrica drops his knife and fork, and they clatter as they land on his ceramic plate. He also leans forward, his jovial face going unnaturally somber.
“Ryot’s going to be fine,” Nyrica tells me, his voice set in a low whisper.
“You don’t know that,” I argue, deciding to abandon all effort at pretense. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“It’s actually a very good assumption on my part,” he says. “Ryot’s gifted, remember?”
I roll my eyes a little. “We’re all gifted.”
“Arrogant little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks at me as Thalric takes a seat next to him. I pretend not to notice the slight brush of their hands when Thalric takes his seat, and the way Nyrica’s posture shifts toward Thalric, like a flower seeking the sun.
I notice the twitch of a smile that plays at the corner of Thalric’s mouth when Nyrica says something under his breath. I notice the way they don’t quite look at each other, not directly, but how their awareness of each other is… constant.
And I start thinking back, to the way Thalric always ends up seated next to Nyrica, to the way they spar harder than anyone else, but never leave bruises. The way they disappear sometimes, and none of the other cast members ask where they’ve gone.
My eyes flick to Nyrica as he leans in slightly, bumping Thalric’s shoulder with his own. Thalric doesn’t react, but I swear his oh-so-serious face almost grins.
No distractions … But this doesn’t look like a distraction. It looks like a lifeline.
I jerk in confusion and anger and want, and slam my fork down on my plate. The ceramic cracks down the middle.
Nyrica barely looks up from his food. “You either need a good rest or a good fuck, love. You’re getting moody.”
“I vote a good fuck,” says Faelon as he slides his tray of food onto the table to my right. “We could all use a good fuck. It’s been too long.”
“For Serephelle’s sake, man, you can’t say that in front of Leina!” Caius says, plopping down to my left. Kiernan and Leif follow.
Nyrica snorts out a laugh. “What, you think because she’s a woman she doesn’t enjoy sex?”
Caius, the poor man, starts to blush, and I take pity on him as the blush starts to creep up into his hairline. I pat his hand and smile at him. It’s not entirely his fault he was raised to treat women like they’re made of glass. Of boring, tedious, lifeless, sexless glass.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like any of us will ever have sex again, so it’s a moot point,” I placate the group, and dig into my own food.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how much food is readily available here.
I shove back the guilt that always comes at mealtime and tell myself, for the one thousandth time, if I don’t eat, I won’t be strong enough to protect Seb and Leo.
I’m so focused on my food, it takes me a few breaths to realize the table has gone unusually quiet—none of the usual teasing or raucous laughter I’ve come to expect from my cast—and I look up from my venison to find six sets of intense eyes trained on me, their expressions all showing some level of discomfort and bafflement.
“Uhhh … what do you mean by that?” Nyrica is the one to ask, breaking the awkward silence that fell over the table.
“You know…” I slash my fork in the air in an X gesture, probably looking as confused as they do right now.
Nyrica’s brow wrinkles as he squints at me. “No,” he says, mimicking the way I motioned with my fork, but making the mark for a question, instead. “I absolutely do not know what you’re talking about.”
I lean forward over the table—I do not want the rest of the men in the provisionary to overhear this—and the six men seated around me lean in toward the center of the table. “You know,” I make a tiny little X in the air with my fork again. “The no sex rule,” I whisper.
Faelon looks absolutely horrified. Caius and Kiernan both look awkward.
Nyrica looks like he’s about to burst into either tears or laughter—and knowing him, I can guess which.
Thalric and Leif both look confused. It doesn’t take long at all for Nyrica to lose his battle with his self-control, and he snorts out the first hint of laughter.
The sound causes even Thalric to tip his lips into a hint of a smile. He only ever smiles when Nyrica laughs.
“Why is this funny?” I hiss at Nyrica.
“Who told you we’re not allowed to have sex?” Nyrica counters.
“Well.” I think back to what Ryot said when he kissed me in the tent, and I wonder how much of that to share. Probably none. “It’s something I picked up on,” I decide to say. “That Altor aren’t allowed to have sex.”
Nyrica snorts again. “Uh huh.”
Faelon has abandoned any effort at eating, and he looks utterly, completely serious when he turns to me, as if the fate of the world—or the fate of my vagina—is riding on what he says next.
“Of course we’re allowed to have sex. The Crimson Feather is a pleasure house at the outskirts of Edessa that caters to us,” he explains. “We rotate when we’re allowed to go.”
“But—” I start, but then I stop, desperately trying to remember exactly what Ryot said. The specifics are hazy, probably because my brain glitched about the same time Ryot pressed his mouth to mine. “The Crimson Feather is a brothel? I thought it was a gaming hell.”
“No, it’s not a brothel,” Faelon says the last word with some disdain. “It’s a pleasure house. Don’t worry. There are men there, too, if you lean that way.”
My mouth drops open, and even Caius laughs. I cannot imagine the look on my face. This is so … dirty. Thalric is the only one eyeing me with a hint of understanding.
“But—what about ‘no distractions’?”
“We’re allowed to have emotionless sex,” Thalric says, his watchful gaze on me.
“Where birth control is carefully controlled and the relationships are meticulously monitored to ensure no competing loyalties are formed—either through a relationship with a sexual partner, or through the creation of a child. The Crimson Feather is an outlet and a reward—not a distraction.”
“Exactly!” Faelon says with a grin, going back to inhaling his dinner. “The best kind of sex!”
I force out a laugh, but Thalric keeps his eyes on me.
I think maybe he sees too much. Maybe he senses the way my insides have turned to mush, and maybe he hears the way my heart has started to pound.
Maybe he can see the way I can’t quite laugh this off.
I clear my throat. I don’t want to push the issue, but I want to make sure I understand.
“So, it isn’t sex that’s banned,” I confirm.
Faelon snorts. Thalric shakes his head, a quick negative motion.
“It’s the forming of emotional bonds that’s forbidden?” I ask.
“Correct,” Thalric says, and his eyes are full of understanding.
Faelon snorts derisively. “Who wants those anyway?”
I set my fork back on the table and reach instead for the tankard of mead.
I trace a bead of moisture lining the outside of the tankard with my finger.
Nyrica clears his throat, and I whip my gaze up to his.
All of the men are watching me. When I look back at my mug, I realize I’ve made little lines in the condensation all around the mug, twisting it around and around.
“So,” Nyrica starts, offering a subject change. “Leina was asking about the Kher’zenn when you guys sat down.”
Faelon’s eyes light up, and he’s about to open his mouth, but Thalric cuts him off with a stern look.
“Ryot doesn’t want her thinking about that yet,” Thalric says, holding up a hand to stop Faelon. “He wants her focused on Elandors Veil. One step at a time.”
Faelon nods, knowingly. “Yes, one step at a time,” he jokes.
“Exactly how you’ll need to climb to the Veil.
” His jokes are awful, and we all roll our eyes.
Caius throws a buttered roll at him, but he catches it handily.
With that, he starts in on how he almost died when he climbed Elandors Veil, about the voices that nearly walked him right off the cliff.
I look back at Nyrica and mouth thank you .
His smile widens, but otherwise he doesn’t acknowledge me.
I’ve already heard Faelon’s gruesome story—twice—so instead of listening I take the time to look around the provisionary.
The hall can hold something like 400 men, but I’ve never seen it that full.
We aren’t scheduled to eat in shifts, exactly, but it happens that way anyway, correlating closely with guard duty and patrol duty.
And some of the men, about 60 at any given time, are stationed on the islands scattered across the Ebonmere Sea and down the coast, acting as a first line of warning for a Kher’zenn attack.