Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
MY brOTHER’S BETRAYER
S tiffening, I turn. I know that voice. A tall, brown-skinned male dressed in plain midnight blue leathers, with wild dark hair and gold eyes stalks towards us. Lord Baroun of Montague, second only to the princeling, Embriel.
Yeah, I figured.
Ah. Darkan rouses from his bog of boredom. Now we begin.
He flicks his gaze at Tybien. “Go.”
Tybien stumbles out and I expect Baroun to resume the fight, but he just stands there.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He looks over my shoulder; because I hear soft footsteps I shift to keep him and?—
High Lord Embriel.
My brother's best friend. My father's University colleague.
I see. Darkan is no longer bored. I tire of this child's mischief making .
Embriel's presence is a blow. “Traitor,” I say in a low, strangled voice.
The only son of the Prince of Everenne stops an arm’s length from me.
His frosted blue eyes are calm, his hair a spill of white gold paler than Danon and Maman's down his back.
He's an angel come to life, the most beautiful male in Everenne, though Maman once told me he's a shadow of his father.
He's dressed for University in a fitted dark blue suit with a frothy white shirt, but no faculty robes, and is weaponless as far as I can see.
“I'm sorry, Aerinne,” Embriel says. “I needed you present.”
This is the first time he's talked to me. Danon refused to introduce us. “Stay in your corner of your world, little thorn. You want no attention from these males. Once you have it, your life will change in ways neither of us will like.”
Because dark worry shadowed Danon’s usually stern but mischievous gaze, I'd listened. Well, mischievous with me. Anyone else and my older brother is an unsheathed sword. A broken sword these days, broken and re tempered.
Like me.
“But we will not hurt you,” Embriel adds.
He would never dare. Aerinne, when I command, leave.
I stare. I'm not dumb, and I think quick. “It isn't me you want.”
“Not at this time. In any case, you are protected.” Embriel's smile is sad. “Montague wouldn't cross—” He looks like he wants to say more but Baroun shifts, his eyes narrow when I glance at him.
Embriel sighs. “It will not be long now.” His tone and expression alter. “Aerinne?— ”
“No,” Baroun says. Their gazes clash. “Nothing you say will change it. He won’t be persuaded, only angered.”
Embriel's eyes flash, his lips thinning. “I am capable of dealing with his anger.”
Darkan scoffs. This is what happens when one allows children an overabundance of agency. They should be kept on a short leash the first thousand years until they learn to stop pissing on the territory of creatures more powerful than they.
Baroun's tone is brutal. “But she's not. She can't handle her own.”
Embriel begins to speak again, then stops. “Ah. He's here.” The princeling glances at me. “You will be fine, Rinne. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
Is he an idiot? “No one can make that promise. Not even your bastard of a father.”
Embriel is the son of the Prince. The Prince killed my mother.
Everything in me goes still.
Baroun grimaces. “This will go so poorly on so many levels.”
“My father will not listen to me. Not in this. He is barely content to wait as long as he agreed.”
A son for a mother. I was focused on Baroun. He's the combatant, the noisy one.
Aerinne. Darkan's voice is soft. Do not go there. I can barely hold him back now , and if you do what you are thinking, the results will be. . .unfortunate.
I'll have to wait. This isn't the right time.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you both,” my brother says, voice sharp enough to slice. “You've gone too far.”
I turn; I hadn't heard him enter. He's in Faronne cobalt fighting leathers, the gold trident and kraken of the ruling House of Avallonne on the chest, his sword and blades strapped on. He pulled his bright hair back in a tail. His eyes glitter with anger and venom.
Yeah. . .we're just all buddies here alright.
“Lady Aerinne, retreat,” he says without looking at me.
When I instinctively stiffen, lips pulling back, I force myself to remember he’s my brother, my Lord, and I love him.
Maman’d understood. She taught me how to listen to the males.
. .when they deserved it. But she’d understood when I couldn’t even then.
Embriel sighs and glances at me, almost regretful. “Remain, Aerinne. Your presence is required.”
The trap, Darkan says, was not for you.
Sir Obvious.
But why? They're friends.
I glance between Danon and Embriel. “You aren't my Lord.”
His expression goes cold. “I am your Prince.”
An overabundance, Darkan repeats.
Danon swears at him. “Aerinne, get out.”
Embriel lifts a hand. The rafters explode.
Warriors drop from above like deadly rain—white and black fighting leathers, flashing blades, the Montague sigil blazing silver on their shoulders. Forty. Maybe more. They pour through side doors, streaming from shadows that seemed empty seconds before.
“Ambush protocol,” Danon snarls. “Protect my Heir.”
“Juliette, GO!” I scream, voice cracking as steel rings against steel. Numair runs forward, tall and lithe and not yet a full grown warrior but already deadly. His expression is set and savage as he fights beside me.
I fight to Danon's side.
Danon's blade sings, cutting down the first warrior to reach him. His movements are liquid violence, beautiful and terrible. But there are too many.
“Numair, take her!” Danon roars over the clash of weapons.
A Montague blade whistles past my ear. Another grazes my shoulder, hot pain blooming. The warehouse fills with grunts, curses, the wet sound of steel finding flesh. Baroun is fighting in the circle closing in on my spinning, slashing brother. Embriel observes—me.
“Remember your orders,” he says. “Do not spill her blood.”
Numair grabs my arm. “Rinne, we have to go.”
“No!” I wrench away, diving into the melee. Bodies press around me. Someone's blood spatters my face—warm, salty.
A warrior blocks my path to Danon. I feint left, strike right, using a touch of Skill—Baroun isn't watching me like Embriel is. The warrior drops, clutching his throat; I almost taste the hot liquid in my mouth, my nostrils flaring as I stare at the fallen, tender-fleshed male a split second.
Behind you, Darkan warns.
I spin. Blades meet in a shower of sparks, the force ringing through my arm; he's strong, much stronger than me. I disengage—I'll never win a contest of strength. My opponent's eyes are cold, professional. He's not trying to kill me—just contain me.
They're herding us toward Danon.
“Danon!” I call out, but he's surrounded. Seven warriors press him back, including Baroun. He's good—better than good—but the odds are bad.
Embriel sighs and gestures. An invisible net drapes over me, a gentle, inescapable blanket of power. Invisible hands seize my arms. A feminine scream of rage echoes mine and I start thrashing.
“Juliette!”
Numair roars, and he's trapped too. We're on our knees, contained, and the warriors who'd been distracting us rush to help deal with Danon.
Danon snarls, going under the swarm.
“Danon!” I scream. “Danon! Don't hurt him. I'll kill you all, I'll burn Montague down!”
I'm struggling against the binding, heat filling my veins, my vision going black. I won't let it hold me. It's not strong enough to hold me?—
No. Not yet. It will burn you to a husk if you access it now.
A cooling mist of gray separates me from the abyss I was a moment from calling on.
Danon is down. They drag me toward him. His teeth are bared, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. My sword clatters across the concrete. The warehouse spins—rafters, shadows, Embriel's pale face watching as they force me to my knees beside my brother.
Around us, the remaining Montague warriors form a circle, weapons drawn.
Cold steel kisses my throat.
“Your orders, Lord,” Baroun says behind me. It's his blade at my throat .
“I will kill you for this,” Danon says, and suddenly the bestial rage is gone. He's ice.
“ Shouldn’t la akra,”? 1 Baroun says. “Anfe rala anfe'lesh duty. ”? 2
“Let her go.”
The blade presses deeper. A bead of blood rolls down my neck.
Darkan snarls. Afa keth'malar lifyu damm, imra qatra! ? 3
“Enough, Baroun,” Embriel says. “Danon. Surrender la ni sa ni thalar ni children .”? 4
I understand a handful of the words, enough to get the gist.
“No!” I start struggling again, through the gray mist dampening me. Through the net of power suppressing me.
“Control her,” Baroun says, voice sharp.
“Rinne, take Numair and Juliette and go,” my brother says.
“I'm not leaving you! I'm not bait.” I turn my bare teeth, my wild anger, on Embriel. “I’ll rip out your throat with my teeth and bathe in your blood. Thal'anfa! Thal'anfa!? 5 ”
The princeling smiles at me, and it’s. . . affectionate. “I know you will try, Anfasse'misha.”? 6 His smile fades and he looks at my brother again. “Well?”
“Our mother is dead,” Danon grates, still on his knees, hands locked behind his head. “I'm not leaving my sister alone.”
“Anfa'lesh oath not la anfa'lesh sister . La akra sovva, sa imra malar'qeth. Imra talesh ni la eld'nash afa sa ni children .”? 7
The males stare at each other and I see it in their eyes, though Baroun is at my back. They will hurt me. They'll hurt Numair and Juliette too, to get Danon to do whatever it is they want him to do. I understand about one word in every four or five, but it's enough.
Princeling Embriel, Darkan says, voice icy, requires a reminder that you are not to be touched even to save his own life. He understands well the consequences.
“Don't do it, Dan,” I say. “Whatever it is, don't do it.”
He closes his eyes. “These are not males who bluff, little thorn. The only one strong enough to stop them sleeps.”
Not, Darkan says, frigid, for long.
His shoulders relax a little and he lowers his head enough to signal submission.
“Nothing will happen to her,” Baroun says with curt impatience. “She's a double bloodline. “Ni sovva keep afa occupied , sa afa sovva vash'kemad baad afa nira vash'kem afa'lesh.”? 8
I don't recognize the words vash'kemad and vash'kem. But whatever he said, it's enough for Danon.
“Lady Aerinne,” Danon says. “This is a command from your Lord. Take your knights and return to Faronne House. Do not return to look for me.”
A guttural noise tears out of my chest. “No. No.”
He takes a deep breath, eyes still closed. “Everything will be fine, little thorn. You will be fine.” His voice turns cold, a cold he’s never used with me. He opens his eyes again and they are steel. “Obey, or I will see you stripped from the House. I have no use for a disobedient Heir.”
I flinch.
“Obey your Lord, Aerinne,” Embriel says in that kind male voice that makes my gums ache and saliva fill my mouth. “We will be forced to kill them, and hurt you else.”
I stare at Danon, conflicted by two instincts.
I want to obey the Lord of my House and please my brother, and save Numair and Juliette—I don't for a minute think Embriel and Baroun won't carry out their threat because whatever they want from Danon, it's important enough to use threats to get him under their control—but I also don't want to lose my brother.
I don't like him on his knees, and if I go to that dark place, if I set the keening fury in me free, I can save him.
Not without killing everyone else, Darkan says softly. You don't have the control yet. Go, Aerinne. You are not a sister in this, you are the Heir of Faronne, and the last Kuthliele. Your duty is to obey your Lord and protect yourself and your people.
I break. Duty, obedience, they hammer those into us. Responsibility. They hammer that into me. I know they're manipulating me as they train me. They're creating me into what they want me to be.
But. . .it's the same for every warrior standing silently in this warehouse, awaiting orders.
I nod. A moment later, the net constraining me drops and Baroun steps back, removing his blade. Numair is at my side in a second, grabbing my upper arms and dragging me to my feet and back. He's stronger, and he knows I hover on the hair edge of disobeying Danon.
“They have Juliette,” Numair growls in my ear. “She's a strong warrior and unmated. What if one of the Montague decides to keep her?”
It's happened before. Taking mates on the field of a battle is a time honored tradition. Those are the best options, after all. They survived, proving their strength. And there's the added bonus of rubbing their capture in your enemy's face.
I let him drag me away, my gaze never leaving Danon's. I let them take me away from my brother, leave him in that cold warehouse on his knees in front of traitors. Numair and I take Juliette home, and it doesn't occur to me until later how neatly he manipulated me. I'll forgive him. This time.
Danon doesn't come home.
I stand numb and silent, dressed in cobalt Court robes and one of Maman's thin gold circlets holding my hair, at Baba's side when the House swears fealty to him as Regent.
My father allows Numair and Juliette to swear service to the House though they're too young; so am I.
Everyone looks at me. Baba is Muriel's husband but I?—
I am Aerinne Kuthliele. In my brother's absence, I am the pumping heart and flowing blood of the House .
“Ni sovva tala'nir la Montague, la Renaud la Embriel Gauthier,” I tell my people in a cold, raspy voice, “eld'vasha thalar.”? 9
1 ? Words in italics are Ninephene, but Aerinne understands and mentally translates to Everennesse.
2 ? “It shouldn't have come to this. You know your duty.”
3 ? He dares spill blood, even a drop!
4 ? “Surrender or we kill the children.”
5 ? “I’ll kill you,” but a guttural, colloquial phrase.
It can also be said when joking with friends, which is probably how she picked it up, listening to her brother.
But the inflection in her voice makes it clear she ain't joking right now. We assume she's using the word to emphasize the threat/and like it’s profanity, because everyone else is speaking Ninephene and Aerinne really doesn’t like to be left out.
6 ? “Younger Sister.” Familial, not formal. At Court he would say Malisse’mishvan.
7 ? “Your oath is not to your sister. Perhaps one day it will be, but not now. Do not force me to hurt her or the other children.”
8 ? “We’ll keep her occupied, and she'll be protected until she can protect herself.”
9 ? “We will bring to Montague, Renaud and Embriel Gauthier, true war.”