79. Rorax
Rorax crashed to the ground so hard her teeth clicked together painfully.
She rolled to her side, scrambling over the rain-soaked cobblestones of the courtyard to stand up, but it was useless. Cannon almost casually stuck his sword in her face, the tip inches from her nose.
Rorax looked up the blade to see the fucker grinning down at her.
She scrunched her nose, frowning as his grin stretched even wider. He sheathed his sword to free his hands.
Why don’t you make yourself at home down there, Ror? the jackass signed. You’re shitty enough at this that I’ve knocked you on your ass four times already.
Rorax grudgingly smirked. Gods, he was arrogant. She picked herself up and wiped the water and rain from her face with her fingers.
The last two weeks had been relatively quiet. There had been no new attempts on Rorax’s life, and the next trial wasn’t until next week. Even the summonings had decreased in their frequency.Kiniera had launched a quiet investigation into who had poisoned her before the trial in the Cracked Sea, but the trail had gone cold, and there were no clues. Rorax could barely remember anything from that night and learned that Kaiya and the prince had blacked out drunk.
It’d left her a lot of time to read through the stacks Radashan found for her, though most of them had been fruitless.
The only thing noteworthy to happen was the Lowborn Contestars’ magick had finally manifested. Well, most of the Lowborns.
The first evening in the Northern Castle, after all the Contestars and the Emissaries finally made it back from the Cracked Sea, Rorax pushed her way into the Contestars” Courtyard for training to find the Contestars gathered. There was an excited buzz in the air, an energy Rorax didn’t understand.
Rorax had scraped her hair into a ponytail and cracked her neck before really taking in the scene. Then she reeled back and blinked and blinked again.
Enna stood in the middle of the courtyard in front of Captain Lamonte, grinning up at the man as a flame danced around her palm. Magick. The Lowborns finally had enough pieces of the Guardian magick after Lily’s death to start manifesting abilities.
She’d closed her eyes and searched within her that night after Lily’s death. But there was nothing. Nothing new, nothing alive. Nothing that begged to be released.No magick.
She opened her eyes again to see Briar, the small blonde Contestar, floating an inch above the ground. Briar focused down at her feet, and her hair waved in the wind she’d manipulated to help her levitate.
Someone had come to stand next to Rorax. Cannon.
Can you feel any magick yet? he signed to her.
Rorax shook her head, her eyes wide. No, I don’t think so.
A little furrow appeared between Cannon’s eyebrows. It may have something to do with your knife. Maybe it’s running interference.
Rorax swallowed and nodded.
It had been over a week since then, and every day was getting a little harder for Rorax. Ayres still hadn’t returned from his trip to Surmalinn, and the entirety of the Contestar’s training sessions focused on helping the Lowborns with their newfound abilities. Rorax, the only Contestar who still had no trace of Elemental Magick, was excluded, left on the outside of their training. Instead, she worked on the side running drills and training at hand-to-hand combat with Cannon. He seemed to be pushing her even harder after the Lowborns’ manifestations.
Today, it was raining, and most of the Contestars had long since quit their training for the evening and gone inside. But she and Cannon stayed. He’d wanted to show her a training move that could only be performed in the rain, using the water to allow a fighter to slide more easily across surfaces and misdirect opponents.
Water dripped down Cannon’s nose as Rorax squared up to him.
He slid his feet, kicking up water and making it look like he planned to move to her right, before striking her left.
Gods, he was fast.
She lifted the guard of her sword just in time to deflect the blow, the edge of his knife centimeters away from her arm.
They did the sequence four more times, and she only missed once, earning a little scratch on her forearm.
Rorax couldn”t help the triumphant grin that broke out on her face.
Cannon grinned back at her and gave her a small little bow. Very good. Tomorrow we will throw that move into a sequence.
Rorax squared up. Show me.
Cannon shook his head, sheathing his sword and patting his stomach before raising his hands to tell her: You’re a madwoman. I’m starving. It’s past eight.
She grinned and signed,Chicken. But thank you. If they asked me to choose the most talented swordsman on the planet, I’d pick you. I’m lucky to be your Contestar.
Cannon grinned and clapped her on the back. Thank you. Asskiss.
Rorax laughed, and Cannon did, too.
Hurry up, and don’t train in the dark. It’s the best way to get cut.
Rorax nodded her head and watched him walk away. She completed her sequences again. Then again, and again.
She’d been honest about what she’d said to Cannon. He was the most vicious fighter she’d ever seen. What he had lost with his sense of hearing he made up for in other abilities.
Without her knife, it would take a miracle from Ukuros himself for Rorax to best Cannon one on one. She looked up to him almost the same way that she had looked up to the Wolf, but he was different. The Wolf had isolated her, played mind games with her, and made it so Rorax knew nothing else besides the Wolf. She was dependent on the Wolf because for years there had been no one else.
Even surrounded by people and trainers, it was her choice to respect and look up to Cannon. He was a good man.
Footsteps on the stones behind her made her twirl around, her sword raised.
Squinting through the rain she could just make out Niels, the House of Alloy Emissary. He was dressed in Alloy green; the silver Morningstar of House Alloy was embroidered into the front of his tunic and the sight made her eyes want to burn. His hair was slicked back like it usually was, and it made his pale face seem even more pinched and harrowed than usual.
Rorax slowly lowered her sword when he stopped a few feet away from her. He pulled his hood back and rain dripped down his face, droplets running around his tight smile.
“Hello Rorax,” he cooed; his oily voice sending alarm bells ringing in her head.
“Niels.” Rorax greeted him with a tight nod, suppressing a shiver that wanted to crawl down her back.
“I was hoping to catch you alone, to chat.” He took a step closer to her, stepping further into her space.
“What do you want?” Rorax asked bluntly and raised her chin at him. She hadn’t seen him fight before, and it was obscenely cocky, but something in her blood told her that she could take him and still be on time for the orange sweet rolls that were sometimes served with dinner to still be warm.
“I heard that the House of Weather has decided to become Enna Mistvalley’s second house.”
“I heard.” Cannon had told her earlier in the day that Lily’s Protectorate had moved to support Enna. It was her third Protectorate.
Niels said, creeping a step closer. “Tell me, Rorax. Why is that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would some of the strongest houses in the Realms throw their lot behind a Lowborn? A Lowborn from the House of Fauna? Why would they pick her over you?”
Rorax narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“A pity. Do you know how Claira died?” Niels asked. He cocked his head, his eyes slithering over her body, hovering over her breasts before sliding down lower and taking a step forward.
That had her attention. Claira was the Contestar who’d been murdered in her bed on the night of the Selection. Lamonte and his men had never found out anything about her murder. Immediately her blood started to sing, thrumming in her veins, and demanding that she reach out and force him to tell her what he knew about Claira’s death. But she remained still as he stepped closer to her.
Niels’s hands reached out through the rain and rested on her hips.
Rorax’s jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached as he drew close enough, she could feel his heat down the front of her body.
“How did she die?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice even. This man was delusional. He had to be if he thought he was keeping his hands.
Don’t stab him, Ror. Don’t stab him. He isn’t worth it. Not yet.
“Her sponsor, Wolfmoon, is a bit of a sadist. Apparently, there was just too much pain coming from too many sources, and she couldn’t handle it,” he sighed, his fingers sliding up her sides before lazily coming to a stop right under her breasts.
“I wanted to give you a warning. The Alloy King is unhappy that so many Highborns have died, and yet none of the Lowborns seem to be going anywhere. The King gave me permission to recruit Dori if I felt it was necessary, to help . . . put down the Lowborns if I need to. So you need to stop protecting them; I wouldn’t want you involved with—”
With a short kick, Rorax swept his feet out from underneath him. He landed on his back and wheezed; the air knocked from his lungs.
She stepped on his throat. “How, exactly, did you think this conversation was going to end, Emissary?”
The surprise in his bulging eyes told her he’d thought this would end much differently indeed. She snorted. “If you even breathe in my direction again, I will pluck out your eyeballs to use as olives, before I peel the skin off your floppy cock to feed to the crows.”
His eyes bulged even more, and she gave him a cold, wicked smile. She increased the pressure of her boot on his windpipe. “Of all the rumors spreading around about me, Emissary, it seems you chose the wrong ones to believe. I’m not a whore, but I would be happy to spill your blood to paint the stones here crimson. It’s my favorite color.”
Niels whimpered underneath her, trying to shove her away from his neck. She didn’t budge.
“I’m glad to know who was behind Claira’s death. I will get that information to those who need to know. But remember this, Niels. Besides the other Contestars, there are no laws in the Choosing that say I can’t kill whoever the fuck I want, when I want. I would happily start my reign of terror with you and Wolfmoon.”
“You wouldn’t dare. The King of House Alloy would kill you,” Niels choked out from under her boot.
She lowered her face closer to his, and her cold smile grew even bigger. “I have faced your king and I was left unimpressed and unafraid. Your king is nothing to me, and you are less.”
“Hey!” a clear, masculine voice boomed.
Her head jerked up, and Cannon was there, looking furious. She blinked at Cannon, shocked at hearing his voice for the first time, before an evil grin spread across her face at the words he was signing to her.
Tell him if he lays another finger on you, I will pull the life from him, his wife, and his parents, and store them in a dusty jar for the rest of my life.
Niels was still struggling underneath her boot, growing more and more purple until she released the pressure on his neck, just enough for him to suck in a desperate breath.
His frantic eyes looked up at Cannon. “Do . . . do you . . . you know what he just said?” He wheezed.
Rorax chuckled. “He just said he will suck the life from your bones, the bones of your wife, and the bones of your family, to store in a tiny jar for the rest of his life.” She released his neck and squatted down to his level, speaking low. “When he’s done, I’ll make sure to prop your bodies up where you can watch them rot from your useless little jars.”
When Niels let out a low whimper, she sneered at him before she straightened and stepped away.
Rorax didn’t give another glance to Niels, who had started violently coughing, before she nodded her thanks to Cannon. They stomped back to the keep together all while she desperately tried to convince herself not to turn around and cleave her sword through Niels’s skull.
Niels was a blubbering idiot, but she would need to wait until after the Choosing to kill him.
Despite his wretchedness, Rorax wanted Niels to remain as the House of Alloy Emissary. If nothing else, he was predictable and dull-witted. Malleable, even.
Whomever the Alloy King sent to replace him could be a new and potentially lethal piece in the game, and if she killed Niels prematurely the Alloy King could send someone to try and keep her in check. That was the last thing she needed.
The guards opened the door for them when they approached, and Rorax took her long braid and squeezed the water from it, dripping all over the carpet.
Cannon motioned that he was going to the Mess Hall. She needed to change into dry clothes before she was ready to eat, so she signed that she would meet him there.
Rorax walked up a flight of stairs alone, her boots squeaking loudly against the stone steps. She was halfway down her hallway when she noticed a hulking figure in her way, standing like a roadblock.
Ayres stood in front of one of the windows looking out into the courtyard. Relief filled her that he was finally back from Surmalinn.
Rorax opened her mouth to greet him and say something smartass about him being late before she noticed the tense lines of his shoulders, his neck flushed red under his tattoos, and the tight fists curled up at his sides. His fists were so tight the dark lines of the skull tattooed there stood out from his flesh like ink on paper.
Rorax’s stomach clenched, and she immediately took stock of the hallway. It was deserted and quiet. They were completely alone. That only made her anxiety heighten. If there was a threat, she wasn’t locking onto it.
“Ayres, what’s wrong?” she asked in a low voice.
Ayres’s fury, his pure and savage outrage, was so palpable she could almost taste it. His head bowed fractionally lower, and a vein popped out in his neck. His body coiled even tighter at her words, but he still said nothing.
Rorax made sure her boots were quiet now against the stone floor as she prowled down the hall. She didn’t stop until she was close enough that she could touch him, to tackle him out of the way of an attack if she needed to.
“Ayres, what’s going on?” she demanded, her voice still low as she looked out the window to where he was staring. It was barely light enough out to see through the rain, and she couldn’t make out any unfamiliar shapes in the courtyard below. There was nothing there.
She felt her hackles raise. Gods above she wished she had her knife.
Her hand darted out and she wrapped her fingers around Ayres’s tattooed wrist. She could feel every one of his tendons straining under the pads of her fingertips.
“Ayres, tell me what’s going on,” Rorax demanded again, giving his wrist a soft tug.
The touch finally broke him out of whatever thoughts had him trapped in his head. He blinked down at her fingers, like he was surprised she was touching him before he heaved in a few labored breaths.
“What was he doing out there?” Ayres ground out; his jaw tight.
“Who?”
He finally raised his angry eyes to hers. They were bright red. She hadn’t seen the red this close before, and her stomach flipped with both excitement and fear.
“Niels, Rorax. What . . . the . . . fuck happened out there?” Ayres growled, jabbing a finger to the window with the hand she wasn’t holding.
She blinked, looked out to where he was pointing at the abandoned courtyard, and understanding dawned. The tension in her body released, a big breath of air whooshed out of her before her skin started to crawl at the memory of Niels’s hands sliding up her sides.
Shit. Rorax looked back up into Ayres’s face and raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
Ayres barked out a sharp angry laugh, his eyes still flashing red. “You’re a shit liar, Greywood.”
He took an angry step closer to her, and she let his arm drop to take a step back.
“Why the fuck did Niels have his hands all over you?”
A shiver of disgust ran down Rorax’s spine, and his eyes narrowed. She avoided his question to look him up and down, taking him in. He was as muddy and wet as she was. He must have just arrived from Surmalinn, so he likely had not seen everything. But surely, he didn’t think that she had wanted those advances? And from Niels? The thought made her sick.
“Niels threatened me, and then was brave enough to lay his hands on me before I made it very clear that if he did it again, he would lose those hands right before he lost his life.” Rorax took another step back and leaned against the wall. She kept her voice carefully blank.
“He also wanted to fill me in on the unfortunate demise of Claira that night of the first influx. Allegedly, Dori Wolfmoon murdered her, the House of Water Emissary. Her own emissary. Claira apparently didn’t get as lucky with her Protectorate as I did.”
Rorax gave a sardonic snort, but his eyes darkened a shade, turning a deeper red and suddenly it wasn’t funny at all anymore. She swallowed hard as her heart started thumping in her chest. “What are you going to do?”
“Did he touch you without your permission?” he asked, his voice so low and lethal the little hairs on the back of her arms rose.
Ayres bent fractionally closer to her face, so close she could see the dark eyelashes framing his still red eyes. She could see a faint scar just above his left eyebrow and a faint freckle over his lip. K??n save her, he was handsome.
She managed to suck in a deep breath, smelling the hints of balsam pines that always surrounded him. “Rorax. Did he touch you without your permission?”
“Yes,” she breathed, staring up into his face. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, dancing to an uneven rhythm she didn”t recognize.
“And he threatened you?” Ayres asked, again coming fractionally closer to her face, igniting sparks of fire in her blood that made her hands ache to touch him.
“Yes,” she said simply, and watched with hooded lids as his eyes darkened into a deeper red, almost the color of blood. It ignited her fear in the most delicious way possible, forcing her lust and her fear to coil in the bottom of her stomach. It made her feel alive, and she needed to touch him, needed to feel him all over her. “Ayres . . .”
“I’m going to kill him.” His growl was the same blunt angry one he used on her from time to time. The one that usually made her hackles rise, but this new protectiveness was like a shot of delicious heat between her legs. It was addictive.
Right before she reached out to pull him into her, he stepped back.
She blinked and before she could come to her senses he was already halfway down the hallway.
“Ayres!” Rorax yelled, “Ayres, stop!”
She ran after him, and when he finally stopped to look down at her, his eyes were a lighter red than before, thank the gods. “Ayres, don’t.”
He opened his mouth, probably to tell her that he was going to eat the emissary as lunch meat every day next week, but she raised her hands to cut him off. “Ayres, I can handle Niels. I would rather have Niels here than anyone else the Alloy King has in his arsenal.”
“Ror . . .” He didn’t look convinced, so it was time for a new tactic.
“Besides, you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself beating him into oblivion, Lieutenant.” She took a gamble. stepped back into him, running her palms slowly up his abdominals over the light leather armor he wore, and gave him a flirty little head tilt.
“Ror . . .” He squinted his eyes down at her, looking from one of her eyes to the other, his jaw clenching. “What do you mean, hurt myself?”
“Tell me, Lieutenant, do you think women would still fawn over you if they knew you’d hurt any part of the legendary trifecta?”
Ayres’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and the corner of his perfect mouth tipped down. “The legendary trifecta?”
“Your mouth, your fingers, or your . . .” She shrugged downwards, and he watched, his eyebrows pulling together, as she vaguely gestured down below his belt.
She sagged in relief when his eyes changed back to charcoal, and he threw his head back and laughed.
Gods, that laugh. She felt those happy vibrations all the way to her toes as she studied the movement in his thick, muscled, tattooed throat.
Arousal hit her again like a brick, and gods she wanted to lick that throat. He dropped his head back to her, a smug, panty-dropping smirk pulling up at the corner of his mouth.
Ayres reached out and cupped the nape of her neck, sliding his fingers into her hair. He lowered his head down to hers so he could whisper in her ear.
“Ror, you only break things if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He traced his nose down the curve of her ear, gently brushing over the fine hairs of her earlobe. She couldn’t stop the shiver of pleasure that rolled down her back. “And to answer your question, women would still flock to me. Maybe even more so once they find out the only thing they’ll be able to have from me are my cock, tongue, and teeth.”
Ayres nipped her earlobe to emphasize his point and she had to bite down her whimper, her knees just about giving out as all the heat in her body settled between her legs. She grabbed onto his biceps for support.
A part of Rorax hated it, hated him for forcing her body to have such a response to him. Her panties were wet, and her breasts felt heavy and full as they brushed his chest every time she took in a breath. She felt out of control, and if she was honest with herself, it scared her a little.
Ayres pulled his head back to investigate her face, and obviously pleased at what he saw there, he brought her face so close to his she could taste his minty, warm breath across her lips.
He was going to kiss her again, thank gods.
There was a cough behind them, and they both turned their heads to see Cannon smirking. His arms were folded across his chest, his eyebrows raised.
She stayed frozen to the spot, as Cannon signed to Ayres. Sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk. The Alloy Court stepped out of line today.
“I saw,” Ayres growled. Rorax tried to take a step back, but his grip became imperceptibly tighter in her hair. The sharp new pain in her scalp spiraled a new shot of lust to her core, and a tiny whimper slipped past her lips. If he didn’t stop right now, she was going to jump him in the hallway, in front of Cannon.
Rorax gently tugged herself out of Ayres’s grip, and he reluctantly let her go.
She had to support herself on the wall for a beat so her knees wouldn’t buckle, then she turned to Ayres and Cannon. Ayres watched her with smug satisfaction, and Cannon struggled to suppress a laugh.
Rorax flushed and stood up straight, jabbing a finger at Ayres. “Don’t kill Niels. I’m serious, Lieutenant. I don’t want a new emissary when this one is such a fucking blockhead.”
She moved her finger to point at Cannon before signing to him, We humiliated Niels today, however. We should be prepared for retaliation of some kind. Let Milla know.
They both grunted their agreement as she turned on her heel and started to walk away.
“Rorax. Wait.”
Ayres reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back around to face him.
“I saw this in one of the stalls in Surmalinn . . .” Ayres used his other hand to reach back to his back pocket, bringing forth a long, white silk ribbon that lay draped across his palm. House of Death’s colors, black and red, danced across the white surface in a delicate paisley pattern. “It . . . reminded me of you.”
Ayres’s cheeks blushed as she reached out and lifted the ribbon from his palm with gentle fingers. “Thank you, Ayres.”
Gods above, he had thought about her, even bought her something pretty. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she went warm all over.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low.