14. Clash of Stone and Steel
Clash of Stone and Steel
Samhail
Samhail swirled the amber contents of his glass before taking a sip. One of the downsides to being his size was that it took a lot of alcohol to get him drunk, so even four drinks in, he was barely feeling the effects.
He sat alone at the bar of the tavern. Men tended to drift away from him when he was in a room, and none of the women in the place had yet gotten the courage to approach him, although a busty blonde had been watching him since he came in.
He’d considered making eye contact with her to let her know he was open to finding a companion for the night, but he’d talked himself out of it twice now.
His cock might be in the mood, but he wasn’t.
His broken nose and the bruise on his foot were healed already. A city the size of Solandis had a dozen or so healers living there, but only four – three now since Aramis’s death – were perimortal.
Cyra was technically a healer as well, but she didn’t work regularly as one, and there was no way in the three hells he would’ve gone to her to mend these particular injuries anyway. He would’ve had to explain how he’d been injured, and doing so was out of the question.
He deserved the broken nose and bruised foot. First, he’d been arrogant enough to let the assassin goad him into getting in the cell with her, then he’d been stupid enough to underestimate her fighting ability. Gargoyle bones didn’t break easily, yet she’d managed to crack his nose.
Even worse, he’d nearly let her escape. A few more seconds, and she’d have made it out of that cell and locked him in without his powers.
He shuddered to think what Bressen would’ve done if the assassin had gotten out. Bressen was his oldest friend, but he didn’t delude himself into thinking there wouldn’t be consequences if he fucked up that royally. He must’ve gone temporarily mad to have done something so reckless.
Actually, he’d been making stupid decisions for days now, all of them related to this woman. He needed to get his head on straight.
Samhail drained his glass and signaled for the barkeep to refill it. He took another sip when the glass was full again, but a moment later the tavern went unnaturally quiet, and his skin prickled.
He tensed, ready to move, but he swore under his breath when two large figures appeared next to him on either side and leaned on the bar.
Neither of the twins was as big as him, but they were still imposing when they walked into a room.
Patrons of the tavern were probably getting ready to flee if it looked like they were there to make trouble.
“Brother, fancy meeting you here,” Serise purred to him.
“We were just out on the town looking for some fun, and here you are. How fortunate,” Surgeon added.
Samhail didn’t believe for a second they’d found him by chance.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asked.
“Just to catch up with our favorite older brother,” Surgeon said.
“We missed you the last time the family gathered for some friendly competition,” Serise said, sounding exaggeratedly dismayed.
“I was busy on a job and couldn’t leave,” Samhail said. “And don’t let Soldier hear you call me your favorite, even if that’s utter bullshit.”
“If he thinks you’re our favorite,” Serise said with a smirk, “we’re not the ones who’ll need to watch our backs.”
She was right. Soldier was more likely to attack Samhail himself over a remark like that than to hold the twins accountable for it.
It wasn’t that Soldier actually cared about being the favorite older brother.
He cared about the competition. Samhail couldn’t be the favorite anything if he was dead. Or at least maimed.
He didn’t think Soldier would go so far as to kill him.
At least he hoped not. Since the gargoyles had all but wiped themselves out centuries ago with infighting, new laws had been put into practice among their kind that levied steep penalties for killing each other unless there was a very good reason.
Grievous bodily injury was fine, but not death.
“Why are you really here?” Samhail asked them, although he suspected the point of their visit was just to annoy him.
“We were wondering how you figured out there was a masque in the house,” Surgeon said. “Lady Cyra said you were the first one to suspect, but I can’t see how the idea came to you, unless…”
Surgeon let the thought trail off as he contemplated the possibilities.
“Unless what?” Samhail snapped.
“Unless perhaps the assassin did something to make you suspect her presence,” Serise supplied. “The look she gave you when Lady Cyra snuffed her power was rather intriguing. It seemed as though the two of you might have had occasion to…interact.”
Samhail didn’t respond other than to take another sip of his drink.
“You and Lady Cyra are clearly close,” Surgeon said knowingly. “Is it possible the little assassin let you think you’d gotten closer to her than you really had?”
Samhail clenched his teeth, and a muscle began to tick wildly in his jaw. The twins were insane, but they weren’t stupid, and they were closer to the truth than they realized. There was no way he was going to let them know it, though.
“Are you actually accusing me of trying to fuck the wife of the Nemesis Incarnate?” he said, turning to look Surgeon in the eye. “And the wife of my oldest friend at that?”
Bressen may be his friend, but the man was still a lord and a gods damned powerful perimortal. Moreover, it was no secret how Bressen felt about the woman he’d married. One would need to have a death wish to risk coming between him and Cyra.
“Then correct our misconception,” Serise said. “How did you know there was a masque?”
Samhail took another sip of his drink before answering. He could tell them most of the truth.
“You’re right. The assassin came to me looking like Cyra,” he said.
“She was fishing for information. I realized it wasn’t Cyra when I remembered she was supposed to be at the vineyard that day.
When you attacked me, I was coming to verify with Cyra that she hadn’t been home on the day in question. ”
The twins were quiet as they eyed him, mulling this over.
“And the look the assassin gave you earlier tonight?” Serise asked.
“She was gloating that she tricked me into thinking she was Cyra.”
The twins exchanged glances. “We don’t believe you,” they said together.
“I don’t care what you believe,” Samhail muttered, sipping his drink.
“We don’t believe you,” Serise went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “because we feel it too.”
He went still. He knew what she was talking about.
“Feel what?” he asked, playing dumb.
“That pull toward Lady Cyra,” Surgeon said. “The desire to protect her, to…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “You may not have fucked the lady, but you want to,” he continued finally.
Samhail’s hand was at his brother’s throat in the next instant, and Surgeon’s eyes bulged in his head as he tried to pry Samhail’s fingers loose.
Samhail sensed Serise move, but he reached back and caught the wrist she swung toward him. He wrenched her hand back, and she cried out as she dropped the dagger she’d been aiming toward his shoulder. The twins had never been a match for him before, and nothing had changed.
“You’ll mind your tongue when you talk about Cyra,” Samhail said, his voice low and deadly.
The entire tavern had gone quiet again before chairs scraped on the floor as patrons decided they didn’t want to see what happened next between the three giant warriors.
“Stop!” Samhail bellowed, and movement once again ceased. He looked around at the people crowded near the door who now weren’t sure whether it was more dangerous to stay or to disobey him.
“Sit back down. We’re leaving,” Samhail told them all.
He let go of Surgeon and Serise, downed the remaining contents of his glass, and threw several gold coins onto the bar. The money was far more than was needed to cover his tab, but the rest was an apology to the tavern owner for disrupting his business tonight.
Samhail grabbed Surgeon and Serise by the collars of their shirts and dragged them through the tavern.
Patrons scattered back away from the door to let them pass, and Samhail didn’t stop until he’d pulled them outside into the street.
He shoved them both forward and glared at them as they turned to face him.
“I don’t care what you accuse me of,” Samhail said, barely containing the rage in his voice, “but don’t ever discuss Bressen or Cyra out in public in front of their people, especially not if you’re going to spew outlandish theories.
That’s all they need is for someone to overhear you say something stupid and then have the gossip mills get ahold of it. ”
The twins had the decency to look contrite.
“You’re right, of course, brother,” Surgeon said hoarsely as he rubbed his throat. “It won’t happen again.”
“See it doesn’t,” Samhail snarled.
He turned to leave, but Serise’s voice stopped him.
“You feel it though, don’t you?” she asked, and there was a subtle plea in her tone. “The pull? You must.”
Samhail was quiet for a long moment. He thought about trying to convince them they were imagining things, but it was better if they knew what they were feeling and why. He didn’t need to tell them everything.
“You’re feeling the divine imperative,” he said finally.
They looked at him incredulously.
“What? How?” Surgeon asked.
“Cyra serves the Trinity. That’s all you need to know. Bressen asked Father for your help because he knew the imperative would guide you. This isn’t just another job. It’s your sacred duty to protect Cyra.”
The twins continued to stare at him. They might be angry no one had told them, but he knew they’d fulfill their obligation.
The temples may have betrayed the gargoyles, but that didn’t negate their responsibility to the Trinity, a responsibility every single gargoyle he knew took seriously, including all his siblings, despite their many faults.
“Is she a priestess?” Serise asked.
“Something like that,” Samhail said.