Twilight's Dawn (24 page)

Read Twilight's Dawn Online

Authors: Anne Bishop

Tags: #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Witches, #Epic

BOOK: Twilight's Dawn
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*Prick? Are you okay?*
Everything he needed was in his brother’s voice—love, acceptance, and a willingness to kick him in the ass when he needed a kick.
*Yeah, I’m okay. It went as well as you’d expect. And there are a few Eyriens who may be seeing Hell soon if they don’t get out of Ebon Rih.*
*If it comes to that, I’ll go with you to deal with them,* Daemon said. *I’d suggest taking Surreal to watch your back, but I think she’s a little too eager to use a knife right now.*
*You felt that too?*
*Yes. I’m just not sure why. I’ll ask Rainier. He might know.*
*Unless she attacks someone, let it go for a day or two. I’ve already stirred up enough people.*
*All right. I’ll be at the Keep if you need me.*
Lucivar broke the link between them. He’d stay at the communal eyrie for another hour so he would be easy to find—if there was an Eyrien anywhere in Ebon Rih who wanted to find him.
 
 
Falonar found Nurian in her workroom. The ingredients and tools were set out on the large table in preparation for making more of that damn tonic, but she just stared at them.
“Do you see now?” Falonar snarled. “Do you see what he’s really like? He doesn’t care about the Eyrien people. He doesn’t care about our traditions. He doesn’t care about anything but himself !”
“He cares about the people in Ebon Rih,” Nurian said. “All of them. He doesn’t divide people between those who have wings and those who don’t, like most of you do.”
Falonar took a step back. “Like
most of us
do? You’re Eyrien too.”
She looked him in the eyes. “But not like you, Falonar. I don’t think I’m the same kind of Eyrien as you or those men who spoke out today.”
“They said a few things that needed to be said,” he snapped.
“If you ruled this valley, would you divide the tithe evenly among every adult Eyrien?” she asked.
Of course he wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
But Yaslana’s family had more wealth than even an aristo like him could imagine. Lucivar could afford to be generous. Could have afforded to give them all a bit more, even if it had meant tapping into the SaDiablo family’s pockets.
“There’s no proof he shared as much as he got,” Falonar argued.
“He said it. No other proof is required.”
“You’re being a fool, Nurian. We could be the dominating presence in this valley, the same as we were in Terreille, but Yaslana keeps hamstringing us with every decision he makes.”
“The Rihlanders were here before us,” Nurian said. “You’re talking about doing the same things we hated in Terreille, about becoming the same kind of monster as Prythian and the Queens who fawned over her.”
“How dare you?” Remembering what it was like in Prythian’s court, he swung. He tried to pull it back, and that took some of the force out of the blow, but the flat of his hand cracked across Nurian’s face.
They stared at each other.
“Nurian . . .”
“Get out of my home,” she said quietly, “and don’t ever come back. You’re not welcome here. Not in my home, and not in my bed.”
“Nurian . . .”
“Stay away from me and my sister. You stay away from us, Falonar.”
“Is that what this is really about? That I strapped a little sense into your sister for her own good?”
Nurian looked sick.
Hell’s fire. It had been only a couple of light blows. Just a warning. He’d told the little bitch to keep silent. Looked like she had.
“
Stay away from us!
” Nurian screamed.
“Nurian?” Jillian hovered in the doorway, with Dorian behind her.
He left. Wasn’t anything he could do until Nurian calmed down enough to listen.
 
 
Lucivar had hoped Hallevar would return, but the first person to storm back into the communal eyrie was Nurian.
He felt her anger and distress as she strode toward him, and figured he was the cause of both. Then he saw the mark on her face, and the heat of fury burned over his skin. He swung around the table and headed for the door to explain a couple of things to Falonar. Maybe the bastard wouldn’t feel so much contempt for the Rihlanders when he had to ask one of their Healers to set the broken bones in his hand.
“No!” Nurian made a grab for him as he passed her, then skipped back a step.
Stung by that instinctive move of fear, he stopped and waited.
“You’re not going to do anything about this,” she said, waving her hand at her face.
“That will be true when the sun shines in Hell,” he replied, trying not to snarl. A woman who had been hit by a man didn’t need another one snarling at her.
“I didn’t come here for that. Let it go, Prince.”
He’d hit women, and he’d killed women. But he’d never raised a hand to one unless she’d hurt someone else first.
“Was this the only time?” he asked.
She nodded. “And it will be the last.”
He studied her. Something there in her eyes. She might have forgiven Falonar for one slap, especially today, but not more than one. And not . . .
“Jillian?” he asked.
There it was, that flash of anger that told him what had pushed this woman to draw the line.
“Strapped for her own good,” Nurian said bitterly.
Maybe it’s the first time here
, he thought,
but you’ve both felt the kiss of leather at some point, haven’t you?
“You say what you want to say, Nurian. Then I want Jillian to report to me here. Is that understood?”
He saw her anger crumbling. Not surprising. Healers didn’t look for a fight unless they were fighting for someone they were healing.
“I knew my service contract expired, and I should have said something.” Nurian’s voice sped up so the words tumbled over one another. “But I thought, since you didn’t say anything, that you were satisfied with my work and the contract could just continue. All right, I know contracts don’t just continue, but I wanted it to. I want to live here, Prince. I want to work here. I can be the Healer for the Eyriens in Ebon Rih and help the Riada Healers so that I do enough work to earn my keep. And I want Jillian to live here. She can fly around these mountains or go down to the village on her own
and be safe
. You don’t know how much that means to me. How much that means to her. And
I know
it’s because of the way you rule this valley. I don’t much care about Eyrien traditions. I want what is here for my sister. I want it for me. And I want Jillian to have the weapons training. She’s always been intrigued by weapons, she’s always tried to imitate the moves she saw the men performing—”
And gotten strapped for it?
Lucivar wondered.
“—and now she has a chance to learn.” Nurian raised her chin and almost looked him in the eyes. “And I want to learn too.”
Surprised, he rocked back on his heels. “Why?”
She blushed and no longer even tried to meet his eyes. “Your wife is graceful,” she mumbled.
“I think so. What’s that got to do with weapons?”
“It’s the way she moves, the way the training . . .”
Hallevar would shit rocks if he heard that a woman wanted to learn to use the sparring sticks in order to be more graceful. On the other hand, Eyrien warriors
were
graceful, more so than most of the Eyrien women. He’d initially insisted that the women learn to use weapons so that they could defend themselves sufficiently until help could arrive. He’d eventually stopped insisting after so many of them whined about handling weapons that shouldn’t be used by anyone but an Eyrien warrior.
Personally, he didn’t care why they wanted to learn as long as it helped the women acquire skills to protect themselves. Convincing the other men to accept this renewed female interest in weapons might be a bit more difficult.
“You want to work for me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
No hesitation from her, but
he
felt a slight hesitation that compelled him to say, “You working for me won’t sit well with Falonar. Not after today.”
She looked sad, confused, sorry. “I love him. I do. But he comes from an aristo family, and I don’t—and that seems to matter to him more and more. I don’t know what he wants from his life, but I’m sure he and I don’t want the same things anymore.”
“All right,” he said gently. “Once I know who’s staying, we’ll figure things out. Until then, get some rest.”
She sniffled once, then squared her shoulders. “I have some tonics to make.”
He waited until she reached the door. “Send Jillian to me.” Seeing the momentary slump of her shoulders before she hurried out, he smiled grimly and thought,
Hoped I would forget, didn’t you, witchling?
Then Hallevar, Kohlvar, Rothvar, and Zaranar walked in, and it was time for the next dance.
 
 
A shadow. A flutter of air. The sound of boots behind him.
Startled, Rainier stopped his careful walk down the street so that he wouldn’t take a misstep.
“Prince Rainier?”
Leaning on his cane, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Lord Endar.”
“Could I talk to you?”
“I need to walk to the end of the street to fulfill the day’s exertions. I could meet you back at The Tavern when I’m done or at that coffee shop across the street.”
“I don’t mind walking.”
A few minutes is too long to wait?
“All right.”
It took a few steps before Endar matched his pace to Rainier’s careful walk. Then, “Have you heard what happened? Yaslana cut us all loose. We’ve got nothing. I have two children, and now we have nothing. I’m not sure if we’re still allowed to live in our eyrie, or if we have to leave because all the eyries belong to him.”
Wondering whom the young Warlord had been talking to, Rainier said, “The way I understand it, the emigration contracts were finite, a set time to prove that the person coming to Kaeleer could adjust to living in the Shadow Realm. Just like any other contract, each side fulfilled the length of time and the terms. Then the contract ended. You all knew this day was coming. That’s not the same as being cut loose, Endar. When a contract ends, a man is free to negotiate another one with the same person or head out and try something new somewhere else. Maybe you’re used to staying with one court forever, but I know plenty of young men who take short contracts and then move on to another court or even another Territory. They gain polish and experience and spend a few years looking around while they decide what they want to do.”
“But I’m Eyrien, and Dorian and I don’t want to live somewhere else. We like it here!”
“Then talk to Prince Yaslana. Tell him you’d like to stay in Ebon Rih. If you’re interested in working for him, tell him that too.”
“But . . .” Endar said nothing until they reached the end of the street. “Every Eyrien male is trained to fight, but not all of us are good at it.”
And those of you who aren’t good at it are usually the first to die on the killing field
, Rainier thought.
Not an easy truth for a man who loves his wife and children.
“I’m pretty sure Rothvar and Zaranar want to stay, and if they do, Yaslana won’t want to hire someone like me as a guard. Not when he could have them.”
“Then offer to do some other kind of work,” Rainier said. He stood at the corner, debating with himself if he wanted to cross the street and go up to the coffee shop or just turn around and go back to The Tavern. Coffee and sweet pastries or soup?
I’ll have the soup later.
As he shifted his weight to take the first step into the street, Endar said, “Take my arm to steady yourself. Despite what
some
people say, there is no shame in accepting help.”
“There’s no shame in being something besides a guard,” Rainier said quietly.
“What else could I be?”
Does their thinking get stagnant because they’re a long-lived race and have so many years ahead of them?
“I don’t know, but I’ve heard Yaslana is looking for a teacher for the Eyrien children—someone who has the education to teach them the basics as well as Eyrien history.”
“Eyrien history.”
The words were barely loud enough for Rainier to hear, but that didn’t diminish the excitement in Endar’s voice.
“I’ve also heard that an Eyrien historian storyteller has recently come to the Dark Realm and is willing to teach someone what he knows before he becomes a whisper in the Darkness,” Rainier continued.
There was so much
wanting
in Endar’s face it was painful to look at him.
“I’m not old enough,” Endar said. “And I’m sound, so—”
“I don’t recall Yaslana mentioning anything about age as a requirement, only a specific amount of education,” Rainier said tartly. “And I don’t recall him saying a man had to be lame in order to teach. If anything, I would think you’d need some speed and agility to keep up with the children. Lucivar isn’t chained to traditions that don’t suit this territory or this Realm. If you want to pass up work you’d enjoy because you’re young and sound, that’s your choice. But Lucivar is going to get a teacher for the children, and he’s going to give someone the opportunity to learn from that historian storyteller. You have to decide if that person is going to be you.”

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