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Burning Bright 11 & 12
Only eight chapters and an ep left after this.
Chapter Eleven
“How is he?” Ivan asked as Shio sat down wearily across from him.
“Perfectly miserable,” Shio replied, picking at her fish without enthusiasm.
Ivan grunted and went back to choking down his own food. “He needs to leave,” he said at last. “I don’t think staying will do him any good.”
“I can secure him passage once we get to the harbors,” Ailill said.
“The trick of course is getting him to move from that bed,” Shinju said despondently. “Like trying to remove a starfish once it’s stuck to something.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across Ivan’s face as the ocean reference completely passed him by. “Something like that, no doubt.” He poked at a remaining bit of sausage, then shoved his bowl away and focused on his tea, which had turned tepid. “I suppose he’ll move when he’s ready.”
“Yes,” Shio said softly, and finally gave up on her piece of fish. “I think I’m going to go for a walk or something.” She stood up and walked off across the pavilion, Shinju following right behind her without a word.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Ailill said softly. “I did not know him long, but it was long enough to understand why they’re so heartbroken.”
Ivan shrugged. “We seldom crossed paths, just every few months or so when I needed them for a job too delicate for my men to handle. But looking at them, you’d never guess them for street urchins. Both of them…always seemed happy about things. It’s not right, somehow, seeing Raz…”
Ailill nodded. “I agree.” He gathered up the remains of their food and threw it out. “Shall we go elsewhere?” He held out a hand to help Ivan up, and was slow to let it go as they walked back to their room.
They paused as they passed the third door on the right side, and Ivan looked in to see that Raz was still buried in his bed, all but dead. Biting back the urge to say something, knowing there was nothing that would help, Ivan quietly closed the door and continued to the next door, letting Ailill close it. He collapsed onto the bed nearest the window, the first time he’d really laid down since they’d dragged Raz into town and gotten him to lie down.
Now they couldn’t get him out of bed.
Used to sleeping alone, it was startling but immediately appealing when Ailill lay down next to him, arm sliding around him to tug Ivan close. Lips feathered across his cheek, teeth nipped at his nose, and Ivan opened immediately when Ailill finally gave him a proper kiss. He tasted like sweet tea and green things, a flavor Ivan realized was inseparable from the Highlander. He buried on hand in soft hair and held him close, half-afraid that if he let go, he’d realize he was dreaming. “You’re dangerous, Highlander.”
“I could say the same for you, merc,” Ailill said. He gave Ivan another long, slow kiss. “We should rest.”
Ivan nodded and pressed closer, curling into Ailill like it was the most natural thing to do, unsettled at how well they seemed to fit. When they woke, they would have to work on Raz, and the sisters, and figure out how to steal fire feathers. But for now, he was more than content to let it fall away, and for a few hours enjoy what he’d never thought he’d have.
“So how precisely does one go about getting a fire feather?” Ailill asked, tugging playfully at Ivan’s hair.
Ivan slid him a thoughtful glance. “Why do I sense that you could simply walk in and ask?”
“Hardly,” Ailill said. “It would take them months simply to get over the scandal and outrage.” He let go of Ivan’s hair and laid back down, wrapping an arm around Ivan’s waist, curling up against him. “I’d just come out of it with a lot of trouble and no fire feather.”
Shaking his head, curious but not dumb enough to think Ailill would explain, Ivan kept to the matter at hand. “Fire feathers are used by priests and a handful of specially-appointed nobles and soldiers,” Ivan said. “Obviously the feathers are in the palace then, it’s just a matter of where exactly. Perhaps the Cathedral? Or an office, I suppose…”
Ailill nodded. “Finding out that exact location is going to be as difficult as the theft itself.”
“A pity Raz is out of it; he always said he’d never attempt a palace job but I know he’s just always wanted a good excuse to try.” Ivan drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know of another group that’d be up for it. Not when we’ve got such a small window of time to work in.”
“Just over two weeks, yes?” Ailill asked softly.
“Yeah.” Unconsciously Ivan pressed a hand to his chest, where the pain had subsided to a steady throb. Just painful enough he never forgot it was there – as if he could anyway. “We need Raz…” Heaving a sigh, Ivan disentangled himself from the bed and Ailill and tugged his boots back on, coming a hand through his hair as he walked to the door.
He rapped sharply on the door of Raz’s room, then shoved it open – only to find the bed empty. “He’s gone,” he said as Ailill appeared beside him. “Where did he go?”
“A good question,” Ailill said pensively. “Hopefully not to do something stupid.”
Frowning, Ivan immediately turned and all but ran down the stairs and out the door. Weaving his way through narrow, crowded streets he didn’t slow until he reached the pavilion. Ailill appeared at his side a moment later, and Ivan moved forward again, crossing to where two familiar women stood talking quietly to each other. “Where’d he go?” Ivan demanded.
Shio shrugged. “Away. He said he’d be back.”
“You just let him walk off in the state he’s in? What if he tries something stupid?” Like revenge. Ivan could see Raz doing that – it was the quiet ones like him who always got loudest when pushed too far.
Shinju rolled her eyes. “Since when did you become our leader? Anyway, unless the priests have moved their work to the harbors, we’ve got nothing to fear.”
“The harbors?” Ivan frowned. “Why would he go there?”
“Storms if I know,” Shio said. “He hates water. But he told us to stay here, and he said he’d be back. Now unless you have something useful to say, we’re going to go check out the palace.”
Ivan blinked. “What?”
“How in the Storms’ names else are we going to break into the palace?” Shinju looked slyly at Ailill. “Unless the Beast wants to tell us.”
Ailill glared. “Leave it, daughters of the dragons.”
“This is why we hate gods,” Ivan said, rolling his eyes. “Those of you that take them seriously are all idiots.” He left them standing there glaring to find food. When he returned a moment later, whatever they hadn’t been saying to each other seemed to have settled. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll see what we can learn about the palace,” Shio said. “You tried to help us with Pechal…” she fell silent a moment, but shook herself after a moment, “the least we can do is help you. I think Raz will, once he…puts himself back together.” She reached out to find Shinju’s hand, clasping it tightly.
Ivan sighed, then forced his somber thoughts aside. He gave the sisters a smile. “So how do two women such as yourselves get anywhere near the palace? Or even to the south end of town.”
“Human,” Shinju sniffed, “we’ve been around longer than you can imagine. We’ve picked up a few tricks. Figuring out where in the palace those feathers are won’t be hard at all.” She gave a sudden smile, and Ivan had the strange idea that he suddenly knew what a shark was. “We’ll meet you back here this evening, and dinner is on you.” With a wink, the sisters departed.
Something they said finally hit him. “What did they mean ‘human’ – they’re not?” He glared at their backs, barely noticing when Ailill stole a bit of bread straight from his fingers.
Ailill chuckled. “You should be flattered, Firelander.” He stole another piece of bread as Ivan tore it from the small loaf he’d bought, sucking briefly on Ivan’s fingers. “Mermaids have not been seen on land for hundreds of years. Even my people thought they had passed into legend.” He looked thoughtfully at the two women as they vanished from the pavilion. “Peculiar that they have chosen to reappear in Pozhar, and now of all times…” His lips curved in amusement. “Doing something for their father indeed.”
“Whatever,” Ivan said. “I don’t care. This is why mercs stay out of complicated business.” He looked up at Ailill, steel-blue eyes tracing every line of the Highlander’s stern face. “Speaking of complicated,” he murmured. “I get the feeling you come with more complications than I can begin to think up.”
“You certainly wouldn’t think of them,” Ailill said, “but I promise I’m no more complicated than a man who’s been cursed because he refuses to kill a piece of a god.”
Ivan fought a smile. “When you put it that way,” he said, “I guess things aren’t that bad.” He stepped hastily back, rocked by the sudden urge to just reach up and taste Ailill’s smile. That would cause more trouble than he wanted to think about. He wondered if the heat in Ailill’s eyes was in his own.
Then abruptly Ailill’s eyes went hard, locked on something past Ivan. Spinning around, Ivan glared at the all-too-familiar face of Earl Zholty’s steward. “What?”
“His lordship requests an audience,” the servant said stonily. “Immediately.”
“You can tell his lordship that I’m busy for the next two weeks, but I’ll be happy to speak with him after that,” Ivan replied.
The steward bowed. “Then his lordship bids me mention that he knows the faces of your men and it would not be difficult to see to their arrests and executions.”
Ivan muttered a soft curse, barely feeling the fingers that touched soothingly to his lower back. “Fine,” he bit out. “We’ll be more than happy to give his lordship an audience.”
Smirking, the steward gave another elegant bow and turned on his heel, stalking back across the pavilion, not bothering to see if they were following.
“This could be bad,” Ivan said. “He shouldn’t care about me anymore. The Candidate’s dead, and I’ll be dead in two weeks. If I tried to incriminate him, I’d just die that much sooner. I’m of no threat.’
“Mmm,” Ailill hummed thoughtfully as he followed Ivan through the winding maze of crowded streets. “Perhaps he needs you to find the next one, as of the three groups he hired yours is the only one still alive.” Another thoughtful hum. “Quite a busy man, this Earl, to be buying stolen goods, then losing them, amidst trying to undermine the execution of the Candidates. What is his ultimate agenda, I wonder?”
Ivan looked at him. “You’re a nobleman, aren’t you? You speak just like them, wonder about things that someone like me generally could not care less about.”
“I was born a commoner,” Ailill, sounding tired, “but fate had other plans for me. I am not quite a nobleman…more like a highly-glorified servant. That however does make me more familiar than I like with politics. I am never happier than when I am not there, trust me.” He reached up to his hand through Ivan’s short hair, and started to lean in before remembering where they were. Letting his hand fall slowly away, he smiled briefly and then followed Ivan through the backyard of the Earl’s house – sharing a smirk as they recalled that only days ago Raz had snuck through it – and into the kitchen, winding through the house.
Ivan knocked at the door of Earl Zholty’s study, then opened the door and slid inside.
“Who is he?” Zholty demanded, setting down a red and violet teacup with a loud clatter.
“My new associate,” Ivan said coolly, making sure his sword was loose in its scabbard. “I would suggest not trying anymore curses.”
Zholty eyed Ailill. “What is a Highlander doing in Pozhar?”
“That is my business,” Ailill said, voice taking on an edge Ivan had never heard before. He looked askance at the man, not quite taking his attention from the Earl. Ailill’s pale brown eyes had gone hard, stern face set into even more severe lines. He stood utterly still, attention solely for the Earl. Ivan was not ignorant of how the world worked; most days he wished he knew a great deal less. But watching these two, he suddenly felt just how little he really knew. It made him tired; he wanted nothing more than to go find his men in Green Falls, drink himself into oblivion and then go find a job raiding a carriage or kidnapping some spoiled rich man’s son or daughter.
“You will state the reason for your presence.”
Ailill smirked. “If I must state my presence, I would do so as protocol requires, which of course will require I relate this meeting. How about we all just agree to remain discreet, Earl Zholty?”
“As you wish it, Highlander. But I find myself mighty suspicious of a Highland noble who willingly associates with the worst of Pozhar’s riff-raff.”
“Be careful of your words,” Ailill said.
Ivan sighed. “Can we please just get to business?” he snapped. “I hate politics. Are you going to curse me again? What do you want?”
“Poor little riff raff,” Zholty said with a mocking laugh. “Is the world of real men too much for you?”
Ivan rolled his eyes and did not reply. It would be too easy to put Zholty in his place, but it would only cause more problems than it would solve. Though taking his sword and slicing off chunks of that pompous ass would go a long way toward improving his mood. Sadly, he hadn’t gotten as far as he had in life by indulging himself often. On that note, Ailill was probably enough of an indulgence for as long as he had the man.
“You failed to kill the Candidate,” Zholty continued.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in the job,” Ivan replied. “From what I saw, the Candidate didn’t much like being captured. He fried the men you hired – that would be the group you didn’t tell me about – to a crisp.
Zholty frowned. “I only hired you and Vladimir.”
Ivan snorted. “Sure. I bet you didn’t give them the fire feathers either. Come off it, Earl. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”
“Fire feathers?” Zholty said in a soft tone. “They had fire feathers?”
“This conversation is over, unless you want to tell me the point of it, but seeing as the answer is already no, I guess it’s over. Have a good day, Earl.”
Zholty picked up his tea and leisurely sipped it. “One would think, after the last time, that you would know better than to disobey me, Vanya.”
Ailill rest a hand on his shoulder. “Come, Earl. We are not interested in your politics. What do you want of us?”
If Zholty heard him, he gave no indication, instead frowning into the delicate teacup held in his soft, smooth hands. “I smell the hand of that damnable Duke in this.”
“We’re going,” Ivan said. “If he just wants someone to stand around and be threatened, he can drag a servant in here. I have better things to be doing with my time.”
“Like attempting to find a cure for that curse?” Zholty asked, eyes sly. “Let me guess. You think the Highlander can help. You’re wrong.”
Ailill stepped forward, a restraining hand still on Ivan’s shoulder. “How do you know that?”
“Highlander, I’m the Advisor of Magic. I have access to things no one in Pozhar dreams exists. In all of the world, there are maybe three other people that can read the books I do, and I doubt any of them do it half so well.” He smirked, eyes as hard and cold as winter. “The Highlands are not much better off than Pozhar. Turning into filthy animals is pathetic alongside real magic.”
It was Ivan’s turn to hold Ailill still, resting a hand at the small of his back. “Enough, Earl.”
“Che,” Zholty said in contempt. “I’m not the one who is going to die in two weeks, merc. I suggest you shut that mouth of yours for once in your life and listen to what I have to say. In a few days the High Priest will be turning over the image of the latest Candidate. I would already have it, but the Princess has delayed things for reasons that are of no concern to you.”
“The King is probably going to die any day now,” Ailill said. “Everyone knows that. It would be in poor taste to hunt down and kill a man during a period of mourning. After that will be the Princess’s coronation, which would again delay the matter of finding the last Candidate. Giving you plenty of time to find and murder him, throwing off a plan that Pozhar has been working on for a thousand plus years. Why?”
The Earl grunted. “Who are you, Highlander?”
“Of no concern to you unless you do not lift the curse from Vanya.”
Ivan started briefly at hearing the pet form of his name come from Ailill. It felt…intimate. Right. Much better than hearing the stupid Earl say it.
“Is that the way the wind blows?” Zholty asked with a smirk. “Animals tend to be possessive; I guess that shows your roots more than even those ears.”
Ailill merely laughed. “So you want Vanya to find and kill the Candidate while no one else is looking for him? Even if we agreed to do it, which we won’t, you said yourself that the High Priest has not even presented the latest sketch.”
“But he will have it shortly. I intend to obtain it, and I will then send it to you. When I do, you will find and kill him.”
Ivan snorted. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”
“I know what you and your men look like. The High Priest is not the only one who can draw. Warrants for your arrest would not be hard to obtain, and let’s face it – my word against yours? You are a sloppy merc to put yourself in such a situation.”
Ivan curled his hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to smash in Zholty’s face. “Why couldn’t you just stick to asking me to commandeer ship cargo?”
“If you don’t screw this up, perhaps I will.”
“If you live that long,” Ivan replied.
Zholty reached into a hidden pocket and withdrew a small, orange and gold feather. He twirled it idly. “I think we have already established that my feathers are more effective than your sword, Vanya.” His eyes glinted. “But perhaps you need reminding.” He held the feather and spoke a word Ivan couldn’t catch, letting go of the feather. It burned bright, then was gone. All in an instant, too fast – like last time – for Ivan to react. How did one fight words?
Then he nearly fell to his knees, overwhelmed by dizziness and nausea. A strong hand wrapped around his upper arm and Ivan was gently hauled to his feet, dragged close against Ailill’s side. “What was that?”
But no one seemed to have heard him, Ailill and Zholty focused entirely on each other. “Do not try that again, Earl, or you will find yourself in more trouble than your country can smooth over.”
The earl had gone pale with pain, hands gripping the armrests of his seat so hard his knuckles were white.
Ailill smirked. “It would appear we animals can do a bit more magic than you mere humans anticipated. We are going. Do not bother us again or you will find out just how beastly I can be.”
Zholty’s glared at them, almost shaking with fury.
“Good day, your lordship.” Holding tightly to Ivan, Ailill led them out of the room and back downstairs, then out the front door of the house. “Now let everyone wonder who we are and why they didn’t see us go in earlier,” he said with a chuckle in Ivan’s ear.
Ivan rolled his eyes. “I’m so sick of this. From now on, I do not accept jobs from anyone on the south side of the city.” He glared at Ailill. “And the next time I decide to consider a Highlander as a lover, remind me to rethink that.”
“Next time?” Ailill asked. He abruptly ducked into a small alleyway as they left the richer side of town behind and dragged Ivan close. Before Ivan could draw a breath, he was being kissed – hard, possessively, just like in the forest. Like Ailill knew exactly what he wanted, knew how to take it, and expected no resistance.
Which worked fine, because Ivan had no interest in resisting. Every kiss they shared only made him hungrier for more, desperate to ensure that he’d be alive to enjoy them. He wrapped his arms around Ailill’s waist and held tight, kissing back with equal fervor, wondering how he’d lived without this for all his life. “Bad idea,” he finally gasped out. “To do this here.”
Ailill sank fingers into his hair, held his head in place, and took another hard kiss, biting on Ivan’s lower lip before finally letting go. “I just barely avoided killing a peer of the realm, and used my magic. Getting in trouble for kissing you is hardly worth worrying about.” He brushed a soft kiss across Ivan’s wet, swollen lips. “If that bastard tries that again, he’ll find himself suffering a lot worse that what I did to him.”
“What did you do to him?” Ivan asked, almost idly smoothing his hands up and down the lines of Ailill’s spine, loving that he could touch, the slight rush that came with the knowledge they could be caught even though he knew it was stupid to be so reckless.
“Turned his spell around,” Ailill said, eyes hard with the remnants of his anger. “Once upon a time, wizards like that would have been hunted down and killed.” He sighed and brushed another soft kiss across Ivan’s lips. “We had best go.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I was the one that dragged us into the alleyway. I thought you only acted stupid after changing.”
“Stupid?” Ailill’s eyes gleamed as they began to weave through the crowded streets, sticking to alleyways “After all this ridiculous drama is over, I’ll show you just how stupid I can be, Vanya.”
“Why does everyone like to call me that? I’m a merc. I specialize in kidnapping spoiled sons and daughters.” He glared at Ailill. “I’ve been doing this for longer than I can remember. I know more ways to hurt or kill than I like to think about. With Vlad out of the way, I’m the best merc in this country. My name is Ivan.”
“Yes, Vanya.”
“Shut up.”
Chapter Twelve
Raz didn’t like the sea. He never had. It wasn’t a fear exactly, like Pechal had always teased him – and he had to stop thinking about Pechal now before he fell apart again – just he didn’t like the way it went on forever. The lack of land. The excessive amount of wet. The only water he wanted any part of was the bathing kind.
So, okay, he sounded afraid. But he wasn’t. Just…it wasn’t his place. Shio and Shinju could have it. He just wanted Pozhar.
Which was why he was standing lost in the harbors, wishing more than anything that he could actually leave. They’d killed Pechal. They would kill someone else. So many had already died.
A necessary evil for the good of Pozhar. Raz didn’t care. He just wanted Pechal back. Or to leave it all behind. But Pechal was dead and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Pozhar.
Trapped.
“It isn’t fair,” he whispered.
He and Pechal had been nothing. There lives were the sort no one envied. Who would ever choose to be a thief? A poor petty criminal with ties to nothing?
But they’d liked it. Loved it. It was the life they’d made their own. Free to go anywhere, a solid reputation and the ability to take practically whatever they wanted if they so desired. They were dirty thieves but they’d been good at it. Never hurt anyone who didn’t hurt them first.
And now Pechal was dead because he’d been born with a piece of some long-dead god inside him.
His eyes burned, but Raz was too tired to manage any more tears. It wasn’t like they’d bring Pechal back anyway.
Nor would they ease his guilt. Raz’s head jerked up as the sound of thunder, and he fastened his eyes on the clouds that had seemed to come from nowhere, darkening the early evening sky to the point it seemed night had fallen hard and fast. He shivered as the temperature dropped, hunching his shoulders and looking around desperately for refuge as rain began to patter down, the prelude to what would soon be a full-blown storm.
He liked storms as much as he liked the ocean. As in he wanted no part of them. Stupid storms. Always up to no good.
Shaking off the strange thought, Raz scrambled to find shelter, ducking inside the first tavern he saw, huddling at the bar and ordering an ale. He accepted it with a thanks, then frowned in concern at the barmaid as she hastily turned away, coughing hard into a handkerchief which she then hastily tucked away. Her eyes caught Raz’s, but hastily slid away as she moved to tend another beckoning customer.
There’d been blood on the handkerchief. Raz frowned miserably at the counter, no longer able to drink the ale he’d ordered. Hunching his shoulders, glaring around to send the message he wanted to be left alone. Outside the storm raged, driving more and more people into the already crowded tavern, tripling the noise level – though as loud as it got, it could not drown out the rumbling booms of thunder. Lightning flashed at the window, making the evening as bright as day for short bursts.
Someone jostled him but Raz ignored them, forcing himself to sip his ale. He lifted a hand and flagged down the sick barmaid, shouting and miming for food, smiling when she nodded in understanding.
He looked around, frowning as he noticed than other than a couple of girls as young as the woman at the bar, there were no other workers. No wonder the place was so chaotic. Raz bit back a curse as someone else jostled him hard enough to nearly spill his ale.
The storm couldn’t be over soon enough, and if it continued much longer he may just suffer a soaking. He should have looked for a half decent tavern, not simply settled on the first one he saw. “Hey!” he snapped as the same man jostled him a third time. “Watch it!”
He didn’t hear what the man said, just heard the ugly tone. In no mood for a fight, he turned away and hunched over the bowl of stew that was set down in front of him along with a hunk of hard, dark bread. “Thank you,” he said to the girl, smiling, somehow happy when she gave a weak but genuine smile back. He started to say something else, but a hard knock rammed him forward – then chaos erupted.
Raz took one glance at the mess behind him – men fighting, chairs breaking, the sound of flesh smashing against flesh, dishes breaking, people screaming, one of the girls shrieking in terror as they fled the floor. Raz reached out and snagged her, then hefted her up and over the bar, sending her and the barmaid toppling – but safe.
He started to leap over it himself, in no mood whatsoever to join the chaos – but a last glance at the brutality, probably the result of something stupid, set off a spark. Maybe he did want a fight. “Enough!” Raz shouted – and was stunned when the entire room stopped. Everyone stared at him, and he realized they all looked frightened. “Why are you fighting?” he demanded. “Why? Because somebody spilled an ale? Knocked into a chair?” He fought back fresh tears. “My friend just died as the latest Candidate and this is how you treat him? Two Candidates! Two have died recently.” He recalled something Ailill had said recently. “Our King is dieing, and this is how you show your grief? That barmaid is dying of the wasting disease but is here getting your food and drinks and you thank her by destroying her bar? Is that how you show your gratitude? Your thanks that you’re alive? Is this how you show appreciation for the lives you’ve been given?”
He barely noticed what he was saying anymore, words spilling faster than he could understand him. “You appreciate nothing. You waste the lives you’re given and make those around you suffer as well.” Tears streamed down his face as he spoke, but Raz didn’t notice. Nor did he notice the fearful, almost awed expressions on the faces of the people staring at him. “Looking at you pains me,” he said, then paled as familiarity washed over him in the shape of brilliant green eyes.
Suddenly unable to bear the stifling tavern, the stench of sweat and smoke and ale, Raz made for the door, oblivious to the way the crowd parted to let him pass. He stumbled into the empty street, shuddering as rain crashed down on his too-hot skin. Continuing to half-walk, half-stumble, he moved as far as he could before finally collapsing in an alleyway behind a stack of old, broken crates, grateful as darkness reached up and snatched him away.
You want to reprimand me again.
Emi—
Spare me. I grow weary of them all. This very night I die so they might live, and you want me to show mercy to those who hold life in such ill regard they take it away.
They only did it—
I don’t care. Life is precious. They took a life that was not theirs to take. All because they let their emotions get the better of them. Foolishness.
Please, Emi—
I have told you I don’t care. We have had this argument before, we will no doubt have it again because you persist in ignoring my orders. I do not care. They can rail against me all they like. Do you think I haven’t heard what they say? Every last one hates me, because I am cold. Unfeeling. Why should I care about those who would abuse the precious gift bestowed upon them? Always I take care of my children, and this is how they repay me? Ungrateful children. Not a one is worth the grief they inspire.
If you would just—
Get out. Looking at you pains me.
…Yes, Eminence.
Raz woke with a hoarse cry, arms flailing. “No! I didn’t—“ he stopped as he realized it wasn’t a man with dark hair and jewel-green eyes before him, but two very worried women. And if Shio and Shinju actually looked worried, he must look every bit as wretched as he felt. “What?” he managed.
“You’re in our room at the inn,” Shio said.
Shinju continued. “Finally got worried, and came looking for you.” The sisters exchanged a brief glance, and Raz was puzzled by it. “We found you out cold in an alleyway. Looked like a nightmare was getting to you pretty hard.”
“I’m all right now,” Raz said quietly, feeling anything but. “I just…I’m okay.” He forced the lingering shreds of his dream to the back of his mind. “Food?” he asked hopefully.
The sisters nodded and helped him to his feet. “Bath first,” Shio said, “then meet us downstairs. Ivan and Ailill need your help with something. Everything is paid for, so take your time. You smell like someone dumped you in that filthy harbor.”
Raz nodded with a grimace. “Sorry. Sort of…got into a bar fight. Then collapsed outside. I’ll be all right now. Didn’t meant to worry you.”
Shinju sat down on the bed again, reaching up to stroke his cheek, a deep frown on her face. “Are you all right, Raz? We half expected you to just throw yourself into the water. I mean…” she drifted off, hand falling into her lap.
“Pechal, you mean?” Raz asked roughly. “I’ll never be all right. He was my brother. But…he wouldn’t want me to give up.” Life is precious. Each life has a purpose. Abuse it not. “There are things I have to do. Including, it seems,” he grinned, “helping Ivan. Now let me get clean, lovelies, unless you want to help me, and I’ll join you shortly.”
Smiling, the sisters departed and a moment later Raz followed, headed toward the bathhouses at the back, a change of clothes set out for him bundled in one arm. Relieved to find the last of three bathhouses empty, he quickly scrubbed off all the filth and grime, then slid into the hot water with a sigh.
In the quiet of the bathhouse, with noise from the inn nothing but a distant murmur, the cool evening air contrasting with the hot bath water, it was all too easy for him to relax, for thoughts at the back of his mind to slip forward again, images of the dream flickering as clear as day instead of fading away like dreams should.
Looking at you pains me.
Why does looking at you hurt?
Anguish and shame.
Is it really you?
Why?
The door banged open to admit a group of men who definitely looked as though they’d prefer Raz vacated himself. Scrambling out, dressing quickly, Raz raked a hand through his wet, dripping hair and made his way to the dining hall. His eyes sought and quickly found his friends, tucked away back in the far right corner, and he weaved his way through the crowd of tables and people, dropping down beside Shio. “So what’s up?”
“You’ve returned to the land of the living with remarkable speed,” Ivan said slowly, the concerned frown at odds with his ‘evil man’ appearance.
Raz shrugged. “Not by choice. Things to do. Apparently you need my help. So what’s up?” He paused with a tankard halfway to his mouth and grinned briefly. “Don’t think I’ll do it for free.”
“Perish the thought,” Ivan muttered, but a smile twitched at his mouth. “We need you to break into the palace.”
Raz started choking on his ale, setting his tankard down hard and struggling to breathe properly. “What?” He stared as they filled him on all that he’d missed, shaking his head in bemusement as they finished. “Wow. I had no idea…” his voice caught. “Pechal was worth that much trouble to a bunch of nobles.” He frowned in thought. “What do we know about the palace?” Attempting this was madness. One couldn’t simply walk into the palace if they didn’t belong there.
But he’d been planning to try anyway. He was tired of those green eyes stalking him. He wanted to know why. A spell? A curse? Why would anyone curse him? Hopefully he’d find out.
“Your best bet would be to go in through the Cathedral,” Shio said, thoughtfully chewing on a piece of red fish. “It’s not guarded as heavily as the rest of the palace. I don’t think it’s guarded at all, except by priest.” Her tone said what she thought of that.
“There’s also a good bet that’s where they keep the feathers,” Shinju continued. “Though our good Earl might also be the one to keep them, in which case you’ll have to figure out where he works within the palace.”
Raz rolled his eyes. “Because there aren’t hundreds upon hundreds of rooms to search.”
“Seduce a pretty little maid,” Shio said. “Or footman. That’s what we did to get information on the layout.”
“So what did your pretty little maid or footman tell you?”
Smirking, Shio pulled out a small scroll of paper on which a rough map had been sketched. “The pretty little maid gave me this,” she said, and began to point out each room marked out on the map, adding what little snippets of information she had on the inhabitants.
“The footman told us the High Priest keeps strange hours,” Shinju said. “As do several other nobles, so don’t’ expect all the hallways to be empty. “
“I’d have to worry about servants anyway,” Raz said, studying the map thoughtfully. He eyed the twins in amusement. “You seduced a maid?”
Shio and Shinju looked at him innocently. “Just because this country is so uptight about such things…”
Raz chuckled and shook his head, then sent a sly look at Ailill and Ivan. “I think perhaps we’re all in good company.” He turned brisk. “All right. The sooner this is done, the better. Obviously. So I need to obtain a fire feather and then we should best get out of town.”
“We can go to Green Falls,” Ivan said. “That’s where my men are holing up.”
“All right,” Raz said. “What time is it?” He smiled at the serving woman as she set down a plate loaded with mutton and salted potatoes, a hunk of soft, dark bread.
“Seven o’clock,” the serving woman said. “Near enough anyway.”
“Thank you,” Raz said and dug into his food with relish. He waited until the woman was gone. “Plenty early enough, then.”
Shio frowned. “Shouldn’t you scout the area yourself first, Raz? I mean it’s going to be hard enough getting by guards and everyone else if you check it out a bit first. But attempting it completely cold?”
Raz shrugged and swallowed a bite of potato. “No choice. ‘Sides, if I think about it too much I figure out how stupid this is. I’d rather just do it while I’m feeling reckless. If I get caught, hopefully it’ll be before I get the fire feather.” So they’d just imprison him. Rather than kill him. “So I should sneak in via the Cathedral.” That made him nervous for reasons he couldn’t explain – or didn’t want to explain. “That doesn’t tell me how to get past the gates and all.”
“Carriage,” Shinju said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, teeth tearing neatly into a last bit of the fish on her plate.
“What?” Raz stared blankly.
Shinju gave him a patient look. “Carriages go in and out of the palace all the time. I’ve seen them coming and going as late as midnight. All you need to do is slip beneath one of those and ride it into the palace.”
“That sounds like fun,” Raz said with a grimace, “but I suppose it’s better than attempting to scale a wall, which was all I had.” He sopped up the last of the juice from the mutton with his bread and looked at the other two at the table. “You’re being awfully quiet.”
“Merely watching a peer work,” Ivan said with a smile. “Usually I simply hire you.”
“And leave out pertinent information,” Raz said. “And try to underpay.”
Ivan grinned. “It’s so much fun getting your ire up, I can never resist. What do you want for this job?”
Raz stared at his empty plate and reached absently for his ale. “Nothing,” he said after a moment. “Consider it repayment for trying to help with Pechal.” He swallowed the last of his ale, eyes burning. Slamming the empty tankard down, he looked at each of his friends in turn. “This could go bad very easily. It usually takes us weeks to do a job. If anything happens to me, just get out of town. They won’t have any reason to suspect I’m anything but alone, but better safe than sorry.”
“If anything happens,” Ailill said quietly. “I will get you out myself.”
“Don’t,” Raz said. “If they catch me before I get the feather, they’ll just lock me up for a few days. If they get me after I’ve got the feather, they’ll just kill me. No reason to stick around either way.”
“Raz…” Ivan said with a frown.
Raz stood up, shaking his head. “I have my own reason for going,” he said quietly. “This is just a good excuse. Now come on, I’ve got a carriage to catch. Thanks for dinner.” He didn’t anyone a chance to reply, but turned and strode from the inn and out into the still-crowded streets.
He weaved and bobbed through the crowd, ducking into alleyways where he could, making his way steadily across town to the south side. The scent of the ocean came up behind him, and Raz smiled fondly. “What say you, my lovelies?”
“That one,” Shio said, pointing to a carriage coming up the road, still some distance away, eschewing one that was much closer, nearly at the gates. “It comes often, and the coachman often stops to talk to the guards a moment. The trust will work to our favor.”
Raz nodded. “You noticed all of this in merely a day?”
“Of course,” Shio said with an offended sniff. “Compared to what we usually do, this is easy.”
“Right. All right, my beauties, distract the nice coachman for me then? And remind me why I’m doing this.”
They each reached up to kiss his cheeks, lips soft and warm. “Because you don’t want to lose anymore friends. It’s a challenge. And something is troubling you.”
“As usual, the two of you know far too much,” Raz grumbled good naturedly. “Here we go, then.”
Nodding, exchanging smiles, the twins slipped from the alleyway clinging to each other and laughing up a storm. Somewhere in their stumbling, they’d managed to open their shirts enough that they were less than modest.
They were eerily good at playing drunken maids.
Raz snickered as the coachmen stared, almost feeling sorry for him. On top of their quite feminine shapes and inarguable beauty, the sisters also had an exotic card to play – he doubted even the coachman for a noble had seen very many Kundouins, and certainly none like Shio and Shinju.
The coachman was forced to stop as the girls tumbled into his path, laughing and shouting, clearly thoroughly drunk. Raz double checked the street was clear, then slipped out of the alleyway and into the well-lit street, stalking over to the carriage and rolling beneath it. He tested the undercarriage, making certain he had good hand and footholds, then listened as Shio and Shinju wrapped up their charades, no doubt leaving the poor coachman with thoughts aplenty to help keep him warm at night.
He heard the coachman once more settle into place, talking briefly with whomever was inside the carriage, then heard the crack of a whip. Just in time he grabbed onto the undercarriage, settling himself in for a rough ride as the carriage continued on its way to the palace.
Several minutes later, just as he was beginning to think his arms and legs could take no more, the carriage was at last left in the dark of a carriage house. Stifling a groan, relieved that the hastily contrived plan had actually worked, Raz let go and hit the floor with a soft oomph, then rolled out from under the carriage
Somewhere bells chimed eight o’clock. Still too early. He would have to wait until it was much, much later.
Shrugging, Raz opened the carriage he’d been hiding beneath and climbed inside. He had four hours to waste, might as well take a nap.
Part Two
Those who are loved are never forgotten, as those who love never forget.
~Old Pozharian saying
Those who are loved are never forgotten, as those who love never forget.
~Old Pozharian saying
Chapter Eleven
“How is he?” Ivan asked as Shio sat down wearily across from him.
“Perfectly miserable,” Shio replied, picking at her fish without enthusiasm.
Ivan grunted and went back to choking down his own food. “He needs to leave,” he said at last. “I don’t think staying will do him any good.”
“I can secure him passage once we get to the harbors,” Ailill said.
“The trick of course is getting him to move from that bed,” Shinju said despondently. “Like trying to remove a starfish once it’s stuck to something.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across Ivan’s face as the ocean reference completely passed him by. “Something like that, no doubt.” He poked at a remaining bit of sausage, then shoved his bowl away and focused on his tea, which had turned tepid. “I suppose he’ll move when he’s ready.”
“Yes,” Shio said softly, and finally gave up on her piece of fish. “I think I’m going to go for a walk or something.” She stood up and walked off across the pavilion, Shinju following right behind her without a word.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Ailill said softly. “I did not know him long, but it was long enough to understand why they’re so heartbroken.”
Ivan shrugged. “We seldom crossed paths, just every few months or so when I needed them for a job too delicate for my men to handle. But looking at them, you’d never guess them for street urchins. Both of them…always seemed happy about things. It’s not right, somehow, seeing Raz…”
Ailill nodded. “I agree.” He gathered up the remains of their food and threw it out. “Shall we go elsewhere?” He held out a hand to help Ivan up, and was slow to let it go as they walked back to their room.
They paused as they passed the third door on the right side, and Ivan looked in to see that Raz was still buried in his bed, all but dead. Biting back the urge to say something, knowing there was nothing that would help, Ivan quietly closed the door and continued to the next door, letting Ailill close it. He collapsed onto the bed nearest the window, the first time he’d really laid down since they’d dragged Raz into town and gotten him to lie down.
Now they couldn’t get him out of bed.
Used to sleeping alone, it was startling but immediately appealing when Ailill lay down next to him, arm sliding around him to tug Ivan close. Lips feathered across his cheek, teeth nipped at his nose, and Ivan opened immediately when Ailill finally gave him a proper kiss. He tasted like sweet tea and green things, a flavor Ivan realized was inseparable from the Highlander. He buried on hand in soft hair and held him close, half-afraid that if he let go, he’d realize he was dreaming. “You’re dangerous, Highlander.”
“I could say the same for you, merc,” Ailill said. He gave Ivan another long, slow kiss. “We should rest.”
Ivan nodded and pressed closer, curling into Ailill like it was the most natural thing to do, unsettled at how well they seemed to fit. When they woke, they would have to work on Raz, and the sisters, and figure out how to steal fire feathers. But for now, he was more than content to let it fall away, and for a few hours enjoy what he’d never thought he’d have.
“So how precisely does one go about getting a fire feather?” Ailill asked, tugging playfully at Ivan’s hair.
Ivan slid him a thoughtful glance. “Why do I sense that you could simply walk in and ask?”
“Hardly,” Ailill said. “It would take them months simply to get over the scandal and outrage.” He let go of Ivan’s hair and laid back down, wrapping an arm around Ivan’s waist, curling up against him. “I’d just come out of it with a lot of trouble and no fire feather.”
Shaking his head, curious but not dumb enough to think Ailill would explain, Ivan kept to the matter at hand. “Fire feathers are used by priests and a handful of specially-appointed nobles and soldiers,” Ivan said. “Obviously the feathers are in the palace then, it’s just a matter of where exactly. Perhaps the Cathedral? Or an office, I suppose…”
Ailill nodded. “Finding out that exact location is going to be as difficult as the theft itself.”
“A pity Raz is out of it; he always said he’d never attempt a palace job but I know he’s just always wanted a good excuse to try.” Ivan drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know of another group that’d be up for it. Not when we’ve got such a small window of time to work in.”
“Just over two weeks, yes?” Ailill asked softly.
“Yeah.” Unconsciously Ivan pressed a hand to his chest, where the pain had subsided to a steady throb. Just painful enough he never forgot it was there – as if he could anyway. “We need Raz…” Heaving a sigh, Ivan disentangled himself from the bed and Ailill and tugged his boots back on, coming a hand through his hair as he walked to the door.
He rapped sharply on the door of Raz’s room, then shoved it open – only to find the bed empty. “He’s gone,” he said as Ailill appeared beside him. “Where did he go?”
“A good question,” Ailill said pensively. “Hopefully not to do something stupid.”
Frowning, Ivan immediately turned and all but ran down the stairs and out the door. Weaving his way through narrow, crowded streets he didn’t slow until he reached the pavilion. Ailill appeared at his side a moment later, and Ivan moved forward again, crossing to where two familiar women stood talking quietly to each other. “Where’d he go?” Ivan demanded.
Shio shrugged. “Away. He said he’d be back.”
“You just let him walk off in the state he’s in? What if he tries something stupid?” Like revenge. Ivan could see Raz doing that – it was the quiet ones like him who always got loudest when pushed too far.
Shinju rolled her eyes. “Since when did you become our leader? Anyway, unless the priests have moved their work to the harbors, we’ve got nothing to fear.”
“The harbors?” Ivan frowned. “Why would he go there?”
“Storms if I know,” Shio said. “He hates water. But he told us to stay here, and he said he’d be back. Now unless you have something useful to say, we’re going to go check out the palace.”
Ivan blinked. “What?”
“How in the Storms’ names else are we going to break into the palace?” Shinju looked slyly at Ailill. “Unless the Beast wants to tell us.”
Ailill glared. “Leave it, daughters of the dragons.”
“This is why we hate gods,” Ivan said, rolling his eyes. “Those of you that take them seriously are all idiots.” He left them standing there glaring to find food. When he returned a moment later, whatever they hadn’t been saying to each other seemed to have settled. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll see what we can learn about the palace,” Shio said. “You tried to help us with Pechal…” she fell silent a moment, but shook herself after a moment, “the least we can do is help you. I think Raz will, once he…puts himself back together.” She reached out to find Shinju’s hand, clasping it tightly.
Ivan sighed, then forced his somber thoughts aside. He gave the sisters a smile. “So how do two women such as yourselves get anywhere near the palace? Or even to the south end of town.”
“Human,” Shinju sniffed, “we’ve been around longer than you can imagine. We’ve picked up a few tricks. Figuring out where in the palace those feathers are won’t be hard at all.” She gave a sudden smile, and Ivan had the strange idea that he suddenly knew what a shark was. “We’ll meet you back here this evening, and dinner is on you.” With a wink, the sisters departed.
Something they said finally hit him. “What did they mean ‘human’ – they’re not?” He glared at their backs, barely noticing when Ailill stole a bit of bread straight from his fingers.
Ailill chuckled. “You should be flattered, Firelander.” He stole another piece of bread as Ivan tore it from the small loaf he’d bought, sucking briefly on Ivan’s fingers. “Mermaids have not been seen on land for hundreds of years. Even my people thought they had passed into legend.” He looked thoughtfully at the two women as they vanished from the pavilion. “Peculiar that they have chosen to reappear in Pozhar, and now of all times…” His lips curved in amusement. “Doing something for their father indeed.”
“Whatever,” Ivan said. “I don’t care. This is why mercs stay out of complicated business.” He looked up at Ailill, steel-blue eyes tracing every line of the Highlander’s stern face. “Speaking of complicated,” he murmured. “I get the feeling you come with more complications than I can begin to think up.”
“You certainly wouldn’t think of them,” Ailill said, “but I promise I’m no more complicated than a man who’s been cursed because he refuses to kill a piece of a god.”
Ivan fought a smile. “When you put it that way,” he said, “I guess things aren’t that bad.” He stepped hastily back, rocked by the sudden urge to just reach up and taste Ailill’s smile. That would cause more trouble than he wanted to think about. He wondered if the heat in Ailill’s eyes was in his own.
Then abruptly Ailill’s eyes went hard, locked on something past Ivan. Spinning around, Ivan glared at the all-too-familiar face of Earl Zholty’s steward. “What?”
“His lordship requests an audience,” the servant said stonily. “Immediately.”
“You can tell his lordship that I’m busy for the next two weeks, but I’ll be happy to speak with him after that,” Ivan replied.
The steward bowed. “Then his lordship bids me mention that he knows the faces of your men and it would not be difficult to see to their arrests and executions.”
Ivan muttered a soft curse, barely feeling the fingers that touched soothingly to his lower back. “Fine,” he bit out. “We’ll be more than happy to give his lordship an audience.”
Smirking, the steward gave another elegant bow and turned on his heel, stalking back across the pavilion, not bothering to see if they were following.
“This could be bad,” Ivan said. “He shouldn’t care about me anymore. The Candidate’s dead, and I’ll be dead in two weeks. If I tried to incriminate him, I’d just die that much sooner. I’m of no threat.’
“Mmm,” Ailill hummed thoughtfully as he followed Ivan through the winding maze of crowded streets. “Perhaps he needs you to find the next one, as of the three groups he hired yours is the only one still alive.” Another thoughtful hum. “Quite a busy man, this Earl, to be buying stolen goods, then losing them, amidst trying to undermine the execution of the Candidates. What is his ultimate agenda, I wonder?”
Ivan looked at him. “You’re a nobleman, aren’t you? You speak just like them, wonder about things that someone like me generally could not care less about.”
“I was born a commoner,” Ailill, sounding tired, “but fate had other plans for me. I am not quite a nobleman…more like a highly-glorified servant. That however does make me more familiar than I like with politics. I am never happier than when I am not there, trust me.” He reached up to his hand through Ivan’s short hair, and started to lean in before remembering where they were. Letting his hand fall slowly away, he smiled briefly and then followed Ivan through the backyard of the Earl’s house – sharing a smirk as they recalled that only days ago Raz had snuck through it – and into the kitchen, winding through the house.
Ivan knocked at the door of Earl Zholty’s study, then opened the door and slid inside.
“Who is he?” Zholty demanded, setting down a red and violet teacup with a loud clatter.
“My new associate,” Ivan said coolly, making sure his sword was loose in its scabbard. “I would suggest not trying anymore curses.”
Zholty eyed Ailill. “What is a Highlander doing in Pozhar?”
“That is my business,” Ailill said, voice taking on an edge Ivan had never heard before. He looked askance at the man, not quite taking his attention from the Earl. Ailill’s pale brown eyes had gone hard, stern face set into even more severe lines. He stood utterly still, attention solely for the Earl. Ivan was not ignorant of how the world worked; most days he wished he knew a great deal less. But watching these two, he suddenly felt just how little he really knew. It made him tired; he wanted nothing more than to go find his men in Green Falls, drink himself into oblivion and then go find a job raiding a carriage or kidnapping some spoiled rich man’s son or daughter.
“You will state the reason for your presence.”
Ailill smirked. “If I must state my presence, I would do so as protocol requires, which of course will require I relate this meeting. How about we all just agree to remain discreet, Earl Zholty?”
“As you wish it, Highlander. But I find myself mighty suspicious of a Highland noble who willingly associates with the worst of Pozhar’s riff-raff.”
“Be careful of your words,” Ailill said.
Ivan sighed. “Can we please just get to business?” he snapped. “I hate politics. Are you going to curse me again? What do you want?”
“Poor little riff raff,” Zholty said with a mocking laugh. “Is the world of real men too much for you?”
Ivan rolled his eyes and did not reply. It would be too easy to put Zholty in his place, but it would only cause more problems than it would solve. Though taking his sword and slicing off chunks of that pompous ass would go a long way toward improving his mood. Sadly, he hadn’t gotten as far as he had in life by indulging himself often. On that note, Ailill was probably enough of an indulgence for as long as he had the man.
“You failed to kill the Candidate,” Zholty continued.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in the job,” Ivan replied. “From what I saw, the Candidate didn’t much like being captured. He fried the men you hired – that would be the group you didn’t tell me about – to a crisp.
Zholty frowned. “I only hired you and Vladimir.”
Ivan snorted. “Sure. I bet you didn’t give them the fire feathers either. Come off it, Earl. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”
“Fire feathers?” Zholty said in a soft tone. “They had fire feathers?”
“This conversation is over, unless you want to tell me the point of it, but seeing as the answer is already no, I guess it’s over. Have a good day, Earl.”
Zholty picked up his tea and leisurely sipped it. “One would think, after the last time, that you would know better than to disobey me, Vanya.”
Ailill rest a hand on his shoulder. “Come, Earl. We are not interested in your politics. What do you want of us?”
If Zholty heard him, he gave no indication, instead frowning into the delicate teacup held in his soft, smooth hands. “I smell the hand of that damnable Duke in this.”
“We’re going,” Ivan said. “If he just wants someone to stand around and be threatened, he can drag a servant in here. I have better things to be doing with my time.”
“Like attempting to find a cure for that curse?” Zholty asked, eyes sly. “Let me guess. You think the Highlander can help. You’re wrong.”
Ailill stepped forward, a restraining hand still on Ivan’s shoulder. “How do you know that?”
“Highlander, I’m the Advisor of Magic. I have access to things no one in Pozhar dreams exists. In all of the world, there are maybe three other people that can read the books I do, and I doubt any of them do it half so well.” He smirked, eyes as hard and cold as winter. “The Highlands are not much better off than Pozhar. Turning into filthy animals is pathetic alongside real magic.”
It was Ivan’s turn to hold Ailill still, resting a hand at the small of his back. “Enough, Earl.”
“Che,” Zholty said in contempt. “I’m not the one who is going to die in two weeks, merc. I suggest you shut that mouth of yours for once in your life and listen to what I have to say. In a few days the High Priest will be turning over the image of the latest Candidate. I would already have it, but the Princess has delayed things for reasons that are of no concern to you.”
“The King is probably going to die any day now,” Ailill said. “Everyone knows that. It would be in poor taste to hunt down and kill a man during a period of mourning. After that will be the Princess’s coronation, which would again delay the matter of finding the last Candidate. Giving you plenty of time to find and murder him, throwing off a plan that Pozhar has been working on for a thousand plus years. Why?”
The Earl grunted. “Who are you, Highlander?”
“Of no concern to you unless you do not lift the curse from Vanya.”
Ivan started briefly at hearing the pet form of his name come from Ailill. It felt…intimate. Right. Much better than hearing the stupid Earl say it.
“Is that the way the wind blows?” Zholty asked with a smirk. “Animals tend to be possessive; I guess that shows your roots more than even those ears.”
Ailill merely laughed. “So you want Vanya to find and kill the Candidate while no one else is looking for him? Even if we agreed to do it, which we won’t, you said yourself that the High Priest has not even presented the latest sketch.”
“But he will have it shortly. I intend to obtain it, and I will then send it to you. When I do, you will find and kill him.”
Ivan snorted. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”
“I know what you and your men look like. The High Priest is not the only one who can draw. Warrants for your arrest would not be hard to obtain, and let’s face it – my word against yours? You are a sloppy merc to put yourself in such a situation.”
Ivan curled his hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to smash in Zholty’s face. “Why couldn’t you just stick to asking me to commandeer ship cargo?”
“If you don’t screw this up, perhaps I will.”
“If you live that long,” Ivan replied.
Zholty reached into a hidden pocket and withdrew a small, orange and gold feather. He twirled it idly. “I think we have already established that my feathers are more effective than your sword, Vanya.” His eyes glinted. “But perhaps you need reminding.” He held the feather and spoke a word Ivan couldn’t catch, letting go of the feather. It burned bright, then was gone. All in an instant, too fast – like last time – for Ivan to react. How did one fight words?
Then he nearly fell to his knees, overwhelmed by dizziness and nausea. A strong hand wrapped around his upper arm and Ivan was gently hauled to his feet, dragged close against Ailill’s side. “What was that?”
But no one seemed to have heard him, Ailill and Zholty focused entirely on each other. “Do not try that again, Earl, or you will find yourself in more trouble than your country can smooth over.”
The earl had gone pale with pain, hands gripping the armrests of his seat so hard his knuckles were white.
Ailill smirked. “It would appear we animals can do a bit more magic than you mere humans anticipated. We are going. Do not bother us again or you will find out just how beastly I can be.”
Zholty’s glared at them, almost shaking with fury.
“Good day, your lordship.” Holding tightly to Ivan, Ailill led them out of the room and back downstairs, then out the front door of the house. “Now let everyone wonder who we are and why they didn’t see us go in earlier,” he said with a chuckle in Ivan’s ear.
Ivan rolled his eyes. “I’m so sick of this. From now on, I do not accept jobs from anyone on the south side of the city.” He glared at Ailill. “And the next time I decide to consider a Highlander as a lover, remind me to rethink that.”
“Next time?” Ailill asked. He abruptly ducked into a small alleyway as they left the richer side of town behind and dragged Ivan close. Before Ivan could draw a breath, he was being kissed – hard, possessively, just like in the forest. Like Ailill knew exactly what he wanted, knew how to take it, and expected no resistance.
Which worked fine, because Ivan had no interest in resisting. Every kiss they shared only made him hungrier for more, desperate to ensure that he’d be alive to enjoy them. He wrapped his arms around Ailill’s waist and held tight, kissing back with equal fervor, wondering how he’d lived without this for all his life. “Bad idea,” he finally gasped out. “To do this here.”
Ailill sank fingers into his hair, held his head in place, and took another hard kiss, biting on Ivan’s lower lip before finally letting go. “I just barely avoided killing a peer of the realm, and used my magic. Getting in trouble for kissing you is hardly worth worrying about.” He brushed a soft kiss across Ivan’s wet, swollen lips. “If that bastard tries that again, he’ll find himself suffering a lot worse that what I did to him.”
“What did you do to him?” Ivan asked, almost idly smoothing his hands up and down the lines of Ailill’s spine, loving that he could touch, the slight rush that came with the knowledge they could be caught even though he knew it was stupid to be so reckless.
“Turned his spell around,” Ailill said, eyes hard with the remnants of his anger. “Once upon a time, wizards like that would have been hunted down and killed.” He sighed and brushed another soft kiss across Ivan’s lips. “We had best go.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I was the one that dragged us into the alleyway. I thought you only acted stupid after changing.”
“Stupid?” Ailill’s eyes gleamed as they began to weave through the crowded streets, sticking to alleyways “After all this ridiculous drama is over, I’ll show you just how stupid I can be, Vanya.”
“Why does everyone like to call me that? I’m a merc. I specialize in kidnapping spoiled sons and daughters.” He glared at Ailill. “I’ve been doing this for longer than I can remember. I know more ways to hurt or kill than I like to think about. With Vlad out of the way, I’m the best merc in this country. My name is Ivan.”
“Yes, Vanya.”
“Shut up.”
Chapter Twelve
Raz didn’t like the sea. He never had. It wasn’t a fear exactly, like Pechal had always teased him – and he had to stop thinking about Pechal now before he fell apart again – just he didn’t like the way it went on forever. The lack of land. The excessive amount of wet. The only water he wanted any part of was the bathing kind.
So, okay, he sounded afraid. But he wasn’t. Just…it wasn’t his place. Shio and Shinju could have it. He just wanted Pozhar.
Which was why he was standing lost in the harbors, wishing more than anything that he could actually leave. They’d killed Pechal. They would kill someone else. So many had already died.
A necessary evil for the good of Pozhar. Raz didn’t care. He just wanted Pechal back. Or to leave it all behind. But Pechal was dead and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Pozhar.
Trapped.
“It isn’t fair,” he whispered.
He and Pechal had been nothing. There lives were the sort no one envied. Who would ever choose to be a thief? A poor petty criminal with ties to nothing?
But they’d liked it. Loved it. It was the life they’d made their own. Free to go anywhere, a solid reputation and the ability to take practically whatever they wanted if they so desired. They were dirty thieves but they’d been good at it. Never hurt anyone who didn’t hurt them first.
And now Pechal was dead because he’d been born with a piece of some long-dead god inside him.
His eyes burned, but Raz was too tired to manage any more tears. It wasn’t like they’d bring Pechal back anyway.
Nor would they ease his guilt. Raz’s head jerked up as the sound of thunder, and he fastened his eyes on the clouds that had seemed to come from nowhere, darkening the early evening sky to the point it seemed night had fallen hard and fast. He shivered as the temperature dropped, hunching his shoulders and looking around desperately for refuge as rain began to patter down, the prelude to what would soon be a full-blown storm.
He liked storms as much as he liked the ocean. As in he wanted no part of them. Stupid storms. Always up to no good.
Shaking off the strange thought, Raz scrambled to find shelter, ducking inside the first tavern he saw, huddling at the bar and ordering an ale. He accepted it with a thanks, then frowned in concern at the barmaid as she hastily turned away, coughing hard into a handkerchief which she then hastily tucked away. Her eyes caught Raz’s, but hastily slid away as she moved to tend another beckoning customer.
There’d been blood on the handkerchief. Raz frowned miserably at the counter, no longer able to drink the ale he’d ordered. Hunching his shoulders, glaring around to send the message he wanted to be left alone. Outside the storm raged, driving more and more people into the already crowded tavern, tripling the noise level – though as loud as it got, it could not drown out the rumbling booms of thunder. Lightning flashed at the window, making the evening as bright as day for short bursts.
Someone jostled him but Raz ignored them, forcing himself to sip his ale. He lifted a hand and flagged down the sick barmaid, shouting and miming for food, smiling when she nodded in understanding.
He looked around, frowning as he noticed than other than a couple of girls as young as the woman at the bar, there were no other workers. No wonder the place was so chaotic. Raz bit back a curse as someone else jostled him hard enough to nearly spill his ale.
The storm couldn’t be over soon enough, and if it continued much longer he may just suffer a soaking. He should have looked for a half decent tavern, not simply settled on the first one he saw. “Hey!” he snapped as the same man jostled him a third time. “Watch it!”
He didn’t hear what the man said, just heard the ugly tone. In no mood for a fight, he turned away and hunched over the bowl of stew that was set down in front of him along with a hunk of hard, dark bread. “Thank you,” he said to the girl, smiling, somehow happy when she gave a weak but genuine smile back. He started to say something else, but a hard knock rammed him forward – then chaos erupted.
Raz took one glance at the mess behind him – men fighting, chairs breaking, the sound of flesh smashing against flesh, dishes breaking, people screaming, one of the girls shrieking in terror as they fled the floor. Raz reached out and snagged her, then hefted her up and over the bar, sending her and the barmaid toppling – but safe.
He started to leap over it himself, in no mood whatsoever to join the chaos – but a last glance at the brutality, probably the result of something stupid, set off a spark. Maybe he did want a fight. “Enough!” Raz shouted – and was stunned when the entire room stopped. Everyone stared at him, and he realized they all looked frightened. “Why are you fighting?” he demanded. “Why? Because somebody spilled an ale? Knocked into a chair?” He fought back fresh tears. “My friend just died as the latest Candidate and this is how you treat him? Two Candidates! Two have died recently.” He recalled something Ailill had said recently. “Our King is dieing, and this is how you show your grief? That barmaid is dying of the wasting disease but is here getting your food and drinks and you thank her by destroying her bar? Is that how you show your gratitude? Your thanks that you’re alive? Is this how you show appreciation for the lives you’ve been given?”
He barely noticed what he was saying anymore, words spilling faster than he could understand him. “You appreciate nothing. You waste the lives you’re given and make those around you suffer as well.” Tears streamed down his face as he spoke, but Raz didn’t notice. Nor did he notice the fearful, almost awed expressions on the faces of the people staring at him. “Looking at you pains me,” he said, then paled as familiarity washed over him in the shape of brilliant green eyes.
Suddenly unable to bear the stifling tavern, the stench of sweat and smoke and ale, Raz made for the door, oblivious to the way the crowd parted to let him pass. He stumbled into the empty street, shuddering as rain crashed down on his too-hot skin. Continuing to half-walk, half-stumble, he moved as far as he could before finally collapsing in an alleyway behind a stack of old, broken crates, grateful as darkness reached up and snatched him away.
You want to reprimand me again.
Emi—
Spare me. I grow weary of them all. This very night I die so they might live, and you want me to show mercy to those who hold life in such ill regard they take it away.
They only did it—
I don’t care. Life is precious. They took a life that was not theirs to take. All because they let their emotions get the better of them. Foolishness.
Please, Emi—
I have told you I don’t care. We have had this argument before, we will no doubt have it again because you persist in ignoring my orders. I do not care. They can rail against me all they like. Do you think I haven’t heard what they say? Every last one hates me, because I am cold. Unfeeling. Why should I care about those who would abuse the precious gift bestowed upon them? Always I take care of my children, and this is how they repay me? Ungrateful children. Not a one is worth the grief they inspire.
If you would just—
Get out. Looking at you pains me.
…Yes, Eminence.
Raz woke with a hoarse cry, arms flailing. “No! I didn’t—“ he stopped as he realized it wasn’t a man with dark hair and jewel-green eyes before him, but two very worried women. And if Shio and Shinju actually looked worried, he must look every bit as wretched as he felt. “What?” he managed.
“You’re in our room at the inn,” Shio said.
Shinju continued. “Finally got worried, and came looking for you.” The sisters exchanged a brief glance, and Raz was puzzled by it. “We found you out cold in an alleyway. Looked like a nightmare was getting to you pretty hard.”
“I’m all right now,” Raz said quietly, feeling anything but. “I just…I’m okay.” He forced the lingering shreds of his dream to the back of his mind. “Food?” he asked hopefully.
The sisters nodded and helped him to his feet. “Bath first,” Shio said, “then meet us downstairs. Ivan and Ailill need your help with something. Everything is paid for, so take your time. You smell like someone dumped you in that filthy harbor.”
Raz nodded with a grimace. “Sorry. Sort of…got into a bar fight. Then collapsed outside. I’ll be all right now. Didn’t meant to worry you.”
Shinju sat down on the bed again, reaching up to stroke his cheek, a deep frown on her face. “Are you all right, Raz? We half expected you to just throw yourself into the water. I mean…” she drifted off, hand falling into her lap.
“Pechal, you mean?” Raz asked roughly. “I’ll never be all right. He was my brother. But…he wouldn’t want me to give up.” Life is precious. Each life has a purpose. Abuse it not. “There are things I have to do. Including, it seems,” he grinned, “helping Ivan. Now let me get clean, lovelies, unless you want to help me, and I’ll join you shortly.”
Smiling, the sisters departed and a moment later Raz followed, headed toward the bathhouses at the back, a change of clothes set out for him bundled in one arm. Relieved to find the last of three bathhouses empty, he quickly scrubbed off all the filth and grime, then slid into the hot water with a sigh.
In the quiet of the bathhouse, with noise from the inn nothing but a distant murmur, the cool evening air contrasting with the hot bath water, it was all too easy for him to relax, for thoughts at the back of his mind to slip forward again, images of the dream flickering as clear as day instead of fading away like dreams should.
Looking at you pains me.
Why does looking at you hurt?
Anguish and shame.
Is it really you?
Why?
The door banged open to admit a group of men who definitely looked as though they’d prefer Raz vacated himself. Scrambling out, dressing quickly, Raz raked a hand through his wet, dripping hair and made his way to the dining hall. His eyes sought and quickly found his friends, tucked away back in the far right corner, and he weaved his way through the crowd of tables and people, dropping down beside Shio. “So what’s up?”
“You’ve returned to the land of the living with remarkable speed,” Ivan said slowly, the concerned frown at odds with his ‘evil man’ appearance.
Raz shrugged. “Not by choice. Things to do. Apparently you need my help. So what’s up?” He paused with a tankard halfway to his mouth and grinned briefly. “Don’t think I’ll do it for free.”
“Perish the thought,” Ivan muttered, but a smile twitched at his mouth. “We need you to break into the palace.”
Raz started choking on his ale, setting his tankard down hard and struggling to breathe properly. “What?” He stared as they filled him on all that he’d missed, shaking his head in bemusement as they finished. “Wow. I had no idea…” his voice caught. “Pechal was worth that much trouble to a bunch of nobles.” He frowned in thought. “What do we know about the palace?” Attempting this was madness. One couldn’t simply walk into the palace if they didn’t belong there.
But he’d been planning to try anyway. He was tired of those green eyes stalking him. He wanted to know why. A spell? A curse? Why would anyone curse him? Hopefully he’d find out.
“Your best bet would be to go in through the Cathedral,” Shio said, thoughtfully chewing on a piece of red fish. “It’s not guarded as heavily as the rest of the palace. I don’t think it’s guarded at all, except by priest.” Her tone said what she thought of that.
“There’s also a good bet that’s where they keep the feathers,” Shinju continued. “Though our good Earl might also be the one to keep them, in which case you’ll have to figure out where he works within the palace.”
Raz rolled his eyes. “Because there aren’t hundreds upon hundreds of rooms to search.”
“Seduce a pretty little maid,” Shio said. “Or footman. That’s what we did to get information on the layout.”
“So what did your pretty little maid or footman tell you?”
Smirking, Shio pulled out a small scroll of paper on which a rough map had been sketched. “The pretty little maid gave me this,” she said, and began to point out each room marked out on the map, adding what little snippets of information she had on the inhabitants.
“The footman told us the High Priest keeps strange hours,” Shinju said. “As do several other nobles, so don’t’ expect all the hallways to be empty. “
“I’d have to worry about servants anyway,” Raz said, studying the map thoughtfully. He eyed the twins in amusement. “You seduced a maid?”
Shio and Shinju looked at him innocently. “Just because this country is so uptight about such things…”
Raz chuckled and shook his head, then sent a sly look at Ailill and Ivan. “I think perhaps we’re all in good company.” He turned brisk. “All right. The sooner this is done, the better. Obviously. So I need to obtain a fire feather and then we should best get out of town.”
“We can go to Green Falls,” Ivan said. “That’s where my men are holing up.”
“All right,” Raz said. “What time is it?” He smiled at the serving woman as she set down a plate loaded with mutton and salted potatoes, a hunk of soft, dark bread.
“Seven o’clock,” the serving woman said. “Near enough anyway.”
“Thank you,” Raz said and dug into his food with relish. He waited until the woman was gone. “Plenty early enough, then.”
Shio frowned. “Shouldn’t you scout the area yourself first, Raz? I mean it’s going to be hard enough getting by guards and everyone else if you check it out a bit first. But attempting it completely cold?”
Raz shrugged and swallowed a bite of potato. “No choice. ‘Sides, if I think about it too much I figure out how stupid this is. I’d rather just do it while I’m feeling reckless. If I get caught, hopefully it’ll be before I get the fire feather.” So they’d just imprison him. Rather than kill him. “So I should sneak in via the Cathedral.” That made him nervous for reasons he couldn’t explain – or didn’t want to explain. “That doesn’t tell me how to get past the gates and all.”
“Carriage,” Shinju said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, teeth tearing neatly into a last bit of the fish on her plate.
“What?” Raz stared blankly.
Shinju gave him a patient look. “Carriages go in and out of the palace all the time. I’ve seen them coming and going as late as midnight. All you need to do is slip beneath one of those and ride it into the palace.”
“That sounds like fun,” Raz said with a grimace, “but I suppose it’s better than attempting to scale a wall, which was all I had.” He sopped up the last of the juice from the mutton with his bread and looked at the other two at the table. “You’re being awfully quiet.”
“Merely watching a peer work,” Ivan said with a smile. “Usually I simply hire you.”
“And leave out pertinent information,” Raz said. “And try to underpay.”
Ivan grinned. “It’s so much fun getting your ire up, I can never resist. What do you want for this job?”
Raz stared at his empty plate and reached absently for his ale. “Nothing,” he said after a moment. “Consider it repayment for trying to help with Pechal.” He swallowed the last of his ale, eyes burning. Slamming the empty tankard down, he looked at each of his friends in turn. “This could go bad very easily. It usually takes us weeks to do a job. If anything happens to me, just get out of town. They won’t have any reason to suspect I’m anything but alone, but better safe than sorry.”
“If anything happens,” Ailill said quietly. “I will get you out myself.”
“Don’t,” Raz said. “If they catch me before I get the feather, they’ll just lock me up for a few days. If they get me after I’ve got the feather, they’ll just kill me. No reason to stick around either way.”
“Raz…” Ivan said with a frown.
Raz stood up, shaking his head. “I have my own reason for going,” he said quietly. “This is just a good excuse. Now come on, I’ve got a carriage to catch. Thanks for dinner.” He didn’t anyone a chance to reply, but turned and strode from the inn and out into the still-crowded streets.
He weaved and bobbed through the crowd, ducking into alleyways where he could, making his way steadily across town to the south side. The scent of the ocean came up behind him, and Raz smiled fondly. “What say you, my lovelies?”
“That one,” Shio said, pointing to a carriage coming up the road, still some distance away, eschewing one that was much closer, nearly at the gates. “It comes often, and the coachman often stops to talk to the guards a moment. The trust will work to our favor.”
Raz nodded. “You noticed all of this in merely a day?”
“Of course,” Shio said with an offended sniff. “Compared to what we usually do, this is easy.”
“Right. All right, my beauties, distract the nice coachman for me then? And remind me why I’m doing this.”
They each reached up to kiss his cheeks, lips soft and warm. “Because you don’t want to lose anymore friends. It’s a challenge. And something is troubling you.”
“As usual, the two of you know far too much,” Raz grumbled good naturedly. “Here we go, then.”
Nodding, exchanging smiles, the twins slipped from the alleyway clinging to each other and laughing up a storm. Somewhere in their stumbling, they’d managed to open their shirts enough that they were less than modest.
They were eerily good at playing drunken maids.
Raz snickered as the coachmen stared, almost feeling sorry for him. On top of their quite feminine shapes and inarguable beauty, the sisters also had an exotic card to play – he doubted even the coachman for a noble had seen very many Kundouins, and certainly none like Shio and Shinju.
The coachman was forced to stop as the girls tumbled into his path, laughing and shouting, clearly thoroughly drunk. Raz double checked the street was clear, then slipped out of the alleyway and into the well-lit street, stalking over to the carriage and rolling beneath it. He tested the undercarriage, making certain he had good hand and footholds, then listened as Shio and Shinju wrapped up their charades, no doubt leaving the poor coachman with thoughts aplenty to help keep him warm at night.
He heard the coachman once more settle into place, talking briefly with whomever was inside the carriage, then heard the crack of a whip. Just in time he grabbed onto the undercarriage, settling himself in for a rough ride as the carriage continued on its way to the palace.
Several minutes later, just as he was beginning to think his arms and legs could take no more, the carriage was at last left in the dark of a carriage house. Stifling a groan, relieved that the hastily contrived plan had actually worked, Raz let go and hit the floor with a soft oomph, then rolled out from under the carriage
Somewhere bells chimed eight o’clock. Still too early. He would have to wait until it was much, much later.
Shrugging, Raz opened the carriage he’d been hiding beneath and climbed inside. He had four hours to waste, might as well take a nap.
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Hm... interesting memories Raz is having. I wonder if he'll run into anyone interesting in the Cathedral?
I get a little confused between the Earl and the Duke... but they are both up to something, and I wonder how all the politics and sickness and such will come together. Eight more chapters and I'll know.
I think I'll start reading the Treasure rewrite tonight. I really did like that one, but BB seems to have a more involved plot and the emotions are really pulling at me. It could be a matter of liking the one I read most recently best... either way, I can't wait for more, and look forward to following the rewrite, as well.^^
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No guesses today because now all I have is the curiosity over how Dym and Raz knew each other. And I still think Dym is the last Candidate. Ailill and Ivan are adorable and I like how they compliment each other, with Ailill being so worldly XD
And mentioning Ivan's bad boy thing reminded me of why I liked him immediately in the first place. He's not bad, but he has enough of the bad guy aura that he trips my villain complex a bit, maybe? Dym does this too liek whoa XDDDDD I never believed he was really a bad guy. I think Ivan and Raz's opinions Re: the god will change.
And now! Stop distracting me XD I have a lot to do today. ♥
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Not Dym. Raz.
Am so impatient. Want it all right now. *sigh*
MEXICO? Internet cafe.
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i really can't wait until Raz runs into Dym again. he will won't he?
and such luv for Ailill. so very Very awesome. such delicious possessiveness.
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Wow. At the end of chapter eleven? I realized for the first time that the heads of the two biggest merc bands were both named for infamous rulers. Vlad the Impaler and Ivan the Terrible. I mean, the Ivan the Terrible thing had come to my mind, but I didn't really think about it... You have to have done that on purpose. Yes?
Ailill just gets increasingly awesome. He really does. Oh, and I forgot to mention last time that his form is particularly awesome too.
Moving on. Alright, if Raz isn't actually the final candidate, then he's pretty strongly tied up into it all somehow. This'll be interesting. It's nice to see he's gotten out of his funk. And it'll be interesting to see what happens when next he runs into Dym.
...And sadly, now it seems I don't have any more chapters left to read, until you update again. I'll be quite looking forward to more, though.
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And hahahaha! Magic nausea! I almost forgot that A) Pozhar isn't used to magic anymore and B) Pozhar sucks at magic compared to the rest of the world. :P And I *really* wanna know Ailill's background. Really wanna know. Glorified servant? Hm...
And I still want somehow for the Dragons to connect with the Firebird/Candidate/Raz. >.> Even though I know you've written everything. Godly interaction. As they plot to destroy the darkness in Schatten. I wonder where you got that name from... It's intriguing.
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on = one
But for now, he was more than content to let it fall away, and for a few hours enjoy what he’d never thought he’d have.
;_; Now I'm getting all teary-eyed...
coming a hand through his hair as he walked to the door.
As amusing as coming is, I'm pretty sure you meant combing. ;)
He reached up to his hand through Ivan’s short hair
to RUN his hand
Ailill rest a hand on his shoulder.
rested
.... *___* Ailill is SO FREAKING COOL.... Trounce that nasty Earl!!!
through the crowded streets, sticking to alleyways “After
You misplaced a full stop. :)
There lives were the sort no one envied.
Hononym. There = Their
Raz’s head jerked up as the sound of thunder, and he fastened his eyes on the clouds that had seemed to come from nowhere
as = at, and oooh, magicky storm... o.o
handkerchief which she then hastily tucked away. Her eyes caught Raz’s, but hastily slid away as
Overuse of 'hastily' :)
Hunching his shoulders, glaring around to send the message he wanted to be left alone.
You're missing a subject. Maybe leave hunching the way it is but change glaring into 'he glared'...?
frowning as he noticed than other than a couple of girls as young as the woman at the bar
the first 'than' should be a 'that'
“Our King is dieing, and this is how you show your grief?
Hononym. dieing = dying
words spilling faster than he could understand him.
him = them?
He stared as they filled him on all that he’d missed
filled him IN on
so don’t’ expect all the hallways to be empty.
You have an extra apostrophie. :)
Shio and Shinju looked at him innocently. “Just because this country is so uptight about such things…”
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! ^_____________________^
loaded with mutton and salted potatoes, a hunk of soft, dark bread.
I think you lost an 'and' in there.
He didn’t anyone a chance to reply,
didn't GIVE... :)
Raz snickered as the coachmen stared, almost feeling sorry for him.
Only one coachman there, luv. ^.^
That said...
OMGSQUEEYAYSOON! ^_____________^ Can't wait to see what happens when Raz meets Dym again. ^.^ But I'm hoping for some really yummy kisses. ;)