Page 26 of The Goddesses' Gifts

Once I had been his counterbalance. He’d occasionally get caught up in peculiar behavior that he considered decadent, and I’d be the one to bring him back to reality. While I could hardly cast stones over odd fixations, he no longer wanted to be reined in. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly when that shift started to happen, but I’m almost certain it was after he’d taken on the power this mountain had to offer. He felt untouchable after the city stopped having influence over him.

“I’ve decided to hold off on the grain raid,” Dulanzo said with a frown. “We received word recently that the villages to the north have been slow to harvest this year. It appears there are rampant fae beasts that have somehow been displaced from their home in the wilds.”

“Hmm.” It would be prudent to wait for them to harvest. We’d not spend the manpower to do it ourselves, but we relied on these villages for supplies to send back to the city. Some we raided; some we traded protection. “We may have to do something about these beasts if they’re going to delay supplies.”

“I’ve already sent a hunting party.” He nodded. “Because who will grow the food if not my vassals?”

“Ah, good. I will be interested in hearing their report.” Then I met his eyes. “Anything else? I have my regular duties to attend to.”

“Ah, yes,” Dulanzo said, brightening as though he’d just remembered something exciting. “You’ll need to summon the healer for my little pet. I left her in a bit of a state. She should probably be looked after.”

Fuck!

I grunted in irritation and rose from my seat, unhurried, as if he’d asked me to make sure the larder was full or to debrief a recently returned raiding party. “I’ll see to it,” I sighed and turned to the door.

I did rush to the infirmary to fetch the healer though. Had I known the insane bastard was going to attack her while I dealt with the boys, I’d never have taken so long after seeing their bonds broken. The healer on duty, Bhekna, greeted me with somber eyes.

The infirmary appeared as a simple, spartan space. Clean marble counters, a few cots, a sturdy exam table, and cabinets of all the medicinal supplies someone like Bhekna could need. It always smelled peculiar though. I had no idea what they used to sterilize their tools, but it burned my nose. It was a wonder that any of them had a sense of smell by the end of their shifts.

“Ah, subcommander. You’re here about the casualty?” Bhekna asked.

He was an older elf, starting to gather wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth with fragile looking spectacles perched on the bridge of his beaky nose. Otherwise, he looked much the same as the rest of us.

“No, I’m supposed to tell you to report to the prison wing to look after Dulanzo’s new pet,” I answered stoically. “I wasn’t aware there had been a casualty.” Something cold twisted in my stomach though. This was just too perfectly timed with Dulanzo’s distraction. Why kill two birds with one stone if you can line up three?

Bhekna winced. There were very few in the warband allowed the luxury of empathy and gentleness. They were all healers. Deep down, even Dulanzo knew it was necessary for their craft.

Bhekna lifted his chin to draw my attention to a still, blanket covered form on the exam table a little way behind him.

He’d asked me to kill the boys, I had no doubt he’d raped the woman … Ozanna. There was only one or two other people it could possibly be.

“Subcommander, I’m terribly sorry to be the bearer of such news,” Bhekna shook his head and removed his glasses. “They said a small group of young male orcs wandered too close to our territory. The patrol engaged and …”

I shushed him with a wave of my hand and straightened my spine. There could be no reaction to what I was about to reveal to myself. I crossed the room to loom over the covered corpse and did my best to lock away anything threatening my composure. Dulanzo was undoubtedly listening. I couldn’t give him the reaction he wanted.

He wouldn’t see the tremble of my hand when I reached for the blanket, though. He couldn’t see the twist of my lip or the pained look in my eyes when I revealed soft white curls with a fine spray of dried blood over them. The way I died a little more inside when I saw the ashen skin and pale lips of my lover.

“I don’t suppose he died of an orc’s simitar, did he?” I asked, my voice smooth and calm.

“No, sir,” Bhekna answered, his healer’s eyes observing me carefully. “I am fairly certain it’s the puncture at the back of his neck. It likely severed the spinal cord. I doubt he suffered long if at all.”

“Ah,” I said. It was a pretty standard assassination then. Quick, quiet, efficient. No doubt the assassin was out before the body even hit the ground. “Well, then, off to the prison wing with you.” I sighed. “I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, sir,” Bhekna said and moved to gather his treatment bag, though he didn’t leave without resting a hand on my shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

I was tired. So fucking tired.

I clenched my jaws before moving to fill a bowl of water and riffle through the cabinets to find a towel. Then I returned to the exam table and stared down at Rhemvile’s body.

I knew this would be his end someday. I’d known it the moment I brought him here for my purposes. To be honest, I hadn’t expected him to live as long as he did. Maybe that lulled me into a false sense of security. The fact that it took over a decade meant that his death was related to my recent fumbling around in waters I hadn’t dared tread before. Once being subcommander had been my endgame. Not just to secure power for myself, but to try and make life a little more bearable for others. It was the highest I could climb without crossing the most powerful elf in the warband. But now Dulanzo was a liability. Unworthy of his position by any standard.

“Wasteful,” I scoffed while staring down at my beautiful simpleton. “Such a waste.”

I don’t know how long I spent running my fingers through his curls, cleaning the blood off his face and throat. I didn’t want to remember him covered in his own blood. Gods, I hadn’t even looked at him when he passed me earlier in the day. No doubt Dourlak would find me later to tell me how this happened, to offer up valid excuses. And I wouldn’t be upset with him. No, the blame for this waste rested between Dulanzo and me.

Rhemvile looked more like himself when I was done cleaning him, his hair a little damp around the face, but otherwise, he was … Rhemvile, just empty of all the things that made him mine. I rolled my lips inward and bit down to stifle the sob that threatened the silence. Tears burned in my eyes. I squeezed them shut too. Once I was in control of myself again, I leaned over and kissed his forehead, mouthing the words I’m sorry against the cool flesh under my lips.

I pulled the blanket over him again. Expendable, replaceable, I reminded myself, just a fucking halfie. Because I had to present myself as the unflappable counterbalance to Dulanzo’s mercurial nature. I had to be the bedrock for all the elves here if I wanted their support. This was an attempt to undermine whatever he thinks I’m planning and for everyone’s sake I couldn’t appear weak.

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