Page 16 of The Last of the Dark Lords

“You’re even better looking when you’re not covered in blood.” He regarded me with some intensity, and I suddenly felt shy. “Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

“What?” This was too much. My mind seized as I scrambled to put together what was happening.

“Sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m the ‘Dark’ Lord of Ashfuror. But since you are to be my husband, you should probably call me Cyrus.”

He extended his hand to me. I stared at it, then at him. He was slender, but there were hints of muscle under the black leather armor.

“Not what you were expecting, hmmm?” the Dark Lord — no, Cyrus — asked, a smirk sneaking onto his face.

I shook my head. The fog finally cleared enough for me to understand.

“You are my betrothed?” I couldn’t keep the tremor out of my voice.

He chuckled, a sound that made my stomach flip. “I’m similarly surprised. I thought I was getting some spoiled nineteen-year-old child of the aristocracy. Instead, you are…”

“I am Skye.” I vibrated with annoyance at his condescending arrogance. “I’m twenty-eight, and Commander of the Archers of Greatfalls.

“That explains the muscles. And the lack of wit.”

Did this snotty lord just insult me? He might be an accomplished swordsman, but that didn’t mean he had decent manners.

“Just because you aren’t the gouty weakling I thought you’d be, doesn’t mean I can’t best you in a fight.” My growing anger cleared out any lingering confusion.

“Oh, he’s got some fire!” Cyrus smirked at me. My right hand curled into a fist in response. “How uncharacteristic of a follower of Vazzart.”

“What do you know of that?” I replied. “I can’t imagine you get much exposure to civilized society.”

There was a clang from behind him. We both turned to where Manod had his hand across the chest of the other guard, who had a white knuckle grip on his drawn sword.

“Elber, stand down.” Cyrus’ voice was deep and commanding. I hated how appealing it was.

“My lord, he insulted you!”

“Stand. Down.” Cyrus turned back to me, clearly amused. “This is my somewhat befuddled betrothed. He is going to besomuch fun. If you are still committed…”

I glared at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down, despite his pretty insults.

“It will be your greatest honor to be married to me.”

Cyrus let out a low laugh. I ignored the desire it stirred up inside me. Even if he was my intended, I wasn’t going to fawn at his feet. Especially if he was going to be such a twit.

“Come. Let’s get you to your new home.”

The Dark Lord of Ashfuror turned and walked out the gate of Greatfalls, and I followed.

***

The first day was spent riding in silence. I was piqued by meeting the Dark Lord, and the only thing I could think to do was brood. Jelenna rode by my side. I was grateful to her for packing a bag for me in advance, although a little annoyed that she assumed I would be going. She thought she knew me.

Maybe she was right.

At the very least, she knew better than to try and break through my current bad mood. I hoped I was projecting an air of danger and grit, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that the Dark Lord’s people were laughing at me.

We joined with a platoon of soldiers a league or two outside of Greatfalls. I assumed the rest of the army had already headed back to Ashfuror, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t speak to anyone as I rode, Jelenna to my left and Cyrus and Manod to my right. The two were having whole conversations with only their eyes, but I didn’t care about their opinion of me. I kept my gaze trained on the road ahead of us.

The lands were cracked and dry with drought. We moved at a steady, even pace for many hours, but we never saw another person. All the vegetation was stunted and choked. We passed the ruins of several old farms. None of them had live crops or animals.

I had never been this far away from Greatfalls. My home city had always valued self-sufficiency, and we preferred isolation. My Archers were at their most effective shooting down from theramparts. We avoided situations where they’d have to go on the offensive.

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