Page 392 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 6

When Rossa sat down to dinner, she found her whole family present – including her half brother, Tobias, and his wife and children. Was it some important feast day, that she'd forgotten? She'd been so intent on her training, one day blended into another until even Sundays took her by surprise.

"Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?" Rossa's nephew, Bruno, demanded.

Ah, so that was the occasion.

Rossa shrugged. As her brother's only son and heir, Bruno was fussed over most days, so she felt little need to add to his over-inflated sense of self-importance.

"You're a terrible aunt," Bruno complained. "On my friend Peter's birthday, his spinster aunt gave him a whole new set of clothes, and new boots, with a purse of coins to hang from his new belt. And she spent a whole week before his birthday, cooking all his favourite foods."

"Peter the innkeeper's son?" Rossa asked. At Bruno's nod, she continued, "Dominique is not a spinster. She's a Rialto courtesan, who spends more money on potions from Swanhild and Raphael than the rest of Mirroten combined. Peter's new clothes were likely not new at all, but left behind by one of her clients." Rossa suspected Dominique would have quite the story to tell about the client who'd lost his clothes – she'd have to ask her to regale the tale when she next came home.

Bruno's brow creased with puzzlement. Evidently his education had not included herbalism, or the customs and courtesans of Rialto. "You're still a mean aunt," he announced, before stuffing his face with food.

Assassins were not known for their kindness, so she said, "Good," before she reached for the meat.

Bruno swallowed with difficulty. "Peter says you're going to be a spinster because no one wants to marry you. You should be married already, he says."

"Peter says, or his older brother John says?" Rossa asked sharply. Though she wouldn't have put it past either of them to be making snide comments about her, after she'd repeatedly turned down invitations from both boys for most of the spring and summer. Last year, it had just been John, but now Peter was the ripe age of fourteen, he deemed himself enough of a man to pester her, too.

"They say if you don't marry soon, no one will have you, for all the good men will be taken," Bruno said. "You spend too much time in the forest alone. You'll never be as good as Master Zoticus. Better to be a proper wife and have babies. Some of them say you can't have babies because you're a witch, an evil witch."

Oh, that part was too good. "Ah, but I am a witch," she purred, wiggling her fingers. "Want to see if I can turn you into a slug without anyone noticing?"

"Mother!" The wail that came out of Bruno sounded like it came from a boy much younger than ten.

Conversation around the table stilled.

"What is it?" Silvana asked, the edge on her tone sharp enough to cut through bone. She didn't spoil her son, though Tobias did.

"Aunt Rossa said she'd turn me into a slug!"

"What did you say to her?"

"I only said what everyone says – she should hurry up and get married!"

Silvana's lips thinned. "And?"

Rossa recognised the danger in her sister in law's tone, even if Silvana's own son didn't.

"If she doesn't pick a husband soon, she'll turn into an evil old witch!"

Silvana pointed at the door. "Lady Sara needs more kindling for the fire. Go outside and chop some for her. Now."

"But it's my birthday, and I haven't finished my dinner," Bruno whined.

"Do as your mother says, boy. Are you sure you're ten, if you haven't even learned that yet?" Father only had to look at Bruno for the boy to shrink. "What are you waiting for?"

Bruno bolted outside. Soon, Rossa could hear the sounds of an axe at work.

Silvana shook her head. "I'm sorry, Rossa, he's become impossible of late. Before the twins died, they kept him in order, but after…" She stared at Mother. "Was Tobias ever this much trouble?"

Mother laughed. "Tobias was never any trouble. He's always been his father's son, and if I hadn't been there at his birth, I'd wonder how such a placid child could have ever been mine. However, I do remember your father was quite the troublemaker. The things he used to get up to with my brothers…"

All dead now, Rossa knew.

"What the boy needs is some discipline and responsibility. Have you tried goats?" Father asked.

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