Page 36 of Storm Front
“I don’t need a war at this wedding,” Nyx said, glancing around. Whenever War came, Azaiah was quick to follow. Was he waiting outside, listening in? Taking Andor at last, who had to be carried in on a litter just to sit on the throne?
“Most weddings are a war of some kind,” Ares said. “The florist hates the baker, the maid of honor hates the mother-in-law. The happy couple realize they’ve made a terrible mistake. You can’t have so many people in one place without battle lines being drawn.”
“Keep the battle lines to a minimum, then.” Nyx finished with his jacket and stepped down off the platform in front of the mirrors. Thankfully, Lamont had taken all the tailors in his eternal fussing over sleeve lengths and embroidery stitching, leaving Nyx on his own. “Is there a reason you’re here? Beyond the usual.”
“Political marriages usually hold the seeds of true war,” Ares said. They tipped their head back when Nyx took the seat next to them, their fire-tipped braid swinging. “There’s one here, deep down. I can feel it.”
“I can’t convince you to restrain yourself for a day?”
“You’ve become irreverent since you started fucking my brother,” Ares said, and Nyx went still. “Don’t look alarmed. I can see it on you. When a mortal becomes lover to a god, something about them changes. They’re easier to notice. And your room was empty when I checked it, earlier.”
“You were in my…” Nyx sighed. “Of course you were. Gods don’t respect others’ privacy, do they?”
“Why would we?” Ares kicked their feet against the chair. Outside, a woman raised her voice, and something smashed on the marble floor. “Ah. That would be the florist. Is there a reason all your things are in boxes, mortal? I would know if you were going to battle.”
The thought of Ares rummaging around in his possessions made Nyx’s blood run cold. He stood, putting distance between himself and the war god. “Just getting my affairs in order. With the skirmishing on the border, I could be called away at any moment.”
“Yes. I know. I was there. Am there, in another aspect.” Ares’s form flickered, taking on the uniform of one of the hill people, and their voice took on a slight burr. “They take your children to fight in their wars, your crops to feed their princes, but you have the Sun Lord to guide you.” They shivered, and their shape flickered back to the imperial uniform and tidy braid. “Nothing like an empire to sow distrust.”
“I appreciate the warning.” Unease stirred in Nyx’s belly. If he became Azaiah’s companion, would he have to walk with Death among his own soldiers? Those peasants from the hills, who only joined the ranks because they’d been forced to? When would it stop feeling personal, like Nyx could have done something to help if he’d been there as a general?
Azaiah hadn’t even asked him yet. Nyx wasn’t sure if he ever would. It was just a possibility, looming in the back of his mind, overtaking everything until he couldn’t pretend he didn’t want it anymore. He’d signed his wages over to Estrid and her wife, who were expecting a child soon. His possessions, those few he had, were in carefully labeled crates in the closet of his room. Some nights, he waited in silence, listening for thunder, holding his breath.
“Oh, no.” Ares was sitting up, watching him. “You truly are my brother’s, aren’t you?”
Nyx frowned, and Ares smiled. “Is Azaiah here?”
“He will be. He could get here sooner if he used the river, but he likes to walk.” Ares shrugged. “He wanted me to tell you that he’ll be here when the wedding is over. In the place you first played your game together.”
Nyx’s breath caught. “Did he say why?”
Ares looked him over, their smile wry. “I don’t need to tell you, I think.” They got to their feet and stretched, languid as a cat. “But I have work to do. I’ll see you at the ceremony, soldier.”
“You can take one afternoon off,” Nyx tried to say, but Ares was already sauntering out the door. They moved around a woman in a gown, and the woman stopped, turned to look, and shivered.
Wonderful. There was a war god loose at the wedding, and Azaiah was coming. Nyx looked at himself in the mirror again. He wasn’t a handsome man, he knew, but the uniform wasn’t terrible. Azaiah had seemed appreciative before, but Nyx couldn’t help feeling unsure. He unbuttoned the top of his collar, fixed it again, and touched his hair.
He was still trying to decide on his jacket when someone flung open the door. He jumped, half expecting Azaiah, but it was Nadia, dressed head to toe in pearls.
“Oh, gods,” Nyx said.
“I’m a sea beast,” she said, laughing. The pearls chimed against one another. “The ceremony’s about to start, and the florist and the head priestess just tried to strangle each other. We had to separate them.”
Nyx had a pretty good idea howthathad happened, but he held his tongue. “You look… nice, though.”
“Nyx, I just said I look like a sea beast. Don’t lie.” Nadia leaned against the door. “I’m glad you’re here, though. You haven’t seen him yet?”
She could have been talking about Lamont, but Nyx knew better. “No. Not yet.”
Nadia walked over, various adornments jingling loudly, and patted his cheek. “I’m sorry, Nyx. Even if I’m also a little glad.”
He couldn’t tell her. Not now, with her draped in the worst wedding dress he’d ever seen, moments before the ceremony. “Well. We should go.”
“Yes, we should. You’re walking me to the dais.” Nadia held out her arm, and Nyx took it. “I had to calm Lamont down four times today. I can only imagine what his coronation will be like.”
“And you’re sure you want this?” Nyx asked, lowering his voice.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “As sure as you are. Nyx, I tried to make my mark on the empire as a soldier, but all I did was kill people. How does that help the poor in the slums? The border people who hate us? As empress, I can have a real influence. I can do things that will affect thousands of people’s lives. At first, I thought it would be enough if you and Tyr were together, but now…”
