Page 8 of What Fury Brings
Atalius ducked and swiped, cutting a hole in Canus’s shirt. Sanos charged from behind, rallying his strength. His father took his legs out from under him, too fast for Sanos to even track it in his delirium of pain.
He fell to the ground on his already-blistered back.
And screamed.
“Get up,” the king demanded.
They both charged again and lost.
“Get up,” the king said a second time.
It continued until there was nothing but pain and his father’s voice.
Sanos didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious when he woke in his rooms to a cold pinch.
“Shh,” his mother said. She put another salve-soaked cloth on his aching back, covering every injury one at a time. Ferida was beautiful, with white-gold hair and smooth features that made her look doll-like. She was small. So small compared to all her grown sons. Too small to have been paired with the likes of his father.
When the queen was done, she stood, taking the bowl away to the adjoining bathing chamber. She walked a little funny.
“He hurt you,” Sanos said.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Canus—”
“Emorra is with him.”
“Good,” Sanos managed.
He seemed to sink farther into the bedding beneath him.
“Your reign can’t come soon enough,” she said.
“He’s too fit and healthy. It’ll be years and years yet.”
“He’s too battle hungry. One of these days, his pride will get him. And if it doesn’t, perhaps we should help it along.”
The words sang to his soul, but Sanos didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that they could never help it along. He didn’t want her to worry over the threat his father had made to them. Or worse, hear her say she wasn’t afraid of death if it meant it would save her sons and country from Atalius.
So instead, Sanos said, “One day,” to give her hope.
“One day,” she agreed.
3
Olerra’s first order of business upon returning to Zinaeya, capital city of Amarra, was reporting to her aunt. She marched through the palace with a small retinue of soldiers, their steps loud on the red obsidian tiles. Olerra was still unused to the constant company, but precautions needed to be taken because her cousin kept trying to have her killed.
They were intercepted on the way, but not by anyone dangerous.
“Olerra!”
“Ydra!”
Her sister-chosen grabbed her by the shoulder and put her forehead to hers. “Thank the goddess you’re unharmed. Why wasn’t I sent for upon your return? Are you headed to a battle brief?”
The two separated, and Olerra explained, “I have to put something in motion quickly. The queen is expecting me.”
“Anything I should know about?” As Olerra’s second-in-command, Ydra was usually at all the important meetings. This was something a little different, though.
