Page 3 of What Fury Brings
“Is that why you showed your face on the front today, waving that massive sword around?” she asked. “To remind your people that you’ve still got fight in you? Is your heir getting a little too popular for your liking?”
“His. Name. Is. Sanos.” The words were clipped, and the prince’s name came out like a curse.
His heir is definitely a sore spot, then. Good to know.
“Ahh. How is Sanos coming along? Does he have a mind for politics to match that battle prowess? Have you taught him the ways of my people so he’ll be prepared to deal with me in the future?”
“You’re not queen yet,” Atalius spat, “and I hear your cousin has garnered more favor than you.”
The words stung, as they were meant to. Olerra hated that he knew exactly where to poke to cause the most pain.
Olerra may have had the army on her side, but her cousin, Glenaerys, had the money. Glen had much of the nobility in her pocket already, and since it was a majority vote by the nobility that would grant one of them the title of crown princess (an outdated term since Amarran Queens didn’t wear crowns anymore), Olerra was in a precarious position.
She needed to make a strong political move to bring more of them to her side, and Atalius was giving her an idea.
She said nothing of his jibe. “Which son can I have? Do I get to pick? Perhaps the youngest, Ikanos? He hasn’t had quite as much time to be influenced by you and your heathen ways.”
The king didn’t say a word.
“No? Then perhaps the spare? I hear Andrastus is a very pretty man. A poet, yes? He would make a beautiful addition to my harem, don’t you think?” Atalius didn’t need to know that she didn’t actually have a harem or any intention of starting one. “How much is your life worth to you,Atalius? Maybe I’m not asking for enough. Perhaps I should demand two sons in exchange for you. Maybe three? Who do you—”
“Stop!”
Olerra grinned at the victory.
“Just stop,” Atalius said. “You’ve made your point. I’m at your mercy, but do not bring my sons into this.”
“And what will you give up for that, Atalius? Your pride? Would you beg? Let’s hear it. Beg me not to take your sons and turn them into whores.”
A vein stood out in the king’s neck. He looked as though he were struggling against his bonds, but they were too tight to give him even an inch of movement. “I will see you dead for this,” he said, his voice lowering to something Olerra could barely hear.
“How are you to accomplish that from your chair?”
He screamed his fury into the tent.
When he finished, Olerra said, “Before I make my decision, there is one more thing I wish to know. Why didn’t any of your sons join you on the battlefield today? They can’t all be fighting the Ephennans.”
No answer. The mostly one-sided conversation was somehow becoming even more entertaining.
“Have you not battle-trained them all?” she prodded. “Are they cowards?”
Nothing.
“Do you know what I think, Atalius? I think that, deep down, you knew you would lose, and you didn’t want them here to see your defeat.”
His eyes met hers, and Olerra knew she’d struck the mark. “Oh, Atalius. At the end of the day, you’re just a man. Insecure yet overconfident. Hotheaded while tied to a chair. Condescending when you’ve been so hopelessly beaten. A series of contradictions that will never work in your favor. You should have retreated the moment you spottedmy reinforcements. Perhaps you wouldn’t have taken a rock to the head. How is that pounding headache?”
She knew he wouldn’t answer, so she stood when she was done. Olerra turned her back to him, which she knew was a grave insult in his country. One never turned away from a king. She smiled as she spoke low to her watching captains.
“Blindfold him. Let him think you’re going to kill him, then return him to his kingdom. Leave him somewhere to be found by his sons. Let them see his defeat.” After a pause, she added, “And take back everything we lent him.”
“Yes, General,” they said in unison.
Atalius had unintentionally given her his weakness. He cared for his sons very much, and Olerra was forming a plan that would not only strengthen her standing as queen potential with the nobles but also get back at Atalius for the battle that cost her twenty-four good soldiers.
The first step was to let him go. The fun part would come later.
“Farewell, Atalius,” she called over her shoulder. “I hope to never see you again.”
