Page 119 of Shifter King
"I'm not here for any of the reasons you're currently thinking." WroOth steepled his fingers as he propped his feet up on the ottoman. "In fact, I can guarantee that this is not going to go the way you think it is."
"I doubt it." Gabrice grabbed his robe and pulled it out, sniffing contemptuously. He snapped it tight over his chest. "Besides, I don't want anyone right now."
"Except Eskiatlo."
He jabbed his finger at him. "Shut your skinchanging mouth. You don't speak about her." He crossed over to the three-drawered dresser with a large decanter of purple-red wine. "One word from me, and you're going into the pit. So you better mind what you say."
WroOth laughed and kicked the ottoman aside as he stood. "Oh. I'd suggest you watch your tone with me, young prince. Leave off the wine and howler ash and whatever else you take that obliterates your memories because you're going to want to remember this."
"You afraid I'm going to forget you, sweetheart?" He shook his head as he poured a brimming goblet. "By this time next year, I won't even remember your face. Except for the fact you're fairly homely. Even that I can forget. Now get out."
"Hmm. Not yet." WroOth stood. "See, ordinarily, I'd be planning on killing you right here and now. You have made my sister's life a misery, and for that, no matter what else happens, I will not forgive you. And neither will my brothers. Indeed, if you survive everything that is about to happen, you will need to plan on going somewhere far, far away. You beat my sister. That is not easily forgotten."
"That little wretch had it coming. And who are you to speak to me this way?"
"Who am I? Probably the first person to tell you that if you don’t find you have a spine, someone will take what poor excuse you have for a back and beat you to death with it."
"What kind of skinchanger are you?" Snarling, Gabrice slammed his goblet down. The dark liquid sloshed off. "Gua—"
WroOth seized him by the lapels of his silk-flowered robe and slammed him into the stone wall. "One who knows exactly how all of this is going to play out, you spineless bowl worm. Now you will cooperate, or else I will flay you halfway to death and leave your bleeding body for my brother to finish."
Gabrice tried to break WroOth's grip on his robe. "You wouldn't dare."
WroOth smiled thinly. "I don’t recommend daring me unless you’re ready for the consequences. But in this case, you’re right. I have no intention killing you myself. I’ll just make sure you get to meet my big brother. Her husband. He isn’t very happy about any of this. And after he finds out what all has happened to her and that you not only allowed it to happen but hit her yourself and spit in her face, he will kill you more slowly and painfully than you ever dreamed you could die. If Naatos runs out of ideas, I’ll be more than happy to help. As will my two other brothers. And trust me. I am exceptionally creative. Even if he sometimes disagrees, I’m sure you won’t. In fact, like I said, because of what you've done to her so far, I really don't fancy you having good odds surviving much after this unless you do a great deal to ingratiate yourself."
"Do you think I really care?" He broke free. "The only reason my own mother hasn't killed me is because I haven't given her the heirs she requires, and I am the last child of her strongest lover. If she'd had her way, I would have been dead years ago."
"Sounds like she's going to get her wish soon then."
"I—I don't actually care about that either. So if you're going to kill me or torture me, do it. The guards might not even come. They're loyal to my mother. I mean, they let you in. Probably didn't even question you being here." He reached for the goblet.
"Stop drinking!" WroOth snatched it away and dumped the liquid on the floor. Throwing it aside, he then seized the decanter and poured it out as well. The pungent odor filled the room, overwhelming all trace of the vanilla and chai. "Now, your thoughts and feelings about your own life aside, you're going to listen to me, and you're going to do exactly as I say because of one person. Eskiatlo."
Gabrice's face twisted. "Get—"
"She's alive, and I don't know that you'll ever see her again. That's going to depend on what she concludes. She said you were to come speak for her, and you didn't. But if you want even the chance to see her once more, you will listen."
"What? Eskiatlo's alive!" He started forward, then paced back, lifting his hands in the air. "How!"
"Because Amelia chose not to break her mind. She opened that trap door so they could both try to swim away. A far more logical conclusion than the one your mother spun, but what's logic among enemies?"
Gabrice dragged his hand through his tangled brown hair. "I…you have to take me to her. Do you know where she is?" He tried to grab hold of him.
WroOth swatted him with the fan and stepped away. "I know exactly where she is."
"I love her. More than anything. I wanted her to my wife. My only wife." His voice shook. "We had plans. But my mother found out. She executed everyone who helped us, sent my daughter with some travelers, and locked Eskiatlo up." He moved in front of WroOth, pleading. "I've already lost my daughter. Please."
"She said that you did not come to speak for her."
"Your sister killed her before I could—tried to kill her before she could."
WroOth struck at him with the fan but hit him with the blade of his fist instead.
The Bealorn recoiled wincing. "Ow! Why are you hitting me? It's the truth. I know she's your sister and you care for her, but she is no friend to your kind."
"And you are, I suppose?" WroOth lifted his hand again. He'd break this man into a thousand pieces if he could.
"Listen." Gabrice backed away, still rubbing his arm through the silk sleeve of his robe. "Whether you want to accept that this is the way of the world or not is not my problem. But she told my mother that the only way she would marry me was if she was my only lover. I was willing to give her children. I just wanted Eskiatlo too. And she murdered her."
