Page 54 of Godsbane
“Whatever happens today, we will stop him. I won’t let Rollins take anything from you or your people.”
“I don’t need protection,” I remind him, the bite in my words mirroring the ice in my eyes.
“I know you don’t need it. Killing him would be for my own pleasure.”
Cal slips a single dagger into his armor’s hidden sheath that runs along his ribs. He extracts another from his bag, offering it to me by the intricately carved ivory handle. Strange markings scroll elegantly across the alloy blade, my fingers absently tracing them as he continues.
“My reputation will deter most of the guards from attacking, but they will underestimate you. You won’t expose your …power… to them, so you’ll need blades. I owe you at least three, by my count.”
“That was my favorite corset,” I sigh with a half-smile. I take the blade from his waiting hands, testing its weight and balance across my palm. “There’s always a few men who think they’ll die if they touch me.”
“They will.” Cal moves in front of me, lifting my chin until my eyes meet his. “If you don’t kill them, I will.”
Gods, that shouldn’t be so hot.
Power prickles my skin at the promise of death. Somewhere deep within me, the dark beast that forever craves decay opensone eye. The required balance for my life-giving earth magic smiles in the shadows.
Whatever happens today will be a test. A prerequisite for what awaits me—what awaits us—in Amale. My bones tingle at the thought of the unknown, something guaranteed to further propel our conjoined destiny.
Commotion outside pulls Cal to the window to investigate. Rollins’ men, who have been stationed outside the inn since they delivered the correspondence just before dawn, are growing more restless by the minute. Undoubtedly taking to policing the streets in their quest for something to occupy their time.
Cal sighs, dragging a hand through damp, onyx hair.
“I need to get down there and remind them who they’re dealing with,” he says with an exasperated head shake.
“They can’t know, Cal. If anyone gets even the slightest whiff that there’s…” I struggle for the right word to describe whatever is happening between us and come up short.
“They have rebuked my birthright, discounted my claim as heir my entire life. I cannot …I will not…give them any reason to further question my authority. You may not wish to see Marks on the throne, but the Captain of Corinth represents his interests. I will not be reduced to another one of the Lord General’s puppets.”
Cal tries to conceal the wince on his face, quickly turning away from me as he straps the emerald-hilted broadsword across his back.
“The problem with puppets, princess, is that everyone thinks they know who’s pulling the strings. Marks thinks he’s the ultimate master. A god who tames kings. But even his power has limits and even a captain has to follow commands.” He turns to face me again, piercing steel eyes pinning me in place. “And despite what colors I wear or what allegiances I publicly swear, I will follow only your commands, my lady.”
Bending at the waist, the Captain of Corinth bows at my feet and disappears into the hallway.
The cobblestone street outside the inn is unnervingly quiet. The menacing sight of a fully armed Captain of Corinth atop his gray mare is enough to cause the townsfolk to go out of their way to avoid his attention. Every soul in this village knows the deadly man who sits in their midst. Those who didn’t see him ride in no doubt heard tales of his arrival throughout the evening.
Gasps fill the air around me as I exit the tavern. The unrecognizable, barely noticed commoner that accompanied the captain yesterday now has a face and a name. Chin up and shoulders back, I walk confidently towards my own readied horse, ignoring their shocked half-whispers.
“It’s her. It’s Poison Ivy.”
“She’s gods-cursed.”
They’re never as quiet as they think they are. Or maybe they just don’t care. It’s not like I’m human to them anyway.
Two red-coated soldiers flank either side of Cal, each atop a chestnut horse. The stoic mask of the captain is plastered on his face, the spark in his eyes noticeably absent when he looks at me.
It’s exactly what I asked, or rathercommanded, from him. So why does it scrape at my heart like a blade across tender flesh?
“Governor Rollins has sent us an escort, Lady Ivy.” Disdain is thick in Cal’s voice as he looks between the inferior soldiers.
One of the soldiers scoffs as he assesses my approaching form. “Summoned hours ago and still can’t be bothered to put on a proper dress.”
“I didn’t realize Rollins allowed his men to openly mock the heir of a neighboring region.” The man pales at the timbre of Cal’s voice as a hint of black flashes in his eyes. “Perhaps I should have a talk with the governor about the insubordination in his ranks.”
The second man breaks into a coughing fit, trying to stifle his laughter at his companion’s discomfort. He looks as if he might soil himself under Cal’s domineering glare, the threat of violence lingering in the air around us.
“Our apologies, Captain.”
