Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“Forgive my words, my friend,” Titus said even as Alexander staggered under the weight of his realization, “but it appears you two fought as much as you loved!” He threw up his hands. “Where is the joy in that?”
Struggling to find his feet again as his head spun, Alexander looked at his young friend. “When we loved, my friend,” he said, his voice rough with the emotions that roared through him, “it was for thousands of years. And when we fought, it was for hundreds. It is a thing of magnitudes.”
Titus was silent for a long time before giving a slow nod. “I see your point. I can’t quite comprehend it, but then, by your measure, I’ve only just this second fallen in love. Still . . . I can’t imagine being apart from Sharine.” He stared at Alexander. “How did you spend all that time apart from Zanaya?”
“We’re both as stubborn as the other, and our anger can fuel wars.” It was no boast, just fact; the two of them had the same faults. It was why they loved each other—and why they’d broken so many times over the eons.
Having managed to contain his emotions so they wouldn’t leak out among the Cadre, he clapped Titus on the back. “I wouldn’t worry that the same will happen to you and Lady Sharine, Titus.”
“Oh? Why do you sound so certain?”
“You, my friend, are incapable of holding a grudge against anyone except for the malevolently evil, such as Charisemnon; and Lady Sharine has more wisdom in her smallest finger than either I or Zanaya have ever managed to accumulate.” Dry words that were unfortunately true, he and his Zani were both far too hotheaded.
“You are hard on yourself,” Titus said, then grinned. “One day I promise to hold a grudge against you. For at least the span of a moon. First, you must insult me. Then I will stew in righteous anger.”
Alexander felt his shoulders shake. “The problem is that you find most insults spoken against you hilarious, you malodorous sore on the foot of a dung beetle.”
Throwing back his head, Titus laughed that big booming laugh that had always made Alexander laugh with him. It did so, today, as well, and he walked into the meeting chamber with a smile on his face.
What’s so funny, lover? Zanaya stood on the other side of the old and starkly unmodernized stone chamber deep in the core of the fort. For once, Alexander agreed with a choice of Charisemnon’s. This place was timeless and should remain that way. Built to stay cool in the hottest months of the year, it had no natural light, but Zanaya glowed in the firelight thrown by the torches against the walls.
His Zani, tough and battle hardened . . . but with a softness she permitted him alone to see. And he’d hurt her. Unknowingly so, but that was no excuse. He was an intelligent man, and she’d never hidden her own amber. He’d just been too self-righteous about his decision to accept the evidence of his eyes.
At least he could redeem himself somewhat. He had her amber, too. Not the first piece, for that had turned to ash in a strike of angelfire that had been deadly lightning under his skin as it traveled up his fingers and along his forearm before he halted its progress by literally chopping off his own arm.
Arms grew back.
But there was no coming back from angelfire that managed to reach the heart or brain.
So that piece was forever gone, and he knew Zanaya had never blamed him for it. He had the second piece, the one she’d given him to replace his lost ring. He might be an ass but he loved her. To have discarded that most precious gift? No. Never. He’d gone to Sleep with it, and it lay safe in the chamber from which he’d been so rudely awakened.
He’d retrieve it the instant he was back in his territory.
For now, he answered Zanaya’s question about his laughter: I attempted to insult Titus by comparing him to a sore on a dung beetle’s foot. He found it most amusing.
A slight tilt of her head, Zanaya’s gaze flicking to Titus’s face as her lips curved. He will be a good neighbor, I think. The deep violet of her one-shouldered shift sparkled and glittered in the torchlight.
You, my Zani, are far more likely to be the neighbor who picks fights.
I’ll remind you I never had problems at my border except when my neighbors lost their damned minds. I am perfectly rational when it comes to ruling my territory.
It’s only with you that I’m irrational.
The unspoken words lingered in the air, true enough for both of them.
36
Neha swept into the room at that moment, her skin a dusky brown and her wings a crisp white but for threads of cobalt in the primaries. She’d lined her brown eyes with kohl, but was elsewise in her warrior avatar today. No sari with threads of gold and silver but old and beaten leathers of darkest green that hugged her form. A kukri blade, its curve a wicked sharpness, hung at her hip.