Cursors's Fury

That was why she had never sensed it in him. She had never felt it growing in herself, over the long years of work and grief and regret. She’d never allowed herself to understand the seed had taken root and begun to grow. It had lain quietly, patiently, waiting for the end of the winter of mourning and grief and worry that had frozen her heart. Waiting for a new warmth. Waiting for spring.

His love had slain Araris Valerian.

Hers brought him back to life.

She didn’t trust her legs to walk, so she held out one hand to him.

Araris moved carefully, evidently still recuperating himself. She couldn’t see anything but a blur, but his hand touched hers, warm and gentle, and their fingers twined together. She began to laugh, through the tears, and she heard him join her. His arms wrapped around her, and they held one another, choking on laughter and tears.

They said nothing.

They didn’t need to.

Amara wearily looked up from her book as the knob to the door to their chambers in guest quarters of Lord Cereus twisted. The door opened and Bernard came in, carrying a tray laden with various foods. He smiled at her, and said, “How are you feeling?”

Amara sighed. “You’d think I’d be used to cramps by now. I’ve had them every month since I was a girl.” She shook her head. “I’m not curled up and whimpering anymore, at least.”

“That’s good,” Bernard said quietly. “Here. Mint tea, your favorite. And some roast chicken…” He crossed to where she sat curled up in a chair in front of the fireplace. Despite the summer’s heat, the interior of the thick stone walls of Cereus’s citadel made it cool enough to be uncomfortable for her, particularly during her cramps. Between the exhaustion of travel, the bangs and scrapes and abrasions she’d acquired, the shoulder she’d dislocated, and the horrible new memories of violence and death, the disappointment as her cycle continued unabated had assumed monstrous proportions. So much so, in fact, that she’d accepted Bernard’s offer to attend the debriefing with the First Lord and High Lords Cereus and Placidus in her place.

Perhaps that had been unprofessional of her. But then, it would hardly have been professional to break down weeping from the weight of so many different flavors of agony. No doubt, she would look back at that decision and berate herself for it in the future, when the memories of pain had softened-but where she was now, still in the shadow of some of the worst physical and emotional torment she’d ever felt, she did not begrudge herself the time to recuperate.

“How was the meeting?” she asked.

Bernard settled the tray on her lap, uncovered the chicken, and poured a few drops of cream into the tea. “Eat. Drink.”

“I’m not a child, Bernard,” Amara said. She certainly didn’t mean for her voice to sound quite so petulant. It drew a smile from Bernard as he read her expression. “Don’t say it,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He got the other chair and settled into it. “Now. Eat your dinner and drink your tea, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Amara gave him another glowering glance and picked up the tea. It was the perfect temperature, just barely cool enough to drink without scalding herself, and she savored the warmth as it spread down her throat to her belly.

Bernard waited until she took the first bite of chicken to begin. “The long and short of it is that Kalarus’s forces are in retreat. Which is good, because they’re no longer coming here-and bad because there are still Legions able to retreat and fight another day.

“Aquitaine crushed both Legions holding the passes from the Blackhills, though they were able to retreat in reasonably good order.”

Amara smirked. “He’s probably negotiating with their officers, trying to bribe them away from Kalarus. Why destroy when he can recruit?”

“You’ve spent too much time with Lady Aquitaine,” Bernard said. “Finish your chicken, and I’ll do something nice for you.”

Amara arched a brow at him, then gave a diffident shrug and went back to eating.

“Once Atticus’s daughter was freed,” Bernard continued, “and he was certain that Kalarus wasn’t going to bushwhack him the minute he revealed himself, Atticus froze the bloody floodplain into one enormous sheet of ice. Then he marched his Legions right over it to cut off the easternmost of Kalare’s Legions and trap them in the fortress they’d taken. He’s got them under siege now, and Gaius is sending Second Imperian to aid them.”

“What about the clouds?” she asked.

“Apparently they started breaking up over the cities farthest inland the day before we reached Kalare. After two or three days they fell apart completely.”

Amara sipped tea thoughtfully. “Do we know how the Canim did it?”

“Not yet.”

She nodded. “How did Placida’s Legions arrive at Ceres so quickly? They got there before we did, and we were windborne. I thought he’d have to march them all the way from his home city.”