Cursor's Fury (34 page)

“Didn’t
let
me,” Demos said. “But then I didn’t give them much choice in the matter. They weren’t as sneaky as they thought they were. Crows’ll go hungry before I let some mangy dog-priest stick a knife in my spine.”

“Priest?” Ehren asked.

Demos grunted. “Robes, books, scrolls. Talks a lot of nonsense. Name was Sari.”

Sari. Formerly the chamberlain to Ambassador Varg at the capital—and the creature who had plotted with the vord to strike down the First Lord. Sari, who had escaped from Alera, despite all the efforts of the Legions and lords to find and stop him. Sari, who, Ehren was now sure, must have had help inside of Alera.

“Kalarus,” Ehren murmured.

Demos sent Ehren’s earlier words back at him, imitating the scribe’s inflection. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Ehren studied the man for a moment, sure that the overt denial held covert confirmation. If so, then Demos had been hired by Kalarus to take a message to the Canim—who had promptly attempted to kill him before he could escape. Obviously, Demos had no intentions of participating with the authorities by way of retribution—that kind of criminal seldom found others willing to do business with them down the line. But he must have been angered by the betrayal, enough to let Ehren obliquely learn who had hired him and what was happening.

“You know what this means,” Ehren said, shaking his head. “A messenger.
_p. 168
This armada. It’s war, Captain. And you are not the only one who has been betrayed.”

Demos stared aft and said nothing. The darkness that was the storm driving the Canim armada swallowed the island of Westmiston entirely.

Ehren turned to face Demos. “I’ll triple the amount of your pay if you get us back to Alera in time enough to warn the Legions. No questions asked.”

The mercenary glanced at him, silent for a long moment. Then his teeth showed again, and he nodded, very slightly, to Ehren. “Bosun!”

Chapter 19

Isana opened her eyes and thought she was going to faint. Septimus, with his usual delicate, precise touch, had slipped a ring onto her finger so lightly that she had not felt him doing it.

The hand looked like silver, hut was so delicately wrought that she could barely feel its weight. The setting was of a pair of eagles, facing one another, supporting the jewel upon their forward-swept wings. The stone itself was cut into a slender diamond shape, hut the gem was like nothing Isana had ever seen, brilliant red and azure, divided precisely down the center without any detectable seam.

“
Oh
,”
she breathed quietly. She felt her eyes bulging, her cheeks growing pink.
“
Oh. Oh, my
.”

Septimus let out a quiet laugh, and she could sense his pleasure at her reaction, and Isana felt that same surge of joy well up inside her, just as it had the first time she had heard his laugh. Her mouth failed her, and she only sat, staring up at Septimus, drinking in his features. Dark hair, intense green eyes, tall, strong. He was so handsome, his expressive face able to convey volumes of meaning without speaking at all, and his voice was low, rich, strong.

_p. 169
They sat together on a spread blanket at the shore of the little lake near the Legion garrison in the Calderon Valley, under the harvest moon. They had taken their meal together there, as they had so many times since the spring, feeding one another and speaking quietly, laughing, kissing.

He had asked her to close her eyes, and Isana had complied, sure that he was about to show her some new jest.

Instead, he had slipped a ring bearing all the marks of the House of Gaius onto her left ring finger.

“
Oh, Septimus
,”
Isana breathed.
“
Don’t say it
.”

He laughed again.
“
My love, how could I not
?”
He reached out and took both of her hands in his.
“
I cursed my father when he sent the Legion all the way out here
,”
he said quietly.
“
But I never thought I would meet someone like you. Someone strong and intelligent and beautiful. Someone . . .
”
He smiled a little, and it made his face look boyish.
“
Someone I can trust. Someone I want to stand beside me, always. I can’t take the chance that I might lose you if the Legion is ordered elsewhere, my love
.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it.
“
Marry me, Isana. Please
.”

The world started spinning in wild circles, but Isana could not take her eyes away from the only stable thing in it
—
Septimus, his eyes bright and intense in the moonlight.

“
Your f-father
,”
Isana said.
“
I’m not even a Citizen. He would never allow it
.”

Septimus flicked an irritated glance in the general direction of the capital.
“
Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with Father. Marry me
.”

“
But he would never accept it
!”
Isana breathed.

Septimus shrugged and smiled.
“
The shock will be good for him, and he’ll get over it. Marry me.
”

Isana blinked, shocked.
“
He’s the First Lord
!”

“
And I am the Princeps
,”
Septimus said.
“
But our titles don’t really come into it. He may be the First Lord, but he is also my father, and great furies know that we’ve locked horns more than once. Marry me
.”

“
But it could cause you such trouble
,”
Isana pressed.

“
Because Father seeks to preserve the old ways, my love
.”
He leaned toward her, eyes bright and intent.
“
He does not see that the time is coming when those ways must change
—
when they must make Alera a better place for everyone
—
not just for Citizens. Not just for those who have power enough to take what they want. The Realm must change
.”
His eyes blazed, conviction and passion suffusing his voice.
“
When I become First Lord, I’m going to be a part of that change. And I want you with me while I do it
.”

_p. 170
Then he moved, pressed Isana gently down to the blanket, and kissed her mouth. Isana
’
s shock was transformed into a sudden hurricane of delight and need, and she felt her body melt and move, pressing sinuously against his as he kissed her, his mouth soft, strong, hungry, searing hot. She had no idea how long the kiss went on, but when their lips finally parted, Isana felt as if she was on fire, burning from the inside out. The need was so great that she could barely focus her eyes.

His mouth slid over her throat, then pressed a slow, tingling kiss against the skin covering her fluttering pulse. He lifted his head slowly, and met her eyes with his own.
“
Marry me, Isana
,”
he said quietly.

She felt an answering need in Septimus, the feral call of the flesh, the rising tide of his passion, the warmth and the love he felt for her
—
and then she saw something else in his eyes. There, just for an instant, was a flutter of uncertainty and fear.

Septimus was afraid. Afraid that she would say no.

It nearly broke Isana
’
s heart, just seeing the potential for his grief. She lifted a hand to touch his face. She would never hurt him, never bring him pain. Never.

And he loved her. He loved her. She could feel it in him, a bedrock of affection that had grown and grown and grown, answered by the same in Isana.

She felt her eyes blur with tears at the same time she let out a breathless burst of laughter.
“
Yes
,”
she said.
“
Yes
.”

A surge of Septimus’s joy flowed into her, and she flung herself onto him, rolling him onto his back so that she could kiss him, face and throat and hands, to taste him, to drink in the warmth and beauty of him. Reason disintegrated under the joy, under the need, and Isana’s hands moved as if of their own will, tearing open his tunic so that she could run her hands and nails and mouth over the tight muscle beneath it.

Septimus let out an agonized moan, and she felt his hips surge up against hers, felt the hot hardness of him pressed against her so tightly that she thought they might simply burst into flame together.

He seized her face between his hands and forced her eyes to his. Isana saw everything she’d already felt in them, saw how much he wanted to simply let go, give in to the moment.
“
Are you sure
?”
he said, his voice a growling whisper.
“
You’ve never done this. Are you sure you want this now
?”

She couldn’t trust her lips to answer, her tongue to function. They were far too intent upon returning to his skin. So she sat up and stared down at him, panting, mouth open, and dug her fingernails into his chest while arching her back, pushing her hips back and down against him, a slow, torturous motion.

_p. 171
Septimus could feel her, just as she could him. Words were neither needed nor wanted. His eyes glazed over with hunger and need, and he lifted her and pressed her down again, savagely took another kiss from her open, willing lips. His hand slid up one of her legs, brushing skirts aside, and there was suddenly nothing in her entire world hut passion, sensation, pleasure.