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Sometimes he would go to Sainte-Chapelle on the day of the service to beg by the doorway. Everyone coming out of the church said the world was ending and that only God would save them. He always thought that if God came, he would come during magic.
“What is it you want to do?” Hugh already knew, but he asked anyway. “We want you to lead us,” Stoyan said. “The Dogs know you. They trust you. If they know you’re alive, they will find you. We can pull in the stragglers and hold against Nez.” “You don’t know what you’re asking.” To stay awake and anchored to reality, with the void chewing on him. He would go mad. “I’m not asking.” Stoyan stepped in front of him. “I trusted you. I followed you. Not Roland. Roland didn’t make me promises. You did. You sold me this idea of belonging to something better. The Iron Dogs are more than a job. A
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All military was tribal, his included. For the individual Iron Dog, the cohort was their tribe, the century within the cohort was their village, and the squad within the century was their family. In a fight, the Iron Dogs stood as one. It went back to the basic primal cornerstone of human nature: he who attacks my family must die.
“You want me to marry Conan the Barbarian?” A drop of acid slid into her tone. “An attractive barbarian,” Dugas pointed out. “I suppose so, if you’re looking at it from a purely animalistic point of view.”
The air smelled like fresh bread, just out of the oven, with a crisp golden crust. Hugh’s mouth watered, while his stomach begged. Clever girl. He once starved a woman to the brink of death, trying to break her. Poetic justice, he reflected.
“And just to be crystal clear,” Elara said. “This marriage is in name only.” “Sweetheart, you couldn’t pay me enough.” Pink touched her tan cheeks. “If you betray us, I’ll make you suffer.” “We haven’t even married yet, and I’m suffering already.” “We have that in common,” she snapped.
“You’re going to let your man face an undead with a knife?” D’Ambray glanced at her. “Did you want him to kill it with his bare hands?” “No.” She barely knew the man, and she already hated him. “At least give him a sword.” “He doesn’t need a sword.”
Her hair, the mark of her curse, fell around her face in soft waves after being twisted at the nape of her neck for the whole day. If she straightened it, the long white strands would reach past her butt. The hair was a pain. Elara had wanted to cut it for years, but it became a symbol of her magic, and she’d learned long ago that symbols were important.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.” Hugh stepped toward her. “Try to make this look good.” “I’ll do my best not to vomit in your mouth.”
“Let’s review. I came to you, because I wanted to go to the authorities. You demanded that I didn’t. I told you it was stupid. I told you things always got out. You dug your heels in.” “I don’t believe you.” “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Let me check if I care.” Hugh glared at her. “No,” she said. “Apparently, I don’t. It’s good that we got that straightened out.”
Hugh reached over and held out his hand. The entire column was behind them, watching. She gritted her teeth and put her hand into his. “Oh look, my skin isn’t smoking,” Hugh murmured. “You’re overdoing it with the PDAs.” “We’re newlyweds. If I threw you over my shoulder and dragged you into the woods, that would be overdoing it.” The image flashed before her. “Try it. They won’t even find your bones.”
Daniels had felt like that, a little witchy, but mostly her magic felt like boiling blood. Elara was ice.
If they got hit on the way back, she would jump into the fight. She had too much power to sit back. If he lost her, her nature-worshipping cabal would riot. Like it or not, everything in Baile and the town revolved around Elara. “Stay near me on the way back.” Surprise slapped her face. She turned it into cold arrogance. “Worried about my survival?” “Don’t want to miss an opportunity to use you as a body shield.” “How sweet of you.” “Stay near me, Elara.”
She never saw him as a man. He was never in the running; he had known that from the start. He was either an extension of Roland or… It hit him like a ton of bricks. Daniels saw him as a sibling. She probably didn’t even realize it.
“Come on, then, wife. Put on a happy face.” “Ugh.” She reached over and slid her fingers into the crook of his elbow. “Good God, control yourself, woman. We’re in public. At least wait until we’re in the bedroom.” “Your corpse will grow lovely goldenseal.”
“Don’t tell me he formed up his troops and marched them to their fort.” “He did exactly that.” Moron. The word sliced across his nerves like a red-hot blade. He’d just called Roland a moron in his head. The pain echoed through him, but the world kept spinning.
Hugh was beating on him with methodical savagery. There was something almost business-like about it. Killing was a job, something that had to be done, and Hugh was an expert in it. He would get it done. The other man wouldn’t last long.
The fights, the compromises, the maneuvering, pissing her off until she turned purple in the face and forgot to keep a hold on her magic, so it leaked from her eyes, all of it took up so much of his time. It was fun. If she was no longer here, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Would he leave? Would he stay? This new life, it was just his. Hugh didn’t owe it to anyone. He was building it himself, brick by brick, one shovel of cement at a time, the same way he had built that damn moat. He was building his own castle, and for better or worse, the harpy wormed her way into his world and
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“You’ve got to know the man is a butcher. People call me a rough man. I’ve got a rough reputation, and I’ve earned it. I’ve done things that keep good folks up at night. Hugh d’Ambray scares me. He is the monster rough men like me fear. I’ve got blood on my hands. Hugh is up to his neck in it.” The memory of thick blood spreading on the surface of the water came to her and she glimpsed Hugh again, standing with his feet in her pool, a twisting fiery maelstrom of raw pain and guilt burning behind him. “He’s not that anymore,” Elara said. “A tiger doesn’t change its stripes,” Rufus said. “You
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“You ever get a feeling we stumbled into a cult? Because I do.” “As long as they keep us fed and clothed, I can deal with a cult.”
Good people didn’t hate without a reason, so they grasped at any pretext, no matter how small, that gave them permission to hate. A line in a holy book. The color of a person’s skin. The brand of their magic. They were not in the habit of taking a second look or giving chances. Their fear was too great and their need to defend themselves too dire. They always lost at the end. Life was change. It would come to them, as inevitable as the sunrise, despite all their flailing.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t say anything you’ll regret in the morning.” His voice was a low snarl. “Sometimes when I lay awake in the middle of the night, I think of you.” “Don’t…” “Sometimes there is nothing left and all that’s anchoring me here is knowing you’ll pick a fight with me in the morning.” “Hugh...” “What do you want more than anything? Tell me what it is, and I’ll rip the world apart to bring it to you.”
There was a book lying on the table by the chair. Hugh picked it up. “Harry Potter?” “Bale read it out loud to you. It’s his favorite.” They had sat with him for three days, making sure he didn’t die. He would’ve done the same for them, but he never expected they would do it for him.
“How is it that Raphael made more holes in you than in swiss cheese, but your assholeness survived?” “Raphael doesn’t have a knife big enough to kill my assholeness.”
“I’ll go myself.” “And do what? Lob herbs at them until allergies bring them down?”
“They broke into my castle. They attacked my wife. They attacked a child in our home. The point of having a castle isn’t hiding inside its walls; it’s being worthy of it. It’s being able to control everything around it. They’re growing bolder. They’re taking larger settlements. They’ve got my attention now. They will wish they didn’t.” In her head she saw him let Raphael’s knife strike him again and again. He was riding into battle. Anything could happen in battle. All he would have to do is not try as hard. To not step out of the way of a sword. To let himself get shot. She wanted him back.
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“You’re scared,” Hugh said. “Fear is good. Use it. There are few things as dangerous as a vicious coward on his home turf. Kill and show your enemy no mercy. If you get an urge to spare one of those bastards, he will kill your friend next to you and run you through with his dying breath. Kill him before he kills you. This is your town. Make them pay for every foot of ground in it.”
When she’d thought of her future husband, which she hadn’t done often, she’d always defaulted to this vague idea of a nice man. He would be kind, and calm, and he would treat her with respect, and their relationship would be peaceful and without any sharp edges. Instead she got this asshole, who made her see red at least once a day. Hugh d’Ambray was as far from nice as you could get and still remain human. And if she could, she would sprout wings and fly to damn Aberdine to make sure he didn’t die some stupid death.
I don’t want your noble sacrifice.” She raised her hands to her hair. Her braid fell from her head. “Oh please. I gave you three gorgeous naked women, and you practically dislocated your knees chasing me around the pool instead.”
It hit Hugh like a gut punch – she was gone. For the few blissful hours she was with him, he had forgotten about the death, the blood, and the void. He’d poured his rage and wretched ache into her, and she’d drained him so completely, the only thing that remained was a satiated calm. Happiness, he realized. For the first time in years he felt happy.
“Were you planning on telling me about the damn tunnels?” She pretended to ponder it. “Possibly.” “Would you like to tell me now?” “There are tunnels under the castle, Hugh.” “There it is. Thank you.” If sarcasm was liquid, she would be up to her ankles in it.
She had to get him back. There was no other way. Her voice came out cold. “Bring the cows.” A shocked silence fell. The Iron Dogs looked around, bewildered. “You can’t,” Savannah recoiled. “For him? You would manifest for him?” “Hugh was abandoned by everyone in his life.” Her words rang out. “His parents, his teacher, his surrogate father. They all threw him away. He trusted us. He sacrificed himself to save us. This is his home. I’m his wife. I will not abandon him. Bring the cows.”
“I saw Roland,” Hugh said. “We talked.” The two centurions went silent. He saw alarm on their faces. “I burned the bridge,” he said. “We’re on our own.” The relief in their eyes was so clear, it stabbed at him.
“You’re my husband, Hugh. We no longer walk alone. We are each other’s shelter in a storm. As long as you want to stay here, you’ll have a home. I’ll never abandon you.”