ARC 7-Cursed Fates-120 (Patreon)

I’m in the same position when Kierra, Alana, and Little Water enter, the elf leading them as she bursts into the study. My wife is a violent person, but she isn’t an angry one. She dispatches enemies with disdain or anticipation, never faulting them for trying to kill her. She doesn’t raise her voice when she argues, sarcastic mockery and sharp truths her preferred method of expressing her displeasure. The worst I’ve seen from her in regards to her temper is the rare scowl or a stubborn frown.

Not anymore. Her expression as she nearly tears the poor door off its hinges can only be called furious. If looks could kill, all of Quest would be a wasteland. If that look was directed at me even two hours earlier, I might be scared of her. Now, my wrung-out emotions don’t have the ability to feel anything so potent.

“They took her!” I only have a moment to wonder how she knows before Bell scampers into the room, pausing just in front of the doorway. “My flower!”

“I know.”

“They have to die, Lou,” she growls.

“I know.”

“You are gentle but this—"

The sound of the desk shattering as my hands slam into it, breaking it in two, cuts her off and makes Little Water flinch. I unclench my hands as I exhale, flexing them to resist the urge to pound the poor furniture into sawdust. Anything to vent this mountain of rage sitting in my gut. “I. Know.”

Kierra pauses and she finally looks at me. I don’t know what kind of expression I’m making but it causes her eyes to widen. I meet her gaze and hold it until she nods, visibly relaxing. Not much but enough to have a proper conversation. “It is hard, but we cannot give in to this threat. Surrendering does not protect anyone. It endangers our whole clan, as the predators of the world will see our weakness and prey upon it.”

I absently nod before turning to Alana. Her expression is sterner than usual. “Do you agree?”

My future knight lets out a breath. “Even if I didn’t, I couldn’t stop the two of you.”

No. Nothing can stop this now, not even the saints themselves descending from Paradise and begging me to spare the guilds. “Your opinion matters. Foremost because I respect it but also because you’re family. I want to know what you think.”

“What I think?” She chuckles but there’s no humor in the sound. “I think that everyone in this saints forsaken and ancestors cursed kingdom is an absolute moron. I think Victory should throw open its gates and let the titans eat us all. This was supposed to be simple. I’m not so stupid that I don’t realize this was a ploy to steal the city’s resources. The fort is always in need after campaigns and they need this year more than any other.

“Maybe it wasn’t fair, but that’s why we bent over backward to make it easier for them. Twenty percent would have been enough, maybe fifteen. If the idiots played their cards right, they could have worked out a deal to get more hunters into the next campaign or traded on the goodwill of cooperating to have their people get a better price for the beasts they bring down.”

She rubs her head. “They could have made back whatever they gave us twice, three times over. Instead, they’ve left us no option but to go to war. They think my father is unreasonable now?” She scoffs.

“Wait until he hears about this. They kidnapped his fucking two-year-old grandson. He’s going to be furious. Victory would march an army to settle a March. To avenge a James? Our family is only allowed to die beyond the Bleak Peaks. Not even old age is allowed to claim us. This won’t be war, Lou. This is going to be a massacre. Blacksmiths are going to run at Quest’s walls with their fucking hammers and maids are going to stab hunters with the sharpened end of brooms. This won’t end until either Victory or Quest are ruins!”

Her frustration is palpable at the end of her impassioned speech. I’m not intimately familiar with the fanaticism of Victory but if the hunters think the duke isn’t going to be upset about them taking his family, they’re idiots. On the surface, it’s easy to assume the James don’t care about each other. How could they and still send their children to die generation after generation?

But I know different. The duke meeting me under the stars to quietly ask that I make his daughter happy convinced me that underneath all that ice is a loving father. I’d dare to call him doting, especially to his daughters. Yulia was excused from the fighting after only one campaign and, as a bastard, Alana should never have been given her father’s last name.

I have no doubt that Quest could have incinerated a whole army of northern knights and the duke wouldn’t hold it against them. Kidnapping his family is another story. The man is going to go ballistic and the rest of Victory will jump right into the crazy after him.

But that’s not what I’m asking her.

“What does your justice have to say about this?” I ask. I need her to tell me because she is the one who put but any kind of boundaries on this thing. Right now, I’m of the mind to burn the whole city and sort out the damage, material and emotional, later. Kierra’s probably ready to declare war against the whole kingdom. The succubi certainly aren’t going to talk us down.

Alana is the voice of restraint. It seems I can’t escape being a villain, but she is the only one that keep us all from becoming monsters.

Maybe it’s not fair asking it of her, her family’s been taken and Alana isn’t very merciful to those she decides are in the wrong, but I need her to be better than us. To be stronger than me.

“…as little collateral damage as possible. The guilds won’t hurt them until they have our reply and we’ll make it formal. In the morning, we should go to the Hall and enlist Dunwayne’s help evacuating the city. He is a neutral party but he’s the Harvest Hero. I believe he will act to save lives and his reputation will be enough to convince the people. We give them a week. No. Half that. Three days. Those too stupid to leave, those that test us…they accept their fate.”

“And the hunters?” Kierra lets out a sound between a hiss and a growl but I point a finger at her, a quiet signal to wait. I know how she feels but this is Alana’s time to speak her mind. “What about when they realize what they’ve done? When they surrender? When they beg for their lives and gladly offer up everything they have?”

Blue eyes containing generations of freezing cold stare at me impassively. “There is no surrender in war. They rejected our mercy. Everything they are is forfeit…including their lives.”

This is why Alana is so amazing to me. Even under these stressful circumstances, she walks her own path with unwavering determination. Her justice doesn’t care about her reputation or how many lives she takes. She will do what she thinks is right, regardless of the price it demands.

It gives me hope that I can do what needs to be done without losing myself. I slowly rise from the uncomfortable chair and wave for her to come closer. My palm caresses her cheek and her glare softens. “I may not be able to save them,” I whisper. There are things beyond even my power.

“I know,” she responds in a voice just as soft. “If they’re lost, it’s not your fault.”

I wish I could believe that. Maybe later, when the thought doesn’t make me want to rip someone’s head from their shoulders. I pull Alana closer and she rests her head on my shoulder. “I can promise they’ll pay. When we finish with them, no one in this kingdom will ever think to lay a hand on our family again.”

She nods and I caress her hair. Then I look past her to Little Water. The female estrazi is remarkably calm given the tension in the room, standing with her arms crossed over her chest while watching Kierra. Feeling my gaze, she looks over, her tongue darting out in a snake-like gesture as she meets my gaze. “You know what’s going on. Now’s the time to get out of the way.”

“I won’t leave without my human.”

“I don’t think so.” If she has Khan, she disappears back to the north and I still have questions for the lady lizard. “Khan stays with me, but I won’t make you fight. This isn’t your war. I’d suggest you leave the city and keep your head down for a couple of days.”

“Do you not want extra soldiers?

“It won’t make a difference. They’re already outclassed.”

She stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “We will wait outside the walls.”

“Good. Rolly.”

There’s a flash of light and then the lueorale appears on the desk, painted in hues of deep reds, pale yellows, and streaks of black. There is no trace of her usual playfulness, but her anticipation is obvious from her fluttering wings. After all, there’s only one reason for me to call for her in this situation.

It’s time to make a scene.