s’Ex said roughly.
“Has the Queen given birth?”
“Yes. She has.”
Long silence. With nothing but the sound of those ice cubes to break it up.
iAm inhaled and caught the scent of bourbon—as well as an acrid sadness that was so great, he released his hold on his gun.
“s’Ex?”
The executioner burst up from the sofa and strode over to the bar, his robes swirling after him like shadows thrown in a great wind.
“Care to join me?” the male asked as he poured more into his glass.
“Depends. What’s your news and how does it affect my twin?”
“You’re going to need a drink.”
Right. Great. Without further comment, iAm walked over and joined s’Ex at the bar. It didn’t matter what went into which glass, whether there were ice cubes, if there was a splash of tonic. He drank what turned out to be vodka down and poured some more.
“So it wasn’t the next Queen,” he said. “The young that was born.”
“No.” s’Ex went back over to the couch. “They killed it.”
“What.”
“It was … decreed. In the”—he waved his glass around over his head—“stars. So they killed the infant. My … daughter.”
iAm blinked. Drank some more. And then thought, Jesus, if the Queen could do that to an innocent young born of her own body, the s’Hisbe’s leader was capable of anything.
“So,” s’Ex said more evenly. “Your brother is once again Her Majesty’s prime concern. There is a mandatory period of mourning and I shall depart to join in that. But following the Enclosure Ceremony and its attendant rituals, I will be sent to collect the Anointed One.”
The Enclosure Ceremony was the formal entombing of the sacred dead, a right that was reserved for members of the royal family only. And the mourning would last a number of nights and days. After which … it appeared their reprieves had run out.
“Shit,” iAm breathed.
“I am happy to inform your brother, but—”
“No, I’ll do it.”
“I thought so.”
iAm sat down in the chair next to the executioner. Looking over, he traced the male’s features. s’Ex had come from worse than the lower class; the male had been born of servant parents but, through his brawn and smarts, had risen to seduce the Queen. It was an unprecedented ascension through the strata of social levels.
“I’m sorry,” iAm whispered.
“Whatever for.”
“Your loss.”
“It was decreed. In the stars.”
The male’s casual shrug was belied by the way his voice cracked.
Before iAm could say anything further, s’Ex leaned in. “Just so we’re clear, I will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to bring your brother home and provide him bodily to the purpose for which he was born.”
“You’ve already said that.” iAm likewise sat forward and locked eyes. “And get real, you don’t actually believe that astrology bullshit, do you?”
“It is our way.”
“And that means it’s right?”
“You are a heretic. So is your brother.”
“Lemme ask you something. Did you hear the infant scream? When they killed your kid, did you—”
The attack was not unexpected, the executioner launching at him with such force his chair was blown backward and the pair of them ended up on the floor, s’Ex straddling iAm while shaking with rage.
“I should kill you,” the male growled.
“Get angry with me if you want,” iAm shot back. “But be honest, at least with yourself. You’re not quite so duty-proud anymore. Are you.”
s’Ex shoved himself away and landed on his ass. Putting his head in his hands, he breathed hard, as if he were trying to pull a composure job—and losing the fight.
“I’m not going to help the pair of you anymore,” the executioner said hoarsely. “Duty demands to be served.”
iAm sat up and thought that the constellations under which his brother had been born were like a disease, something unvolunteered for, embedded in the life that was lived, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
Trez’s detonation
“Has the Queen given birth?”
“Yes. She has.”
Long silence. With nothing but the sound of those ice cubes to break it up.
iAm inhaled and caught the scent of bourbon—as well as an acrid sadness that was so great, he released his hold on his gun.
“s’Ex?”
The executioner burst up from the sofa and strode over to the bar, his robes swirling after him like shadows thrown in a great wind.
“Care to join me?” the male asked as he poured more into his glass.
“Depends. What’s your news and how does it affect my twin?”
“You’re going to need a drink.”
Right. Great. Without further comment, iAm walked over and joined s’Ex at the bar. It didn’t matter what went into which glass, whether there were ice cubes, if there was a splash of tonic. He drank what turned out to be vodka down and poured some more.
“So it wasn’t the next Queen,” he said. “The young that was born.”
“No.” s’Ex went back over to the couch. “They killed it.”
“What.”
“It was … decreed. In the”—he waved his glass around over his head—“stars. So they killed the infant. My … daughter.”
iAm blinked. Drank some more. And then thought, Jesus, if the Queen could do that to an innocent young born of her own body, the s’Hisbe’s leader was capable of anything.
“So,” s’Ex said more evenly. “Your brother is once again Her Majesty’s prime concern. There is a mandatory period of mourning and I shall depart to join in that. But following the Enclosure Ceremony and its attendant rituals, I will be sent to collect the Anointed One.”
The Enclosure Ceremony was the formal entombing of the sacred dead, a right that was reserved for members of the royal family only. And the mourning would last a number of nights and days. After which … it appeared their reprieves had run out.
“Shit,” iAm breathed.
“I am happy to inform your brother, but—”
“No, I’ll do it.”
“I thought so.”
iAm sat down in the chair next to the executioner. Looking over, he traced the male’s features. s’Ex had come from worse than the lower class; the male had been born of servant parents but, through his brawn and smarts, had risen to seduce the Queen. It was an unprecedented ascension through the strata of social levels.
“I’m sorry,” iAm whispered.
“Whatever for.”
“Your loss.”
“It was decreed. In the stars.”
The male’s casual shrug was belied by the way his voice cracked.
Before iAm could say anything further, s’Ex leaned in. “Just so we’re clear, I will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to bring your brother home and provide him bodily to the purpose for which he was born.”
“You’ve already said that.” iAm likewise sat forward and locked eyes. “And get real, you don’t actually believe that astrology bullshit, do you?”
“It is our way.”
“And that means it’s right?”
“You are a heretic. So is your brother.”
“Lemme ask you something. Did you hear the infant scream? When they killed your kid, did you—”
The attack was not unexpected, the executioner launching at him with such force his chair was blown backward and the pair of them ended up on the floor, s’Ex straddling iAm while shaking with rage.
“I should kill you,” the male growled.
“Get angry with me if you want,” iAm shot back. “But be honest, at least with yourself. You’re not quite so duty-proud anymore. Are you.”
s’Ex shoved himself away and landed on his ass. Putting his head in his hands, he breathed hard, as if he were trying to pull a composure job—and losing the fight.
“I’m not going to help the pair of you anymore,” the executioner said hoarsely. “Duty demands to be served.”
iAm sat up and thought that the constellations under which his brother had been born were like a disease, something unvolunteered for, embedded in the life that was lived, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
Trez’s detonation
Similar Books
