The Last Warrior by Susan Grant

other, and he gave his head an uncomprehending shake. “Even so? Even so what? That I sent our mortal enemy running, tails tucked between their hindquarters?” Dumbfounded, he couldn’t fathom how she could dismiss such a thing.
    â€œBy your own choice or someone else’s you were insulated against atrocities at home. I have no patience for men who bury their heads in the sand, Kurel orTassagon. That kind of ignorance killed my parents.” Her anguished eyes misted over, and she turned her head.
    â€œElsabeth,” he started, in his shock unsure of what to say.
    â€œThey went out to the gates to reason with the soldiers,” she whispered. “I tried to get there as soon as I heard. I knew what would happen. But I was too late. Your army got to them first.”
    Bloody hell. “Those weren’t my men. They were Beck’s.”
    She shook her head. “I have to go.”
    â€œWait.” The pain of losing one’s parents he understood. He almost reached for her, but her glare stopped him. She wanted no sympathy from him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
    â€œWhat do Uhr-warriors know of loss? Your role on this planet is to destroy life, not create it.”
    Wincing, Elsabeth pressed her lips together, but the hateful words were already out, her Tassagonian blood once again overtaking her hard-won Kurel composure.
    The general’s face had turned hard. He wore the veneer of good manners very well for a Tassagon, but she saw how formidable he could be, if he ever loosed the outrage he seemed to keep in check so well.
    He spoke quietly. “Have you smelled the stench after a Gorr attack, human corpses completely emptiedof blood? Have you ever tried to sleep after hearing the Furs’ unholy jackal screams in the night, or the cries of your men being ripped apart?” His eyes narrowed against some inner agony. “No, you wouldn’t know. Or of losing three brothers on the battlefield, one by one. Then my parents were taken right here in Tassagonia by a swift and stealthy enemy no weapons could fight off.”
    The plague. She wondered if he blamed her people for the epidemic as King Xim did.
    â€œI thank Uhrth for my sister. She’s all I have left.”
    Elsabeth forced herself to meet his eyes, seeing for the first time the man behind them. How could she possibly share anything in common with this Uhr-warrior, this Butcher of the Hinterlands? But she did. His family had been decimated, too.
    â€œI would never have supported nor carried out atrocities against other humans,” he finished.
    He told the truth. She heard it in his voice. She saw it in his eyes.
    She pushed loose hair off her face. “Markam told me that you had nothing to do with the violence. I want to believe him. I…want to believe you,” she added grudgingly.
    The general’s hackles went down somewhat, but a powerful heartbeat pulsed in his throat.
    â€œI apologize for implying Kurel own the rights to loss,” she said.
    â€œGrief and anger are close companions. Both have a way of overtaking reason. You are my sister’s children’s tutor. It says a lot about you if Aza trusts you. As for the actions against the Kurel, I will get to the bottom of this insanity, I swear to you.”
    The sound of beads tinkling and the swish of slippers cut short their tense standoff. The dancer from dinner swayed toward him, flicking a dismissive glance at Elsabeth. Her breasts strained against filmy netting that barely contained them. She’d applied fresh perfume, a come-hither musk, and it filled the air. Dark, painted lashes fluttered at Tao, her full lips curving as she dragged her finger across the bottom of his chin. “Good Sir, I do believe it is time for your dessert.”
    Elsabeth hoisted her skirt, her focus shifting to the dancer. “Stay with him until morning.” The remark came as much to the woman’s surprise as Tao’s,