A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

hour, or did I say eighth? I’m not sure at this point. What time is it now?”

“Probably a quarter past tenth by now,” I guessed. The oculus was useless at night, and Turns had no clocks; it wasn’t that kind of place.

“Gods tits!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. The short glasses wobbled and bobbled. “We’re probably better off without her anyway; she always finds a way to spoil the mood.”

I held the same sentiment, though I kept that to myself.

Crylwin let out a long sigh as he stood to retrieve our next round. Despite his tirade, he would be fine. Decia was of fine noble stock, right off the boat from Cyllia proper. This arrangement was an effort to improve his family’s salt. The Monroes were powerful, wealthy, but they had a tarnished reputation of late, one old Monroe thought to balance with a blushing new bride for his only and eldest.

It wasn’t that she was homely, quite the opposite. She was pretty and desirable in all the ways men desired a young woman. She seemed bred to ornament the arm of a wealthy man. She was also a spoiled brat that fit in up here as well as I would at a purity rally.

Crylwin returned a moment later with two fresh glasses filled with a clear dangerous liquid, one I was want to avoid due to previous encounters. Shock, which was aptly named, was a Cyllian drink which was little more than pure filtered rice alcohol. I hated the stuff, but Crylwin was buying, so I had no say. This drink you had to take down in one gulp lest you taste it.

“Blessings!” Crylwin shouted.

“Blessings…” I said reluctantly.

It’s only positive attribute was the warming effect that lingered a few moments after you swallowed it. I let the feeling wash over me and surprised myself when a satisfied grin emerged on my face. He noticed it too and motioned towards the glasses.

I waved him off. “I need to get some food; Lira needs to get…”

And there she was, dressed in blue silk, standing in the open doorway.

Chapter Eight

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

Looking at her was like staring at a painting, the world around her cast in shadows of gray. She in radiant blue, the artist’s central focus, his muse, his desire. She met my eyes, smiled, and stepped inside.

Her walk was hypnotic, and I found myself envying the silken dress that caressed her form. Customers turned their heads conspicuously, consumed with dreams of blue silk. One might think her overdressed for the occasion, but that would be a mistake. Her entrance elevated Turns in such a way that it was us who were now suddenly underdressed.

Her smile stole sly as she approached.

She pointed to the chair Crylwin was sitting in. “Is that chair for me?” He didn’t move.

“Excellent!” she declared as she leaned on the back of the chair. He began to tip.

“Ease on, Lira,” Crylwin said, steadying himself against the table as he stood. “I was distracted with,” he traced her silhouette with his hands, “all of this.”

She eased down slowly into the now vacant chair, crossing her hands delicately over her lap. Crylwin rolled his eyes and tucked her into the table.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said. “Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand.”

Her smile was a dangerous crimson.

“Tonight is a party,” she declared, gesturing wide to the room. “For that, I have gifts. Three as befitting tradition. The first of which you have already received.”

I looked at Crylwin, confused. Had I missed something in her grand entrance?

She folded her arms across her chest. The gesture gave just the slightest lift to her breasts that sat concealed underneath her shoulder-less dress.

“And that gift is, my lady?” I said.

She caught me watching the gesture and flashed me a knowing smile. “Exactly that, sir, your lady.” She winked, copper eyes sparkling in the lamplight.

I raised my eyebrow suggestively.

Her eyes narrowed. “Nothing tawdry, you barbarian,” she scolded. “Tonight, I will be your charming, exceedingly beautiful, and dangerously witty companion.”

I clapped my hands softly. “I can think of no better gift than to have you on my arm.”

Crylwin mumbled something unintelligible, grunted, then waved to get Rohger’s attention.

“My company is only your first gift,” she explained.

“Well, what could possibly top this?” I laughed.

She smacked her hand on the table, knocking over my glass in the process. “I seem to recall securing an escort for this evening?”

I turned to Crylwin, then back to her.

“Lira, I…”

“Oh, you left a note,” she interrupted. “So cleverly left on the wrong side of a closed counter. How did you expect me to find that exactly?”

I mumbled feeble words of explanation, but she cut me off with a raised palm.

She took in a deep breath. “I told the auditor’s I had a prior engagement, so I was able to leave as scheduled after helping inventory some of the new assets. Though I had to trade my only day off tomorrow for it.” She frowned. “I waited for you for over an hour! I assumed you were still at the assessor’s office until I went looking for you, and that little toad Corin said you had passed by on your way out hours ago.”

In all the languages of men or Mere, there were no words that could save me from her displeasure. I put my hands in the air in submission. She nodded her approval and smiled wickedly.

“For your second gift, I have decided I will not ruin your special evening with what was certain to be a spectacular fit.”

Crylwin laughed.

She turned her attention towards him and seemed to appraise his state for the first time. “How long have you two been here?” she asked, taking his empty glass and bringing it to her nose. She gagged.

“I got here before tenth. Crylwin, however…”

“Oh… I ‘ave been… entertaining,” he explained. His Roharan accent was starting to show, a sign that he was well into his cups.

She nodded thoughtfully then looked back to me. “So I’m