Chapter Ten

Calix let out a heavy breath through gritted

teeth, and put the point of his sword beneath

the man's chin. One twitch of his hand would

spill the man's throat out into the sand

beneath him. The world calmed.

Slowly, savoring the words, he asked, "Are you

sure I'm the bitch?"

Brocchus didn't reply.

"Yield," Calix said, the word vicious and

guttural.

Everyone watched with baited breath. Calix

leaned forward, allowing his weight to

compress the man's chest, knowing how he

would soon struggle to draw breath. Then he

turned his sword until the razor edge glided

along Brocchus' throat.

Calix smiled and let the sword slip, just a

little. Brocchus' eyes went wide as the sword

nicked his skin, a thin rivulet of blood trickling

down the side of his neck.

That thing inside Calix-the beast that had

grown more ravenous as he had-growled in

satisfaction. Satiated, for the moment.

"Yield," Calix whispered now. Purring as

Cassia had purred for him last night.

Brocchus gritted his teeth, then nodded.

"Say. It," Calix demanded, pressing the edge of

the blade farther into Brocchus' skin.

"Yield," Brocchus finally croaked. "I yield."

"That's what I thought." Then he drew his arm

back and struck Brocchus, driving his fist

brutally into the man's jaw.

The guard's head snapped to the side and

Calix heaved himself to his feet, limping to

the edge of the sand pit. He stumbled there

and one of the soldiers-the boy who had first

spoken to him-grabbed him.

Not hesitating, he dragged Calix's arm over

his still-bony shoulders and helped him over

to a nearby table.

"Tullius, Antius, take him to the stocks," the

captain ordered, and Brocchus was hauled

roughly to his feet and jerked away. Calix

raised an eyebrow and the captain said, "For

conduct unbecoming at the very least. Poor

form in a sparring match. He also just struck

an officer."

"Leave it," Calix said, fingers lightly probing

the bruise blooming at the corner of his

mouth. "I've been hit harder in a whorehouse."

The men around him all laughed.

"Sir?" one of the men said. Calix looked over

to find a man perhaps a little older than

himself and nodded his head, signaling for

him to continue. The man stepped forward.

"Sir, I just wanted to say thank you, in case I

don't get the chance again."

Calix's eyebrows drew together, and he

ignored the throbbing in his ankle for a

moment longer.

The man shrugged. "My brother was at Lorna

in Marbel five years ago, sir. He told us what

you did there. How you defied orders. He said

he would have been a dead man if you hadn't

decided to sneak over the wall instead of

charging the gate like you were ordered."

All Calix could do was nod, his back flaring

with remembered pain. He'd been flogged for

his insubordination. Twelve lashes given in

front of the entire company, each keenly felt. It

would have been more if Lorna hadn't fallen.

Arcturus had emptied his pockets to pay for

the salve he bought in a nearby village to

keep the wounds from becoming infected

in the stifling summer heat of that southern,

swampy wasteland.

The scars were still there, lightly etched in his

skin.

"All right, enough of that, boys," the captain

said gruffly. "Let's get the general on his feet

and up to the castle. Court physician's better

than what we have down here, sir."

Calix shut his mouth at that, knowing he

would still likely have to use a crutch for a

month, if not more.

The boy and the man who had thanked

him each took an arm, the captain himself carrying Calix's sword as they made their way

back to the castle. He gritted his teeth with

each agonizing step.

He had torn the ligaments eight years ago,

charging across a plain dotted with the

holes of a rat-like creature. In the middle of

a fierce clash with a very large Mortanian,

he had stepped in one of those holes, nearly

destroying his ankle.

He should have died then and there.

Now, it was still prone to weakness and

twisted easily-something he had tried to

remedy with tightly laced boots.

They finally made it into the castle, and the

captain had a servant lead them back to

Calix's rooms. On the way there, they passed

the princess.

She was seated upon a bench in one of those

grand hallways, speaking to a young man in a

black coat and vest, richly embroidered with

gold and emerald thread. The princess looked

over as they passed, her dark honey eyes

locking with Calix's, but she didn't say a word.

Not a flicker of expression or remembrance of

last night crossed her beautiful features, not

even a subtle blush, and he nearly wanted to

grin. Delightful creature, indeed.

He schooled his features to polite blankness

and they all nodded respectfully-the captain

bowing-before continuing on their way.

Carrying Calix's sword as they made their way

back to the castle. He gritted his tooth with

each agonizing step.

He had torn the ligaments eight years ago,

charging throughout a plain dotted with the

holes of a rat-like creature. In the middle of

a fierce conflict with a very massive Mortanian,

he had stepped in one of these holes, nearly

destroying his ankle.

He must have died then and there.

Now, it was nevertheless inclined to weak spot and

twisted easily-something he had tried to

remedy with tightly laced boots.

They sooner or later made it into the castle, and the

captain had a servant lead them lower back to

Calix's rooms. On the way there, they passed

the princess.

She used to be seated upon a bench in one of those

grand hallways, talking to a younger man in a

black coat and vest, richly embroidered with

gold and emerald thread. The princess looked

over as they passed, her darkish honey eyes

locking with Calix's, however she didn't say a word.

Not a flicker of expression or remembrance of

last night crossed her lovely features, not

even a delicate blush, and he almost wanted to

grin. Delightful creature, indeed.

He schooled his points to well mannered blankness

and they all nodded respectfully-the captain

bowing-before continuing on their way.