I wake to the soothing motions of someone running their fingers through my hair. Hm, it’s growing a bit long. I usually let it tickle the base of my neck, a length that gives the appearance of adhering to the trends of Summer Spire without it being so long it requires hours of maintenance and bags of gold to maintain. It’s grown well past my shoulders.
It’s still manageable, given my household’s wealth and my indulgent servants, but I don’t want to let it get to the point where it’s dragging on the floor. Though cutting it will be an experience. My hair was strengthened along with the rest of me. A normal blade isn’t going to get the job done.
Or maybe I should I grow it out.
“Do you think I should grow my hair out?” I ask no one in particular, eyes still closed to enjoy the moment for a little longer.
“Yes,” Kierra whispers into my ear. “Long hair is normally a weakness. To grow it out is a statement of power. That even with a blatant weakness, you are still superior.”
“Hm. That why you keep yours long.”
“No. My aunt insisted. She liked to style it when I was younger. I simply became accustomed to it.”
“So what’s all that crap about a power statement?”
“Someone once said it to me. It sounded good.”
“Do you just want to see with me with long hair?”
“Mm. I want to know how prevalent the violet becomes. The longer your hair grows, the more of it I see.”
Huh. Never noticed. And now that I’m having a conversation, there’s no pretending to be sleep. I slowly open my eyes and greet the morning. Alana is gone but Yulia remains, seated on the opposite bench with Allen in her lap, peacefully resting on her chest. Blue eyes flick to me. The emotion within them is hard to discern but I think…yes, the bunny is upset with me.
“Good morning,” I say.
“There are several dead men outside our door,” she replies, shutting down my attempt at small talk. “I stepped outside with Allen without knowing what was waiting for me. It was…upsetting.”
“Is that your way of asking for an explanation?”
“I dare not demand one.”
I wince at her subtle tone. Is she suggesting I might do something to her and the boy? I’m not some kind of monster. A tap on Kierra’s arm gets her to retract her hold on me and I sit up, frowning at Yulia. She doesn’t hold my gaze for even a second but she doesn’t flinch away from me. Suppose I should be glad she’s not hiding her boy from me. “I’m sure you remember the charmer who made you a proposition yesterday?”
“Yes. I assume he’s one of the bodies.”
“Him and those with similar ideas.”
Yulia sighs. “It’s disappointing that a single kind gesture wasn’t enough to make them turn their lives around but I’m not very surprised. I am surprised that you killed them.”
I frown. “Well, what was I supposed to do? They wanted to kill us.”
“Lou. There’s more options than simply killing your enemies.”
I stare at the bunny with incomprehension. Of course there’s other ways to handle your enemies besides killing them but none are as efficient. If you imprison them, you have to keep them fed, sheltered, and happy. Beat them and humiliate them? Then you have to worry about them coming back one day with vows of revenge.
I’m not concerned about any of these men coming for me in the dead of night with a tightly held dagger but my expectations have been proved wrong before. This world is full of the impossible. There is no telling what someone with enough ambition and the right amount of luck can accomplish.
Much easier to put them down and bury them.
“Negotiation is a process. And given there are survivors, I assume there were those who didn’t support the decision to stab us in our sleep? You could have punished the few who acted against us and renewed negotiations with those who spoke against them. Rewarding positive behavior might have changed those men. Now, they are all lost to us. We’re the crazy nobles who slaughtered their friends.”
“It’s not my job to make them make better life choices,” I sneer. “We gave them an opportunity. Made them dinner, for saints’ sake! If they are still willing to stab us in the back after that, there’s no changing them.”
“Do you hate people, Lou?”
“What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”
Yulia pats her son’s head. “I thought I was coming because you wanted to preserve lives, but you just sentenced over a dozen men to death and slept as peacefully as Allen. Forgive me, but I’m questioning our goals. Your goals.”
“I’m not planning to save every lost soul in the kingdom, if that’s what you were thinking,” I sneer, not sure why I’m offended. Maybe because of all the assumptions she’s making. “You’re here because I’m not so much of a monster that I’d slaughter these people without giving them a chance but if they choose to make me an enemy by launching the first attack, then let whatever happens be on their heads!”
My eyes snap to Allen’s wide eyes as he babbles some nonsense. Letting out a deep breath, I consciously relax my shoulders and ease backward. No scaring the child.
Kierra’s fingers trailing along my neck relaxes me further. “My Lou is correct. It is not for her to save the wild dogs lacking so much sense they would bite the hand that feeds them. It is more than enough that she deigned to give them any chance at all. More than you or your family would do.”
Yulia holds up the hand not cuddling her son. “You’re right. I’m not trying to criticize. My father would have killed them all. So would my brother. Ancestors, my husband too. Compared to them, you’re practically one of the saints the southerners are so fond of. And if that’s all you want to be, that’s fine.”
That sounds like an accusation but that could just be me. Feeling unkind toward the bunny, I decide it’s best to put distance between us and leave the carriage.
The morning is bright and warm, a strong indicator of the coming spring. Despite the slaughter last night, the surroundings aren’t bloody and devastated. The bodies of the dead are laid out in neat rows off the side of the road, with minimal signs of interference. The rest of the bandits are grouped together around the spent fires of last night, their shoulders hunched defensively and their eyes red from lack of sleep, I’d assume.
One of them spots me and quickly turns to his fellows. A wave goes through the criminals. Like…a herd of sheep shuffling and bleating softly when an unknown approaches them. I turn my gaze from them, following my nose to Geneva and the pot she’s standing over. Predictably, Alana is seated on a flat stone beside her, eagerly waiting for the meal. Bell is seated in her lap, looking no less adorable after her killing spree.
I take one step toward them before changing direction. The shuffling of the bandits intensifies upon my approach as the men take on defensive stances. A familiar face pushes to the front of the group.
Baldy looks very much worse for wear. He’s standing but moves slowly, clearly in pain. Suppose Bell’s healing wasn’t comprehensive. I don’t blame her. I told her to make sure he lived, not heal him of every ache and pain. Succubi are not benevolent creatures. Unless directed, I don’t expect them to show any unwarranted mercy.
“Milady,” the bandit leader says for a greeting and I can’t help noticing that his tone is a lot more respectful. Or perhaps that’s fear. Either way, he’s taking me, and the threat I represent, a lot more seriously. Saints, why does that feel good? How in the Abyss am I supposed to save people and practice saintly virtues when being good is such a pain and doing terrible things feels damn good? Sigh.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Despite the unfortunate events of last night, I’m still prepared to proceed with our original plan. That is, the lot of you getting out of our sight and reconsidering your life of crime. After all, a lot more of you could have died. If our meeting isn’t a sign to change your life around, I doubt you want to see what is.”
“…as you say, milady. By your leave, we’ll get moving.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
That settled, I walk over to Alana and breakfast. A flat stone seat rises from the ground beside her and I take the offered seat, rubbing the head of the imp in her arms. “Any comments?”
“About?” Alana asks, her eyes never moving from the pot and the succubus stirring it with a stone spoon.
“The dead bandits? The not-so-dead bandits?”
“I can imagine what a bunch of men wanted to do with a carriage full of sleeping women. Animals like that are better put down. Those who didn’t take part get to live with an exciting memory. All’s fine.”
How can two sisters be so different? “Good.”
“Though I hope the negotiations with the hunters goes better. A third of the bandits died for their bad decision. A third of the hunters? A third of the city? That’s hundreds and thousands of casualties.”
“It won’t come to that.” This experience has taught me a lot. “Even if blood needs to be shed, we’ll make it hurt so bad no one wants to pay the price, let alone a third of them.”
Alana grunts, not happy about my declaration but accepting it. “Time to send Yulianna home then?”
“Oh, no. She has a role to play.” To be the loving mother and the beautiful rose. The one who will pat their heads and tell them it’s all right after I break their collective nose and rob them blind.
“Mm. Let’s just hope there’s no other distractions for the rest of the journey.”
Saints willing.
I wake to the soothing motions of someone running their fingers through my hair. Hm, it’s growing a bit long. I usually let it tickle the base of my neck, a length that gives the appearance of adhering to the trends of Summer Spire without it being so long it requires hours of maintenance and bags of gold to maintain. It’s grown well past my shoulders.
It’s still manageable, given my household’s wealth and my indulgent servants, but I don’t want to let it get to the point where it’s dragging on the floor. Though cutting it will be an experience. My hair was strengthened along with the rest of me. A normal blade isn’t going to get the job done.
Or maybe I should I grow it out.
“Do you think I should grow my hair out?” I ask no one in particular, eyes still closed to enjoy the moment for a little longer.
“Yes,” Kierra whispers into my ear. “Long hair is normally a weakness. To grow it out is a statement of power. That even with a blatant weakness, you are still superior.”
“Hm. That why you keep yours long.”
“No. My aunt insisted. She liked to style it when I was younger. I simply became accustomed to it.”
“So what’s all that crap about a power statement?”
“Someone once said it to me. It sounded good.”
“Do you just want to see with me with long hair?”
“Mm. I want to know how prevalent the violet becomes. The longer your hair grows, the more of it I see.”
Huh. Never noticed. And now that I’m having a conversation, there’s no pretending to be sleep. I slowly open my eyes and greet the morning. Alana is gone but Yulia remains, seated on the opposite bench with Allen in her lap, peacefully resting on her chest. Blue eyes flick to me. The emotion within them is hard to discern but I think…yes, the bunny is upset with me.
“Good morning,” I say.
“There are several dead men outside our door,” she replies, shutting down my attempt at small talk. “I stepped outside with Allen without knowing what was waiting for me. It was…upsetting.”
“Is that your way of asking for an explanation?”
“I dare not demand one.”
I wince at her subtle tone. Is she suggesting I might do something to her and the boy? I’m not some kind of monster. A tap on Kierra’s arm gets her to retract her hold on me and I sit up, frowning at Yulia. She doesn’t hold my gaze for even a second but she doesn’t flinch away from me. Suppose I should be glad she’s not hiding her boy from me. “I’m sure you remember the charmer who made you a proposition yesterday?”
“Yes. I assume he’s one of the bodies.”
“Him and those with similar ideas.”
Yulia sighs. “It’s disappointing that a single kind gesture wasn’t enough to make them turn their lives around but I’m not very surprised. I am surprised that you killed them.”
I frown. “Well, what was I supposed to do? They wanted to kill us.”
“Lou. There’s more options than simply killing your enemies.”
I stare at the bunny with incomprehension. Of course there’s other ways to handle your enemies besides killing them but none are as efficient. If you imprison them, you have to keep them fed, sheltered, and happy. Beat them and humiliate them? Then you have to worry about them coming back one day with vows of revenge.
I’m not concerned about any of these men coming for me in the dead of night with a tightly held dagger but my expectations have been proved wrong before. This world is full of the impossible. There is no telling what someone with enough ambition and the right amount of luck can accomplish.
Much easier to put them down and bury them.
“Negotiation is a process. And given there are survivors, I assume there were those who didn’t support the decision to stab us in our sleep? You could have punished the few who acted against us and renewed negotiations with those who spoke against them. Rewarding positive behavior might have changed those men. Now, they are all lost to us. We’re the crazy nobles who slaughtered their friends.”
“It’s not my job to make them make better life choices,” I sneer. “We gave them an opportunity. Made them dinner, for saints’ sake! If they are still willing to stab us in the back after that, there’s no changing them.”
“Do you hate people, Lou?”
“What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”
Yulia pats her son’s head. “I thought I was coming because you wanted to preserve lives, but you just sentenced over a dozen men to death and slept as peacefully as Allen. Forgive me, but I’m questioning our goals. Your goals.”
“I’m not planning to save every lost soul in the kingdom, if that’s what you were thinking,” I sneer, not sure why I’m offended. Maybe because of all the assumptions she’s making. “You’re here because I’m not so much of a monster that I’d slaughter these people without giving them a chance but if they choose to make me an enemy by launching the first attack, then let whatever happens be on their heads!”
My eyes snap to Allen’s wide eyes as he babbles some nonsense. Letting out a deep breath, I consciously relax my shoulders and ease backward. No scaring the child.
Kierra’s fingers trailing along my neck relaxes me further. “My Lou is correct. It is not for her to save the wild dogs lacking so much sense they would bite the hand that feeds them. It is more than enough that she deigned to give them any chance at all. More than you or your family would do.”
Yulia holds up the hand not cuddling her son. “You’re right. I’m not trying to criticize. My father would have killed them all. So would my brother. Ancestors, my husband too. Compared to them, you’re practically one of the saints the southerners are so fond of. And if that’s all you want to be, that’s fine.”
That sounds like an accusation but that could just be me. Feeling unkind toward the bunny, I decide it’s best to put distance between us and leave the carriage.
The morning is bright and warm, a strong indicator of the coming spring. Despite the slaughter last night, the surroundings aren’t bloody and devastated. The bodies of the dead are laid out in neat rows off the side of the road, with minimal signs of interference. The rest of the bandits are grouped together around the spent fires of last night, their shoulders hunched defensively and their eyes red from lack of sleep, I’d assume.
One of them spots me and quickly turns to his fellows. A wave goes through the criminals. Like…a herd of sheep shuffling and bleating softly when an unknown approaches them. I turn my gaze from them, following my nose to Geneva and the pot she’s standing over. Predictably, Alana is seated on a flat stone beside her, eagerly waiting for the meal. Bell is seated in her lap, looking no less adorable after her killing spree.
I take one step toward them before changing direction. The shuffling of the bandits intensifies upon my approach as the men take on defensive stances. A familiar face pushes to the front of the group.
Baldy looks very much worse for wear. He’s standing but moves slowly, clearly in pain. Suppose Bell’s healing wasn’t comprehensive. I don’t blame her. I told her to make sure he lived, not heal him of every ache and pain. Succubi are not benevolent creatures. Unless directed, I don’t expect them to show any unwarranted mercy.
“Milady,” the bandit leader says for a greeting and I can’t help noticing that his tone is a lot more respectful. Or perhaps that’s fear. Either way, he’s taking me, and the threat I represent, a lot more seriously. Saints, why does that feel good? How in the Abyss am I supposed to save people and practice saintly virtues when being good is such a pain and doing terrible things feels damn good? Sigh.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Despite the unfortunate events of last night, I’m still prepared to proceed with our original plan. That is, the lot of you getting out of our sight and reconsidering your life of crime. After all, a lot more of you could have died. If our meeting isn’t a sign to change your life around, I doubt you want to see what is.”
“…as you say, milady. By your leave, we’ll get moving.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
That settled, I walk over to Alana and breakfast. A flat stone seat rises from the ground beside her and I take the offered seat, rubbing the head of the imp in her arms. “Any comments?”
“About?” Alana asks, her eyes never moving from the pot and the succubus stirring it with a stone spoon.
“The dead bandits? The not-so-dead bandits?”
“I can imagine what a bunch of men wanted to do with a carriage full of sleeping women. Animals like that are better put down. Those who didn’t take part get to live with an exciting memory. All’s fine.”
How can two sisters be so different? “Good.”
“Though I hope the negotiations with the hunters goes better. A third of the bandits died for their bad decision. A third of the hunters? A third of the city? That’s hundreds and thousands of casualties.”
“It won’t come to that.” This experience has taught me a lot. “Even if blood needs to be shed, we’ll make it hurt so bad no one wants to pay the price, let alone a third of them.”
Alana grunts, not happy about my declaration but accepting it. “Time to send Yulianna home then?”
“Oh, no. She has a role to play.” To be the loving mother and the beautiful rose. The one who will pat their heads and tell them it’s all right after I break their collective nose and rob them blind.
“Mm. Let’s just hope there’s no other distractions for the rest of the journey.”
Saints willing.
