Aaand ... more short chapters. I'll go back and combine them later, but for simplicity's sake, they're going to stay this way on YWS. I don't have much to say in regards to this chapter, except perhaps that I *strongly* dislike Anull. I. Want. To. Squash. HIM.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
“Peace, eh?” King Anull mocked, sitting astride a mock throne in the garden. “What makes your king think I’ll agree to peace?”
“Our people wish dearly for—” one of the delegates began, studiously ignoring Anull’s ill temper.
“Peace or war,” Ianna interrupted, black eyes locked onto Anull’s. As he watched, they changed slowly to a rich, deep amber. It made a shiver go down his spine; it was unnatural, unwanted, a magic he did not know of. “Make a decision.”
“And if I choose war? What then? You and your petty little desert army of misfits fling sand at me?”
Ianna’s eyes swam gold. “It’s your decision, Anull. You’re either with us or against us.”
He eyed her speculatively, correctly deciding that she desperately wished for him to choose war, if only so that she would have the pleasure of fighting. “I will not decide now. Leave me, and I will think it over.”
“An answer in a fortnight,” Ianna warned, “or I will make the decision for you.”
“Watch out for rebels,” Anull responded, inspecting his nails. “A vicious bunch—they’re led by a noble, or so I’ve heard.” His eyes flicked upward. “Show me you’re serious by eradicating them—and then we’ll talk peace.”
“We do not do your dirty work,” Ianna snapped scornfully.
“Dirty work? Who said anything about dirty work? This is a mission of trust. I must know that I can trust you, or these negotiations will go nowhere.” He smiled brilliantly. “Find the rebel heart and cut it out. I’m sure you J’engar are good at that sort of thing.”
Ianna glared at him, hesitating, then nodded. “I’ll think on it. Remember—a fortnight.”
She whirled on the balls of her feet, and surrounded by her men, disappeared into the palace halls as if she’d been there for years, confident and sure of her steps. Anull waved an aide forward, rising from garden throne. “Watch her,” he murmured, in case the J’engar possessed incredible hearing as well as color-changing eyes. “Watch her very carefully.”
The aide nodded.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
“Lord,” a boy cried, running into Gavin’s inn at full tilt, a silver piece clutched in his grubby hands. “I watched the gates, like you said to—them J’engar came out the front!”
“Good boy,” Daeun said, pleased, ruffling the boy’s hair. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Maek, lord,” the boy said breathlessly.
“Come visit me in Genor some time, Maek,” Daeun said lightly, as he pulled open the door and prepared to leave. “We’d be glad to have a good head like yours among us.”
Daeun turned and hurried out into the twilight, noting Maek’s glowing, excited face, and knowing he’d just recruited another die-hard soldier for the Resistance’s ranks. He took the most direct route he knew, spotting Ianna almost immediately and appearing at her side with a pleased smile. “It went well, then,” he said brightly, making the guard at her side jump, though she herself did not.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Ianna said darkly.
“You’re not dead, are you?” Daeun paused, looking into her face, and said quietly, “What did he say?”
“He has asked us to ferret out the rebels, and kill them, as a sign of trust,” Ianna replied. “I must consider it, for my king’s foremost order was to make peace.”
“And?” Daeun demanded, a feeling faintly like dread filtering into his bloodstream. If Ianna was put on their scent, it’d only be days before the entire Resistance movement was crushed. He had no doubts as to that.
“And what? I want to wring the man’s neck, but my king wishes me to make peace. It is as simple as that.”
“Are you going to do it or not?” Daeun asked, a little more sharply than he intended, and Ianna halted in the middle of the street, looking at him with a strange, almost considering expression.
“Perhaps,” Ianna said carefully, as if watching for his response. He had to walk carefully, here; she was beginning to suspect.
“He is using you,” Daeun said darkly. “He can’t draw them out himself, so he’s trying to get you to do it.”
“I know this, but I must consider it.” She started walking again, a faint smile on her lips. “Daeun.”
Surprised at the lack of formality, he said instantly, “What?”
“The ancestors speak your name with reverence, and call you a true friend, a loyal friend. For this I must regard you as family—and there are no secrets in a family.” She sent him a sly glance. “If you do not wish for me to attack the rebels, say so.”
He struggled with himself for a moment, then said in a perfectly normal tone, “Attacking the rebels would be an extremely bad idea.”
“Because we’d eliminate them.”
“Yes.”
“And why does a king’s lackey care?” She was prodding him, and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Somehow he’d earned her trust—the ancestors?—and he couldn’t go back on that now. “What does it matter if a few rebellious farmers die?”
Daeun swore loudly and distinctly, earning him a whole host of dark looks from the neighboring crowd. “Gods above, woman! Must you know everything? You permitted my lies once—permit them now. This is a thing of which I cannot speak.”
“You do not wish your people to suffer,” Ianna observed. “I understand this. In this, we are of one mind. Perhaps you do not understand what I have been saying, Daeun; when the ancestors speak, it is law. If you are my friend, then you are my friend till the death, regardless of your secrets. I am, after all, a skilled secret keeper.”
Daeun felt the breath whoosh out of him. There would be no resisting her; there was too much power in her, a force that not even he could hold up to for very long. “Not now. Later.”
“Later,” Ianna agreed. Behind her, Caelun grinned, but discreetly, so that no one saw.
