In Her Shadow(10)

"Not each other. I won't hate you."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You're from Ankshara, City of Night, the Wicked City. You know nothing of our people or our ways."

"I know you're conquerors."

A second break in his expression, lips pursed and forehead creased. "Conquerors?"

"You conquered us, didn't you? Laid siege to this city, starved out its people – my people – took them as slaves–"

"And we were supposed to keep letting your pirates raid our merchant fleet?"

"Pirates?"

Before she could ask what he meant, Dux Lucius shoved back from the table and stood. "It's been nice meeting you," he said, voice cool and filled with military sternness. "I look forward to seeing you again on our wedding day. I'm sure it will be very pleasant."

"Wait. . ."

"What?"

"Your father, the Governor, said to see me home."

Dux Lucius's face remained impassive. "So he did. Excuse me, I'll just go get my sword."





Chapter 4


The breeze drifting up from the sea was too warm to wear her cloak; while Dux Lucius strapped a sword to his waist, she doffed it, slinging it over her forearm.

"Come along," he said, clipped as he tightened his belt and started for the front gate.

"Slow down. We don't have to be in such a hurry."

"This isn't a romantic moonlit stroll," he said.

"No, I know. But it's a nice night. Maybe you can't enjoy it, but I can."

"We need to move quickly and as silently as possible to avoid trouble," said Dux Lucius as they breezed past the empty guard post at the gates of the manse.

"You people really have a messed up view of our city." Britta lifted her arm slightly to indicate her cloak to him. "No one would dare hurt us."

"I know this city better than you think," he said. "And it's changing. Your people, I mean your sisters at the abbey, their power is waning–"

Britta laughed, her voice echoing off the walls of the empty street. There was noise further down towards the docks – where her sisters plied their trade when not at the abbey itself – but in the foreign section, it was quiet.

"Why are you laughing?"

Britta shook her head. "The people of Ankshara have always been ours, always loved their Goddess. She's always been here for them, protected and nurtured them."

"She didn't protect them from us."

Britta stopped. Dux Lucius went a few more steps before he turned to face her. "What?"

"What is your problem?" she asked.

"Problem?"

"Yes?"

"I don't have a problem."

Britta took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger welling up inside her. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for that blank expression of his. "Look, neither one of us wants this marriage but we're in this whether we like it or–"

"Shut up."

Britta shook her head, mouth agape. Why had she tried to calm herself? This guy was an asshole of the worst sort. If she were going to be married to him the rest of her life, she needed to nip this in the bud right now. "Don't you tell me to shut up you–"

Dux Lucius's hand went to the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted around at the darkened corners of the street.

"What, you're going to kill me for–"

"Shut. Up," he said again, his voice as even but doubly as stern. Britta was about to argue, step to him, when he grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her behind him. Confused for half a breath, she realized what was happening when two greasy sailors came stumbling out of the shadows toward them.

"Hey hey," said one of the sailors, a bottle of a liquor in one hand and a club in the other. The second sailor was armed too, with a long thin knife that looked about as dangerous a Lucius's sword. "What have we here?"

"A Regnal soldier and his mistress out late at night," said the other.

Dux Lucius's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. "Leave," he said.

"We'd love to, but we're a little down on our luck. Fishing's not what it used to be, you see. Now, if you could spare us a few coins to–"

"Leave."

The sailors exchanged wicked grins. "No," said the one with the club.

"I'm a soldier, a veteran. You don't want to cross me."

The one with the knife shrugged. "You're one man. Soldiers are only dangerous when there's a bunch of them. Now, we don't have to fight about this. No one has to get hurt but. . . Hey, what's she doing?"

Britta slid the cloak around her shoulders and snapped the clasp shut on her neck. The metal sent a chill through her. Every time she put it on, she forgot how heavy it was, how it pulled against her throat just enough to be uncomfortable, to make it ever so slightly difficult to breath. "How dare you, cretins," she said as she stepped out from behind Dux Lucius.

"Britta, no."

But she ignored him as she pushed in front of him. "Scabs," she said, pointing her finger at the sailors. "Blasphemers. You would dare mug Her priestess, and at night no less? How absolutely dare you draw weapons on the New Moon! How dare you sully her with your glares, your suggestion that she is a common whore–"