DeathWatch No. 74 – Jules Was Right

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #74 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

The skies were never as clear as Sha felt they should be on this side of Damnation Ridge; on this side of the mountain, it ought to be a damn desert, but systems from the north came down and ferried much-needed moisture to the farmlands further to the east, which meant as they scudded toward the Notch, they passed through bank after bank of thick clouds; it was like walking through the world’s foggiest city; she couldn’t see one end of her ship from the other — hell, she couldn’t see it from halfway.

She looked out the portholes and regarded the light coming in; there was enough variation — they were still moving along. She stretched, and felt Jules shift, grumbling. She petted the redhead’s hair, and leaned to kiss the top of her head.

“Thankgod you didn’t break your fucking neck,” she sighed. “I ‘magine this’d’have gone a whole lot worse f’only one of you’d made it.” Twisting her way out of the bed, she dressed, and then tucked Juliana back to sleep, smiling at her easily enough as she shut the door to her quarters, and walked out on deck, promptly walking into both Nathan and Kieron.

Kieron stumbled, and then held himself up on a railing, while Nathan half-danced out of Sha’s way, winking to her. “Morning, Captain. Sleep well?” he asked, lifting his brows.

“Your wife snores if she sleeps on her back,” Sha noted, only mock-sourly.

“Pfft, like Nate would know,” Kieron joked lightheartedly.

Nate turned to Kieron one brow lifted. “Oh?” he wondered, inviting further comment.

“Whuh–I just… I only meant–you know,” Kieron laughed. “That when she’s, you know, on her back with you she’s… never… sleeping?” The more he talked, the more Sha and Nate glanced at one another, frowning slightly, lifting their chins. By the end of it, Nate crossed his arms over his chest and looked stony-faced. Sha’s brows were lifted as though to convey a sense of disappointment and resignation all at once.

“Cadet?” Nate said.

Kieron clapped his hands over his mouth, looking shocked and apologetic. “Oh my heavens I’m so sorry,” he said, flushing red. “You just — you always joke, and we had been joking, and I–” He swallowed roughly, looking as though he wanted the boards of the deck to split open so the empty sky could swallow him whole. “I thought that… I thought…”

“You thought, what, you could make frankly shocking and wholly inappropriate comments about an officer’s wife? A wife who also happens to be a ranking officer?” Sha wondered, pursing her lips.

“I’m such an idiot, please, I’m so sorry–” Kieron said, his eyes so wide, his distress rising so high, so quickly, he could feel tears pricking his eyes. “Nate, y–Uh. Quartermaster O’Malley, I… please forgive m–” He turned, his heart in his throat, ready to run away, to hide his tears. The sheer shame of it overwhelmed him.

He bumped smack into Jules herself, who also had her arms crossed over her chest. She, however, was looking at Nate and Sha with loving disgust. “You guys are assholes.”

Behind him, Kieron could hear Sha and Nate break into peals of laughter. When he turned, shocked, they were clapping one another on the back, giggling so hard they had to hold one another up. “Did you see his face?” Sha sputtered.

“Guys!” Jules snapped, exasperated, reaching to put a hand on Kieron’s chest, to stop him from leaving. “You kackmouths nearly made him cry!” She looked over at him, apologetic and sweet, and said, “C’mon, Brody — you’ve been with these two culi for months and months, and they haven’t pranked you til now? I’m surprised you haven’t all escalated to hanging each other off yard arms in your sleep yet.”

“That’s… that’s a fucking thing?” Kieron spluttered, blinking wide, shocked eyes. He nearly cried anyway he was so relieved; he hardly knew what else to do.

Sha clapped him on the back and sauntered off with Jules, still laughing, leaving him with Nate.

The quartermaster wiped his eyes and tried to stop laughing, but it took him another few minutes. After one last whoop, he sighed, and raked his hair back out of his face, to find Kieron looking at him, almost pained. He reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Hey. Ease up, all right. No one’s offended. You’re not in trouble. I’m only faintly insulted you’d think our sex life would be that boring. On her back, really?”

Kieron blushed hotly and gritted his teeth, saying, “Jules was right; you are an asshole.”

Nate rolled his eyes, laughing, and said, “And?”

Kieron shrugged, then, and said, “Y’get used to it,” then cracked a smile and finally laughed. “The yard-arm thing, though? Don’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Nate said. “You move too much in your sleep. I had to pin you down more than once.”

Hana, walking up, overheard the comment, and her brows went up. She glanced at Kieron, and while a secret smile curved her lips, his cheeks flushed so red the tips of his ears had to join in. “Ellie’s got a case of the sniffles,” she told them. “So I’m your Timekeeper today. Ready?” she wondered.

Nathan pulled out a watch worn through so many scuffs it looked polished again, and glanced over at Kieron, saying, “Ellie’s always got a case of the sniffles.” When Kieron pulled out a battered looking tin timepiece, he said, “Wait — where’d that come from? Didn’t you have some fancy filigree one, handed down from your father’s whatever? I saw it when we were playing Hi-Lo on the Maxima. You didn’t actually lose it to Abramov, did you?”

“The time is seven-sixteen in three, two, one, now–” Hana intoned, looking at her watch.

“Thanks, Hana,” Nate said, smiling.

“Welcome, Quarter. Keep ’em wound,” she advised.

“Nah,” Kieron said, looking disheartened. “But I think I left it there on that trip. Must be dust by now. Ellie came out the next morning and I didn’t have mine. Haven’t found it since. When she did her rounds and I didn’t have one, she gave me this. Said it was just as good, if not as pretty.”

“Kind of like you,” Nate quipped.

Kieron snorted. “You think I’m pretty.”

Nathan rolled his eyes again, and said, “Hana, do you think Cadet Brody’s pretty?”

Hana cleared her throat and lifted her eyebrows, giving Kieron a once-over. She chewed her lip, narrowing her eyes, and appeared to mull it over.

“Gah, Hana, don’t fall all over yourself in a hurry to answer!” Kieron said, looking sulky.

She rolled her eyes, laughing, and said, “You’re pretty, Brody, but you’re a pouter. You’d be even prettier if you didn’t pout. Now both of you, keep your watches wound, and don’t get me in trouble by making me late to finish this!”

When she walked off, Kieron mock-sulked at Nate, “You’re infuriating.”

“I’m an asshole, remember?” Nate said, clapping Kieron on the back. “Now wind your watch, and let’s get to work.”

* * *

NEXT

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DeathWatch No. 73 – Don’t Talk, Caro

Posted on August 13, 2015 by Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #73 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

Bloody footprints were easy enough to follow; they were spaced out wide as Lucy had run from the shattered huqqa to her room. Jet didn’t bother to knock, but let himself in, and found her bedroom looking empty. Confused, it took him awhile to think to look down at the bloody footprints once more, to follow them. He walked back to her bed, and around to the other side of it, where he could see the footprints disappear. He crouched, lifting the bedskirt, and saw her beneath the bed, curled into a tight ball, one fist stuffed against her teeth. Her shoulders shook, but her sobs were silent.

The sight of her so heartbroken almost frightened Jet; he moved to crawl under the bed with her, and fold her into his arms.

The instant his hands touched her, she shifted to squirm into his arms and press her cheek to his neck.

He could feel how her skin was wet with tears. “Sister,” he began, “I–”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t talk, caro. Just… don’t push me away. Not now.” She shifted closer, wrapping herself around him. “Immanis will do as he must,” she said, her voice ragged. “And so will I.”

Jet shivered; he felt the threat in her words. He laid there with her for hours, letting the marble leech the heat out of his body, until he felt nearly as cold as the marble floor. “Perhaps he can be made to see reason,” he offered, his voice low and gentle.

She did not answer, but Jet held her, until finally he wondered, “Where is she?”

“Visiting her sisters,” Lucida said quietly.

“Why… why don’t you tell him the real reason you do not want him to marry her?” Jet wondered.

“Why don’t you tell him the real reason you do not want to marry me?” she countered.

Rather than answer her, he simply held her, and rubbed her back.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when the banging on the door came. Jet woke with a start, sitting up, and promptly smacked his head on something. Cursing aloud, he tried to shift, to sit up slowly, but his left arm was numb, everything was pitch black, and he had the sense of being surrounded, suffocated. Panic crept in, and his breathing quickened as he struggled to reach around, to squirm left and right, to look for a way out of wherever he was — even as he had no idea where that was.

Someone, somewhere, was shouting his name.

He felt tears in his eyes as his throat tightened — it was hard to breathe; his chest felt tight, and he uttered a low sob as he struggled to curl up, still not feeling his left side respond.

He struggled so much, he felt the dead weight of his left side shift — and then suddenly, Lucida’s voice could be heard. “What are you doing, caro?”

Memories rushed back in a flood. Relief and embarrassment overwhelmed Jet; for a moment, he wrapped himself around Lucida and gave a sob. He laughed, as well, and then uncurled himself, saying shakily, “I thought I died. I thought I was dead and buried.”

Snorting with laugher, Lucida shifted to crawl out from under the bed, and move to light her candles, and ignore the shouting and banging at the door.

Once Jet got himself free, he stood beside her, and looked to the door half-expectantly. “Do you… want me to let him in?”

Lucida shrugged, dismissive. “If you like. I don’t know why he’s howling around in the middle of the night.”

“Perhaps he’s drunk and apologetic.” Jet’s voice wasn’t optimistic so much as pathetically hopeful.

Lucy was equally dry, saying “Perhaps he’s drunk and has decided to make us do even more ridiculous things.”

Jet watched the door; it rattled as Immanis banged on it, and finally, he simply could not just stand there; he crossed the floor and opened the massive carved wooden door, revealing Immanis — dressed in his traveling regalia, looking gloriously furious.

“…what is this?” Lucida wondered, frowning, looking irritable.

“Westerners have crossed the line,” Immanis snarled. “The Viridian Valley has been destroyed.”

“What?” Lucida hissed, covering her mouth with her hands. “What? No! The farmlands? All those villages? All those people?”

Jet felt his heart sink, felt his gorge rise. He had grown into somewhat of a mercenary, but mass murder wasn’t something he could condone. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Brother — sister, I’m so–”

“This was not you. They aren’t your people,” Immanis growled. “You are my blood. This is as much tragedy for you as it is for us,” he said, his expression shifting to sadness. “Reports came in of at least two ships, a scout and a supplier. The supplier was pouring an aetheris extraction down through their engines–”

Lucida put her hands over her mouth.

“–it rained down on the valley as they flew over each village; they burned nearly every last villager and beast of burden. Thousands of people,” Immanis hissed, hands whiteknuckled with rage. “When our ships came to figure out what was going on, their scout evacuated and destroyed the supplier and all the evidence — along with it two of our ships.”

“Oh,” she breathed, tears welling in her eyes, making them glitter.

Jet could barely draw breath enough to think, much less respond; the news had been like a heavy fist punching him in the stomach.

“I am going to travel to the farmlands, to visit those who survived, the few there were,” Immanis proclaimed.

Lucy immediately said, “We’ll come with you.”

Jet could feel his own rage — a fury he directed without care toward the ship responsible for so much death — rising up within him, burning hungrily from somewhere deep within his belly up through his throat, as though he could breathe fire. Hatred for the merciless slaughter of peaceful farmers and their families. Hatred for the ignorant fools who thought Ilona and its sister citystates were full of barbarian monsters. Hatred for the ship, and everyone on it.

He found himself breathing tightly, clenching his fists tightly enough that his palms ached. When he unclenched them and looked down, his hands were full of blood. He trembled, saying, “They should be found. They should be hunted down, found, and brought to justice.”

He looked up at both Lucida and Immanis, and in his eyes they saw only a desperately hungry fire. “We’ll most assuredly come with you, brother,” he said, “and if the monsters are anywhere near — the guardian of Ilona will make them pay for what they’ve done.”

* * *

NEXT

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A NOTE:

Posted on August 12, 2015 by Catastrophe Jones

For those of you trying to follow along from home, and noticing an inability to go from one issue to the next (or back, to reread your favorite parts) mea culpa!  A few dates had gotten changed, and that messed with links, as anyone who uses WordPress can attest.  But now — The DeathWatch page is up to date, and the links on the individual issues are fixed. A HUGE thank you to my muse, who happened to notice the broken links; I owe you brownies and a foot rub.  Maybe some scotch.

So that’s it, DeathWatchers — we are up to #72!  If you aren’t there already — catch up!

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DeathWatch No. 72 – You Are Overstepping

Posted on August 12, 2015 by Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #72 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

“Really? Must we go over this again?” Lucida said, rubbing her temples. “My brother, my flesh, you do know Jet and I… we do not wish this union.”

The gathering long over, the three of them lounged in Immanis’s private study. The Prince himself laid along a chaise and stared at the flames in a nearby brazier, his eyes glassy from the aetheris. “You’re my sister,” Immanis said lowly. “Bound by blood to my will,” he said. “You will marry Jet.”

Lucida made a noise of disgust, but then glanced to Jet and made a brief expression of apology.

Jet shrugged, shaking his head. It was not personal, and he knew it; Lucida would’ve gladly married Jet, but Gemma had been so angry when it had been originally brought up that Lucida simply did not want to go through with it.

“And if I refuse?” Jet wondered of Immanis.

“Why would you?” Immanis’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Jet with faint suspicion. “You love her, do you not? She is pleasing?”

“She is more than pleasing, Immanis,” Jet said quietly. “But she does not rule my heart and I do not wish to–”

“The heart has no place in politics, and a marriage is political, my brother,” Immanis said, trying to soothe. “You may love who you love,” he said, shrugging, smiling almost sadly at Jet. “But you will marry who I need you to marry.”

Frustrated, Lucida balled her hands into fists. “If marriage is to be political, brother, then I suggest you be the one to be married for political reasons.”

“I will be,” Immanis said, his expression darkening. “I’ve found a suitable bride from a family weak enough in progeny to not be a threat, strong enough in funding to be a good ally. The girl is pretty enough, and she seems pleased for my charms,” he told them both, and then got up to pour himself more aetheris.

“Congratulations on your match, then,” Lucida said, rolling her eyes. She got up and huffed irritably, saying, “I’m returning to my rooms for my huqqa. I am still opposed to this farce.”

When she left, Immanis moved to sit down again, choosing a spot on the long couch near Jet. He regarded him for a long while, drinking the shining, silverblue aetheris, and finally reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair back from Jet’s cheek. “I know you do not love her, my brother. Not as one might hope to love his wife. But it will save me from having to give her to another family. It will save me from having to send you to head another one,” he said softly, looking pained. “This palace is full of people who love us, and will obey, but if given the chance to take it for themselves, I am not certain all would be as loyal as I might desire.”

“She won’t be happy,” Jet said carefully. “I fear you doom me to being a terrible husband to an unhappy wife, in doing this.”

Immanis winced saying, “She will be even more irritable with me when I tell her who I’ve picked to join with me. She selects her ladies in waiting carefully — but I am hoping she is pleased; it will allow them to be on more equal footing. She will have to find someone to replace Gemma.”

The crash from the doorway was startling; Jet jerked back from where Immanis had touched his cheek, and turned to look for the source of the sound.

Lucida stood in the doorway, her hands clenched into fists of rage, her body trembling. Her prized huqqa lay in pieces on the floor at her feet. “What?” she whispered, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“My marriage. It will be announced once the furor over your ceremonies has died down,” Immanis said, pouring himself another aetheris, calm and collected. “I have selected one of your ladies. Gemma. It’s a high honor. Her family will be very pleased.”

“No,” Lucida said vehemently. “No, I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?” Immanis laughed. “On what authority could you presume to forbid me anything, sister mine?” His eyes, sleepy though they were, did not lack power. “I will allow you to select another dozen new ladies if you like, you can–”

“No. Not her,” Lucida interrupted, trying hard to keep the panic from her face. “You do me a disservice, brother. She has been at court with me for years, Immanis; I would have to train someone new who did not know what I prefer, and how things must be done. It is impossible to find someone as useful as Gemma. She would mean more to me as my lady than she ever could, to you, as a wife.”

Jet’s heart thundered; he looked to Immanis, who stood up and drained the contents of his glass. “I will be obeyed,” he said. “You will marry Jet. It’s decided. I will take Gemma. You will be sisters. She will be a greater companion for you. An equal.”

“She was already my equal!” Lucida snapped. “To you, she is superior! At least she has always cared for what I want, rather than never putting anyone’s desires ahead of her own.”

“You are overstepping,” Immanis sighed, looking irritable.

“I do not care! I am your sister, and I will not simply let you do this. I am not your play thing. Gemma would not want this. She would rather–”

“–remain your lady in waiting, in perpetuity? What, exactly, would she be waiting for, sister?” Immanis wondered haughtily. “This is why women come to court! For marriages of advancement! For family ties. For the ability to gain wealth and allies, Lucy, be reasonable. At any rate, I know quite well that she is pleased for my attentions.”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed hotly. She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You dared–”

“Letters,” Immanis said, rolling his eyes. “I have written her dozens of love letters to win her affections. She is enamored of them. Enamored of me.”

Lucy’s expression flickered back and forth between both rage and despair. She clenched and unclenched her fists, struggling to swallow back the words she wanted to say. Ultimately, she chose carefully, and informed her brother, “You will regret this, Immanis. I swear it.” Her voice broke, and as she bit off the last word, she turned to leave, walking through the glass shards on the floor, leaving bloody footprints as she ran all the way down the hall.

Shocked, Jet watched her go, and then looked back to Immanis, saying sadly, “You should think twice about this, brother. I am not certain she will forgive you readily. Or at all.”

Immanis waved a hand, dismissing his sister’s fury irritably. “Go after her, if you must — she gets in these tempers sometimes, and all that will satisfy her is a good long fight. You know how she is. I am not in the mood for it right now, my brother.”

Jet shook his head, and turned to go, his heart heavy.

Immanis caught his hand as he turned away, and pressed his thumb against the silver scar in Jet’s palm, tracing the four-pointed star there. “I have to do this, Jet,” he said. “You understand, don’t you?”

Jet looked pained as he carefully withdrew his hand, saying, “I understand you think you have to do this, Immanis — I do. But I also know she is hurting, and it would be cruel of me to leave her to her own thoughts right now.” He left, skirting the broken glass, and followed the bloody footprints, hoping they would lead him all the way to their source.

“You will make a fine husband,” Immanis said quietly, and poured himself another glass of aetheris, glad he waited until Jet was out of earshot to say anything at all.

* * *

NEXT

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DeathWatch No. 71 – A Hunt

Posted on August 11, 2015 by Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #71 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

Feeling refreshed, if somewhat on edge from his terrifying dream, Jet knocked on Lucida’s door.

“One moment!” Her voice seemed higher than normal — strained.

Frowning, Jet let himself in; she did the same to him so often, he imagined it was no high offense, and in his concern, he hoped it was a trifle — perhaps she needed a lacing unknotted before she felt ready to join him with Immanis at dinner. He shut the door quietly behind him, and came into her main rooms, where he found himself staring at Lucida writing furiously, pausing to scratch something out and then crumple the paper and throw it, then get a fresh sheet and begin again. She wasn’t even dressed for dinner.

“Lucy?” Jet’s voice echoed the concern on his face. “What, ah… what… are you doing?” He slipped closer and moved to look over her shoulder. Her flowing script began on over several dozen existing pieces of parchment.

“Lucy?”

“Shut up,” she said, but there was no venom, nor love. There wasn’t any teasing — she didn’t even so much as look at him.

He leaned down to see what she was writing, and she twisted, irritation and anger on her face as she snapped up at him, “What.” It wasn’t even a question.

He reached out a hand and put it to her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You look upset, can I–”

“Of course. Be my guest. Do you know how to compose a carmenamorem?” Lucida’s expression was dry, angry, and yet oddly hopeful.

“I don’t even recognize that w–oh. Wait. Amorem. Amorem — a love song? You… you’re writing a love poem?” Jet couldn’t help it; his expression was terribly amused. Of all the things he’d imagined Lucy asking his help for, hiding a body was higher on the expected list than writing love poems.

“Fates help you caro, but if you smile at me right now I will cut it off of your face,” she snapped.

Jet’s expression quickly grew sober. He stood up, cleared his throat, and shook his head, saying, “I’ve written letters, but not… no. I’m sorry — ”

Lucy shook her head, sighing, and shoved the papers from her desk, putting her head in her hands.

Immediately, Jet knelt again and moved to gather her into his arms “Ah — bellamea, stop. You’ll ruin your fine things. What is it? Why are you upset you cannot write a love poem?”

“Because my Gemma receives them from an ardent admirer, and she will not admit it, but I can tell they delight her,” Lucy said. “They made her glow,” she said, looking forlorn. “I love her. I want to give her that joy. I did not know she would love them, or I would have learned to do it already.” Lucy’s face was the picture of sulky jealousy; she even pouted over the issue, frustrated.

“Who is the admirer?” Jet wondered, petting Lucy’s hair.

Shrugging, Lucy answered, “We do not know. Some noble fop here in the palace, likely. The writing is affected, but it is both written and written well.” She sighed, adding darkly “Someone means to make her swoon. I should like to make them swallow their own manho–”

Jet shuddered as he kissed the top of her head and said, “My sister, my Lucida, my light — Gemma is a lucky woman, that you love her. I don’t know the first thing about writing love poems, however.” He was all apologies as he hugged her, and said, “Let’s get ready for dinner, hmm? Immanis has news, and perhaps you can ask him if he knows how to do such a thing. Has he ever wooed a woman before?”

“Seduced,” Lucida said, sighing and rolling her eyes. “But not wooed.” She got up from her desk and walked to her closets to dress herself for dinner.

Jet watched her; she was half-naked or near-to most of the time she was around him — he’d grown used to much of it. “Don’t forget — this is not a private dinner. You should–”

Lucida walked back into the room.

Jet’s jaw dropped. He repeated, “You should–”

She was wearing a dress that was more bare than bead, with the thinnest of skirts fluttering about her thighs. “Dress for the occasion?” she said. “It’s summer, my Jet, and the people will be sitting at my table, dining on my food. I’ll wear what I like, and neither you, nor the Prince of Ilona will make me do otherwise.”

“That’s… yes,” Jet said, nodding, dragging his eyes away from her smooth skin and the glittering beads adorning it.

Lucy was not to be denied; she stood near Jet and ran her hands over his clothes, a silken outfit in black, with a heavy sash, lending him the look of a shadow; he’d taken to dressing that way both in and out of the palace walls, and it pleased her. The clothing was simple, but remarkably well-made, both durable and easy-to-move in, silent when he walked or ran. “You’re dressed well, caro; I imagined I shouldn’t allow myself to be upstaged by my little brother,” she laughed.

“Little?” Jet retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, caro, I can only have one bigger brother, and that will always be my Immanis, yes?” Lucy said, dark eyes glittering.

“Fair.” Jet’s voice was amused; they left Lucy’s rooms together, and proceeded to the great hall, where Immanis was already entertaining his guests.

“And here they are!” Immanis cried as they entered. He welcomed them both to his side and kissed them each on the cheeks, embracing them. “We were all just talking about you.”

Jet felt something knot in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t let anything show on his face.

One of the servants pressed heavy, cold goblets into his and Lucy’s hands.

Lucy’s expression tightened, similarly; she laughed daringly and said, “Oh? Something good, I hope, but if not, something terrifying.”

One of the guests excitedly clapped her hands, all but squealing. “I just think it’s so amazing–”

It set the room to fluttering around Lucida; she bore it well — she loved to be the center of attention in so many ways; the women cooed at her, and she looked to Immanis for some kind of explanation. While waiting, she took a deep drink of what she’d been given, hiding a pained expression behind the goblet.

“I merely informed them that I had officially chosen Jet as my champion,” Immanis said, raising a goblet to toast them both. The tang of aetheris was in the air; Jet recognized the smell, suddenly, as the guests raised their own glasses, all looking wide-eyed with wonder.

“Brother dear — what has that to do with me?” Lucida laughed.

“Oh,” the guest who’d spoken earlier gushes. “If I were to be married to such a magnificent beast of a man?” She laid a hand to Jet’s chest, where his shirt was open, and splayed her fingers. “Being wed to the guardian spirit of Ilona? How awestruck you must be!”

Jet looked at Immanis, then back at Lucy, who’s teeth were bared in a smile that was all joy to the guests of the party, but Immanis himself blanched faintly when he saw it directed at him.

“Oh, of course! I live my life in perpetual awe,” Lucy cooed, all but simpering at the woman, who had no idea Lucy was envisioning biting the rings out of her nose and spitting them back at her screaming face. “I’m so overwhelmed, we haven’t even begun the planning. I’ll have to conscript an entire army to handle the arrangements. It will be such an occasion, it will take over a year to plan!”

Jet allowed himself to fake disappointment; he smiled at Lucy and reached to give her hand a squeeze.

“Fear not,” Immanis said. “I have already made many of the arrangements, my precious Lucida. There will be a great ceremony which envoys from every city-state will attend. I will bind your union, and then we will have one hundred days of games, feasting, and revelry!”

A great cry went up amongst the guests; they clapped and called out, delighted. Immanis was not yet finished with his announcements, however; his eyes gleamed as he handed off his goblet and moved to cup Jet’s face in his hands, saying, “The hunt, my brother.” Lucida’s eyes grew wide, and Jet’s heart skipped a beat as their brother declared, “We will at last have a hunt.”

* * *

NEXT

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