Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) by G.O. Turner (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

“Look, Tolrah is it?” Liv lifted her chin. “The difference? I’m not staining my vestments over the thought of giving over. As you said, it’s the spirit that moves.”

Tolrah blinked. “Your half-orc friend has his flaws. But, Ceer seems as giving as any I’ve known. I find it easy to overlook his slights in light of such…a ki. What does that say to you about a courtesan like…me?”

The depth of his eyes searched. It was as if the void beneath her chest was apparent to him alone. It tugged at her, drawing down. Liv sucked in and turned.

Tolrah snatch at her wrist.

She hesitated.

“Tell me, Lightbringer…” His tone softened. “Does your god know such charity?”

Ruein had succeeded in touching a nerve with her sister.

Go on. Be self-righteous with those thoughts for a while. Even your holier-than-thou friends could be as much in the wrong. Right?

Liv’s attempt to avoid the subject, found her fumbling through the revelers for an exit. The slender human that Ruein had seen exiting the council chambers before had intercepted her Lightbringer sister for an awkward moment of their own. It was simple enough for Ruein to staunch an instinct to come to Liv’s defense.

She held back on the balcony as her sister finished her less-than-graceful departure.

Eventually, the festivities wound down and the participants thinned. Ruein made conversation with several of the remaining courtesans. Unlike her sister, she had no such holy hang-ups.

So, this is what Haradeners find appealing. Easy enough. If the council wants me to blend, I can think of no better way.

More in trade of conversation than silver, the Apex’s courtesans were amenable in showing off their wardrobes for a guest of Haraden. She availed herself of some of their more black-letter wardrobe.

The dark low-slung outfit dipped to just above her sternum, covering her impaling scar. Embroidered purple silks framed her form in a way she would’ve taken pride at, in earlier days. Yet, somehow, it was not complete until its matching purple collar was cinched at Ruein’s neck.

Satisfied with her results, the remainder of the night passed in their company. With the courtesans drifting off to slumber, Ruein made her way back to ensure Liv was roused for her holy rituals.

18

Their dawnless morning began with a solid thud upon their door. Liv huffed at the distraction for her morning prayer. There was no expecting the godless to understand. At least Ruein was quick to answer.

Still, Liv peeked for herself.

A wary Ceer appeared relieved when Ruein opened the door. The half-orc filling their entrance bobbled his head and lowered his voice. “Ceer thought it good Elite not barge room, as did with Twigs and Ceer. Did not want Ruein to scare ki out of guard.”

Ruein nodded. “Considerate, Ceer, but unnecessary. I will not be found napping.”

Through the doorframe around Ceer, Liv spotted a dark-orc resting against his halberd pole, and Twigs waiting alongside.

Liv closed her eyes to summon up patience. After resolving her good graces, she encased herself in her lordly half-plate. More than protection, this was how she would present as a Lightbringer.

It was a leisurely escort through an amber Apex morning, the passages vacated of revelers. The arch tugged her forward as they reemerged to the ground-level garrison.

A somewhat disheveled yet dainty svirfneblin emerged from the back of Leafar’s carriage. Her nightwear draped from her shoulders, maintaining a semblance of modesty. The bleary-eyed carriage owner emerged behind her. He kissed her hand, then she gathered up the bits that draped too low and dashed past them through the portal.

A less-modest Leafar strutted his pajamaed legs over. “Whosah bunch of morning cocks? Look at you, all up and eager for the hunt. None the worse for wear.”

Twigs’ hand went to his temple, kneading gently. “Natural or no, the wine of grapes doesn’t always agree with my mornings.”

Leafar kicked off a laugh. “Ha! If that were mere grapes.”

A soured pungence rifled through Liv’s nostrils. She rounded on Leafar. “How is it that you smell in need of a bath?”

“Are you really asking?”

Disgust throttled Liv’s headshake. “No.”

Upon opening the lockers, the dark-orcs passed out party weapons. Liv accepted with a relieved smile. It comforted to weigh the heft of her mace again. She gave it a twirl before hooking it back under her vestments.

Ceer passed along Twigs’ staff, handing it off to their druid gnome. He clicked his tongue and shot a look at the other gnome. “Not too late, Leafar. Ceer still spare shoulder if want share in fun.”

Leafar backpedaled. “Oh no. I’m a delivery gnome. And I have delivered. That little bout with the bears was my fill of excitement for ages to come. Thank you very much. Just you keep all that sharing to yourselves.

“Bunch o’ seafaring Nurskers don’t want to be holed up in some gate’s keep for more than a night or two. And we all know there’s only one hero that can get them back.” Grunting his way up, he clambered to the carriage bench.

Ruein slung her glaive over her shoulder. Without her drowish belt hook, she was inclined to keep it clasped in-hand. “So, when can we expect your return for our retrieval?”

“You rabble? The azers say you get special dispensation. Methinks they want you out as soon as Haradenly possible. Be ready in about nine days. Ten if there’re any more bears.”

Reaching over to the carriage wall, Leafar clasped a knob and slid the panel. The cabinet packed a set of geared, circular cages. Within sat two, minute furry rodents. He popped them a kernel of something, slid the door back, and rapped it with his knuckles. The carriage jostled forward.

Twigs gaped. Exasperated gasps stammered from his lips.

Carriage wheels turned and the wagon corrected itself toward the exit. Leafar leaned from the bench to call back, “I gotta say, that silk getup is a whole shade nicer on you, Ruein. Far nicer than