Strife & Valor: Book II of The Rorke Burningsoul Saga by Regina Watts (red queen ebook .TXT) 📕

I wondered. I wondered it in between all the other things I wondered. There got to be so much wondering flying about my head that I seemed to think of nothing at all. Instead I numbly washed my face and hands while Branwen packed up for us. Valeria, examining my stern countenance, pushed upon my shoulders until I sat at the edge of the bed. With Odile and Indra getting Lively settled down to sleep in their room, Valeria perched upon my knee and tenderly took the rag from me. After dipping it in the water and sponging my brow, she remarked, “This is quite some life you have brought me into, Burningsoul.”

I chuckled softly, shutting my eyes as her delicate hand soothed my overheated skin. The armor lay to the side, at last removed for the time being. While Valeria’s cooling cloth was guided down my neck and into my tunic, I assured her, “Before I went down to the Nightlands, nothing ever seemed to happen quite so fast…certainly not so—well, busily. Nor so dangerously. And that’s not all—”

I was about to mention the duel when, amid little more than a brisk knock at the door, Odile let herself in with Indra upon her heel. “Out like a candle flame after a cave-in, the poor woman. She’s exhausted.”

I shook my head. “It sounds like she’s lucky to be alive after her ordeal.”

“No kidding.” Folding her arms beneath her round breasts, Odile looked me over and asked with an arched brow, “Now—what’s all this about not needing the airship anymore? I thought that was half of why we came here, or something.”

“The information was only partly correct,” I told them. “Grimalkin and Hildolfr stayed at the inn together, but they didn’t really leave at the same time…and only one of them has the Scepter.”

“Not the one you found, I imagine?” Odile rolled her eyes and rested her head back against the wall. “We’re never going to get the ring back, are we?”

“Be patient, Odile,” admonished the Materna, lifting my tunic and moving the cloth over the planes of my stomach. Her lovely eyes fixed upon me, Valeria said in a tone of adoration, “We must take these things one step at a time…though, did you have an opportunity to ask after Roserpine’s Ring, my love?”

I shook my head and confessed, “Amid the trappings of Weltyr, I was focused on the Scepter only…and, well—I saw an old friend. I might have remembered to ask about it after, had it not been that I stepped into an altercation she was having…”

Pausing her soothing caresses to see the tense expression on my face, I explained, “She is being treated in a way that—well. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be an issue once I’ve defeated the Commander. We have a duel set for four days hence; I must return by then.”

“My brave warrior,” cooed Valeria. The rest of the women produced shocked noises ranging from worried to annoyed.

Indra leaned forward, her hand upon her heart. “A duel! Aren’t you afraid, Rorke?”

“I’m only afraid for Elishta-bet if I don’t make good on my challenge. She’s being forced into an unjust marriage. I do not and cannot believe Weltyr will allow such a thing—especially not in his Church.”

Odile tapped her foot. “So what will we do after this duel? Surely dueling isn’t legal.”

“Not conventionally,” I said. “But within the confines of the Order, it is an acknowledged tradition. However…you are right to wonder what will happen after it’s all over. I wonder, too. I do not think, given the stature man I have challenged, that I will be welcome into the Order one way or the other. In fact, it might very well take reclaiming the Scepter to earn anything approaching forgiveness.”

“And if the trip to Soot takes longer, Rorke?” Branwen studied me with concern. “If we can’t make it back here by the duel?”

I spread my hands. “We must. I suppose, if the gimlets haven’t eaten the rest of the horses, we could trade off at Soot. Ride ours all night and all day save for small breaks, get there in 36 hours or so to deal with Gundrygia, and then switch out and ride back.”

Scoffing, Branwen asked, “And what kind of condition will that leave you in for a fight?”

“If my victory be Weltyr’s will,” I told her, “then I will be in condition to win…whatever condition that is. As it happens, after I challenged Commander Zweiding to the duel, I found Grimalkin…and he had more to say than ”

“O-oh?” Flush-faced at once, Branwen turned away to secure the strap of her pack. “And what did he say?”

“That he and Hildolfr had a disagreement, and Hildolfr walked away with the Scepter because Grimalkin wasn’t interested in a fight…and he was willing to be bribed.”

Odile, trying not to sound annoyed, asked, “So this Hildolfr is the one who has it?”

“It would seem so. Where he intends to take it, I don’t know…but I also have no evidence or indication that he came here to Skythorn.”

“Fantastic,” sad Odile. “In other words, we’re running in circles.”

“Not so. If I win, the duel will be the perfect time for me to consult Father Fortisto again. He can guide me to Hildolfr and Roserpine’s ring; it was his expertise in reading Weltyr’s messages that led me to find Grimalkin.”

After another dip of the rag in the bowl, Valeria pressed her breasts to my chest and repeated the operation of washing—now, under the back of my tunic. The scent of her hair and weight of her body produced a primitive ache that thrilled me beyond all reckoning. My hands slid over her thighs of their own volition while she told me, “When it be Roserpine’s will that we find the ring, that is when we will find it…I am patient in these matters, and so is she.”

“With all due respect, Your Holiness”—Odile leered at the scene developing before her, her hand sliding up the door jamb to hit the lock—“it