A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

of my teacher. In his defense, I was dueling with a stance that I didn’t fully know, and one he had no practice in facing. Sometimes an unpredictable opponent was the most deadly. I took my victory for what it was—a good omen.

Chapter One and Eight

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

“Wipe that smile off your face, you smug bastard,” Crylwin groused.

I let my smile grow wider. “Care for a rematch, then?”

“Nah, I’ll go ahead and let you savor this one,” he said, returning to his ale. “Richard!”

The steward popped his head in at the far end of the hall. “Yes, my lord?”

“Get a mop; I made a mess.” Crylwin gestured to the broken pottery at the food table. He turned to me. “You want any more food?”

I shook my head.

“You can clean off the whole table. Have the food brought to the common house; we may be down there later.”

“Very good, my lord,” Richard mumbled, departing once more.

“I wonder how much he spits in your food?” I said.

Crylwin shrugged. “Have a sit down. I can’t enjoy my ale with you smiling like that.”

I decided to take his offer, preserving my victory and a body already covered in welts and bruises. He raised his glass. “To Faerin and his blue lady, without which he might never win a duel. Blessings!”

“Blessings, asshole!” I echoed.

One ale became several, and before long, I was halfway into my cups.

“So why does the old man want to see me?” I asked.

“Yer gonna have to wait for him,” Crylwin said firmly, “I’m not in the habit of telling that man’s secrets.

“So, does that mean you know why I’m here?” I countered.

He grinned silently.

“Will I like it? You can tell me that, at least?”

“No.”

“That I won’t like it or that you won’t tell me?”

He paused and scratched the stubble on his face. “Both.”

I gave up and focused instead on drinking ale. We passed the time with the usual gossip. Some of the farmers that survived the Mere attack were getting sick in Southquarter. They have that section blocked off to contain the spread. Quill was busy all night crafting tonics and potions to help. He sent Kerry with a whole cart full this morning. Old Monroe went with her.

He filled me in on the events of Ellington’s party and the most recent updates with Decia. Apparently, Ellington was so pleased to have his purse recovered that he offered Crylwin a whole gold crown as a reward, not realizing it was empty.

“But he couldna take it back, not in front of his guests, not with the way he was carrying on.”

“So, you’re telling me he paid you to steal his purse?”

“That’s right,” Crylwin said, smiling. “The look on his face when he realized it was empty, I nearly wet meself,”

Decia’s story was less comical. She was furious that he left her behind, then insulted to find out that Lira had joined us. She wasn’t jealous of Lira, Crylwin assured me, but she told him that until she wore a silver ring that he shouldn’t be spending time in public with any unmatched women.

“Why don’t you just get on with it?” I asked. “It’s been how long now? What’s going to change between now and next cycle? I mean, you like her enough to fuck her…. What’s the harm in a little silver on her hand?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Crylwin said dismissively.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Please explain with smaller words so the lowly Ruk can follow.”

“It’s not like that, princess,” he said. “It’s complicated. Family comes with all sorts of obligations. I know how important it is for Father that I marry, but I also know how much worse it could be if it doesn’t work out.”

I nodded. “What’s so bad about her, anyway? I mean she’s pretty, in a lacey Cyllian sort of way. I’m sure I have seen her laugh before. Clearly, she tolerates you, so that’s saying a lot.”

“Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s fine.”

“Fine, huh? Oh, the dream of every young maiden.”

Crylwin rubbed his hands over his face. “Let’s change the subject; I get enough of this from Ama.”

I raised my hands in submission then turned back to my ale. I finished what remained then turned the glass over. “I think I’m going to go hit the baths. You want to come?”

Crylwin shook his head. “I’ve got the ledgers to work through before Father returns.”

“Wise to do that while in your cups?”

“Makes it more entertaining,” he said. “I’ll send Richard over with your clothes.” He finished his glass and turned it over next to mine. “You mind if Quill takes a look at your sword? I’m pretty sure he has been pacing a hole in the floor ever since you got here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Just tell him not to do any experiments on it until I’m there.”

“And Valerius is the overprotective father?” Crylwin said.

I frowned. “Just tell him, alright? I don’t want to come back from the baths and find Nahdril soaking in goat piss or something.”

“I’ll tell him, but you know how he loves his goat piss.”

The baths were down the hill in a separate complex. The destruction of the hill to make way for the baths was not the most popular of decisions Monroe made when he became lord of the estate, but he did his best to mitigate that by making them open to all who worked or lived on the grounds. A private tunnel ran from the main house to them as did one from the guest house. Visitors walked the stone path.

Once inside the bath complex, I was hit with a wave of fragrant air. The baths were constructed of glass and liquid stone, which worked as a hothouse in colder months. The moisture and ready sunlight helped keep many exotic species of plants alive and well in the northern climate. Today the windows were open, and a breeze worked its way through the many blossoming trees. Orange trees grew in tandem along the main path.