Free Forged in Blood II by Lindsay Buroker Page A

would—” He glanced back down the stairs, but she wasn’t in sight. Amaranthe was surprised she’d released him so soon.
    “Yes, she’d mind if you went to a brothel,” Amaranthe said. “Where’d she go?”
    “To find soap and to heat water. After her initial pleasure at seeing me wore off—” he smiled at this memory, “—she insisted on bathing me before engaging in more amorous activities. Oh, and I wasn’t going to ask if she minded if I went to a brothel. I was going to ask if you thought she’d like to come along.”
    “She’d mind that even more. I’m sure Akstyr would be fine with a celebratory pie.” Though now that she knew of Curi’s questionable allegiance, Amaranthe wouldn’t be shopping for sweets there.
    “Pie. Just when I think you know men fairly well, you say something like that.” He met Basilard’s eyes, giving him a women-are-surely-odd look.
    Amaranthe tried to smile, but her soul felt so weary, so pitted and ravaged by guilt, she didn’t manage it.
    I should also seek a bath,
Basilard signed.
    “I wasn’t going to comment on the matter,” Maldynado said, crinkling his nose, “but, yes. Yes, you should.”
    “Before you go… does either of you know where Sicarius went to look for that soul construct?” Practically speaking, finding him shouldn’t be her priority, especially when he preferred to hunt alone anyway, but Amaranthe would worry about him until she knew he was safe.
    Both men shook their heads.
    Maldynado waved vaguely in the direction of the lake. “Sespian was the last one to talk to him. You should ask him.”
    Basilard eyed the closed meeting door, then gave a parting wave and descended to the factory floor. Maybe he wasn’t certain whether having this legendary Turgonian admiral show up was a good idea or not. Maldynado was giving the door a wary look, too, though perhaps for other reasons.
    A one-eyed, gray-haired man with a fierce glower stomped up the stairs. He pushed past Maldynado and entered the meeting room without a word. Numerous raised voices flowed out before the door shut again.
    “That’s General Ridgecrest,” Maldynado said. “I reckon the meeting will really be getting started now.”
    “I should join them,” Amaranthe said, “if they’ll let me.”
    She reached for the doorknob, but peeked in the window first and paused, intimidated by all the uniformed men sitting around a conference table comprised of several desks and bookcases that had been pushed together. Lanterns blazed, lighting up the room, and general’s and colonel’s ranks glinted on all the uniforms. Sespian sat amongst them, his clothes as grimy, ripped, and stained as Maldynado’s, but he didn’t appear daunted by the company, most of it gray-haired and stern of face. By his choice or theirs, he’d taken the head of the table. Starcrest, also in civilian clothes, albeit much cleaner ones, leaned against the wall to the side, his arms folded across his chest, his eyelids half drooped, listening rather than talking. Or
trying
to talk. Judging by the gesticulating and the raised voices, three people were speaking at once. Maybe Starcrest had decided to absorb information for now. After all, he couldn’t be that current on events, if he’d been traveling for weeks. She could only guess at how much he’d kept up with Turgonian news in the years prior.
    Amaranthe wondered where the professor was. She would have felt more comfortable walking in if there’d been another woman in the room—or if she didn’t have that pesky bounty on her head. Or if Sicarius were at her side, glaring over her shoulder at anyone who belittled her.
    She sighed. She wouldn’t have relied on him so heavily in the past—when had she grown so gun shy?
    “When everything started going wrong,” she muttered.
    “What’s that?” Maldynado asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “You’re not afraid to go in, are you? I’m sure Sespian won’t let anyone shoot you.”
    “Comforting, thank