Free Emperor's Edge Republic by Lindsay Buroker Page A

called it. I’ve studied a lot of other cultures and know some of what’s possible, but I wouldn’t know where to start in looking for a conjurer or artifact that might account for this.” Dak shrugged. “If there’s anything to this at all, and it’s not all in my mind. I would figure he’s just getting older and more forgetful if he hadn’t been as sharp as any legend-writer might expect two months ago.”
    “I’ll look into it, Dak. Thank you for telling me.”
    He exhaled slowly, the exhale of a man relieved to have shared a burden he had carried alone for a long time. Tikaya wished she could feel relieved. She had more to worry about than ever.

Chapter 3
    M aldynado hummed to himself and stirred the soup pot while perusing the cookbook for a flat bread recipe that could be made quickly and wouldn’t burn the way his first attempt had. The tiny kitchen had poor ventilation, and his eyes still stung from the lingering smoke. He prodded a sore spot on his bare chest where a piece of grease had spattered him earlier. Evrial was probably right that naked cooking wasn’t smart, but he wanted to surprise her with dinner, and this was the one outfit he had that she never mocked.
    He prodded a pectoral muscle speculatively. With little else to do while she worked, he had been training all winter. Not quite to Sicarius’s standards, but he had kept his form. When Amaranthe came back, he would be ready to partake in whatever scheme she had in mind for their next adventure. If she came back. He had been certain she would, but it had been more than three months now...
    In the other room, the tiny flat’s only other room, a key turned in the lock. Ah, well, no time for bread. The chicken soup would have to do. After a long day at work, Evrial would doubtlessly be looking forward more to relaxing than eating anyway. And his current attire was appropriate for all kinds of relaxation.
    Grabbing the soup pot, Maldynado strolled into the other room where he had already set their small two-person table. He halted in the doorway though, for Evrial wasn’t alone. Two large brawny men had entered with her, one her age and one gray-haired, though both quite muscular.
    They saw him before he had a chance to duck back into the kitchen and grab something to cover his love apples. Evrial gaped. The men gaped. From the similar nature of those gapes—and a few other similarities such as height, build, and noses—Maldynado realized these were relatives.
    “Maldynado,” Evrial hissed in exasperation, her face flushing brighter than the carrots in his soup.
    “Good evening.” Maldynado strolled to the table, determined to make the best of the moment. “I made dinner.”
    “This is my brother, Sovric, and my father .” Evrial jerked her head toward the side of the room that held their bed and a wardrobe. “Put some clothes on.”
    Maldynado set the soup in the middle of the table, bowed toward the three of them, and strolled to the wardrobe. The brother’s glower followed him, as if he wanted to charge across the room and pound on Maldynado. Well, he could try , but some rural metalsmith would hardly prove a threat. Still, Maldynado returned the glower with a friendly smile. No need to pick a fight, not with the relatives of one’s lady.
    “This is... unacceptable ,” Evrial’s father said, not bothering to whisper. “You said he was a warrior-caste gentleman, not some brutish free-loading nudist .”
    “ Brutish? ” Maldynado protested, his hand in the wardrobe. Why certainly he had picked up a few scars on his adventures with Amaranthe, but nothing that detracted from his aesthetically pleasing physique. Despite a grease spatter here and there, he was clean and groomed—trimmed in all the right places—not some hairy behemoth from the mountains.
    Evrial gripped her father’s arm. “Let’s wait outside until he’s dressed. We can—”
    “And look at this hovel you’re living in,” her father went on. “My