Free Havoc by Ann Aguirre Page B

Talk.”
    â€œVery well, if you must be so brutish. You’re turning into Artan.”
    That was the last insult that should’ve passed his lips. The former leader of this territory made Grigor look refined. He’d raped for pleasure and murdered for sport, taken prisoners as slaves and pets, and his idea of entertainment always ended in blood sport and torture.
I’m not like him. I protect my people as best I can.
Dred slammed a fist into the Speaker’s stomach, then kicked his feet out from under him.
    Once he was on the ground and understood just how precarious his existence was, she set her fingers gently on his throat. “You look better from this angle, Speaker.”
    â€œAnd your head will roll for this offense,” he snarled. “To think I came to offer you the most sacred of honors.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” She was smirking.
    â€œThe Handmaiden wishes to renew your alliance. In her infinite wisdom, she has foreseen that the only way we can withstand this invasion is to fight the interlopers together.”
    â€œWhy does she want to survive it?” Jael asked lazily. “Isn’t she all about death?”
    The Speaker tried to roll out from beneath Dred, but she increased the pressure on his throat, digging in with her nails, sharp enough to bring up crimson crescents on his sour-smelling, pasty skin. “On her terms. In her time. She is Death’s mistress, not a victim to be murdered by a mob of ignorant brutes.”
    Silence really is bugshit insane. After trying to kill me, after putting a mole in my inner circle, she thinks she can crook a finger, and I’ll come running?
    â€œIt’s a tempting offer,” she said. “Let me think about it.”
    Jael made a noise, but she quieted him with a subtle gesture. She helped the Speaker to his feet, making sure her expression gave nothing away. Around her, other Queenslanders were watching, hardly seeming to breathe. Nobody shouted advice or warnings. She counted to ten, letting the tension build.
    Eventually, Dred said, “I’ve come to a decision. Silence—and the rest of you—can fuck all the way off. I will not help you. In any fashion. If you show up near my territory again, I
will
kill you. Failing that, I hope the mercs burn everything down in that grisly slaughterhouse you call home.”
    Whoops rang out from the rest of the men, and she beckoned to Cook, who was the closest thing she had to visually intimidating muscle since Einar died. “If you don’t mind, would you take out the trash?”
    The chef grinned, threw his chopping knife at the opposite wall, and advanced on the Speaker, who backed up. He doubtless had a garrote on his person and maybe a poison knife, but Cook was too big to be taken like that, especially coming at a target head-on. The rest of Queensland stopped the Speaker’s retreat and Cook yanked him up bodily and dragged him like a haunch of meat, so the emissary’s head thumped against the floor. With a jerk of his head, the chef summoned more men, probably to help him toss the Speaker over the barricades. When he returned, someone scurried to retrieve his knife.
    â€œThat wasn’t politic,” Tam said from behind her. “But it
was
excellent theater.”
    She turned with a frown to confront his sallow, sweaty countenance. “You should be in bed, resting.”
    â€œHe’s bored,” Martine said. Tam’s arm was around her shoulder, more for support than in affection, Dred suspected. “He’s not up to the sort of tricks he’d normally enjoy.”
    Tam wore an inscrutable expression, but Dred picked up a flare of strong emotion. Quickly, she shut her gift down, not wanting to spy on him. Whether it was anger or desire, she had no reason to delve further. More to the point, she was concerned about his recovery.
    â€œAny sign of infection?” she asked Martine.
    The spymaster scowled, as