Free Guardian of Honor by Robin D. Owens Page A

fingertips and kissed them.
    Dodu sighed and withdrew her hand. "Some other time,
then."
    He grinned. "Definitely."
    With a swish of the ass she knew he admired, she served another
table. Bastien shifted, trying to find a less painful position.
    The door opened, letting in gray twilight and the stench of
frink-filled rain. Bastien's smile faded. His brother Luthan scanned the room,
spotted Bastien and strode to him.
    Bastien's brows knit. Luthan didn't move with his usual fluidity,
and pallor showed under the golden tone of his skin. He looked as if he'd been
through an ordeal—more than just confronting the Marshalls in their Council,
which Bastien had heard Luthan was going to do—as the new Representative of the
Cloister. His acceptance of the position had spurred a lot of talk, since it
now left the Chevaliers without a spokesperson to the Marshalls.
    Was Luthan's streak of silver over his right temple wider? Bastien
scowled. They were very different in personality, but close nonetheless.
    Luthan stopped and looked down at the lounging Bastien, dressed in
render-hide. Luthan himself had a pure white surcoat over his flying leathers,
decorated with the coat of arms of their mother's
family—the estate Luthan claimed for himself. When Luthan's eyes fixed on
Bastien's hands scored by the tentacles of the soul-sucker, Bastien sat up
straight. Then Luthan's gaze lingered on the new hat.
    "That is the ugliest hat I've ever seen."
    "You wound me to the core!" Bastien placed fingers over
his heart.
    Luthan scowled. "Looks to me like your last fight did
that."
    Bastien cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "And you
look like merde too." He swept his hat to a corner of the table.
"Sit. I know Council meetings are bad, but it shouldn't make you look like
a herd of volarans ran over you."
    Grunting, Luthan gingerly settled his long length on the opposite
bench of the booth, angling his body so he could keep an eye on the room as
well as his brother, an automatic strategy for a trained fighter. Bastien, of
course, had taken the last booth with the wall at his back. Standing at the bar
gave Chevaliers more freedom, but Bastien hadn't been sure he could stay
upright for long. Eyeing his brother, Bastien didn't think Luthan could handle
the usual jostling at a crowded bar either.
    "You look like merde," Bastien repeated.
    Luthan stared at him, and his gray eyes seemed to have become
darker. Bastien frowned, but when that pulled at the wounds in his scalp, he
stopped and suppressed a wince.
    "Jerir," Luthan said, as if that explained everything.
He caught Dodu's attention and lifted a hand for ale.
    "Jerir," Bastien echoed, mind racing. He was supposed to
be the quickest of wits of his family, and Luthan usually made him use every
one of them. "An Exotique and jerir. Knowing the old tales, I'd say the
Marshalls must have used it as a test."
    When the ale was set in front of him, Luthan stared down at the
liquid. Then he looked up with gleaming eyes and a slight curve of the lips, lifted the mug in a half salute to
Bastien, and drank. He set the glass down, pulled a pristine handkerchief from
an inside pocket and dabbed his lips. "Right you are. There were several
tests, but I don't know the details. I do know that they—" he
jerked his head toward the Castle "—have a whole pool of the stuff."
    Bastien choked, swallowed, breathed through a couple of gasps.
"A pool?" He shook his head. "Can't be. Jerir is scarce and
valuable."
    "A pool. The ritual bathing pool in the Temple, to be
exact." He closed his eyes and a shudder rippled his long frame.
    Bastien leaned forward and pressed his fingers on his brother's
fisted hand. "What is it? How can I help?"
    "Take the job as Chevalier Representative to the Marshalls'
Council."

5
    "B ecome the Chevalier's Representative?" That jolted a laugh
from Bastien and he leaned back against the padded wall—just the contraction of
his chest hurt, by the Song. "Very funny."
    Luthan didn't open his