Page 6 of Snapped
Chapter 4 | Expectations
Rain fell in heavy rivulets around him, the wind only intensifying the sting of the water as it pelted his skin. His long red hair lay damp and tangled, stray strands blocking his view. He refused to allow the elements to break his focus, lifting the bow and taking aim again. Having already mastered the crossbow when the sun shone, not a cloud in the sky, he knew when the time came to exact his revenge there was no guarantee Mother Nature would cooperate. So here he stood, deep in the woods that stretched as far as one’s eyes could see, challenging himself to a game of target practice while a vicious storm raged around him.
A flock of birds took flight when an arrow pierced the tree in which they’d taken cover, and he quickly took aim, firing off a series of arrows and taking down all but one of the birds. His wicked laugh went unnoticed as he was the only person braving the storm. Something small, furry, and fast zipped across the wet ground at his feet and he gave chase, veering left and right as he ran through a patch of tall grass, ducking under a low-lying branch that nicked his cheek. A sharp, searing pain caused him to clench his jaw, but he was undeterred.
He wondered then—when the time came, would the young Prince take his sister, tuck tail and run much like the vermin he chased? Or would he stand and fight to protect his family? From all August had learned over the past several months, the twins weren’t the type to back down from a fight. Hell, they’d even brought the fight with them when they took down Cillian’s team of misfits and Outkasts nearly a year ago. No, the murdering bastard would likely use any means necessary to save his kin. Just as August would die trying to make Aiyan pay for his twin sister, Autumn’s death.
Completely lost inside his head and the thrill of the kill, August damn near went over the edge of a steep embankment. Skidding to a stop, arms flailing to keep himself from tipping over, August cursed his wandering mind. He trudged through the wet grass and mud at a slower pace as he made his way back to the edge of the forest where his camp was set up. Behind him, there was a soft rustling sound. Spinning around, his eyes scanned the foliage, landing on a bush about fifty yards away. The animal was small, its nose and ears pointy, fur almost as red as August’s hair covering the muzzle, leading up to ears outlined in black. Amber eyes seemed to be scanning the area around it with a wild hesitancy.
Taking one slow step forward, then another, August spoke quietly. “Ah, so it was you that outran me earlier. You almost got me killed, you sneaky little bastard.” He chuckled. When he’d cut the distance between him and the small wiry fox in half, the animal hunched down, and August could swear the feisty fucker growled at him with narrowed eyes. August laughed again, his grip on the bow in his hand tightening. Stopping a few feet away, he squatted, staring into the angry amber eyes of the animal, seeing something very familiar…hatred. There was no fear, only anger.
“God, you’re a beautiful animal.” August stayed low to the ground as the fox straightened, then turned and trotted off. The little shit didn’t even have the courtesy to run.
***
Back at the camp, August decided to shower and change before searching out Robert and Cillian. “Thank fuck for running water.” He sighed, the spray of warm water washing away the mud and grime.
Some of the Outkast encampments were nothing more than a series of tents and partitions with no actual buildings, much less running water. August had been born into the first and largest camp there was among the Outkast community, an extension of House Gaeland as it were. Over two hundred years prior, the first settlement of men and women that refused to conform to the strict rules Anthony Smith had set in place for the Houses across the world pitched their tents in the place August now called home. Old-world terms like money and jobs were concepts they’d lost after GWI. Everyone worked, of course, including the children—once they reached their teens. But work was based on individual skill. Farming, building, teaching, music, protecting…these were but a few skill sets the people in August’s camp provided.
A few men that were of strong mind and body were part of the Gardai, Gaeland’s army, and were offered the opportunity to live full-time at the palace. Those without families usually took advantage of the perk. Several women worked at the palace as maids, seamstresses, or nannies when needed. It baffled August that Cirian, Rian, Amaya, and Amelia would allow Outkasts to work for them but not give them equal footing within the House. But then, August’s father had told him on more than one occasion that he was simpleminded. The term spoke of someone who was stupid and weak, and August was anything but. At six foot three inches tall and roughly two hundred pounds, August was not a weak man. His long flowing red hair and slightly effeminate features were something shared with his identical twin sister, Autumn, as were the emerald-green eyes.
Autumn—thinking of her, remembering her, the pain of losing his twin…his best friend…it was all still very fresh and painful for him. He knew the moment she’d been taken from him, from the world, the feeling of being choked and unable to breathe bringing him to his knees the night of her murder. As soon as he had his wits about him again, he’d mounted the first horse he came to in the small stable and had ridden off in search of her. In all his years, he’d never felt the kind of pain and anguish he did when he found his sister lying in a pool of her own blood in the clearing, her throat slashed damn near ear to ear. His mother’s screams when she first saw Autumn would haunt him for the rest of his days. His father’s anguish turned to scorn toward him in the weeks following the funeral.
“He misses her so, and you remind him of what we lost, son. Please, be patient with your father; allow him to work through his grief on his own terms,” his mother had begged the night August packed his few meager belongings, the ones he wanted to take with him at least, and moved from the home he’d lived in with his family since birth to the barracks that housed the majority of the single men from his camp. He shared a room with Robert, a man larger-than-life with skin black as night. He and August had grown up together and loved each other like brothers. The only difference the two men shared, aside from the color of their skin, was their sexuality. While Robert was straight, an Outkast and opposite through and through, August was gay.
The water running cold put a stop to August’s wandering thoughts, and he shut it off, grabbing a cloth and wrapping it around his waist before gathering his clothes from the ground and heading back toward his room. Robert was sitting at the foot of his bed tying his boots when August pushed the door open. The big man’s smile quickly morphed into a frown, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “What is that smell? Smells like a wet dog; is that you?” he asked, waving his hand in front of his face.
“Piss off,” August barked before shoving his filthy, and obviously smelly, wet clothes into a bag to be washed.
Robert stood and held his hand out. “Give it over. I’ll drop it off at the launderer on my way to the pub.” August tossed the bag at his head, Robert catching it in plenty of time.
“Hurry up, we’re meeting Cillian soon.” Robert glanced over his shoulder, returning the nod August gave him in response to his request.
Cillian was the brother of Cirian, the man married to the heir apparent of House Gaeland, Rian. Not born an Outkast, but an Outkast since birth, Cillian was brought to the camp by Marcus, the former Head of The Order, mere hours after coming into the world for failing his mapping test. Now the leader of the Resistance, Cillian fought to overturn the centuries-old laws that governed the Houses. While August could wholeheartedly agree, any person should be able to choose whom they loved and not be cast out for loving the opposite sex, he questioned Cillian’s motives.
For one, he was quite certain Cillian was gay. So how the hell had he failed the mapping test? Second, August knew for a fact the main reason Cillian wanted to bring war to his brother’s doorstep was because he was sent away by his father, Kiernan. Cirian had been awarded every luxury in life while Cillian had to fight to survive in the campsbecauseof whom he was born to. Anger and hatred for his family drove Cillian to fight for freedom within the Houses, while August’s anger and hatred were fueled by sister’s death. It was their common goal to end the rule of the current Ambassadors, if for vastly different reasons, that bound the two men. An unseen thread of hate, contempt, and revenge drove them both on their path toward retribution.
Robert and Cillian were already seated at a table in the back when August arrived. He made his way over, taking in everyone in the room along the way. Marta, the barmaid, glared at August, and he responded with a wink. More than one angry outburst had been witnessed when August and Robert met Cillian in this same pub. The guard he’d seen in the establishment on more than one occasion sat at the corner of the bar, openly admiring Cillian. August took note and was determined to remind Cillian that their mission was not to find a warm hole to bury their dicks in. Grabbing the half-full jug of beer and filling the empty glass he presumed was his, he drained the glass of its contents before voicing his concern.
“What’s the deal with dreamy eyes at the bar?” he asked, jerking his head toward the guard.
Cillian smirked. “He is but a means to an end.”
“Yeah, does Elliot know that?” August asked, resisting the urge to grin sadistically when Cillian showed his surprise.
Quickly recovering, Cillian leaned across the table. “Yeah, Elliot knows this thing between us is a mere flirtation, a way for us both to unwind and pass the time.”
“I’m not really sure he would agree with such a statement,” August challenged. He and Cillian stared each other down.
Before the two of them went at each other like dogs after a bone, Robert cleared his throat. “Children, if we could focus on our common goal, perhaps this meeting will progress more smoothly than the last.” August and Cillian both snorted then laughed, the strain of tension easing just a bit with their mutual amusement.
Once he was certain they’d behave, Robert got down to business. “Okay then, we need to decide when we are going to set your plan in motion, Cillian. I think we should attack in the days leading up to the ceremony of the Priest and his lover from Greece. Their attention will be on the wedding and the guests arriving from the other Houses.”
August nodded his agreement. “The timing must be perfect, though. From what I’ve been told, a few ships have already arrived, though I’m not clear which House they’re from.”
Cillian grinned, leaning back in his chair and winking at the guard at the bar. August turned in time to see the man blush before ducking his head. Pivoting, he faced Cillian again and could see the determination in the man’s gaze. “Like I said, a means to an end.” His eyes darted left then right before Cillian leaned over the table and lowered his voice, obviously not wanting to be heard. “He’s a very vocal lover and I’m a very inquisitive man. I guess you could call it the perfect combination. I’ve managed to drag some important details out of him. Like a boat from House Brazilia arriving, carrying the Head of that House as well as his husbandandwife.”
Robert gasped, eyes wide, a question forming on his lips. Cillian shook his head, effectively silencing him. “It seems my brother can no longer show disdain for opposite relationships when his own child engages in an openly opposite relationship.”
