Page 82 of The Firebrand
“Yes. I chose them for you.”
****
Braelynfollowed a tight-lipped Rein, who barreled through the door into Alarik’s office unannounced. He hadn’t stopped to flirt with the big-boobed Zora. At least he had spared her that humiliation.
Her father sat in a chair in front of the desk, a leg crossed over his knee, chatting with Rein’s dad. “Braelyn, sweetheart.”
Alarik rose, walking to his son to fold him in an embrace. As before, Rein’s response was half-hearted.
Taking in her clothing choice, her father frowned. “Is this your new style? I’m not sure it suits you.”
Rein muttered, his words barely audible, “She looks good.”
Braelyn waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I’ll be back to Seattle drabs in no time.”
Alarik and her father continued to chat about weather, the Alliance, and the ministry’s inventions.
She settled into a chair, her hands laced together in her lap, while Rein paced the room, his eyes icy shards of blue. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he backed-and-forthed it. Stopping to lean against the doorjamb, he drew a loud breath.
More chatter, but all Braelyn heard were distant voices, muffled sounds. The words didn’t penetrate her brain. Then the dreaded moment arrived. Rein straightened, fisting the doorknob. “It’s time for me to go.”
Just as Braelyn thought he would leave without saying goodbye, he paused, his glacial blues devoid of emotion. No sadness. No regret. His face was all hard planes, angles, his body a stone mountain.
She rose from her chair, plodding toward him, knees quivering.
Rein’s muscles tensed as he took both of Braelyn’s hands in his, examining the palms, caressing the backs with his thumbs. “Be happy, Brae. Take care of yourself.”
Then he opened the door, walked through, closed it.
Snick.
The space he had occupied a moment ago was a huge void.
Dead. Empty. A vast echo of unrealized dreams.
A punch of air exploded from Braelyn’s lungs. She slapped a palm to her chest.Pain. No matter what happened after today, she would always miss Rein, measure every man by his standard, feel a gaping hole where her heart should be. How could someone she had known only a few days affect her so?
The vampire mix had slithered into her heart. She couldn’t deny it. But they were not a good fit. There was the whole length-of-life problem and the different species one, but their differences went beyond those. She laughed often. Had the grim-faced reaper ever laughed? He enjoyed that people feared him. She liked to be liked. She wanted love. He didn’t seem to know what it was.
But Braelyn James would move forward. She was a survivor.
****
Whenhe could no longer avoid the session, Kole faced the Temple of Justice, clad in the ceremonial purple robe. His sleeve bore the insignia of the Scion Firebrands, the fiery Phoenix. He fingered the neck of his garment as if he could stretch it, make it more comfortable.
Though he had gone toe-to-toe against the fiercest enemy without flinching, speaking before the justices made him uneasy. He preferred a short-shafted morning star in his hand rather than the notes from which he planned to read.
High Commander Cadmon, the top-ranking Firebrand, joined Kole. Though ylves were neither the most physical nor powerful Aeternals, Cadmon had earned his position. An experienced tactician and strategist, he sighted his crossbow with the same skills he used to maneuver the political scene—ease, calm, and accuracy. Few warriors possessed these gifts since most of them preferred the battlefield to the delicate, complicated, and often more dangerous field of politics.
When Kole learned the portal jumpers were fake and the situation was more widespread than originally believed, Cadmon arranged an audience before the temple. While other ministries reported to the lawgivers, the Ministry of the Shield, thus the Firebrands, fell under the control of the justices.
Aeternals, representing the nine breeds on Scath, sat on thrones in front of the two warriors. A word from any judge meant life or death. No questions asked. Only a fool would relax when reporting to them. Kole was no fool.
He laid the palm of his hand on his heart in a quick salute, the traditional greeting. “Justice and long life.”
Cadmon repeated the gesture, the words.
Dolph from Covenkirk responded, “Greetings to the Ministry of the Shield’s High Commander Cadmon and Stronghold Commander Kole. How may we assist you?” On his upper sleeve, the warlock wore the temple’s insignia, an eye with a dagger beneath it. As a powerful purebred mage, the justice had earned his position.
