The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,168
mother fixed Zaniolo with an oddly expressionless gaze. “How noble of them.”
“Quite,” he agreed.
Once they had left the chaos of Gogoleth far behind, they stopped along the side of the road so that Sebastian and Vittorio could dress their wounds.
“There you are.” Zaniolo tied off the bandage on Sebastian’s hand. “That should hold until we can find an actual medic to look you over. I suspect you will need sutures for it to properly heal.”
Sebastian stared down at his wounded hand, swollen and throbbing with pain. It was not the greatest pain he felt in that moment, however. The wound his sister had inflicted was not nearly as cruel as the one Galina had inflicted on his heart.
“Thank you, General,” he said dully.
“Listen, Sebastian,” Zaniolo said quietly. “Things will be… very different once we reach Magna Alto.”
Sebastian could not imagine anything in his life being the same after that day, so he had no idea what specific “thing” the general might mean.
“How so?” he asked.
Zaniolo glanced over at Vittorio. The commander stood bare-chested in the cold, his expression unreadable as Rykov carefully dressed the knife wound in his shoulder.
“This was the commander’s last chance to make amends to the empress.” Zaniolo shook his head. “I can only imagine her wrath when she learns of his failure. I fear that when we reach the capital, his punishment will be severe.”
“Why is he going, then?” asked Sebastian.
Zaniolo smiled sadly. “Because he loves Empress Morante, and has for most of his life. Perhaps you know something of ill-fated love.”
Sebastian looked down at his hand. “I do.”
Even then, after learning of her betrayal, and despite nearly killing her, he knew he still loved Galina Odoyevtseva Prozorova. What a terrible thing was love. What a dreadful weapon it could become.
67
Everywhere Sonya looked, there was celebration. The Sturdy Sturgeon Tavern was packed with drunken men and women singing old victory songs of Izmoroz. What their voices lacked in pitch, they made up for in passion, and it was beautiful.
It also hurt Sonya’s sensitive ears, and after an hour or so, she decided to step outside. She made sure to bring her bottle of vodka with her, of course. She didn’t want to think about her brother, or about the moment she had completely lost herself to instinct and torn out a man’s throat with her teeth. She found vodka very helpful when she didn’t want to think about things.
She sat down on the cold front stoop and gazed out at the dark, moonlit streets of a newly liberated Gogoleth. Her sharp fox eyes could see the motionless, unblinking ranks of sluagh gorta that stood a few blocks away. Among them she saw not only the ones who had been raised back in Uaine, but also those who had died earlier that day in battle.
Blaine came out from the tavern and sat down beside her without saying a word.
She handed him the bottle and said, “It doesn’t seem right somehow. Us celebrating while our dead allies look on.”
“Why not?” Blaine took a swallow from the bottle. “They don’t care ’bout that anymore. We need nights like this to keep us going, but they don’t.”
“It still feels strange to me. I suppose it’s one of those cultural differences.” She looked over at him. “The Uaine sustained heavy losses during this battle.”
“Aye.” He took another swig and stared up at the evening sky as the stars began to come out. Then he grinned at her. “We’ll have to get to work repopulatin’ immediately.”
“I can think of worse things to do,” she said.
He leaned in closer. “I was hoping, maybe I could plant a babe in yer womb. Me and you would make a fine warrior, aye?”
“Oh, I don’t have one.”
“Eh?”
“A womb. I don’t have one anymore. It was the first thing Lady Marzanna took from me.”
“Ah.”
She retrieved the bottle from him and took a long, burning swallow. The memory of having her womb ripped out was something else she did not want to think about.
After a few more moments of silence and another swig of vodka, however, she decided there was something else she did want to think about. She hooked her arm around Blaine’s neck and drew him in close so that her lips grazed the lobe of his ear.
“I’ve had enough of the singing. Let’s go have some fun, you and me.”
“You want t’ invite Jorge along?”
She laughed. “I love that idea!” Then she sighed. “But he’ll say no.”