The War Priest (Ars Numina #5) - Ann Aguirre Page 0,4
not to mind potential exposure.
“It’s bad,” the first one said softly.
“And it’ll get worse when we go back. This is likely the last trip we’ll be able to make before the Golgoth cut us off. Is Callum working on any of the old alliances? Before Beren died…” The woman let out a long, mournful sigh, as if she couldn’t stand to finish that sentence.
Does that mean Burnt Amber doesn’t approve of the way Callum’s running things? Joss knew that Beren had been venerated, and his loss must have been a great blow to the bear clan. Though Callum had been technically Beren’s closest heir, nobody ever expected him to take charge, considering his commitment to the Order of Saint Casimir. Beren had been contemplating a bond with a new mate—when his life ended in a fiery explosion, courtesy of the treacherous Lord Talfayen.
“War is hell,” the first responded. “But I do wish it wasn’t so damn depressing. Martial law is sapping all the joy from life, along with my will to fight.”
“Callum is so strict. If only we were allowed some form of entertainment,” the second woman admitted. “But the order is all about self-sacrifice and discipline, and that life is all Callum knows.”
The first woman groaned. “Would it really be worse to let the Golgoth win?”
“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that!” The second woman glanced about with a worried expression and focused on Joss, loitering nearby. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you spying, cat?”
Joss tilted her head, pretending to be casual. “Not on purpose, but I did hear you talking. It occurs to me that your troops could use a morale boost.”
“What’s it to you?” The first woman seemed inclined to be belligerent, but the second put up a conciliatory hand.
“You have something in mind?”
“Well, I’m a singer… I’m not sure if Callum would allow it, but I could come to the hold and do a show or two, something to buoy everyone’s spirits.” The offer popped out before she could stop it, but she had no regrets.
This might be a worthwhile way for her to contribute to the war effort. She wasn’t a leader, a healer, or a fighter, but maybe she could inspire through her music, offer soldiers the strength to fight on against the invading Golgoth. Joss bit her lip, hoping the bear warriors liked the idea because she couldn’t sell Callum on it without their support. Intuition told her he’d bluster against the suggestion on principle, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that.
Just then, Callum arrived on the greensward. Joss’s silly heart fluttered at the sight of him. He was a roaring fire of a man, a big stone hearth that you could cuddle up to and stay warm for days. If not for his thunderous scowl, it would be impossible to refrain from hugging him. She loved his ridiculous height and his broad shoulders, his deep chest, and his wild beard. Most of all, she adored his flecked hazel eyes with their black lashes, the tips bleached gold from Callum’s tendency to frown at the sun. Currently, he was surrounded by the rest of the bear entourage, and by the look of them, they were all ready to roll out.
The first woman smiled broadly, winked at the second, and said, “Good news, everyone! I’ve booked some live entertainment.”
“What the hell,” Callum said, glaring at Joss as if she’d instigated an insurrection beneath his nose.
Fair, as that was sort of true.
“Entertainment?” One of the men repeated the word in a questioning tone and aimed a flirtatious look at Joss. “What kind of fun are you offering, little kitty?”
Callum growled deep in his throat. “So help me, Garven, if you say anything more perverse, I will put you through the wall. We don’t have time for this shit.”
Joss decided that was like he’d defended her honor and beamed a bright smile in his general direction. “Thank you! I had no idea you were interested in guarding my virtue.” To Garven, she added, “I’m a singer. And yes, I do take requests.”
The war priest blinked a few times like her smile carried the same impact as a fist upside the head and the skin visible above his beard went ruddy. He recovered swiftly and snapped, “Don’t encourage him!”
“There’s no time to argue,” Garven said with a faint sigh. “We’ll be lucky to get home before the next strike.”
Callum was about to lay down the law regarding Joss Bristow, the proper definition of a distraction if