Bring the Heat

She then kissed the bird on its head for luck and set it free. It headed north and Zoya watched it until it disappeared.

Pleased, she set off back to that giant house that the royals lived in. Such fanciness the Southlanders needed to survive.

Zoya made it past the trees and that’s when she saw Kachka and Elina Shestakova. It seemed life in the Southlands had been good for poor little Elina. A solid hunter, that one, but worthless in battle.

“Ho, comrades!” Zoya called out, waving when they slowly turned to face her. “Off to the pub?”

When Kachka didn’t reply, Elina bumped her with her shoulder. “Yes. We are going to pub to meet with others.”

“Good! I will join you! I could use drink!”

Kachka made a strange noise, but she was always making strange noises. Zoya ignored it. It was probably a defect of some kind, but no reason her mother should have gotten rid of her at birth or anything.

Zoya stepped between the sisters and threw her arms around their shoulders.

“The witches here are great. I feel better already from the skills of that white-haired one.”

“Really?” Kachka Shestakova sighed out. “That is so wonderful.”

“Is it not?” Zoya asked, hugging the women tighter. Nothing meant more to Zoya than the bond of her tribeswomen. Why, though, Kachka had brought along that useless boy and the evil witch, she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t argue with her. Not when drinking was about to begin!

Chapter Twelve

They found the others in a pub not far from the main house. Kachka wanted to ease in and sit down at the table with the others without being noticed, but that was impossible with Zoya by their side. Not simply because of her size, which was daunting enough, but because as soon as she walked in, she announced, “Hello to the sheep of the Southlands! Zoya is here!”

Kachka was just spinning around, about to tell the big oaf to shut her mouth and go the hells back to the Outerplains, when Elina caught her shoulder and shoved her toward the table.

With a sigh, Kachka sat down and, in their native tongue, said, “As you can see, Zoya feels better.”

“Yay,” they all weakly said, though Ivan didn’t even bother.

“I know you are all glad to see me! And I am glad to see all of you, my comrades!”

Zoya dropped into a chair, the wood creaking.

Once they were settled, Ivan Khoruzhaya leaned in and asked, “Why are we here, Kachka Shestakova?”

Zoya slammed her fist on the table, startling everyone in the room but the Riders. “Do not question her, useless boy!”

Ivan began to say something, but Kachka cut him off. “Wait.” She couldn’t afford to lose Ivan, and Zoya would twist him until he was nothing but flesh and shattered bones.

“Zoya,” Kachka patiently explained in their native tongue, “while Ivan is with us, he will have a say in our decisions and be able to ask questions.”

“A man? You’d trust a man to ask smart questions? Why?”

“Because our group is small, we need all the help we can get. Plus, this is the Southlands. Here, the women and men work together. The men are just not for breeding and trash removal.”

Stunned, Zoya sat back, strange noises coming from the back of her throat.

“It’s all right, Zoya,” Elina tried, resting her hand on Zoya’s arm. “My mate and I make decisions together all the time.”

“Your mate is a dragon male. And you are weak and only alive because your sister saved your ass.” She gave a small shrug. “No offense.”

Elina’s eye narrowed dangerously and she growled out between clenched teeth, “No offense taken.”

“Just get used to it,” Kachka told Zoya. “We all have to work together. We have to have each other’s back. None of this tribe bullshit.”

“What do you need from us, Kachka Shestakova?” Nina Chechneva asked. She was pale and kept rubbing her legs, but Kachka didn’t bother to ask how she was feeling. She assumed if there was a problem, the witch would be smart enough to tell her.

“The Chramnesind cult has sent out assassins to kill worshippers of other gods and destroy their temples. They’ve been doing it all over the Southlands. But we are going to get to them first.”

“And do what?” Marina asked.

“Kill them all.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “All right.”

“The ones we kill,” Nina interjected, “I can have their souls, yes?”

“For what?” Tatyana asked.

“You do not ask me questions, I won’t ask you questions.”

“You just asked a question.”

“That’s my business.”

“Take what you want from them, Nina Chechneva. Who knows,” Kachka sighed, “perhaps we can find way to terrify them with your presence before we send them off to their god.”

Smiling, Nina sat back in her chair.

“But,” Kachka quickly reminded her, “you are not to do that to us.”

“Never.” She began rubbing her legs again. “My loyalty is to all of you. I’ve promised.”

“Who?” Marina asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You keep saying that . . .” Ivan muttered.

Finally, a serving girl brought over several pints of ale. Kachka and Elina didn’t bother to drink theirs, and the others spit theirs out as soon as they took a sip.

“What is this? Water?” Marina Aleksandrovna demanded.

“This is . . . tepid,” Tatyana delicately admitted.

“We know.” Elina stood and waved at the pub owner. He nodded and, a few minutes later, brought over a case of drink that the sisters paid him to keep just for them. They made it themselves, letting it ferment in the ground before asking several pub owners to keep some on hand for them.

“Thank the horse gods,” Marina sighed before taking a large swig from her own bottle.

After they drank a bit, they all slammed their hands on the table and snarled in satisfaction.

“It will be good night, my fellow comrades . . . and the boy!” Zoya added, vaguely waving at Ivan.

But he was smart and simply rolled his eyes before getting on with his own drinking.

And, as they all drank . . . they planned.

Duke Roland Salebiri finished his morning prayers, lifting his face to the suns. A true blessing from his god.

Once done, he slowly got to his feet. He no longer felt the need to rush. To always be going, going, going. That was how he used to live. Before.

Before he’d been shown the true light. Given the true sight. For what you see with your eyes is all a lie. It is an untruth created by evil to blind one to the realities of this world.

To blind one to the darkness that was covering the world in its filth.

Roland faced his second in command, General Falke de Vitis. He was a strong, clean human. A powerful knight of the realm, untouched by the darkness of this world. Roland had complete faith in de Vitis because de Vitis had complete loyalty to their god. He would never betray Roland because Roland would never betray Chramnesind.

The great, the mighty Chramnesind.

“May your sight shine bright, my king.”

Roland smiled. “I am not king yet, de Vitis. But when the blood-soaked whore hangs from my battlements . . . I will be. Now, what news do you have to tell me?”