by Brenna Lyons
A memory shattered the calm of his mind, and Galon forced himself to weather it, showing not a thimbleful of the pain it caused him.
"Orana. We have to name her Orana, Ragel. I always wanted a daughter named Orana."
"And all the Mother granted was a daughter named Galon."
"Selana of Outsten,” he greeted her coldly, hating her for never once arguing his father's cruelty.
She flinched.
"You have something that belongs to me. I have come to collect the debt."
The gruff voice from the darkened room made his blood run cold.
"You own nothing here. I paid with sweat and coin for everything within."
Selana was pushed aside, and Ragel took her place in the doorway.
His father met Galon's eyes solidly. The smell of stale ale and sweat was heavy on him.
After a moment, Galon pulled the pouch from his belt, heavy in his coin and Anzel's combined. “You paid twenty silver coin for Orana's birth and a year of nursing."
"Plus food for the nurse and keeping for the child,” he snapped.
"Another thirty more than covers that."
"What of the loss of a year of your service? Do you plan to pay me that, as well?” His smile was calculating, without warmth or remorse for a son wronged.
"You were relieved of my keeping."
"You know the return on the crops would have outweighed that."
"Not a brass,” he vowed.
"Then what is within remains my own.” His arched brow and drunken swagger of another step toward Galon announced his perceived victory.
Galon snapped his fingers, and Ragel looked at him in confusion.
"Leesa,” Anzel ordered. “Raeshel."
They slipped past Galon's shoulder, through the space Anzel had vacated. In a moment, the two royal bodyguards had his father immobilized, a dagger to his sagging throat, a sign of years of decadence in food and drink.
Selana stood in stunned silence.
Galon marched smartly through the house to the room that had once been his. He smiled at the sight of Orana, standing in the crib that had seen generations of Outstens, her tiny fists wrapped around the rail.
He lifted her, cuddling his daughter into the folds of his robes to shield her from the chill outside. Then he turned his back on the house and people, shoving the fifty in the pouch at Selana on his way past. They would have what they paid for the child and no more.
"Not a brass,” he repeated. Galon had paid more than enough in blood and scars, more than enough to buy Orana, but it was the one thing Ragel and Selana could argue before a magistrate, and so he gave them that small victory of him in the leaving.
Anzel was speaking to Ragel in a low, dangerous voice. Galon didn't pause to hear it. He knew the sentence being passed, since they'd discussed it at length. It was to be thirty lashes at Talden's hand, and Talden had a strong arm, easily a match for Ragel's.
It was a sentence that Ragel didn't dare complain to a magistrate about, though Anzel had no right to deal it out to a night sleeper. Doing so would mean that Galon would be invited to defend his lover to the magistrate, and in doing so, Ragel would face much worse for his crimes: more lashes and forced labor, most likely, though exposing Galon to sunlight as he had could carry a sentence of death. No, Ragel didn't dare take that route, as Galon hadn't for so long.
He'd convinced Anzel not to brand Ragel with hot pokers, but only by a narrow margin. Even now, Galon wasn't entirely sure his father would be spared that punishment once he and Raeshel had Orana out of earshot of it.
His daughter laughed in glee as he swung into the saddle, her hand touching his face.
Galon turned his mount, Raeshel at his side, warmth spreading through him. All that mattered was Orana, Anzel, and their new life together. He'd never ask Anzel if Ragel took brands. If he did, Ragel was due them, and it had nothing to do with Galon now.
* * * *
Juno 28th, 3055
Galon sighed, shutting the door to Orana's room quietly. Though she'd been there a week and had settled into her new home and true family with no difficulty, he still felt the need to check on her several times as she slept.
He paused in the doorway to the room he shared with Anzel, taking a moment to appreciate his lover's flawless skin and silken hair.
"She is breathing and not half-starved?” Anzel teased.
"As if you will not be a nervous father with our first together?” he countered.
More and more, Galon had been considering Anzel's plan. If it would protect them from Mages’ law and allow Anzel the same sort of wonder he felt at a child of his own flesh, it was a small price to pay for it.
Anzel's eyes lit in excitement. “Should I call for a surrogate?” he offered.
Galon loosened the tie on his sleeping robe, dropping it to the floor. He slid into bed, feeling for the first time the noble Anzel proclaimed him at every opportunity. He had the power to make Anzel smile, and that was a great power, indeed.
"Galon? Do not tease me so."
"I am almost convinced."
A predatory look settled on his face. “You are a challenge."
"And you love a challenge, do you not, my love?” He loved being that challenge.
Anzel stared at him in amazement.
It was true, and it was long past time to say it. “I love you."
Anzel's smile made the world spin faster.
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About the Author
Brenna Lyons wears many hats, sometimes all on the same day: president of EPIC, author of more than 80 published works, columnist, special needs teacher, wife, mother ... In addition, she's a member in good standing of ERWA, MWW, MFRW, WPM, IWOFA, and Broad Universe.
In her first seven years published in novel-length, Brenna has finaled for eleven EPPIES, three PEARLS (taking Honorable Mention second to NY Times Bestseller Angela Knight), two CAPAS, a Dream Realm Award and has taken Spintetingler's Book of the Year for 2007.
Brenna has been termed “one of the most deviant erotic minds in the publishing world ... not for the weak.” (Rachelle for Fallen Angels Reviews) She writes milieu-heavy dark fiction, mainly science fiction, fantasy and horror (in 21 established worlds plus standalones), poetry, articles and essays. She teaches classes in everything from POV studies to advanced editing, networking to marketing. Brenna loves talking to readers and can be reached via her site at www.brennalyons.com.
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