Page 16 of What Fury Brings (Wrath and Fury #1)

She ducked so quickly that he lost sight of her. And then pain shot through his groin; it was so acute that it drove him to the floor.

As he struggled to breathe, Sanos realized that she’d punched him . There!

Women giggled as she dragged him by the chains around his ankles, but Sanos could barely register that, as the pain was all-consuming. When water stopped forming at his eyes, he saw her wave away a handful of eunuchs who tried to step forward to help.

She let go of the shackles and bent to be at his level. “Are you done?”

“I will never stop fighting you,” he barked.

She reached behind herself, grabbed a knife from the breakfast table, and leveled it at his neck.

Now the room was quiet. Everyone strained to overhear their conversation.

“Perhaps you thought my earlier words were an exaggeration. You have a choice to make, Prince. I can spill all your blood on this floor or you can mind your manners and enjoy breakfast with me. Choose.”

With all the Amarran nobility watching, Sanos could only surmise that she was telling the truth.

She would really kill him if he didn’t go along with her plans.

It wasn’t necessarily that he’d doubted her words earlier, but he hadn’t thought her capable of disciplining him here, in front of everyone.

All the beatings from his father were dealt in private.

The king didn’t want anyone to know what a hateful bastard he was.

But Olerra was different. She had felled him with a single blow for all to see, and now she held a knife to his throat.

Sanos wanted to demand death. He wanted to fight her until one of them succumbed to the other, but then he thought of his mother and sister. Of his brothers. So many needed him to return home.

He needed to live.

Sanos raised his hands in surrender, but his lip curled in disgust. Olerra stepped back and gestured at an empty chair with the knife.

He peeled himself off the floor and sat. Olerra drew a key from her pocket, undid his manacles, and reattached them behind the back of the chair.

He wasn’t going anywhere now.

When Olerra righted herself, she looked about the room. “They say the most dangerous stallions are the best to ride once they’re broken.”

The room erupted into laughter. Sanos did not care for the comparison.

“And since I know you’re all dying to ask me, I’ll tell you now.” She looked at Sanos beneath her lashes. “The rumors about Brutish men are true.”

The Amarrans whistled and clapped. Sanos had no clue what rumors they spoke of, and by the reaction of the crowd, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He looked around at the other men in the room, searching for a sympathetic face.

He found none.

They looked at their women adoringly. One was petting the armband above his left bicep.

Sanos realized that all the men in the room wore armbands. The ornamentation consisted of all manner of stones cut into different shapes. Different metals twining around arms, each bent into unique designs.

The man from earlier, Daneryn, had said something about wanting to wear Olerra’s onyx. As Sanos looked through the masses, he didn’t see any other men with onyx on their arms.

It was a mark that made him hers, he realized.

Olerra caught the look of approval her aunt shot her way. Olerra was also proud of herself. Not only had she managed to fight Andrastus without anyone suspecting her secret, she’d played off the altercation to her favor.

She’d thought that if Andrastus resisted her, it would make her look weak. Instead, it allowed her to show her strength in taming him. It would take time, but she actually might pull this off. She could do this.

She just wished the words she’d had to say to the crowd hadn’t been at her betrothed’s expense.

He wasn’t a stallion. He was a man, and she knew that.

His gender as a whole might be full of disappointments, especially outside of Amarra, but Andrastus deserved better treatment.

Not for the first time, Olerra hated the part she had to play in rallying the nobles to her side.

She knew why. Men had to be controlled or else they would seek to control women.

Little girls were told horror stories of the way their ancestors had lived under the rule of men.

But there had to be a better way. One she could explore once she was finally queen.

Until then, she had a part to play while convincing Andrastus to like her. If she even could. Right now, he was so irate that he wouldn’t look at her.

That changed the moment she lowered herself into his lap.

Olerra felt his whole body stiffen, but at least his tautness meant he was flexing.

As she looked to the curve of a bicep, she realized it was enormous compared to that of other men at the table.

She’d thought the measurements impressive when she’d given them to the smithy last night.

The blacksmith had stayed up all night to make this armband in time.

Olerra hadn’t realized the size difference until Andrastus was here for her to compare to the other men.

Just what kind of training had Andrastus done to get this kind of form? And what did his other brothers look like? Especially the eldest? The warrior?

“I would ask how you two are getting along, but I think I already know,” the queen said.

Olerra looked up at her man and ran a hand down his hard jaw, trying to soften the expression there. “We’re working on it.”

“How was your first night together?”

Andrastus’s face didn’t move as she said, “Delicious.”

That fair skin of his couldn’t hide the red tint that entered his cheeks. She’d never seen another man blush before. Were they so prudish in Brutus? She rather liked seeing how she affected him.

“Excellent. I think you’ll find that your decision is well supported among your allies in the palace. Even your cousin seemed upset by the whole thing.”

“Good.”

As though their talking summoned the woman, Glenaerys appeared, one man on each arm.

She stared at the noblewoman seated across from Olerra until the duchess took the hint and vacated it.

Olerra’s cousin had one man sit at her feet while the other stood behind her, massaging her shoulders.

They were both lean and handsome, but they blended in with all the other men in the room.

Perfectly housebroken. Almost too pretty to look at.

Too smooth for Olerra’s tastes. She liked that her prince had calluses and scars and a bit more roughness to him.

It made him stand out. It made women turn their heads.

“How was your trip to Brutus , cousin?” Glenaerys asked. “So strange, I could have sworn you’d told me you were going to Kalundir.”

“Did I? I must have misspoken.”

Glen looked furious. Olerra tried not to look smug.

Glenaerys glanced over Olerra’s shoulder. “Do you find him more pleasing when he’s all bound up, or have you not managed to convince him he wants to be here?”

Without missing a beat, Olerra said, “I didn’t pay money for him. I took him. Which means breaking him will actually be a challenge. I like challenges.”

Glenaerys’s perfect nose scrunched at the implied insult.

“Speaking of which,” the queen said, “when can we expect you to make designs on a husband of your own, Glenaerys?”

“When one is needed. Honestly, with all my nighttime activities, you’d think I’d be with child by now.”

The man sitting in between her legs looked up at her with a grin.

“Really, I’ve far more chances of getting pregnant than Olerra does with only one man seeing to her.”

Andrastus froze underneath her yet again. She felt him pull at the manacles behind his chair.

Olerra lowered her hand to his thigh, hoping it was a reassuring touch. He didn’t jerk away, so she left it there.

The queen said, “At least Olerra will soon have a husband to oversee any children such a union will produce. Who will raise your common-born children, Glenaerys? Your whores?”

“Why not? They’re naturally loving.”

The man behind her applied more pressure to a knot in her back. The one at her feet stroked up and down her calf.

“They’re uneducated,” Queen Lemya said.

“Good thing I can afford tutors, then. And nursemaids and playmates and anything else my daughters may need. Now, why is the conversation all about me? I personally want to hear more about Olerra’s soon-to-be husband. What does an uncivilized Brute think of the Amarran palace?”

Olerra had to nudge Andrastus before he realized her cousin was addressing him.

“It’s different than I’m used to.”

“Grander, you mean?”

His jaw clenched. “Different.”

“He’s not very talkative, is he? What do they teach the men over in Brutus?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, yet Andrastus said, “How to be warriors.” He looked at the two docile men seeing to Glenaerys with disdain.

“Oh, is that where your true skills lie? Not in pleasing your mistress but in fighting? What a useless skill since Olerra would offer you more protection than you ever could her.”

He didn’t respond, so Olerra said, “I like that he’s a warrior. He has more stamina than the average man from Amarra.” That earned her a few claps of approval down the table, as well as another blush from Andrastus.

Glenaerys’s face took on a wicked gleam. “Let’s put that warrior claim to the test. Why not have a bout between your new man and one of mine?”