Page 37 of What Fury Brings (Wrath and Fury #1)

Olerra startled at the contact. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then leaned into him. “How is your drink?”

“Good. It would seem the Amarrans are vastly superior to the Brutes in fermentation. It’s the only superiority I will concede to.”

“Really, now? The only one?”

He grinned against his cup as he took another sip.

And that’s when Daneryn showed up.

Olerra barely managed not to groan aloud. She and her prince were enjoying themselves, talking, touching , and then Daneryn just had to appear. She thought to ignore him. Daneryn wouldn’t dare speak to her first a second time, but Andrastus had other plans.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced last time. I’m Andrastus.” He tilted his drink toward Daneryn in acknowledgment.

Daneryn swayed lightly on his feet to the music, and he had a dreamy smile for Olerra.

He took Olerra’s other side, daring to stand close, as though he had a right to be there.

Andrastus’s fingers felt lovely as they massaged her scalp.

She curled her fingers against his hip, showing him that his company was the one she preferred.

“I’m Daneryn, but you already knew that.”

Olerra wanted to chastise him for being rude, but the moment she said a word to him, she was giving him leave to speak to her. She didn’t know what ridiculous things he’d utter this time, but she knew it would ruin the moment she and her prince were having.

“I did,” Andrastus said. “I just wanted you to acknowledge that I was real.”

Daneryn honed in on where Andrastus had his fingers in her hair. “I see you’ve changed your mind about my princess.”

“Your princess? I don’t recall her screaming your name at night.”

Olerra kept her face carefully blank, but she wanted to squeal in delight at the way he was handling Daneryn.

The countess’s son swayed in place again, and Olerra realized that it wasn’t in tune to the music. He was drunk.

And that’s when he put his hand on her.

It was a gentle touch to the side of her face, but Olerra smacked his hand away before Andrastus could even react. She said firmly, “I have declared Andrastus my seul. What are you doing?”

Daneryn pouted and blinked as though everything was out of focus. “Glen said you wanted to see me. She said I should go to you now.”

Olerra did a sweep of the room, but she couldn’t see her cousin anywhere. “Why would you listen to her? You know how she is.”

“I don’t feel so good.” Daneryn put his hand on Olerra’s hip to steady himself as he bent at the waist.

She knew he was about to vomit, so she carefully removed his hand and rotated behind him to offer support as his mead came up.

“I think he might be drugged,” Andrastus said. “Especially if Glen sent him over here.”

“I think you’re right,” Olerra said. “Don’t drink anything unless I hand it to you.”

Her prince nodded.

Daneryn suddenly was deadweight in Olerra’s arms. She increased her grip, but thankfully Andrastus stepped forward to take the bulk of his weight before Olerra could learn whether she had the strength to hold him up at this angle.

A few servants finally noticed and sprang forward to help. They took Daneryn off their hands and cleaned the mess. Olerra and Andrastus found another corner of the room to occupy.

“What do you think that was about?” the prince asked.

“She could be trying to unsettle me or it could be part of something bigger. It’s impossible to know with her. We just need to be careful tonight.”

Andrastus nodded. “Would you like to dance?”

The musicians had started a slower song, and many of the men left the raised platform to find their mistresses.

Women took to the dance floor, towing three or four men along after them.

Sanos didn’t know any Amarran dances, and he didn’t know how to dance with more than one partner, but he rather liked the idea of having more excuses to touch Olerra.

“A Brute who dances?” Olerra asked.

“I’m instructed in over thirty different dances for four different kingdoms, but I don’t know any Amarran ones.”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

She led him to the raised platform. While all dances from different countries had different moves, they often started the same, with the hands clasped.

Not so in Amarra.

“On your knees,” Olerra said.

He looked around, noting that the other men were sitting at their mistresses’ feet. Perhaps this was a very bad idea.

Then Olerra started to move.

She circled him, letting her fingers trail over his shoulders, across his chest. The men around him did nothing. They watched their mistresses, so Sanos did the same. When she turned her eyes on him, he couldn’t move if he’d wanted to.

It was like watching her fight, the way she moved. She held her arms above her head, then lowered to the floor. She rolled onto her back, came back up on her feet, flung her hair behind herself.

And then she came to him.

Olerra tugged him to his feet, pulled him in so close there was no space between them.

She spun so her back was to his front and looped her arms around his neck.

Without her eyes on him, he could take in the other dancers.

Men were touching the women, swaying their hips together, each man taking turns to be the one at her back.

Olerra was all his.

Sanos put his hands on her hips. They moved as one, swaying side to side. Other couples were thrusting in the imitation of sex, and he wondered if they should, too…

Olerra moved away and spun to face him, and the opportunity was lost to him.

The next part of the dance was more familiar.

It appeared meant for women who had lots of partners, as each took turns holding her, spinning her.

The women led in these dances, and he followed as Olerra moved herself in and out of his arms. He moved his limbs as he saw the other men do, and each time he touched Olerra, more and more of his surroundings were forgotten.

And then she drew her face toward his until their mouths were a hairbreadth apart.

Sanos closed his eyes, welcoming her kiss.

But then the music stopped.

It was over before it could begin, and Olerra pulled back, clapping for the artists who’d played their instruments so beautifully. Sanos wanted to glare at them for ending the song.

A voice rang out, and Sanos finally tore his eyes away from Olerra.

“Thank you all for coming. Tonight’s entertainment is about to start. Take your seats and make sure you get a good view of the dais.”

They finally had eyes on Glenaerys. She wore a golden dress and sandals. Her hair was braided so intricately that Sanos couldn’t begin to guess how it was done. When she saw Olerra and Sanos, she offered them a warm smile.

“Come,” Olerra said, taking his hand and leading him to where Ydra and some of Olerra’s captains were already situated.

They weren’t far from where the queen and queen consort were seated, apart from everyone else on raised thrones, where they could observe without distractions.

Attendants and guards were not far off. As though the queen couldn’t trust her own niece not to try anything at her party.

The first member of Glen’s harem took the stage with a lute in tow.

He strummed the instrument and sang so beautifully that the whole crowd was mesmerized.

His voice reached impossibly high for a man; he must practice every day to be able to accomplish it.

Sanos had seen the music rooms in the gymnasium, but he’d never bothered to enter, because he had no inclination or talent in that regard.

Applause sounded, and the crowd refreshed their drinks and food. Olerra brought Sanos some snacks to try. Fruits and salted meats. Fresh breads and honey. It was all delicious, of course.

And then the next man took his turn on the dais.

“A poem dedicated to the Goddess’s Gift,” he declared, and then he proceeded to recite a story rapt with emotion and tension. He rhymed in places, raised and lowered his voice, spoke as though the telling of the story was just as important as the words themselves.

One thing was for certain. While Andrastus might have given him a run for his money, there was no way that Sanos could have even come close to so rich a delivery.

Olerra leaned forward. “He wrote that himself.”

Sanos felt his stomach sink. The man didn’t just read poetry, he wrote it? Sanos had never felt incompetent compared to Amarran men until this moment.

Another harem member performed a dance that was so erotic, many of the women in the room were fanning themselves. Sanos snuck a glance to Olerra, but she was engaged in conversation with Ydra, not watching.

For some reason that made him feel better.

Someone did acrobatics. Another man did ballet.

It was quickly apparent that all of Glen’s harem were trained in not only the bedroom but performing.

He noticed, however, that Athon didn’t take the stage.

No, he had already played his hand in the fight with Sanos.

It would seem he didn’t have other talents.

To be fair, Sanos wasn’t good for much. But he had four younger brothers, and they were all competitive, save Andrastus, which meant they got up to no good regularly.

They liked to do dangerous things. Stupid things when their father wasn’t looking.

And sometimes, down at the training yard, things could get… interesting.

When another bout of applause echoed off the walls after a different man read yet more poetry, Glenaerys rose and spoke loudly enough for the crowd at large to hear, but her eyes were on Olerra.

“Cousin, would Andrastus care to grace us with a recitation? I’ve heard he’s been practicing for tonight.”

Olerra said, “I think we’ve heard enough poetry for one evening.”

“That’s a shame. I hoped the man might prove useful in some regard after all the trouble he has caused you.”

Every noblewoman in the room looked at them.

Many had open dislike for Sanos, disappointment for Olerra.

They didn’t bother to hide the expressions on their faces.

He hadn’t realized just how bad things had become for her.

Everyone still spoke civilly to the two of them, but with Glenaerys putting them on the spot, it was a chance for others to show their support for either cousin.

“Actually,” Olerra declared, “Andrastus has prepared something else for our entertainment tonight.”

“Is that right? Let him take the stage without delay, then. I’m most eager to see this.”

Olerra nodded at him, and Sanos rose.

Her prince certainly put on a brave face, but Olerra could tell he was nervous.

Was it because he worried he couldn’t do this?

Or did he think he might fail her? Something had changed between them of late, and she felt him really trying his best to help.

Like he wanted to get her the throne of Amarra.

Eunuchs brought forward the requested supplies.

A target was laid out on the opposite end of the dais.

It was a simple fold-out, with three rings.

White, yellow, and, at the center, red. A tall candelabra was placed on one side of Andrastus.

It was nearly as tall as he was, and three lit candles flickered at the top.

A table was laid on his other side. Andrastus set a fresh drink of ale atop it, and another servant set five daggers next to it.

Glenaerys took notice of the target. “Are you allowing him something sharp?” she called across the room.

“I thought you’d take pleasure in seeing how tame and loyal he’s become.”

A muscle ticked in Glen’s jaw, but she did not try to stop the performance. Olerra approached the musicians and asked them to play a number she thought would enhance Andrastus’s display.

Her prince selected a knife from the table, holding it by the blade. He extended his arm, taking aim, then pulled back his bicep and released. With the majority of the women behind Andrastus, they could all see that it hit the target dead center.

A few hesitant hands clapped, but most women didn’t know what to make of the display.

Glen laughed. “Athon can do that. Can’t you, Athon?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Andrastus threw another knife. It landed right next to the first. After the third knife, Glenaerys struck up a conversation with nearby women, taking their attention off Andrastus entirely. It angered Olerra. She wanted to throw something.

Andrastus retrieved the daggers, and then he dunked one into his glass of ale before holding it up to the flame of the candelabra.

The blade caught fire, but just to be sure everyone was watching, he threw it high in the air and caught it without damaging himself.

The room went quiet as all eyes fixed on her prince.

Holding the first knife in his left hand, Andrastus dunked a second in his ale before lighting it.

Then he did the same with a third. He threw them all up in the air in a circle, catching them effortlessly.

Then, rapidly, each dagger hit the target one after another.

Dead center.

The applause was riotous. Many women whistled, so impressed were they with the display. Olerra had no idea such a talent existed until Andrastus had described it to her. She wondered how many times her prince had cut or burned himself as a child while he practiced this.

Glenaerys said nothing now. She was studiously ignoring the stage, talking to those around her who would listen. She held a juicy red apple in one hand and brought it to her mouth to take a bite.

Olerra saw the thought enter Andrastus’s mind, but before she could tell him to stop, he threw.

A fourth dagger sailed through the air, faster than Olerra could open her mouth.

It landed, blade first, into the apple, not even a full inch away from Glen’s fingers.

Her cousin dropped the fruit as though it’d burned her, rolling away with the knife hilt sticking from it.

Her eyes were wide with outrage, but the crowd was screaming now.

Praise was heaped upon Andrastus. The queen gave him a standing ovation, and everyone was delighted by the show of strength.

Olerra ran up to the dais and kissed the cheek of her prince.

“Well done,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “But next time, don’t do anything so foolish! What if you had missed?”

“If I had missed, then I would have repaid what I owe her.”