Page 45 of What Fury Brings (Wrath and Fury #1)

Olerra smiled. “We already knew Glen told Atalius I had his heir. What if that wasn’t enough? What if she made plans in case things still didn’t go her way? She’s an over-preparer. Always has been. She would leave nothing to chance.”

“You think she agreed to let Atalius through the gates? To what end?”

“If she let him humiliate me and win the battle, he would use his forces to put her on the throne.”

“That would be treason, if we could prove it.”

“Glen will need to make contact with them somehow to finalize plans.” Olerra turned to the scout. “Return to the small force of Brutes. If anyone from Amarra approaches the camp, you’re to tell me who.”

“Yes, General.”

Several hours later, Olerra stood before the queen. Lemya had been roused from sleep, but there were no obvious signs of it. She was always put together, her eyes alert.

“You’re telling me,” Lemya said, “that Glen has conspired with our enemies, and you’ve captured one of her scouts, who confirmed it?”

“Yes, but the spy refuses to speak against Glenaerys publicly. My plan is to have women waiting at the southern gate to catch her guard in the act of trying to let in our enemies.”

“Glen could easily turn things around. Claim it was her guard who caught yours trying to let our enemies through the gates.”

Her aunt was right. “What then? Do we tell the council?”

“We can’t tell the council without risking Shaelwyn finding out and warning her daughter. We need something more.”

They paced. They strategized. Idea after idea was shut down. Finally, Olerra said, “What if I could get Atalius to admit publicly he was collaborating with Glen?”

“How?”

“Let me negotiate when he reaches Zinaeya. I can get him to talk. I’ve done it before.”

Lemya stepped forward and put her hands on Olerra’s shoulders. “It’s up to you, then. Do what you can, but do not risk a battle unfolding. If it doesn’t work, I will ask for a trial, and we will bring all the evidence we can against Glen.”

“I will not fail you.”

Two nights later, Sanos was roused in the middle of the night. Ydra stood in his doorway.

“Put this on,” she said, and threw a very small item of clothing his way.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“You’re finally going home.”

He held up the garment with both hands and clenched his jaw. It was a white skirt, thick enough not to be transparent, but it was covered in faceted beads. He would shimmer as he walked. At least it was dark outside.

“If I’m leaving, then why do I need to wear Amarran clothing?”

“Stop stalling. Start dressing.”

“I want answers, Ydra.”

“You can put it on yourself or I can put it on for you.”

He growled as he turned his back to her. He made quick work of the skirt and didn’t spend too much time looking down at it.

“Smart choice,” she said. “You can come in now.”

Eunuchs from the palace entered, and they got to work putting on his jewelry and, for the first time, makeup.

He coughed when a brush got too close to his nose. Prior to coming to Amarra, he thought makeup was only to be worn on the face, but the eunuchs trailed creams and powders over his chest, arms, and neck, too.

He caught his reflection in a nearby mirror. They’d painted silver swirls on his shoulders. His cheeks were dusted with silver sparkles. They’d outlined his eyes in some sort of thin black paint.

He looked like an Amarran husband through and through.

But why?

They didn’t remove his armband, but they added a silver necklace and the anklet. Thankfully, he was allowed to wear sandals this time. And they didn’t bind his hands or ankles.

One eunuch adjusted his armband, which must have turned in the night, so the hanging onyx was shown front and center. The mark of Olerra as his woman. Sanos hadn’t removed it, even after she’d sent him away.

Olerra entered the room.

She was beautiful in her leather armor. She wore a weapon at each hip and carried a helmet under one arm. Her hair was braided back from her face. War paint was slashed under each eye. The eunuchs were dismissed.

Sanos opened his mouth to speak.

“You will say nothing,” Ydra hissed.

“The fuck I won’t. What is going on?”

Olerra nodded to Ydra, who left them alone.

“Atalius is here with an army at my gates.”

Sanos felt his heart rate pick up. When Ydra said he was going home, he’d thought that meant they were taking him to Brutus, not that his father was here to collect him .

“I have a plan,” she continued, “but it requires you to wear this and play along. If you do this, you will get what you’ve always wanted. To go home.”

Her voice was so devoid of emotion, they could have been talking about the change of the seasons. She looked tired but strong. Ready for battle.

But he had no clue what she was feeling.

“What if I don’t want to go home anymore?”

“You must. It is the only way to prevent war. Or would you see our people slaughtered here tonight? You’re a general, Sanos. Think like one.”

He held himself tall. “Send me over to the Brutes. Let me talk to my father. I will prevent—”

“No. Here is what I need from you. Swap places with your brother. Andrastus will come here. You will go home and return to your life in Brutus. This is the only way I have a chance of winning my throne.”

“And I will do this for you just because you ask it?”

“If you do this for me, then I swear to you that I will get your mother and sister out of Brutus. They will come here and be my special guests until such a time as you take your throne, and Atalius will be none the wiser.”

All the air left Sanos’s lungs. She knew him. Knew what he cared most about. She knew that if she dangled this in front of him, he would agree to just about anything.

“We both win, Sanos. I get Amarra, and you get to protect the ones you care about most. And with your mother and sister safely here, perhaps you might get to finally challenge your father.”

He wanted to argue. This didn’t feel like winning. And she was now in the category of people he cared about most.

Sanos’s whole life had been about sacrifice. He went without companionship, friendship, to keep others safe. He fought on the front lines of Ephenna to keep his family safe. And now he would do this so his mother and sister wouldn’t have to live with violence hanging over their heads.

“Very well,” he said, matching her lifeless tone. “What do I have to do?”

“Walk with me. We don’t have much time.”

As they wove through Ydra’s estate, Olerra said, “You are dressed this way because I need to use you to make your father angry. I will say things and do things that will be unpleasant for you. You must bear it. Unchained. You must stand there and take it.”

They entered a carriage that took them toward the main gates. The streets were busy despite the late hour. People rushed to and fro, carrying their belongings. Closing windows and shutters.

Preparing for war.

“I can do that,” he said. He would withstand anything she threw at him.

“Good.”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“There is no point.”

“Can I apologize at least?”

“I would rather remain angry at you. It will make all of this much easier, don’t you think?”

A low rumble carried on the wind. It was nonsense at first, but the closer they got to their destination, the better he could hear the chanting.

Meet the might of Brutus.

Meet the might of Brutus.

Meet the might of Brutus.

It was a shout he knew well. His father’s troops repeated the refrain. It was so loud, the company had to be at least two thousand strong.

This would not go over well. He was wearing a fucking skirt, and hundreds of his countrymen were about to see it. The embarrassment would push his father to do terrible things. Sanos’s very life might be in danger.

But if it meant his sister and mother would finally be safe, then he would take whatever came his way.

It was time to finally embrace being Amarran on the last night he would be considered one.