A LEGACY OF LIGHT

LERESY

LERESY

He stood above the infirmary bed, looking down at the burnt, wretched girl. A sigh flowed through him.

"By the stars, Nairi," he said. "You didn't have to burn the damn girl half to death."

The young lanse leaned against a wall, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl.

"Don't you bloody mention the stars," she spat at him. "Your father would beat you half to death if he heard you mention them."

Lersey rolled his eyes. "Oh yes--it's red spiral this and red spiral that now. Of course. Only you're forgetting something, my dearest Nairi." He pointed at her. "You are a lowly lanse, a junior officer not worthy to lick my boots, and I am your prince. Granted, a prince you're bedding, but your prince nonetheless. And if I want to mention the bloody old gods..." He raised his voice to a shout. "I will!"

Nairi only glowered at him; he could hear her teeth grind.

With another sigh, Leresy turned back to look at the bed. The soldier lay there, her eyes shut, her bandaged chest rising and falling as she slept. Burn marks stretched out from the bandage like cobwebs; they spread across her shoulders, neck, and arms.

A memory pounded through Leresy, making him wince. How many times had he seen Kaelyn lying wounded like this, all burnt and bloody? So often throughout their childhood, Leresy would stand weeping as Frey, or sometimes Shari, beat and whipped and burned his sister. So many times Leresy would kneel over his wounded twin, trying to comfort her, to heal her.

Just be strong, the boy would whisper to his twin. Be strong and they won't hurt you.

But Kaelyn had always been too weak. Leresy had grown strong and survived; Kaelyn had fled.

And now Tilla too lay wounded. Would she grow strong like he had, or would she shatter and flee like Kaelyn?

"Nairi has done a job on you, Tilla Roper," Leresy said with a sad shake of his head. "I'm quite afraid that when you do wake up, you'll be sore for a good moon or two."

Behind him, he heard leather creak and boots stomp toward him. He turned to see Nairi marching his way, her teeth bared. She drew her punisher and held its crackling tip between them.

"How about I finish the job now," she said. "I'll burn that whore into a scarred, twisted freak of melted flesh and sores. But I'll leave her eyes. Yes. I want to leave her eyes so she can see the monster she's become."

"Or," Leresy said, "you can calm yourself before I demote you from lanse to dung shoveler." He pulled her arm down. "For pity's sake, Nairi, put that thing away. You've had your fun. The girl fought well. Your job is to train warriors here, to cull the weak and foster the strong, not disfigure the best in your phalanx."

Nairi snorted a laugh. "So you think her the best in my phalanx? Have you seen them all fight? Or do you simply choose the tall ones with the nice t--"

"Nairi!" he roared. When she fell silent, his voice softened. "Nairi. Are you jealous? Yes, she is tall, and yes, she does have a rather splendid pair of breasts on her. I see them. I like them. I'm the prince of Requiem; I'll stare at as many splendid pairs of breasts as I like. But the only ones I'll touch, Nairi, are these."

He reached for her chest. She glared and slapped his hand away.

"Don't you touch me, Leresy Cadigus," she said. "Your father is far from this land. We are in the south here, and the Black Rose is my phalanx--mine to lead! You are a prince, yes, but you do not serve in the Legions. I do. Within the Black Rose, I am ruler, I am supreme." She hissed. "And if you ever interfere with my command again, and if you ever touch one of my soldiers again, my father will hear of it." She gave him a caustic grin. "You're not the only one with great parentage, Leresy Cadigus."