Page 13 of Firebird
“Sit,” he commanded coolly, gesturing to a long cushioned bench with an intricate wooden base that was painted gold. There was no point in being defiant—not now—so I did.
He took a seat opposite me on a fancy sort of stool that seemed to have legs made of bronze. It was fine and beautiful but I was afraid it wouldn’t hold his weight. I was wrong.
I’d never seen anything quite like either the sofa or the chair. Celtic furniture, and the kind I’d had as a girl, was made for sturdy use, not decoration. Of course, the Romans had the luxury to build a world of elegance and beauty. It only infuriated me further.
But I sat quite still, kept my expression passive and my hands clasped demurely in my lap. Even sitting, he loomed above me, his height and breadth too large to minimize in any position.
“Why were you living with the Celts?”
“Because the Romans invaded my village and killed my entire clan.”
His gaze intensified. He was not expecting that answer apparently. “Your sisters?”
Swallowing the grief that always swelled when I thought of them, I said simply, “Gone.”
Pausing for a moment as if turning over this new information, he then asked, “What witchcraft did you use to help the Celts defeat my predecessor thrice before?”
I ground my teeth together, not wanting to tell him. When his indifferent expression hardened, his brow arching with superiority, it nudged me to be smart. To tell him and be done with it.
It wasn’t as if it had been kept a secret that the Celts had been using awitch,as they called me, to help them defend against the Roman attacks. The warriors had spread the word themselves to encourage others to stand up and fight, not cower back into the lowlands and the deep woods.
“I have a gift.” I paused, licking my suddenly dry lips. His gaze caught everything. “I can control the emotions of others.”
Those dragon eyes narrowed. “And what did you do to the soldiers?”
Shrugging, I admitted, “I made them feel helpless, defeated, lonely for home.”
He swore under his breath. “That’s why there were so many desertions in the middle of the night.”
Aodhan and two of his friends had taken me close to the encampment at night, where I’d sent out dark threads of fear and heartsickness to them.
I couldn’t tether to too many at once, but I could connect to a great number through the nighttime hours, the weak-minded ones. It was enough. The plan had worked. Those who didn’t abandon their post in the middle of the night fought with the belief that they would be defeated. It was self-fulfilling.
He stared at me with unnerving directness, but I didn’t squirm or budge under his gaze. I remained still and obedient, my chin lifted.
“Most do not understand that fear is a weapon against one’s enemy in battle. But you do. A Dacian dancer from the Carpathian Mountains. How is that so?”
Clenching my teeth while I tried unsuccessfully to hold my tongue,I finally snapped back, “Simply because I’m not a trained warrior with all the benefits of aRomaneducation doesn’t mean I can’t understand the basics of warfare.”
His mouth ticked up on one side, and it seemed to have a direct correlation to my heartbeat, sending it speeding faster. He remained still and quiet for a moment, simply drinking me in.
“Enlighten me,” he finally said in that superior, dark voice.
“The deathriders always come first. That is a fear tactic, to weaken the resolve of the enemy of the Romans.”
“The deathriders create a perimeter with fire, to keep the enemy corralled in one place so that they cannot escape.”
I scoffed. “You’re telling me it isn’t the Roman intention to paralyze the enemy with the roar of dragons and the threat of a fiery death by using deathriders first?”
He didn’t answer, simply stared at me with that irritating half smile.
Having little thought to my survival by speaking so directly to my superior, I continued. “Regardless of whether you admit it, I’m well aware what fear can do to assist one opponent and defeat another in battle.”
Still, he said nothing, his golden eyes glowing in the semidarkness of his bedchamber. I became suddenly aware of the large bed looming in the near distance, wondering if I’d have a chance to escape if he tried to drag me to it. I wondered if I could press my magic into him, perhaps put him to sleep.
“Don’t try to use your magic on me,” he warned, his voice rumbling deep.
I started at how easily he’d predicted my thoughts. It wasn’t my place or my right to ask questions, but I couldn’t control myself.
