“I don’t care who or what he is. Stabbing someone in the back is not something trained soldiers do.” Syrus drew himself up to his full height, pulling all the power of his rank and title into himself. Whenhe glared at the soldier, it finally seemed to sink in just who the man was dealing with.
“Sorry, sir,” he muttered, breaking eye contact.
“If I hear of this happening again, you won’t be walking away with a warning. Now go defend your city.”
The soldier mumbled what Syrus took as an agreement and hurried away, leaving Syrus alone with the injured raider.
He wouldn’t attack anyone while they were down, but arresting them? That, he had no problem with. Keeping his weapon ready in case of attack, he grabbed the thin cuffs attached to his belt and went to one knee to reach the raider. The head wound would need treatment, but at a glance, it didn’t look bad enough to leave the raider in serious danger.
Cool metal touched his throat, freezing him in place with one hand on the raider’s wrist. Even as alert as he’d been, he hadn’t heard anyone approach, which meant it could only be one person.
Carefully turning his head, he looked up to see the raider from before standing above him, curved blade in hand, his hazel eyes narrowed as they darted between Syrus and the fallen raider.
“I never took you for a coward,” he finally said, clearly coming to the wrong conclusion.
Syrus owed nothing to this raider, least of all an explanation, and he certainly didn’t need to justify himself to a man who’d come to pillage and steal, and yet…
“His injury is not my doing. He’ll receive medical care in prison, though.”
The raider snorted, lips twisting into a smirk. “Assuming you manage to arrest him.”
They both knew how this would play out. The raider took a step back, allowing Syrus to get to his feet and meet him in even combat as they had so many times before. Syrus knew the raider’s style, but the same could be said for the other man. He had strength on his side, but the raider was faster, leaving them in a constant stalemate. Thefighting continued around them, but Syrus’ attention focused solely on the man in front of him as they circled and parried, blades flashing, neither able to land more than a superficial blow.
The fight ended as abruptly as it began, when a voice called out something in Canjiri and the raider disengaged. A tiny cut marred his cheek where Syrus had nicked him, barely more than a scratch.
“Until next time,” the raider smirked, then turned and ran for the waiting ships. Syrus gave chase simply because he always did, even knowing he’d never catch the raider before he slipped away. True to form, the Canjiri raiding boats were already halfway out to the Straits before he reached the end of the dock. Going after them was pointless unless he wanted to risk his men in the dangerous waters. From his vantage point, he watched the flower-painted ship disappearing from view, while the raider tended to the man Syrus had intended to arrest.
Until next time, indeed.
All those years and he’d never realized how much he looked forward to fighting Eiri. He’d told himself it was the thrill of fighting someone who matched him so evenly, but had it been more than that all along?
The pain ratcheted up, wiping the thoughts from Syrus’ mind in a blaze of agony. The darkness returned, beckoning him closer, promising an end to the suffering. His heart stuttered in his chest, weakening as the poison ravaged his body. The voices were gone, and he knew he was alone in this place, abandoned to his fate.
He didn’t have to keep struggling. What was the point?
“Stand up and fight.”
He recognized the voice this time.
Eiri.
His husband. The man he’d known for ten years without truly knowing him at all.
He was twenty-five years old and finally leading troopson his own for the first time. Scouts had spotted Canjiri sails off the coast of Recyth only minutes ago, meaning he had to get his soldiers assembled and moving fast.
By the time they reached the port, the raiders were already there, their sleek boats weighed down with bags and crates looted from the city. Several had already left, racing back to safety with a speed unmatched by any other sailors on the waters. Some residents fought back, mainly those whose businesses had just been raided, but most of the people of Recyth had taken shelter in their homes to wait out the raid, long used to such things.
Syrus took it all in at a glance, his training taking over. He’d been fighting the Canjiri for seven years now, but this would be his first time making the calls. Mages to the docks to attempt to slow the fleeing skiffs. Half his troops to guard the residents against any surprise attacks. The other half to the docks to fight the remaining raiders, with him in the lead.
Most had fled at the sight of the soldiers, as they always did. The Canjiri would pillage innocent merchants without hesitation, but ran when met with an actual fight.
His soldiers spread out, pursuing the raiders to their ships, but his eyes caught on one who hadn’t run. A woman, her hair caught back in a long, tight braid, knelt on the ground, a small crate abandoned beside her. Her back was to him, but he didn’t need to see her face to see why she hadn’t run. A small puddle of blood had formed around her, and she had her hand clamped over her calf. A jagged slice in her boot revealed a matching injury beneath, a deep cut that would make running difficult.
It looked like they’d make at least one arrest today, a rarity when it came to raiders.
Sword in hand, he closed on her, already deciding how best to detain her. He didn’t see the second raider until it was too late. Only a flicker of some instinct screaming a warning kept him fromtaking a dagger to the face. As it was, it scored his arm, biting deeply into the flesh of his biceps as he turned.
The raider who’d thrown it wasn’t one he’d ever seen before. He stood a few inches taller than Syrus, his eyes an unusually light shade for the Canjiri, as was his hair. Like the others, he was slender, all lean muscle, but there was a lankiness about him that said he’d only recently started growing into his limbs.
