The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) by Aaron Pogue Page A

me. Best friends ev er since.”
    Corin barked a laugh. “You mean it?”
    “All my life, I’ve never let a good friend pass me by. And they’ve served me well, no matter how we came to meet.”
    Corin heard in those words a warped echo of something Ephitel had said when the two had stood face to face in Aemilia’s cottage. His awe at Auric’s good nature evaporated in the angry heat of that memory.
    Auric must have seen the change in Corin’s expression because he whipped his head around, searching the deepening night for some sign of danger. He was unarmed, but he flexed his massive hands as though ready to do battle. All of it was instinct, and he spoke in the hoarse whisper of a stalking hunter, “What do you see?”
    “Ephitel,” Corin said. “Not here, but he may well come hunting us here. He killed Aemilia. He must be stopped.”
    The farmboy slowly straightened, though he lost nothing of the tension in his frame. He heaved a weary sigh. “Is there nowhere we can escape them?”
    “Not until we stand beside their graves.”
    Auric nodded. “This is grim news indeed. And not the sort of battle I can fight. If you mean to do anything about the gods, you’re going to need Sera.”
    “I know.” Corin answered Auric’s sigh. “Will she talk to me?”
    “I wish I could say.”
    “Take me to her. Let’s find out.”
    “Gods preserve us both.” He caught a deep breath. “Come on, then. And wipe your boots at the door. If you track mud into the house, we’re done for.”
     

H e left Corin at the door, and it took more than a moment before he came back. When the door finally did open, it was to Sera, who offered Corin a lovely smile. “Master Hugh,” she said, her voice honeyed, “I fear we have already eaten, but will you join us in the sitting room for drinks?”
    It was not at all the greeting he’d expected, especially after waiting so long. But she was a princess, after all. And a Vestossi on top of that. She’d been raised on politics and subterfuge. Corin swept a gracious bow in answer. “I would be delighted.”
    Corin followed her down the short hall to the modest sitting room. Though she moved with a fluid grace, she carried a tension in her shoulders and a rigidness to her fingers that suggested she was fighting an urge to ball her hands in fists.
    Corin caught the little details, and they ignited a spark of guilt. He’d spoken truthfully when Auric confronted him about killing Sera’s brothers. He’d never seen it as a personal attack, but she could scarce ignore it.
    He caught her shoulder at the threshold of the sitting room and lowered his head in contrition. “My lady, please accept my sincere apologies for any harm I’ve done you.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something particular in mind?”
    He licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “It was I who slew your brothers in Aerome. I never meant to cause you pain. I only wanted justice for a damage done me.”
    For a long time she didn’t answer. Pain or anger tightened the edges of her eyes, but she showed no other hints at her thoughts.
    In the end, she ducked her head. “Auric told me of your loss. You have my sympathy. Aemilia was a good woman.”
    “And your brothers—”
    Her hands did finally close in fists, but still she held her voice under careful strain. “Let us not speak of them. I was never close to either of them, and I am not blind to my family’s misdeeds, but I still remember them as boys at play. I cannot easily overlook what you have done.”
    Corin sighed. “I appreciate your understanding. As soon as I have done with Auric—”
    She shook her head. “You are already done with Auric. I can find some way to forgive the things you’ve done to my bloodstained kin, but I will not have you corrupting Auric’s honest nature.”
    Corin drew himself up tall. “He’s not a child, Sera.”
    “And I am not negotiating. I’ve spent my life surrounded by your sort—careful, conniving,