Heir of Beasts

Ch. 2.4- Animal Heart

I step lightly, my hair bouncing against my face. I huff and push it behind my ear, annoyed at Tovila all over again for curling it into a tousled mass. I don't know what she put on it to get the curls to hold, but they're still here half a day later, and I'm still cursing myself for being so caught up in my own thoughts that I absentmindedly murmured yes when she proposed a new style. My head was spinning with norayasti kings and vasayaste lords and the all-too-human hearts beating in their proud chests. That, and how I might crack their pretty rib cages open to get at the organ meat beneath.

I wish I'd told her what I was thinking. My poor, simpering handmaiden would've cried out, maybe even fainted. I decide to say something particularly bloodthirsty in her hearing later just to see her reaction. I don't think Idriit would mind much. Actually, I think Idriit would take notes. There's a gleam of ambition in her tawny eyes I do not trust, and her sharp chin is always jutting upwards, like she's eyeing the heights to which she aspires to climb. Perhaps with the help of a little well-placed poison, a dagger to the heart while one sleeps...

Though perhaps I am just terrible. Perhaps Idriit is a nice girl.

Somehow, I doubt it.

I shake my head to clear it, cursing as the bouncing ringlets tangle with the motion, obscuring my vision. I can see just well enough to make out Lord Marithan's laughing eyes. I blush vividly, gnashing my teeth at the hit to my pride. He clearly finds me ridiculous. Me. What right does he have to laugh at my hair when he spent yesterday afternoon reading about Lady Uluna's love-bitten neck and heaving bosom?

And why the fuck do I care?

"Is this strategy, O'otani? Do you expect me to go easy on you so we don't mess up those curls?"

I blush a little redder because, well, I can think of plenty of ways to mess up these curls. And half of them have nothing to do with fighting.

I glare at him. "Curls can be tied back. So, too, can limbs be cut off. Let's see how well you embrace Lady Uluna without your left arm."

"I'm ambidextrous, actually," he returns with an easy smile. "And you are making threats with your mouth when you should let your sword do the talking. Now tie back that ridiculous mane, or cut it off, I don't fucking care, and pick up your sword."

"Those? Really?" I laugh derisively, eyeing the two wooden practice swords he has at his feet in distaste. "Is this a joke, Roze? What are we, seven years old?"

"Well, you do have curls like one of my sister's dolls-"

"Oh, fuck you, you prancing vasayastisi!" I snarl, bending down and grabbing one of the stupid wooden sticks. "It might be a dummy sword, but I'm sure it will hurt plenty when I shove it up your pompous ass."

He just grins. "That's not something you'll find in the Fall of Lady Uluna," he informs me. "The Soldier's Secret, though, has plenty of- ahem- swordplay if you're looking for recommendations. Though they never talk about lubrication beyond spit, so it's less instructional than aesthetic, I suppose."

I blush darker than a blooming turtlerose, sputtering half-curses and startled admonitions until I run out of air. Then I just shake my head, tie back my stupid hair, and adopt the stance my swordmaster, Arn D'Verin, drilled into me over and over again. One foot straight forward, the other back and at an angle, knees bent, back straight.

Roze's eyes sparkle as he takes me in. "Curls like my sister's dolls and the stance of one of my toy soldiers."

"This is the stance my swordmaster taught me, and he was a renowned knight for decades-"

"The noraya eats renowned knights for breakfast," Roze scoffs. "You come at a norayasti fighter with a rigid stance, perfect form, and traditional style and they'll have your ass in the dirt before you can blink. That is, if they don't put their sword through your belly."