Her green-eyed scholar was absent for almost a full sun circle, and his communications were sparse. She’d done some espionage and intrigue. She had seen more temples to more gods and goddesses than could be written on her satchel; she acted like a potential convert to gain information. She knew the politicians were following him in addition to her current cohort.
For unknown reasons, the War God sent her three green country kids as her cohort. There were two tall slender males and a stockier, shorter male with unknown eye color. The warrior clan matriarch stopped looking at eyes because she knew the eyes would follow her even after bodies were grave molding.
The latest intel was devastating. They focused on one kid in particular. But while most of the tone was negative, his was positive. Usually, positive intel only came for those following the Chaos God, the Goddess of No-Named-God, or those who just weren’t following their god or goddess properly.
She knew the kids just couldn’t handle that pressure; they’d only done light skirmishes together. Probably, she should have told them everything. But somehow, it seemed separation from her offered greater protection. Although there was only brotherly love, a feigned lover’s quarrel would throw both the greenies and the politicians into confusion.
They’d gone for dinner that night. She knew the time was short. As they walked across the courtyard, she seized the moment. She looked toward the shorter one with counterfeit eye contact, “You know, I love you, but I don’t have the heart to be bed mates. We need some space.”
She bolted in the opposite direction, leaving them alone to clean up her mess. She slipped into a little corner with great self-loathing, and shaking violently, she pulled out her vial of Life Spice. It was from an old friend who wandered religiously. She caressed it, thought about pitching it, then popped the lid off and did more than she’d ever done…easy, since warriors despise Life Spice and its loss of control.
The room spun, all the pain faded. But something felt wrong. She scribbled out a message, and somehow one of the tall ones arrived as the spinning room darkened. She knew the only fix was to walk it all out, and somewhere she wept and muttered and mumbled incoherently about everything from the scholar to her clan’s homeland, politics to arranged marriages. Eventually, he dumped the remaining Life Spice, while she locked herself in her living quarters.
Dawn came too early and bright. Life Spice couldn’t help. The chagrin in the War God connection meant she’d clearly made a tactical error. However, the Life Spice stomach ache would never let her see.