Hi y'all! Here's a teaser for those who haven't read the book yet, and something a little new for those who have. Contest, for a copy of an upcoming work: who can tell me what chapter of Cataclysm this scene should precede?
Mars motioned toward the circular stairs leading back down to his bedchamber. “Please go invite Crystal to join me for the morning court,” the God of War instructed his thrakkoni attendant. The throne room held none but the pair, but the business of the estate was bound to fill the room shortly.
“Yes, Master,” Sorscha said, sarcasm lathering her tone. The god’s head whipped around, eyes narrowed.
“Do you have a problem with me inviting my wife to be involved in the process of managing my estate?” he asked.
“Not at all, Master,” Sorscha said.
“Your voice seems to disagree.”
“It is appropriate for whomever the Master wishes to bring home with him to partake in the running of this estate until the time she decides to leave,” Sorscha said methodically. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, her point made.
“She’s not Stacy.”
“I’m aware of that, Master. Her name is Crystal.”
“She’s not like Stacy, either, Sorscha.”
The thrakkon shrugged. Raising her lips in a smile that didn’t affect her eyes, she said, “We’ll see, I suppose. I shall go roust her out of the bed as you request.”
“Stop,” Mars said, the command echoing around the empty chamber. He rose from his simply-carved mahogany throne, turned to face Sorscha, and crossed his arms to match hers. “I’ll not have this continue, Sorscha. You were hurt as much as I was when my ex-wife left to become Aphrodite, I know, but that was millions of years ago, and I was a young and foolish immortal then.”
Sorscha threw back her head and laughed, the thrakkon’s high-pitched trill filling the room. After several long moments of mirth, she abruptly stopped and turned serious eyes back to her god. “I was hurt?” she said, an incredulous expression on her face. “No, I didn’t approve of her from the beginning, Master. You were the fool who brought home a mortal in the hopes of making her an immortal. Granted, you succeeded at that, in a roundabout way, but it cost you every scrap of joy you might have felt for a long, long time. And need I remind you of the Amiotrites? You destroyed an entire civilization in your rage.”
Mars’s expression, dark from the moment Sorscha called him a fool, smoldered further as she continued. Finally he burst, “I think you forget your place,” the sentence punctuated between each word.
“I think one of us needs to remember yours,” Sorscha said.