Brimstone Angels

doing perfectly well. Good to know you take your divine duty so seriously.”

“He saved Havilar,” Farideh said.

“He ought to have stopped the arrows in the first place,” Lorcan said.

“That’s enough,” Farideh said. “I told you to leave him be.”

“Or you’d leave, yes?” He looked her up and down. “And if you’d cast me aside, where would you be now? Cradling your sister’s dead body, I think. If you were a lucky little fool.”

Ignore him, she thought. You’re not a fool. But the shift from embracing her to calling her names was abrupt enough to remind her to be nervous. She held out the rod, her hand shaking only a little.

“What’s this do?”

Lorcan looked from her to it. “I told you,” he said, after a moment. “It helps you cast your spells better.”

“Much better, apparently,” she said. “I tried to make a fire bolt and I threw the orc who attacked us so far that Tam and Mehen haven’t come back from looking for him yet. What does it do?”

“It protects you,” he said smoothly, “when I’m not here to.”

“So if I use it against anyone it’s going to make a wave of fire that throws them a hundred yards away?” She pointed it at his chest. “What does it do?”

“I told you,” he said hotly. “It protects you. Improves your spells. Perhaps you need a little more practice with it.” He shoved the rod to the side, away from him. “Far be it from me to ask for a little thanks when that trinket is all that kept some mad orc from murdering your sister.”

Farideh narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t telling her everything, not by a long shot. But he was also furious, the throb of her scar told her that.

Her scar … which hadn’t so much as twinged before the portal opened. If Lorcan had been watching her, if he’d come because he’d seen the blood, it would mark the first time he’d appeared without irritating her brand first.

He’d known where she was already. He’d come for some other reason.

Some other reason he wasn’t keen on sharing.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t bother if you’re going to be so ungrateful,” he said.

She kept her gaze cold and lowered the rod. “Thank you.”

“That’s better,” he said.

Mehen crashed back through the underbrush and into the campsite, his jaw wide, displaying the full array of his teeth for any threat to see. He tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth and snapped it shut. “Karshoj vir henish,” he cursed. Then he froze and swung his head around to face Lorcan.

“What is he doing here?”

“I came to help,” Lorcan said silkily.

“Havilar was hit,” Farideh said. “He-”

In the chaos and the wall of Farideh’s flames, Mehen hadn’t realized Havilar had been hurt-Farideh could see it in the way his eyes widened, the way he suddenly ignored the fact that Lorcan was standing there, plain as the moon in the sky, and raced over to Havilar.

“You cut the arrows out?” he bellowed.

“They were-” Brin started, but Mehen cut him off.

“You cut the arrows out?” he said to Farideh. “What’s the first bloody thing I taught you about arrow wounds?”

“They were poisoned,” Farideh said. “She was dying.” Her voice slid into a tremble. Lorcan set his hand on the middle of her back, and she could only imagine how it looked: her devil protecting her when she’d put her sister in danger.

“You should have packed it and waited for the priest! The apprentice could have managed that much, if you weren’t capable. You could have killed her.”

“She was already dying!” Farideh cried. “She couldn’t have waited.”

“Did he tell you that?” Mehen said. “Did he tell you to kill your sister?”

“Lorcan had nothing to do with it.”

“I’m all right now,” Havilar said. “Look.” She pulled up her shirt. Blood still smeared her skin, but the wound was only a shallow cut.

Mehen scrutinized the wound. “If it was minor enough to be cured with your healing potions, it was minor enough to not mess around with cutting into her gut.”

“But …” Havilar started to say. Farideh shook her head, and her twin stopped. For all Farideh was nervous about priests, Mehen had less use for them in principle than he did Lorcan. He didn’t trust Brin for being a boy and a priest’s apprentice-revealing Brin had also secretly been a priest of Torm while Mehen was this angry might mean Mehen would never trust Brin.

“But …” Havilar said. “Everything’s all right. Next time we won’t cut out the arrows.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Lorcan said, and the promise of violence in his voice sent a shiver up Farideh’s spine. He was still a monster.

Mehen snarled. “Farideh, put him away before Tam gets back, or I’ll let my sword do it for you.”

She heard Lorcan’s wings stiffen and spread. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

“You heard me, devil,” Mehen said. “Take your useless self off.”

Farideh turned and set her hands on Lorcan’s chest, pushing him back from the fire. “Lorcan, please. Go. You’ll just make it worse.”

Lorcan narrowed his eyes. He took hold of her wrists and shoved them away.

“I’m going to find that orc.” He glared at Mehen. “Perhaps then I’ll be useful enough.” A few ungainly flaps of his wings, and Lorcan was airborne and flying into the wood.

Farideh watched him go, not wanting to face Mehen or Havilar or Brin. Her pulse hadn’t slowed, her hands were still shaking. She didn’t think she had it in her to soothe Mehen on top of everything else-especially if he was going to tear into her about Lorcan. Lorcan, who hadn’t done anything wrong this time.

Except … he’d come as if from nowhere, without the slightest twinge to her scar. And the rod that made a wave of fire, a strengthening of the spell she knew into something entirely different, something Lorcan wasn’t willing to explain.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Mehen said to Havilar.

“Yes!” Havilar said. “I just need help bandaging what’s left.” Farideh finally turned back to see Havilar watching her. Worried.

“Where’s Tam?” Brin asked.

“Still hunting that pothac orc.” Mehen looked up at Farideh. “What am I supposed to tell him? Did you think about that before you went for a spell?” She looked away.

“Tell him she owns a rod enchanted with fire spells?” Brin said. He shrugged when all eyes turned to him. “It’s not impossible. You can purchase such things in the large cities if you know where to look.”

“That could work,” Farideh said quietly.

“It shouldn’t have to work,” Mehen said. “I don’t even want to know where you got that bloody thing. But we’re selling it when we get to a large enough city.”

No, Farideh thought, she wouldn’t sell it. Not until she knew what its story was. Not until she was sure it was safe for someone else to hold.

And not until she found something better to replace it with.

She said none of this to Mehen, who stared at her as if he still didn’t know what to do with her, as if he wished she were anyone else. As if-perhaps-he was afraid of her.

When Lorcan found that stupid orc, he was going to rend the bastard limb from shitting limb. Tear out his veins and strangle him with them. Pluck out his bones and beat him to death-

No, he thought, scanning the dark woods below. Not yet. As much as it seemed that Goruc had botched the plan, he had also deepened the thing, entrenched it down into Farideh’s mind, as certain as the sunrise. If the orc came again and his arrows found another heart, she wouldn’t be suspicious or surprised. She would want revenge, he thought with a smile. She would do all manner of things to gain vengeance.

He thought of her standing there, covered in blood and pale with fear.

He would kill the orc afterward.