excerpt

Thorn’s guards halted him within a few paces of the base of the dais steps. He fixed his stony, gray gaze on Rame, and the Chief of the Kudzu tribe stared back at him with cruel, green eyes. A grand, sneering smile adorned Rame’s lips as he glanced first at his wife and then the First Warrior. Zash’s good eye regarded Thorn coolly. Malaila studied this new prisoner she knew to be her husband's most hated foe. Even in bonds and prison rags, she could see the strength and calm he exuded where other men would have been trembling in fear and uncertainty. It was telling whenever he looked at her that he held her in no regard; neither for her obvious position as Rame’s wife nor for her beauty.

Thorn’s gaze returned to the young man beneath her husband’s feet. “Briar, are you alright?” he asked.

“Well, that’s just rude,” Rame spat. “Here you are, in the presence of the Chief of the Kudzu tribe, and rather than address me first, you inquire of my footrest?”

“You’re not my Chief,” Thorn stated.

“Oh, but I am. And you’re my prisoner.”

Thorn just stared at him, and then looked at his son. “Briar?”

Leering, Rame got to his feet to step around Briar’s hips. Sweeping his right foot in front of his left leg, he kicked the young man in the buttocks. Briar sprawled forward onto his chest, his head and arms before Malaila’s feet. Lefa flinched and looked away. Her mistress merely looked bored. The faces of Zash and Boko remained passive, but Swong smirked.

“Get up,” Rame snapped, and Briar resumed his position, keeping his face turned away from his father. To Thorn, he said, "I can assure you that your son is being taken care of. Granted; he, too, is a prisoner, but he gets plenty of fresh air and exercise in my gardens. And I knew how anxious he would be to see you, so I wanted him here when you were brought before me.”

Thorn studied his son. The young man, though dirty from the day’s toil, did look healthy. He wanted to speak to him, but knew Briar’s present humiliation made it hard for the lad to answer him. And there might be repercussions from Rame if he were to do so. Better not to try to communicate with him now. Again Thorn fixed his stony eyes on Rame, waiting.

Rame moved to the steps at the edge of the dais. He was dressed in bright green pants tied off just below his knees and wore sandals that laced around his ankles. He was bare-chested with a green cape that hung over his shoulders and reached to his waist. His crown of carved kudzu leaves graced his head, his tri-braid of gold hair hanging down his back, and he rested his fists on his hips. “You were a fool to come here,” he said to Thorn.

“Seems to me it was long overdue,” Thorn replied.

A scoffing smile hooked one corner of Rame’s mouth. “I’ve spoken with Boko. Honestly, Thorn, if you wanted to assassinate me, I would’ve expected you to have put more forethought into it.”

“And I should have,” Thorn said. “Still, I’m here now.”

“Yes, you are,” Rame clapped in mock gleefulness. “Shall I have my guards cut you free, and let you make your sad attempt on my life?”

“If you wish,” Thorn shrugged.

“If I wish. Yes, you do well to remember that. Here, all is as I wish. And if I wish you dead at this very moment, then my wish will become reality.” When Thorn didn’t respond, he pressed, “You always were a narrow-minded dolt. Still, surely you didn’t think you could accomplish such an attempt on my life all alone. Who is here with you?”

“No one.”

“No one? You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want. I came here alone. Vengeance on you is mine to exact; no one else’s.”