The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) by Aaron Pogue Read Free Book Online

pleasure meeting you again.”
    She answered with a curtsy that nearly lost her the bedsheet. “Milord.” Then she gave a giggle and scampered off to an inne r room.
    Ben stood a moment evaluating Corin, then came to himself with a shake of his head and stepped aside. “Come in! Come in. Gods’ blood, it’s good to see you, Corin!”
    Corin stepped past him into the artist’s studio. It was a wide, open room divided into four quarters by its furnishings. The nearest corner on Corin’s right was lined with low tables that supported potters’ wheels and plaster molds, a goldsmith’s tools and magnifying lenses. Beyond that stood a mostly empty corner in front of a tiny brick fireplace, but Ben had assembled some strange manner of forge right there on the faded hardwood floor. Wide pipes of copper rose above the forge, then twisted down to empty into the fireplace. Spots of char marred the floor all around the forge, and soot had stained the ceiling and nearest walls in streaks of black despite the makeshift chimney.
    The nearby anvil was a small one, topped with a jewelcrafter’s delicate tools rather than an armorer’s, but two huge quenching barrels stood nearby. There was also a bucket that Corin suspected had been needed more than once to douse a fire started by the indoor forge.
    A row of narrow windows in the outer wall lit the other half of the apartment. One corner held a fainting couch, a huge bronze standlamp, and half a dozen easels. The canvases they held all showed the girl Lilya in different poses. Ben had a true talent for painting, and several of these images undermined the noble work of the bedsheet she had borrowed.
    The bed and the model both now hid in the back corner, surrounded by tall folding screens. As Corin stepped into the room, he heard the soft sound of the girl snoring delicately behind the screens.
    Ben gave a shrug of perfect innocence. “Gods bless her, the poor thing is all worn out.”
    Corin shook his head. “I can hardly believe you’re still playing with Blake’s old serving girl.”
    Ben frowned at him. “You must admit she makes a lovely model.”
    “Aye. But she belongs to the Vestossis.”
    A touch of ice entered Ben’s tone. “Her affections have shifted. And she never did belong to the Vestossis. One does what one must to survive in a city like this.”
    Corin could appreciate the sentiment—he’d stained his soul at times to survive the streets of Aepoli as a child—but his sympathy was not enough to make him overlook her recent association with his bitterest enemies.
    He opened his mouth to say as much, but Ben’s flashing eyes suggested the dwarf would not take kindly to further talk in that direction. Corin tried another tack. “Still, it’s hardly decent. She’s two hundred years too young for you!”
    Ben snorted, dismissive. “I’ve had to learn to count in human years.”
    “But to a dwarf—”
    “She is just as much a woman as she is to you. What can it harm her that I have the perspective to appreciate her charms?”
    “Surely—”
    “Surely you should bite your tongue, Corin Hugh. You won’t win this fight as long as you’re still toying with the druid girl. She’d seen a thousand years before I was even born.”
    Corin grunted. He had not expected Ben to bring her up, and certainly not in such a casual manner. Corin had done his best to force Aemilia to the farthest corners of his mind, but Ben’s words brought back a memory of their last adventure together. Ben, Aemilia, and Corin had infiltrated a party at the home of Ethan Blake. That was where Ben had met Lilya. And where Corin had committed the murder that eventually brought Ephitel to their little cottage in the woods.
    The memory of it staggered him, and in an instant Ben was at his side, peering up in worry.
    “What’s caught you, Corin? You look black as midnight. Something I said?”
    “Aye,” Corin answered. He took a slow breath and shook his head. “Aye, you put your