Guardian (Sequel to Fearless)

Chapter Eighty Seven

A/N -- This chapter. Guys.... just.... damn. I hope you like it. Also, song, yeah?

Iris's boots tapped to a stop halfway through the room. She and Baron Riasion stared at one another for a long moment. With a snarl, the baron pulled the horn from his belt signaling the women's slaughter to his mouth. The rogue watched nonchalantly as he blew into it. It was loud, reverberating through the room like a drum. No doubt it could be heard throughout the entire estate.

Iris's inane smile never disappeared. She just stared at him with a wicked glee. Another quiet moment passed, and there were no screams of mass slaughter to be heard. Finally, the doors started opening. Everyone watched as a group of scantily clad women started walking in instead of soldiers. In their hands was assorted cutlery. Mainly kitchen knives... but some had forks. Shards of plates. Some even had pans. There were a few with farm tools from the stables. It wasn't as ideal as dipping into the armory, but it was all Iris could feasibly round up the night before. The soldiers would have definitely noticed something missing from their sword stash.

Yet, the kitchen girls certainly hadn't minded sharing, and the stable boys hadn't noticed Iris in the shadows. Even still, lots of women only had their fists. It didn't matter. There were hundreds of women in this estate. Since last night, the baron's allies had taken their final leave, leaving only what was left of the estate's militia behind.

All the women's makeshift weapons ran with blood.

The only clean weapon was the pitcher that had dispensed the Black Widow wine.

About twenty of the girls gathered in the back of the room, as a mainly theatric response to the horn. A final fuck you. Meanwhile, the others lay in wait in their bedchambers, cleaning up the mess they'd certainly made. Riasion went pale.

"You worried about the Eldian army. You worried about the Remorda Guardians." Iris spoke, her voice colder than ice. "But you had an army already within your walls --an army filled of the blackest hate for you. And all someone had to do... was arm them and tell them what they were. What they could do."

The baron clenched his teeth.

"You thought fear of death would hold them back, I think. But tell me, is death really worse than the life you've given them? Think of it. Hundreds of women with everything to gain and nothing to lose versus twenty men with swords. Such unfavorable odds, but you were too stupid to see it because you stopped seeing them as people. You saw them as objects you owned, and who fears an object? No, that was your mistake." Her murderous smile grew wider still. "And then, there was me. I bet I looked like any other woman to your men, didn't I? Another beautiful victim. Prey." Iris took a step forward. "I saw your red room, Riasion." She spread her arms to the grisly scene around her. "This is my red room."

Rhalla watched from where she sat, eyes near bugged out of her head at the way Iris spoke. This was not the girl that she'd spent six months training with. It wasn't the lively girl that had teased her and loved her. Ghost watched too. Of course he had to kill her, but for now, something about her speech stayed his hand. He almost wanted to see where she was going with it. Also, all that blood all over his good boots? Tsk. Tsk. He'd do it in a cleaner place than this. She had to leave the room sometime.

"You stole from me," Iris hissed. "Lives away. People I cared about. Did you feel good doing it?" There was a long pause. "You'll notice you're still standing. I almost wanted to poison you, all with the rest of them. I could have. It would have been easy. I wanted to watch you choke on Black Widow and then fizzle into nothing. But then I kept seeing my sister on those battlements... and then I thought no. That's not good enough. That's just not miserable enough. I see her now, tied to that chair, and death is too merciful for you." Her eyes flicked to her sister, and then back. "Far too merciful."