Excerpt:

Nisha Vivra stalked the stalked the town center in a circle, seemingly obvious to the cries of pain and children around her, and tried to digest what the messenger had just told her. She wasn’t obviously to the involuntary flinch of the puffed up peacock as she turned glinting black eyes on him. He was sure they weren’t black, that they couldn’t possibly actually be black, but at this moment, he doubted the messenger had any doubt of that color. “Excuse me, m’Lord, I seem to be dim witted at the moment. You cannot possibly be telling me that the King has refused to offer but this slim bit of help for the simple fact that I was not there to present my case. You cannot mean that his Royal self would actually require that I, the sole surviving member of the governing body left here, leave my townspeople to stand on their own for several days, weeks, so that I could let his Highness know the dire need we are in.”
The pampered peacock swallowed hard and looked at the small group behind him for assistance. Those who were not busy staring in shocked horror at the condition of the town and townspeople around them did not offer him any help. “I am certain…” he stopped as his voice squeaked and cleared his throat, apparently reminding himself of his superiority to the simple Mayor’s daughter and continued, “His Highness has certain protocols, Ms. Vivra, and your failure to maintain to those…”
She growled, literally growled. It was all he could do not to laugh aloud as the peacock’s puffed up confidence deflated again. “That is to say, Ms. Virva, that we failed to understand the exact conditions of which you found yourself in and…”
“The blood and murder of his Highness people that has been spilled upon this ground, you mean? And how is it that this was not understood? Should I march these people up to the Kingdom’s steps, m’Lord? Would that make it easier to understand the exact conditions? Is it not enough to tell you that we have people dying?” She gestured with her hands to take in the wounded around her, the very faces and people he was trying to ignore at the moment.
The peacock shook his head, eyes wide and answered too quickly. “Certainly not, Ms. Vivra. It is just that, as a border town, certain losses are expected each year and it had failed to cause us to think this was anything more then what are acceptable losses and so...”
He gave a yelp as she took quick steps and gripped the puff of his tunic in one hand. Standing closer to the peacock then he wanted, he got a clear glimpse of her eyes and would have stepped closer if he could have until he could get closer enough to find out how they looked so very black. “My father. My brother. My entire family is not an acceptable loss. There are no acceptable loss. It is the duty of the King to protect his people, not deem who is allowed to live or die. If your King doesn’t know this, mayhap I will send you back as an acceptable loss as well.”
The peacock tried to look as brave as a yelp of a few minutes ago would allow him and held his tunic to him as he tried to pull away. “Ms. Vivra, I am your Lordship’s messenger. To do any harm to me would be an act of treason, which your words seem to support so I would carefully consider your actions at this point as I can only concede that your position at this moment will excuse some of your poor attitude. If you had, perhaps, given our Lordship time to response to your request instead of immediately seeking above him to our Kingship, mayhap we would have a better understanding of your need.”
An older man placed his hands on her shoulders and the death that screamed in her eyes seemed to dissipate slightly. The words they whispered to each other were both not meant to be heard or understood, he wasn’t certain what language they were even speaking. She let go of the peacock and stepped back, when she spoke again, her words were forced and attempted to be calm. “We did not intent to slight our Lordship in the least. We were, in fact, acting in our belief of his best interest as we do not understand what has caused this increase in orc activity and were concerned for his lands and his own well being. We thought to enlist the King’s aid for his behalf and our own and not instead of, please explain that to his Lordship. Please, as well, convey to him the condition of his lands and people and repeat our dire need for assistance as well as our concern for his own well being in the event we are over-run, which is quite possible with the limited number of able bodied men at our disposal. Please excuse myself as I am but a woman and overwhelmed by the responsibility of my position.”
The peacock puffed up to full height and beamed with his own self worth. Personally, he wanted to applaud her for not choking on her words which she was very close to doing, if the peacock had bothered to notice. The peacock nodded and gestured to him for the first time during the whole meeting, “Ms. Vivra, this is the leader of the forces here, Mr. Conall.” He beamed at her with a sly smile, deftly snatched her hand before she realized what he was up to, and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss.
Her expression told him that she was less then impressed and snatched her hand back from him without a second thought. His smile brightened, most women he had done that too had swooned, but not this one. She certainly wasn’t disappointing him. She looked him over, noted the symbol on his chest, and looked at the group behind him then visibly gritted her teeth. The peacock read the disappointment in her face and the glittering eyes that found him and made a quick exit before she could verbally attack him, the Lord of the lands, or the King again. By the time he had finished his excuse of his hasty exit, he had already turned and walked back to his horse and forgotten all about the luxury he had told him he intended to lavish in when they got here.
“Mercenaries. I ask for help and they hire you off the street. Don’t I feel safe and protected by the glorious crown.” She fixed glittering eyes on him and the scowl deepened on her face at his obvious enjoyment of her situation. “Tell me, Mr. Conall, how much will it cost for someone to turn you into my enemy?”
“And miss my chance to bask in the beauty of the night, mi’Lady?” He purred back at her. She groaned and put a hand to her head then glared at him when he laughed. “Don’t fret, mi’Lady, orcs don’t pay well and they are dammable nasty creatures to boot.”
She eyed him through her lashes. It was a practiced look that he surmised must be easy to miss when the people you were attempting to judge was of the townsfolk and nobility nature. He was either. He put his arms out to the side and spun in a tight slow circle. She openly glared at him and he laughed again. “Is there no one else in your group that I can talk to?”
He kept the bright smile on his face, turned back to look at his own men, and shrugged. “I’m the spokesman usually, as charming as I am, mi’Lady.”
“I’m not your lady.” She growled at him and then motioned for him to follow her. They walked the parameter while she detailed the orc attacks, the weakened sections of the already small wall, and then finished it with leading him to the local tavern and detailing her small numbered men of arms. He whistled when she was done and shook his head, grateful from the look on Scout’s face that he wasn’t the general type and knew how black their chance of survival were. “I’ll expect you in the war meeting by high sun.”
He squinted up at the sun, but was already shaking his head. “I represent to pretty little ladies, not war parties. You’ll get Scout, he’s the war mind one.” He didn’t bother to gesture to who he was referring to and looked back down at her from the sun that was just about as high as it would get. It was in enough time to see her roll her eyes and he laughed yet again. “By the by, my name is Harper, not Mr. Conell.”