The War of Trials
an excerpt

Ishierdi drained his tea and poured another cup. "So. You're having problems with the Cuepotrians' oaths. You know, I know someone who's great at breaking things..."

"No," Horaci said flatly. Drinking tea together was one thing; he was not accepting the Bearer's help with anything.

Ishierdi pouted. Actually stuck out his lips and pouted.

"Stop that," Horaci said, thinking he might actually get a jab in. "You look like a girl."

Ishierdi smiled. "I'm secure enough in my manliness, thank you. Hey," Ishierdi rolled up his sleeve and slammed his elbow on the table. "Test run? I'll arm wrestle you."

Horaci set down his tea and put up his arm. He took the Bearer's hand in his and stared into those liquid gold eyes. Ishierdi's skin was hot, like a rock baked in the sun.

"On three?" Isherdi asked. Horaci nodded. He relaxed, realizing that Ishierdi, at least, this Ishierdi, was a lot like Soretz: bold, rash, and practically asking for a spanking. But spanking wouldn't do him any good. He felt paternal concern. Yes, just like the Holy Father, only Horaci as the Holy Father wouldn't let anyone kill or torture in his name. He didn't need physical force against the Bearer, just the right amount of intimidation.

When Ishierdi counted to three, Horaci focused the righteous power he felt into his hand, stared even harder into Ishierdi's eyes. Ishierdi's arm would hit the table before his.

"I'm going to screw your sister," Ishierdi said.

Horaci's focus shattered, and Ishierdi slammed his arm to the table.

"Sucker," Ishierdi said.

"Damn you," Horaci said. He couldn't help but laugh. "That's not... fair."