The First Blade of Ostia Read Online Free

good regiment led by officers from the best families. They’ve a reputation as good fighters, not just a social club for idlers and wastrels.’
    ‘It didn’t occur to you to discuss it with me first?’ Amero said.
    ‘Why would it? You have a different regiment in mind? If it’s suitable, I’m willing to consider it.’
    ‘I have no regiment in mind. I have no desire to be a soldier,’ Amero said.
    Renald stood suddenly, and Amero flinched. He cursed himself silently. His father paced back and forth with his arms akimbo. Closer to seventy than sixty years, he still had a trim, athletic figure and broad shoulders. Only his receding hairline and the grey on his stubbled chin gave away his age.
    He had earned the name ‘Hammer of the South’ in his youth. The massacre he had so delighted in recounting to the young poacher was credited with securing Ostia’s southern border for two decades. If he chose to wear all his military awards and decorations, Amero doubted he would have the strength to stand under the weight.
    ‘You realise,’ Renald said, ‘that every Count of Moreno has held a military command before inheriting the county.’
    ‘Of course I do, Father,’ Amero said. ‘I’m hardly likely to forg—’
    ‘Shut your impertinent mouth!’ his father said.
    Amero flinched again. He was prepared for this, but it didn’t make it any easier. ‘Since I was born, I have done everything you have told me. Without question, without complaint. How am I going to take your place if I’ve never made a decision for myself?’
    ‘That’s what your time in the regiment will be for,’ Renald said, his brow furrowed as he studied Amero.
    ‘Taking orders from others?’ Amero asked. ‘What’s there to be learned from that?’
    Renald sat. ‘What did you have in mind?’ he said, his voice quiet again.
    It was unnerving how quickly he could go from rage to calm. Amero had nothing in mind. He hadn’t given a thought to it, never truly believing he would end up doing anything other than what his father decided on. ‘The arena,’ he found himself saying, only because he had listened to Bryn going on about it for so long.
    Renald frowned, then leaned back in his chair. ‘The arena. You plan to make a fool of yourself. A mockery of our family name?’
    ‘I plan to make my own decisions,’ Amero said. ‘For my own reasons.’
    Renald gave Amero a hard look. ‘There’s more of your mother than me in you. Every time I look at you, I see that deceitful whore’s face.’
    ‘Perhaps I’m not yours,’ Amero said, spite dripping from his voice. As the only heir, it was the most injurious thing he could think of.
    Renald barked a laugh. ‘No chance of that. There are those who can tell such things. I had three of them confirm who sired you. I wasn’t going to take your mother’s word for it.’
    ‘If you hadn’t spent most of your life gallivanting along the borders killing anyone who even looked at Ostia, she might not have felt the need to find comfort elsewhere,’ Amero said.
    ‘An aristocrat’s life is bound to the state. I did my duty, keeping the borders secure. She should have done hers and kept her legs closed while I was away.’
    Although Amero knew his father was hurt by what she had done—the conversation would not have been happening if the wound was not still sore—the calm, cold way he could speak of it was unnerving, and in a strange way admirable. Every time Renald spoke of Amero’s mother, he could feel his own temper flare. To be able to control it so masterfully would be a fine talent. Opening his mouth would only have revealed his feelings, so he kept it shut.
    ‘Still,’ Renald said. ‘We know how all of that ended.’
    ‘We do,’ Amero said. He cursed himself for the waver in his voice.
    ‘Don’t look at me like that, boy. I didn’t put the knife in her hand.’
    ‘You might as well have, when you killed Serlo.’
    ‘She was my wife,’ Renald said, anger flaring in his