Chapter 312: Wives Hold a War Council of Their Own (3)
Kane stood in the outer corridor, travel-worn, left arm still in a rigid brace, new scars visible at the collar of his shirt, Mjoldr across his back, and the particular bone-deep tiredness of a man who had recently cut an emperor in half and then walked home anyway.
Kessa and Griselda were just behind him.
He opened his mouth.
He didn’t get the chance to use it.
Sira hit him first in a full-body orange-haired tackle that made him take one step back.
Misha arrived a fraction later and wrapped both arms around his neck hard enough to threaten the brace.
Thora reached them last, shoved Sira half an inch to the side for space, and pulled him down into a rough, relieved kiss that tasted like wine.
Kessa watched the pile-up with striped ears angled in open amusement.
Griselda simply stepped to the side so she would not be dragged into the gravitational center of it.
Kane’s good arm found its way around the nearest available waist, Misha’s, while Sira clung to his damaged side with zero regard for medical reality and Thora refused to fully let go of his face.
His voice came out muffled and slightly crushed.
"I’m... home."
Sira’s reply was immediate and loud against his shoulder.
"Did you bring another one?"
Misha pinched his side without mercy.
"Answer carefully."
Thora leaned back just enough to look him in the eye, scarred fingers still fisted in the front of his shirt.
"If the next words out of your mouth are ’it’s complicated,’ I am going to make you sleep on the training field."
Kane’s smirk was deeply unwise as he looked at them.
"It’s indeed... complicated."
Three pairs of eyes locked onto him with the synchronized menace of a firing squad that had already decided the verdict.
Thora’s voice dropped.
"Where is she?"
Kane blinked.
"Is she walking behind? Did you fuck her on the way to your women too?"
"Uhm... Nowhere. I didn’t bring anyone. And I’m not gonna bring anyone anymore. Relax."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The silence that followed was so complete that even the distant elf attendants outside seemed to hold their breath.
Sira’s mouth fell open.
Misha’s eyes went wide.
Thora looked personally offended by reality.
"What do you mean!?" all three said at once, in slightly different tones of betrayal.
Kane took a half-step back, genuinely thrown.
"What do you mean, what do you mean?"
Misha pointed at him like she was accusing him of a war crime.
"No... is it a curse? Did demon essence move into your brain? Are you dying? Blink twice if someone replaced your soul."
Kane reached out with his good arm, caught Misha by the waist before she could start pacing again, and pulled her in against his uninjured side.
"What are you talking about?"
Thora answered for the group, still staring at him like he had grown a second head.
"You didn’t bring anyone?"
"I mean..."
Kane rubbed the back of his neck with the braced hand and immediately regretted the movement.
"I did fuck two women. Only one if we take the long-term count into account. Nothing meaningful or anything like that."
The three faces in front of him went through several rapid stages of emotion and settled on a shared, horrified pallor.
Sira whispered,
"You were gone for so long... yet only two?"
Misha looked personally betrayed by the number.
Thora looked like she was doing complex math and hating every number she got.
Before Kane could dig the hole any deeper, the three of them moved as one unit.
Sira grabbed Kessa by the wrist.
Misha took Griselda’s arm with surprising firmness.
Thora herded both of them toward the far corner of the hall like a general isolating key witnesses.
Kane watched the abduction happen, shook his head once, and decided the only sane response was to leave them to it.
"I’m taking a bath," he announced to no one in particular, and walked deeper into the guest hall toward the private washing rooms before anyone could drag him into the interrogation circle.
The corner of the hall became a war council in under ten seconds.
Thora crossed her arms and fixed Kessa with a stare that had once made enemy captains reconsider their life choices.
"Talk. Everything. In order."
Kessa’s striped ears angled forward.
She looked far too pleased with herself.
"Define everything."
Misha’s voice was dangerously sweet.
"Start with the part where he only managed two. Then explain why you look like the cat that got the entire creamery."
Kessa’s tail flicked in open smugness.
"Because I did. Multiple times. Alone. While the winged one watched."
Griselda, who had been standing with her usual quiet composure, closed her yellow eyes for a brief moment as if praying for patience from whatever gods still tolerated her.
Sira’s orange eyebrows shot up so high they nearly left her forehead.
"She watched?"
Kessa shrugged, completely unrepentant.
"She was there. She had eyes. She used them. I used him. Several times. Recovery purposes. Very thorough recovery purposes. The man could barely stand after the Third Measure, and I still made sure he finished what he started. He filled me so deep. Don’t be shocked if a little tiger walks around the place sometimes sooner."
Thora’s eye twitched.
Misha’s stare could have burned holes in stone.
Sira looked delighted and horrified in equal measure.
"You manipulative beast," Sira breathed.
"You got multiple rounds, and we were here rationing wine and training elves."
Kessa’s smile turned sharper.
"He promised he’d take me apart after the Measures. I collected. Repeatedly. The second night was especially productive. I think his body actually thanked me for the recovery surge."
Griselda finally spoke, voice mild and slightly resigned.
"She is not exaggerating about the frequency. Or the volume. Or the way she refused to let him sleep until the black-edged wounds started closing properly."
Thora turned her glare on Griselda next.
"And you just... watched."
"I participated later," Griselda corrected calmly.
"After she finished the first several claims. Efficiency seemed appropriate."
