Chapter 52 Dimas
FIFTY-TWO
DIMAS
His uncle had planned for his own defeat.
Dimas stared at the wanted poster in his hands, his limbs trembling with the effort it took to stay standing.
Even now, with many of the Haesta buried beneath the earth, he had still managed to fail.
“Those bastards,” Lenora snarled, staring down at the poster over his shoulder. The air around them seemed to pulsate with her power as she took in the words:
WANTED:
Dimas Ehmar, former Emperor of Wyrecia,
for his association with heretics and the murder
of Regent Roston Ehmar
Casimir had brought the poster to him, along with a similar one with Lenora’s face on it and the word FURYbrINGER written in bold.
After they’d escaped the Haesta’s stronghold, the group had returned to the small cave they’d taken refuge in the night they’d fled the imperial city, where they’d waited whilst Casimir snuck back into Novobyrg to see if Iska’s claims about Milos were true.
Even if you succeed here, Milos and the rest of Venysa’s followers under his command will ensure Wyrecia’s throne will never be yours.
His cousin had been telling the truth. According to Casimir, in the two days that had passed since the fight with the Haesta, Milos had become acting regent and managed to take control of the church. The entire city—fate, the entire empire—had branded Lenora and Dimas as their enemies.
“I won’t be used as anyone’s weapon,” Lena said, her hands clenching into fists at her side, “not now—not ever. But … the people of this empire deserve to know the truth; about Venysa, about Naebya, so … if you want to fight for that, for them, then I’m with you.”
I’m with you.
Fate, how he’d longed to hear those words from her. All he’d ever wanted was Lenora on his side. For them to share a bond as divine as the first emperor and his Fateweaver.
Except that bond had been anything but divine—and if the people of Wyrecia found out, the legacy his family had built would be burned to ash.
The Dimas of a few weeks ago would have put the empire’s legacy above everything else.
But that Dimas had been raised by his father.
This Dimas, the Dimas who had seen the corruption at the heart of the empire’s church and knew what staying silent would cost his people, was the Dimas he might have been if his mother had lived.
There was just one problem.
“Even if we could get into the city without being arrested first, we don’t stand a chance of getting the church to hear us out. Not without Brother Dunstan’s or General Alraen’s backing.”
Dimas tried not to look in the direction of the two bodies laid beneath cloaks a few feet from the cave mouth.
Tried not to think of General Alraen and her fallen soldiers, whose bodies they’d been unable to retrieve, now buried inside the fallen cavern.
Because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together.
Instead, he turned to Casimir. “Korvus.” The smuggler was sitting beside the small campfire Yana and Ioseph had built, his gaze every so often flicking to Lenora when he thought she wasn’t looking. “Does the offer of an alliance with your queen still stand?”
Casimir didn’t bother getting to his feet. He simply shrugged, folded his arms across his chest, and said, “That depends.”
“On?”
“On if you’re willing to betray your church and reveal the truth of the Fateweavers’ origins to the world.”
Silence followed the smuggler’s words. Everyone, from Lenora to Yana, was watching him. Waiting to see if he’d back down. But Dimas had made his choice.
He would make sure the people of Wyrecia knew the truth. For all the royal guards who’d lost their lives fighting the Haesta. For Finaen. For Mirena and Brother Dunstan.
For his mother.
“I am.”
Ioseph came to him the morning they were due to leave for the Frozen Wastes.
The guard had been avoiding him ever since he’d agreed to go to Verlond, using any excuse to be wherever Dimas wasn’t. But this morning, when Dimas had woken early and crept out of the cave to stand over Brother Dunstan’s body, Ioseph had trailed after him.
“I’m not coming with you.”
The words landed like a blow Dimas had no defense for. He tore his gaze away from Brother Dunstan’s body, hoping, praying, that he’d find evidence on Ioseph’s face that this was some kind of sick joke.
But Ioseph’s jaw was clenched, his eyes limned with silver. It was the most serious Dimas had ever seen him look.
“ ’Seph, I—”
“My family is here. I can’t leave them, not when I know the Haesta have infiltrated the church.”
“Then bring them with us.” Dimas’s voice was tight, his words desperate. “Casimir can sneak into the city and get them out—”
“My mother won’t survive the journey. You know she won’t.
” Ioseph shook his head, a tear slipping down his dirtied cheek.
“I spoke to Yana; we’re going to get our families out of the imperial city.
Once they’re safe, we’re going to do what we can to spread doubt on Milos’s claims and seek out any who still worship the Lost Sisters.
You’re going to need supporters when you return.
And you will return,” Ioseph said, cupping his cheek.
Dimas leaned into the touch. “I don’t think I can do this without you,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
Ioseph closed the space between them to press their foreheads together. “You can. You will. And when you return, when you make this empire everything it has the potential to be, I will be by your side.”
It was a promise to hold on to. A future to look toward.
And it was one Dimas was going to fight for with everything he had.