Chapter 62
62
T AZAR SAVORED HIS victory—but no more so than the sweet taste of Aalia’s lips. It had been far too long. She finally drew back, but she kept her arm possessively around him as she faced her father and brother.
“What is this?” Makar asked, his gaze flickering through hurt, confusion, and fury.
Rami settled on anger. “Sister, you’ve been aligned with the Shayn’ra all this time?”
Aalia firmed her hold on Tazar. “More than aligned. I’ve supported their efforts for the past five years. The empire has been in decline for ages, stagnant and calcified. Only freedom can reverse that course. We must break down the stultifying caste system that has chained the baseborn in place. Rami, you and I have spent months of late on this very subject.”
Rami waved at Kanthe. “I thought it was because you didn’t want to marry him.”
“True. That was problematic. Such an unfortunate arrangement did require me to act sooner than I wanted, forcing me to orchestrate my own abduction. Which unfortunately failed. And with far more bloodshed than I intended.”
Tazar watched Rami struggle to realign events in his head.
“But why?” her brother asked. “How?”
Tazar knew the answer.
Years ago, after Aalia had exposed Tazar in the palace for his duplicitous attempt to co-opt her, he had fled to the streets. He had found himself drawn into the Shayn’ra, stoked by his anger at imri class. Only afterward was he shocked to discover a covert benefactor to their cause. Someone who secretly supplied the Fist with aid, support, and intelligence from within the palace, allowing their order to flourish. Someone who wanted to tear down the order in Kysalimri as fervently as he did.
Aalia, of course, had recognized him right away. She immediately disparaged him, believing he remained as disingenuous as ever. Still, he eventually convinced her, which sharpened her guilt at nearly having him killed back at the palace. Time and purpose drove them closer together, until they could no longer deny their attraction for one another, their affection. She admitted she had been drawn to him from the beginning, when he was a servant in the palace. It was one of the reasons she had exposed him back then. She had been young, fearful of herself, of that first yearning. She needed him gone.
But no longer.
He pulled her closer and pointed his sword at Kanthe. “What of this Hálendiian prince, your former betrothed?”
Llyra stepped in front of Kanthe. “He is with us. None will harm him.”
Tazar winced.
So here were those crossed purposes she had mentioned before.
Llyra was backed up by Saekl. From the shadows, other Rhysians appeared in black leather. Dark cloths wrapped their faces, leaving only their silver-blue eyes exposed. One shed her covering. It was the young woman who had accosted him. She once again held her small quisl, flipping the poisoned dagger between her fingertips.
Tazar lifted a palm. He was not about to challenge any of them.
Aalia supported this decision. “Though the prince is not the brightest, he’s not the enemy.”
Kanthe frowned at the insult but knew better than to protest.
“There is much we must talk about,” Aalia continued. “Concerning a danger larger than any empire or kingdom.”
Kanthe sat straighter. “So we convinced you about moonfall after all?”
She waved disdainfully to another chained man. “Your alchymist did.”
Rami crossed to join them. “I will help. As best I can.” He glanced Tazar up and down, then faced Aalia. “But we will talk later, sister.”
The alchymist interrupted, struggling to stand in his chains. “If we’re going, we should hurry.”
Tazar nodded. “He’s right.”
Outside, the sounds of battle had abated, but Tazar knew it could not hold. Reinforcements from the mooring fields would fall upon them before long.
Even Emperor Makar felt confident enough in this fact to glare across the room. “This will not stand!” he threatened.
Before anyone could respond, the Augury slipped past the emperor, running a finger across Makar’s cheek. “Hush.”
The emperor stiffened at this touch and stumbled back. He trembled for a breath, his eyes rolling white—then he slumped to his knees, where he stayed. His eyes returned to normal, but as he gazed around, his face was a mask of confusion.
“What did you do?” Rami blurted out.
A S R AMI RU SHED toward his father, Kanthe was content to remain on his knees. The continuing whirl of events dizzied him. His neck hurt from the strain of trying to look everywhere at once.
The Augury glanced at Rami. “No harm’s been done, I assure you—well, no lasting harm.”
Rami reached his father, but Makar shied away from him, as if not recognizing his own son.
The Augury crossed to stand before the rest of them. “As your alchymist has warned, we don’t have much time. I’ve gone to great efforts to get you all in one place. And we dare not waste it.”
Frell rattled to his feet. “You gathered us here? How?”
“It would’ve been easier if you all didn’t keep thwarting me at every turn.” He pointed at Kanthe and Aalia. “All you two had to do was get married as planned and come here for a postnuptial divination. Would that have been so hard?”
Kanthe, flummoxed and confused, looked at Aalia.
“I had to act quickly.” The Augury waved across the chained group. “I risked much exposing your location in Malgard. To ensure that the emperor brought you all to my palacio.”
Pratik gained his feet, too. “But how did you know where we—”
The oracle ignored him and pointed to Tazar. “And you! I had to contact the Razen Rose. To arrange for Symon to pass you an old skrycrow message, letting you know your beloved Aalia was coming to Malgard.”
Kanthe’s head spun, struggling to understand this puppeteer. “You’re part of the Razen Rose?”
“No. Though I’ve worked with them in the past. They often serve as my eyes and ears from afar. Together we’ve accomplished much.”
“Then who are you?” Frell asked.
The Augury rested a hand on his chest. “You can call me Tykhan.”
Kanthe challenged him, wanting a clear answer. “A name alone doesn’t truly explain who you are.”
“I suppose that’s true. Perhaps it’s best if we follow the example of the Shayn’ra and throw away our masks.”
“What mask?” Kanthe asked.
The Augury lifted an arm. Bending it, he used the crook of his elbow to rub his face from brow to chin. As he did, the rich Klashean ebony wiped away—revealing the bright sheen of bronze beneath.
“I’m who you all came to find,” the Augury explained. “The Sleeper of Malgard.”