Chapter 7
Seven
“My mother will not say, but I hear the servants’ whispers.
That my father’s desires were evil.” Prince Hallu looked at me, his gaze unflinching.
“I can’t ask anyone else. My mother wouldn’t do it and my brother cannot afford to kill me.
But you… you could.” He hesitated, and his pretty language failed him. “I need you to.”
“Prince Hallu,” I said, “I promise that I will take care of you as if you were my own beloved younger brother. But I will not promise to do anything that would make both your mother and brother murder me.”
His shoulders slumped, and he sullenly said, “You must. They said northern barbarians murder their children if they aren’t strong enough to survive the winter. I would not survive the winter. I am too weak.”
In the corner, Irad?o covered a laugh, the air escaping as a snort.
“No,” I said. “We do not kill our children. Children are as precious in the north as they are here. And I promise to cherish you as I would any new child in the Silvereyes Clan. Now come, your mother will be looking for you.”
I stood, and Hallu did, too, grabbing hold of my arm before I could open the door. “He is truly dead? The creature that controlled me?”
“Yes.” I turned his grip so that I was holding his small hand in mine. “I killed him myself, and a fire dragon burned what was left.”
He ducked his head and shook it violently. “But the illness…”
“I will make sure you live,” I promised, feeling it heavy in my stomach, feeling it like a noose around my neck. “Come.”
The hallway was full of servants, and when they saw me walking with the prince, several rushed away, returning with Empress Koque. She gathered her son in her arms—he was so small it was barely any effort—and nodded her gratitude to me.
“Thank you, Prince Airón. You have done me another undeserved service.”
I tried not to smile at how similarly she and her son spoke. My sister Eona? had never spoken like our mother, too far into being trained as the future empress to speak with the blunt practicality of the leader of our clan. Was she having to relearn it again now?
How much had my sister changed in my absence?
Irad?o was waiting behind me, and when I turned, her expression looked distant. She had left behind everything, the same as me. Moreover, I hadn’t ever thought about what she had been forced to give up when Eona? returned, alive, and ready for the throne Irad?o had been promised her whole life.
“What monsters they think we are,” Irad?o said in Northern, her tone mild.
“And what stories did we tell about the Imperium when we were that age?” I asked.
“How are you planning to keep your promise to the boy?” Irad?o asked.
I tightened my lips before shaking my head. “The same as before. If I confront Spider, I will be able to free both of them.”
“Airón,” Irad?o didn’t look around the hallway, both of us knew that would look even more suspicious, “animalia were not the prey you were trained to hunt.”
“No,” I agreed. “But can we not both learn to be different people?”
Irad?o looked over at me sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that your life has been changed just as much as mine or Eona?’s. It cannot be easy for any of us.”
For a moment, Irad?o was silent, her jaw clenched. Under her imperial makeup, she paled. “You can get back to your room yourself, I trust.”
When she turned away, I didn’t try to follow her.
If I had thought preparations to leave the Mountainside Palace disguised as merchants were intense, I had been ignorant of what it took to move the emperor’s household across the Imperium.
Tallu and I were relegated to staying in one place so all the servants that needed our input could ask our opinions.
The ministers each came to meet with Tallu, together and individually, each professing their loyalty, their devotion to House Atobe.
The blood monks kept their eyes on them, but it was harder now with four instead of dozens of ghosts.
The courtiers who had come to the Lakeshore Palace seemed to draw Tallu’s suspicion more than the ministers who were little more than lapdogs given titles and expensive stitching.
“They have the least reason to be here,” Tallu said in his quarters, after we had dismissed the servants and guards. “They should have fled to their holdings. If they aren’t there, I suspect it is because something is keeping them away.”
“You think they’re looking to borrow some of your power?” I paced the room, feeling caged until Tallu grabbed hold of my hand when I passed him, drawing me down on the couch. I went unhappily and accepted the bites of food he offered from a tray of delicate desserts.
“They might be trying to borrow my gratitude with this display of loyalty.” Tallu offered over a small ball of chocolate that split open in my mouth, a fruit syrup spilling over my tongue.
“And the military force to go along with your ‘gratitude.’” Putting my hand on top of his, I pulled away and drew one of my daggers from its sheath, beginning to clean it and checking the sharpness of the blade.
“I think it would be worth it to see who has taken their territory or who they fear. Someone will need to lead the pieces of the Imperium we leave behind.”
“We do not have the luxury of choosing who claims the scraps of the Imperium once Bemishu and Kacha divide it between them,” Tallu said, pragmatically. He picked up another delicacy, a candied fig covered in flakes of nuts.
“But, could we not tip the scales in favor of those we think best able to survive?” I asked. “If they are able to maintain power on their own, then they are potentially able to go against Kacha and Bemishu, if not overtly, at least to the benefit of their citizens.”
“The lords and ministers here do not feel safe in their own territory. Otherwise they would be there, rather than trying to manipulate me into backing their rule.” Tallu took another fig, squeezing it between his fingers, then putting it into his mouth, sucking on his fingers to get all the sugar off them.
I held the dagger in my hand, checking the balance before setting it aside and taking out another. “Are any of those here worthy of your support?”
Tallu considered. His eyes moved as though he was on his throne and observing the court around him.
“The only members of my court who I might think to call good have long since fled. What do you propose? We could trap them here; I could order my guards to kill them and say that I had found a traitor among them.”
It was a cold response, but then again, Tallu had been a boy when he had first begun dealing death to the monsters in his father’s court.
Under my hand, the blade was reassuringly solid. It was one made of pure steel, the sort of weapon that could kill a Krustavian as well as an imperial. I had embedded it in one of Maki’s human experiments and watched him explode.
“There is another option. Just as there is with the issue of the Kennelmaster.” I considered my reflection in the blade before spinning it twice and resheathing it.
The next dagger I drew had a carved handle, delicate northern animals lovingly engraved on the hardwood.
Eona? had spent a summer working on it before giving it to me as a present.
“Your skills are valuable to me.” A sidelong glance showed me that Tallu’s eyes were as fierce as a hunting hawk.
“Do not mistake me. If I thought it worth it, I would let you have the run of them. But subtlety is more valuable here. Unless you would prefer to let all of your blades loose and stain the Krustavian stone red with imperial blood. If that is what you want, you know I can deny you nothing.”
I snorted, knowing that what he said was both a joke and truth at the same time. But I didn’t want that, and I could see how much more effective Tallu’s campaign of rumor and secrets had been. My blades would only unite the Imperium against Tallu. But there were other options.
“What would you do, husband?” I asked, setting my daggers aside.
Tallu grinned, picking up a small morsel of fried fatty meat wrapped around a sweet date. “I think our trip to Tavornai should return many of our loyal courtiers to their provincial seats.”
Tavornai sat to the southwest, in a swamp that was nearly as large as the entirety of Krustau.
The fastest route to what had once been the elven nation would take us straight through the Imperial Capital.
But as that would mean walking straight into Kacha and Bemishu’s control, the two alternate routes were south, along the Ariphadeus desert, or north, closer to the Blood Mountains.
The Ariphadeus was shorter, but would add the danger of any goblin tribes, and north would add the reassurance of being able to pass through most of the remaining courtiers’ provinces.
“It is our deepest desire to have all of our favored courtiers safely back in their seats, best able to defend our empire,” Tallu said to the gathered audience of nobles.
The chill that passed through the large room he’d been using as a throne room was palpable. From the back of the room, the Kennelmaster watched, and I saw his eyes catch on lords who seemed particularly afraid of Tallu’s pronouncement. In a few days we would begin our journey.
“You must choose your replacement,” Tallu said.
The room was still, and I waited in the corner. Despite all of his training, despite his electro magic, I was sure I could beat him. He was injured and old—older than his years.
“I must?” The Kennelmaster didn’t look at me. Instead, he took off his bear mask, his face carved into granite. “And why must I?”
Tallu stared at him, his expression unmoving. They were both winter storms of men. One didn’t fight a blizzard. One survived it.
They stared at each other so long that I began to wonder if either would ever speak again. Then, to my surprise, the Kennelmaster took a few steps forward, slumping onto the couch across from Tallu’s chair.
“You are worried about my network of Dogs,” he said.