Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Playing at Power
“What do you think, Emperor?”
Tafana looked at Shadach with reverence.
Respect. Expectation. He sat across from her in a worship room that had been temporarily re-purposed as a war room.
The table they sat at had, until moments ago, held incense, a ritual cloth, and an effigy of the God of Lust. Now, there was a map laid across the middle.
A map of the God’s temples throughout the Kingdom of Shadows that had been hanging on a wall in a priestess’s bedroom.
And not a terribly accurate map, either.
It had been designed for artistry and beauty rather than precise distances and landmarks.
It was the only map the temple had.
On that map were various groupings of pebbles meant to denote where the priestesses had heard Aristen’s men were currently or had recently been. The pebbles were scattered across the map, but with a particular concentration around the Emperor’s City.
“Emperor?” the Head Priestess prompted. She sat across from him, her back straight, arms resting with poise on the table.
Shadach sat back, trying to pretend he didn’t have a headache pulsing behind his eyes.
What did he think? He thought this would be pure comedy if it hadn’t been his life.
Aristen was out there with the world’s fiercest military at his beck and call, not to mention unlimited money, resources, and maps written to scale.
Shadach had no money, no resources, a pretty picture pretending to be a map, and a bunch of pacifist priestesses, most of whom he didn’t trust and who didn’t trust him.
Two unequal sides fighting a war Shadach didn’t even want to win. He was only fighting it so innocent people didn’t die. So Aoife didn’t die.
“I think,” Shadach said with a sigh, “the God better be willing to intervene.”
“It’s an incomplete plan, I know.” Tafana brushed a smattering of dirt from the pebbles off the map. “But we have to get you back to the Emperor’s City. You and Aoife. It’s the only way.”
Yes. Saunter into the Emperor’s City, the most guarded part of the Kingdom, so that Aoife could declare from the temple rooftops that she was very much alive and that Shadach had been chosen by the God.
It had to be the Emperor’s City, because thousands of people had seen Aoife as the Messenger.
If they tried to do it anywhere else, Aoife’s identity could be easily refuted.
Not in the Emperor’s City. Aristen knew that.
Hence the soldiers swarming the city like wolves circling a wounded horse.
“You might,” Shadach said, “be able to sneak Aoife in disguised as a priestess. But I’m afraid I don’t look very convincing in a dress.”
“As I said, it’s an incomplete plan.” The Head Priestess’s smile was wry. “But once we get you there a priestess named Deydra will help you. She’s a true believer, unlike the High Priestess. Her rooms are in the East Wing of the temple.”
“Except,” Shadach studied the image of the Emperor’s City on the map, the strokes of paint making it look like it lived on a mystical plane. “I have to get there first.”
Her smile faded into seriousness. “What about your people?”
Shadach’s body went as rigid as a steel blade. “What about them?”
“They are … talented … at getting all sorts of things in and out of the city undetected. Could they get you in?”
“Possibly.” Shadach’s voice felt dry like sand.
“Would they?”
“No.”
A flicker of surprise flashed in Tafana’s eyes. “Do they not want a Halcin on the throne?”
“Of course they do.” Shadach exhaled, his breath fractious in his chest. “But I left the Western Lands. I left the Halcin. They don’t consider me their own anymore.”
Tafana’s nod was cautious. Knowing. “Can we convince them otherwise?”
“Certainly. But the things I’d have to do to convince them … let’s just say you wouldn’t want me to be Emperor after that.”
“Well then.” Tafana tapped her finger on the table, staring at the map. “That’s unfortunate.”
Yes. “Unfortunate” was one way to describe it.
“The plan needs work,” the Head Priestess pushed back from her chair, standing with perfect grace, “but we’ll get there.”
“What about the soldiers?” Shadach said, making her pause.
“None of my people tipped off General Holt, my Emperor.”
“I know they’re your people. I know you trust them.” But I don’t. “But the soldiers showed up far too quickly after we did.”
“And they didn’t find you. If someone had told them, they would have found you.”
“Then how did they know?” Shadach tried, failed, to keep the searing accusation from his tone.
Tafana stepped to the door, trying to hide the insult on her face. “General Holt knows you well, doesn’t he? Maybe he guessed.”
“But—”
“Even if some of my priestesses would hate to see a Halcin Emperor, they would hate to see another blasphemous Selat Emperor even more. Never mind that they would never contradict the God’s will.
” The Head Priestess opened the door halfway then stopped, turning to Shadach. “Are you joining us for the ritual?”
“Ritual?”
“The seduction ritual.”
“I hadn’t considered it.” Shadach tapped his finger on the map, trying to pull his thoughts from the matters of mortals and back to matters of the God. “Is it public?”
“Some of it, yes, of course. You can stay in the inner-circle, though, no outsiders will see you.”
Shadach nodded. “Then of course I’ll attend.”
“Aoife as well?”
He hesitated. Aoife had slept for nearly eighteen hours after the soldiers had left yesterday.
He’d hardly had a moment to speak to her since they’d made exquisite worship he couldn’t forget if his life depended on it.
Not since they’d made murals in the dark, peaceful and joyful like long lost lovers.
Not since she’d kissed him so passionately it had made him dizzy.
“I haven’t asked her,” he said.
A whisper of a smile crossed Tafana’s lips. “Perhaps you should.”
~*~
Shadach walked past two priestesses speaking in hushed whispers.
They went silent as Shadach passed, a Shadow leeching off one of the priestess’s bodies.
Her eyes were dark. Suspect. Maybe Shadach was predictable, as Tafana had said.
Maybe Aristen had guessed where Shadach would go.
Or maybe these Xana could not be trusted.
Maybe they’re just waiting to destroy you.
Shadach tried to ignore their glances. Their open stares.
The priestesses looked at him as half-monster, half-Emperor.
If Shadach had to choose who he preferred to be seen as, it would have been the monster.
In that look, there was venom. Hatred. Disgust. But at least it was pure.
When the priestesses looked at him as an emperor, he could not help the trepidation.
The fear. They knew he had power. Or they knew he would.
Once he had power, once he had something worth taking … what would they do?
“Oh.” The word was as gentle as a morning kiss, but powerful enough to stop Shadach in his tracks. “You’re up.”
That voice. Rich. Seductive. Uncertain.
Shadach turned. Aoife stood in a doorway of an adjoining temple room, the smell of fresh bread and tea coming outside with her.
Her hair fell in thick waves down her shoulders, her eyes glancing at him, then glancing at the floor, the off-white, temple-guest robes she wore clinging to her body like Shadach wished he was doing just now.
He swallowed, his throat thick, his heart thrashing.
“Did you sleep well?” He managed to say.
“I-I did.” She was looking down, but glanced up every other second to meet his eyes. “You?”
“Very well. Thank you.”
They stood. Silent. The wind brushed past them.
She glanced up. Smiled. Looked to the surrounding trees.
One little smile was all it took. Shadach felt that fist in his chest, that fear of how the world would destroy him, soften.
Only a little, but it softened nonetheless.
There was something about Aoife. The way she looked at him.
The way she seemed to see him in ways no one else did that made him think he could trust her.
It was a dangerous feeling, indeed.
“I’m relieved we didn’t die.” She smiled again, her gaze flicking to him. And then, slowly, as if trying to savour his presence, she dragged her gaze over his body. Shadach fought back a physical moan.
“Me, too,” Shadach said. Silence. Again.
“Well …” Aoife shuffled, threading her fingers around each other and then letting go. “I should see if the priestesses need help.” She moved to leave, and everything in Shadach’s body shouted for her to stay. Just a little longer. Let him have this peace, this quiet for just a little longer.
“Did you enjoy it?” he said quickly.
Aoife paused as her foot was lifting off the ground, ready to propel her away from him. She set her foot back on the ground.
“Enjoy what?”
“The art. Did you enjoy making it?” And did you enjoy making it with me?
“Oh.” Aoife flushed hot, eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. “It was … fine. You know, a good distraction.” A twisted, silent Shadow lurched from her stomach, its edges sharp like barbed wire. A half-truth.
Why was she so afraid to be honest about art? Or perhaps …
“Was your artistic companion not up to scratch?” Shadach tried to keep his voice light, but feared the worry seeped through.
Aoife stared at him full-on. Horrified. “God no, you’re amazing, I only wished I could have seen your mural better. It was so dark. No, I … I’m just not …” Aoife glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting to see something terrifying behind her. “I should really check-in with the priestesses.”
“Wait.” Shadach reached out, taking her hand. Electric heat pulsed through his palm at the feel of her skin against his. She gasped, her luscious lips parting as she looked at him. It took everything in him not to kiss her.