Chapter 62
Chapter Sixty-Two
Torin
“Twenty years, Torin, and that’s all you have to say to me?” Hosmunt said, deep frustration lacing every word.
I shrugged as I took tentative steps into the small courtyard.
The smells of the breakfast mingled with the acidity of the coffee and sweetness of the shrubs, creating a heady aroma that was almost too overwhelming.
With a casual flick of my wrist, a light stream of air sped from my fingers to swirl about the space, creating a breeze that both cooled while dissipating the scents.
“I figured it was a good place to start,” I said as I sat heavily on the open cushion.
Hosmunt stared at the use of my magic, his brow furrowed in thought as he took another large bite of pastry.
“Didn’t know you were such a fan of these,” I quipped while brandishing one of the baked goods in his direction.
He rolled his eyes, and my lips quirked in a small smile at the familiar gesture.
Hosmunt was nearly a decade my senior but was still the youngest vizier in modern Iluulian history.
Despite the age gap, he’d donned the mantle of ‘older brother’ while I settled into my role as prince.
Hosmunt’s expression instantly hardened as if he’d forgotten the years that separated us and the reason for my visit.
With a sigh, he dropped the half-eaten pastry onto his small plate with a clang before brushing his hands free from lingering crumbs.
His deep-brown eyes studied me intently, cataloging everything from the scars on my skin to the emerald kaftan.
His roving gaze only intensified the unease roiling in my gut, and I found my appetite suddenly vacant. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness, however, I slowly reached for a small piece of flatbread and a square of hard cheese.
The silence between us stretched impossibly, only broken by the sounds of my chewing and the occasional bird that chirped from a tree somewhere in the garden.
“The garden hasn’t been tended to,” I said in an attempt to break the icy void between us.
Hosmunt simply grunted as he ran a tanned hand down his elongated beard.
Streaks of grey punctuated the black strands, a few even peppering his combed-back hair.
I looked closer, noting the deeper wrinkles around his eyes and in his forehead, as if he frowned more often than not.
I knew that if he looked hard enough, he’d see the evidence of time and hardship writ in the lines of my face as well, in the scars that littered my skin and marred my fingers. There was no escaping the bell of time for either of us.
Hosmunt wore a nearly plain red kaftan, the embroidery just as bright but not as ornate as my own. Even the sash that belted his trim waist was devoid of any ornaments. My eyebrows twitched, recalling my father’s words about legacy.
Surely he was not speaking about Hosmunt?
Is there something bigger at play?
The secrecy of our meeting, coupled with the wealthy vizier who “welcomed” me to Iluul, bespoke of something deeper hiding beneath the surface.
But what?
“I’m sure by now you’ve heard of your father’s passing?” Hosmunt’s soft voice broke my thoughts, and I gave a terse nod of my head.
The grief surrounding my father’s sickness and death was not something I wished to discuss with anyone other than Ellowyn.
“You were in his rooms with him last night.” A statement, not a question. Again, I nodded as I reached for a second flatbread and cheese.
“How?”
“I have command of air,” I said with a casual wave of my hand, indicating the breeze I created earlier.
Hosmunt shook his head violently. “No. You had cuffs on your wrists. It blocks all channeling of power.”
My hands turned clammy, the sweat on my back now feeling cold, at the slip of my tongue.
“Where did you get those, by the way?” I asked, trying to divert his attention from the uniqueness of my powers. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in Iluul, my magic exploited, and without the army I was sent to retrieve.
“Don’t distract me, Torin.”
I leaned back as I popped the food into my mouth, desperately trying to maintain casual indifference.
“An answer for an answer, then,” I tried, pleased when he reluctantly nodded. “You first.”
“The cuffs are from an inventor in Vespera,” he said as he poured a small shot of espresso. My brows furrowed at the admission.
“Vespera? I didn’t know you had contact with Vespera. Who—” Hosmunt held up his free hand to stop my question as he took a sip of coffee.
“A question for a question, Prince.”
I sighed heavily with a nod, mind churning at the insinuation that someone was making power nullifying cuffs in Vespera, and no one knew of it.
“My . . . power is different. I don’t use a Vessel or crystals. I have a well. A deep well I can pull from.”
“Godling,” Hosmunt said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. My expression must have mirrored his own.
“How—how do you know that?”
He waved a hand at me before refilling his cup and moving to fill mine.
“Vespera is not the only place with an extensive library, Torin. Surely you must know that? Iluul is one of the oldest standing cities—we were here long before the gods, and we will be here long after. Our empire once stretched as far north as the modern Borderlands, some accounts indicating even farther. Our knowledge is as vast and varied as our history. And here I thought the Lord of Iluul would know these things?” The last part of his statement was spat with unconfined vitriol.
Here, here, was the man my father warned me about.
“Of course I do, Hosmunt. I just wasn’t aware that research on gods and godlings was in your repertoire.”
My calmness irked him.
“Everything is important to me—I’m the Pasha of Iluul in everything but name. The security, history, and survival of our people are my priority. Which includes educating myself on potential threats both to and within the territory.”
“And what threat would that be?” I asked, taking a delicate sip of my own coffee. Flavor unlike anything I’d tasted recently burst across my tongue, and I closed my eyes briefly at the taste.
“You. Your . . . girlfriend? Wife? Current concubine?”
My eyes shot open, and I nearly spat my coffee across the table. I swallowed roughly, barely contained a cough, and my surprise.
“But . . . how . . .” I sputtered, trying to wrap my head around Hosmunt’s casual admittance.
He waited with smug expectance for me to gather my thoughts. I sat the espresso cup down with a heavy thump.
“How do you know of her?” I asked evenly. A threat of violence underscored my words as my magic fought to breach the surface at his blatant attempt to goad me with derogatory insults directed at my wife.
“There have been whispers, rumors. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together that the Lord of Iluul was the man with four powers and that the girl meant something to you.”
I stared in numb shock, processing his words, as Hosmunt casually reached for the flatbread and cheese.
“If that weren’t enough, Solace came to warn us. Well, first, she wanted us to ally with her and, when your father turned her away, she promised revenge on Iluul and the south. As soon as your father’s health . . . declined, I took it upon myself to reopen that line of communication.”
I was dumbfounded, completely speechless, all previous forms of unaffectedness and pretenses dropped.
“Why?” My voice cracked. “Surely you’ve seen the destruction that she’s ravaged? The pain she’s caused?”
Hosmunt chewed slowly, the glint in his eyes indicating he liked having the upper hand in this conversation.
“Of course I have. She’s left Iluul alone, eradicated opposition in the remote farmlands. It’s been quite helpful.”
“Eradicated opposition?” I whispered. “They’re your own people!”
“But that’s where you’re wrong, Torin. Where both you and your father misstepped. They’re not our people. They were, once, when we were an empire with a sultan. Now they’re just small trading and farming villages.”
“You owe them protection!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands wide.
“I owe them nothing!” Hosmunt roared, his fist coming down onto the table, making the silverware and cups jump.
“I owe them nothing,” he reiterated more calmly, even if rage bubbled beneath the surface. “Perhaps, if they were more inclined to join the Iluulian Empire, they’d still be standing.”
“What?” I asked with a sad shake of my head. “You can’t possibly mean to conquer all of that free territory.”
“I do. I can. I will. What’s to stop me? I have the protection of a nasty, vengeful goddess.”
“Me,” I said with a vehemence I hadn’t felt in some time. “I will stand in your way.”
Hosmunt threw his head back and laughed a loud, caustic sound that shook the table.
“You cannot possibly want to ally with them. She will only come to claim the land you’ve taken, your people’s lives, once it’s all said and done.” I spoke loudly over his mirth.
Eventually, his laughter subsided, and he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“With what army, Torin? What can you possibly offer me that the gods can’t?”
My mouth tightened as I thought of my father’s words from last night.
“You don’t even have the ability to call yourself Pasha, let alone Sultan,” I stated and watched as his eyes darkened with a storm. “Not while I still live.”
“Then perhaps I should just kill you,” he hissed, and I felt his Fire Magic pulse in his hands.
With little effort or concentration, I pulled his power away from him until it rested in my outstretched palm.
Hosmunt’s eyes bulged as he watched his fire dance along my fingers before I closed my hand, snuffing the flames completely.
I offered him a smug grin. “And how do you propose you do that? After all, I am a godling.”
“That . . . that shouldn’t be possible!”
“I thought you read about me, Hosmunt? You should know that I have command over four elements, and my wife has command over the other four. You’d be dead before you tried. No, killing me is not an option. The only way you’ll ever become Pasha or Sultan is if I abdicate.”
The Chief Vizier sat back, mulling over my words in silence. I let it hang between us, catching my breath and allowing my heart rate to return to normal.
“And what do you want in return?” he asked sullenly.
“Ships. Enough to carry an army across the sea, to battle against the gods on whatever terrain they decide.” My answer was immediate.
Hosmunt was already shaking his head.
“No. I won’t anger the gods without some sort of promise from you, some guarantee that you or your children won’t come back to retake Iluul. That you’ll leave me to my own devices here. No, Torin.”
Before I could offer some kind of reassurance—even if I disagreed with uniting the various unique Southern Territories under one banner—Hosmunt threw his napkin on the table and lurched to a stand.
Without so much as a word, he stormed from the garden, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a semi-warm breakfast.
I sighed, helping myself to another serving of bread and cheese.
Undoubtedly, this was not the end of our negotiations.
I’d dangled the one thing he wanted and needed above all else in front of him.
Eventually, he’d reach out and take it, though it was clear that process would be longer and more arduous than I anticipated.
Hopefully Ellowyn and Faylinn are having more success.
With that thought, I poured myself another cup of espresso.