Chapter Five
Want to make a hardened warrior or a ruthless assassin hide under the bed?
Tell them that the Stalker is annoyed with them.
It would be bad enough if Grand Duchess Eirika was only a ruthless fighter—or a merciless killer—but she’s also a genius tactician and has no fewer than two Grand Dukes under her thumb.
She is also the main reason I’m staying anonymous.
If I ever turn up dead, it was probably her.
The Illicit Lives of the Imperial Court
Anonymous
(banned in the Empire)
For the second time in as many days, Aleksi found himself staring down a sea of curious faces.
At least these were unquestionably friendly. The High Court’s arrival had caused such a stir that night had fallen to darkness before they managed to retire to his chambers to speak privately—or, as Aleksi suspected, to corral him for intensive questioning.
But the expected interrogation did not come. Instead, they gathered around Aleksi’s suite with drinks, made themselves comfortable . . . and waited for his explanation.
He gave it quickly and dispassionately—he was poisoned, then kidnapped along with his companions.
They escaped their abductors, returned to the island, and Aleksi was back on his feet.
“So I’m fine now,” he concluded, “and nothing about any of this was remotely surprising. We all knew an Imperial Court was likely to be a treacherous place—or, at least, we should have.”
“What a neat, practiced summary,” Elevia observed from her spot behind the sofa. “But don’t you think you might be omitting a few key details?”
“Such as?”
“What kind of poison could have done you such serious harm?” Inga demanded.
“And who kidnapped you?” Ulric added.
“And Isa,” Ash cut in. “Sachi told me she died. The Emperor killed her centuries ago.”
“All fair questions,” Aleksi allowed, for it was nothing but the truth. “And I will answer as many of them as I am able. But first, we must acknowledge the reality of why you all shuffled me off to Akeisa in the first place—because you did not want me any closer to the fights in the Empire.”
Despite the guilt that shadowed his features, Ash tried to protest. “Aleksi, that isn’t—”
“But it is, Ash,” he countered. “The truth, as beautiful and brutal as it can be. You all knew I had been wounded emotionally, and so you wanted to protect me. I understand that. Moreover, I respect it. Only . . .”
Sachi rose slowly, her brow crinkled with confusion and a growing concern. “Only that wasn’t what happened, was it?”
“No, love.” Aleksi did not know how to tell them the rest of it, so he loosed his tongue and let the words pour forth without thought as he paced the width of the room.
“What Sorin’s witch did harmed me more than even I suspected at first. But she severed me from the Dream.
I have never lived a human life; that was everything I had ever known.
She tore away my sense of self, ripped at me until I no longer believed in anything, much less the sanctity of what I represent. ”
“She wounded your soul,” Zanya whispered.
“Yes,” he admitted. “She killed my beliefs, and what are any of us but reflections of belief? Without them, what did I have? Nothing. No powers, and no protections—not even against the most mundane of poisons.”
Sachi stepped in front of him, halting his pacing.
Still frowning, she grasped his face between her hands and peered up at him, as if staring into him.
“I thought there was something wrong,” she murmured.
“But I had only seen you in the Dream for so long, I figured it must simply be that your emotions were so unsettled. Oh, Aleksi. Can you forgive us?”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he told her gently. “And I’m doing much better now.”
“But are you well?” Inga pressed.
“I am not. But I will be, Inga. I promise.” It was something Aleksi could not, in good conscience, have said before just this moment. Broken vows were far worse than silence, so he made it a point never to offer any he was not absolutely sure he could keep.
At least Inga knew that. She settled back into her chair, looking moderately reassured.
“As for the kidnapping,” Aleksi went on, “their goal was clear—seize me, and get everyone else out of the way. So I have definitely pissed off someone powerful.”
“Sorin,” Nyx suggested.
Sachi looked grave. “Or one of his court.”
Dianthe frowned. “I believed Sorin’s cell to be secure, but his escape proves that I underestimated his resourcefulness.”
Nyx frowned and rubbed their hand over their chin. “He couldn’t contact anyone, but could someone have had the power to communicate with him?”
Sachi shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “I don’t know. There was his witch, Varoka—the Dreamweaver. She could have done it, I’m certain, but she’s dead. One of Zanya’s Terrors tore her apart.”
Aleksi quelled a shudder. He was never exactly happy to think of death. The sudden cessation of growth and life went against the core of who he was and what he worked every day to build.
But he did not regret Varoka’s end.
“She was the only one that Sorin didn’t create by pulling her from the Dream.” Sachi frowned. “He found her, nurtured her worst instincts. She was a tool to him . . . but I think he loved her.”
Elevia snorted, but her voice was pure steel. “Sorin isn’t capable of love.”
“No,” Sachi allowed. “No, you’re probably right.”
“I know I am.” Elevia crossed her arms over her chest and cast a quick but pointed look at Ash. “You wanted like hell on fire to think he could be saved, but—”
Ash’s face was hard, his eyes dancing with a hint of flames. “I had hoped that some of our brother might still be in there somewhere. But he is not. And, after this, he is past saving.” He took a breath and shook his head. “Who else?”
There was the Beast, a mindless, rapacious killer who represented all the worst things about Ash that didn’t even exist, but Sorin saw them anyway.
He had certainly possessed the vengeful nature required to carry a grudge, if not the delicacy for secretive operations.
But a newly awakened Dreamer, one who had suffered torture at the Beast’s hands, had torn him apart at that final battle.
The Shapechanger had been Sorin’s version of Ulric.
But instead of having a nonhuman form that felt like his true self, the Shapechanger had stolen the visages of others and used their identities to his own ends.
He had successfully infiltrated the Mortal Queen’s court, so he was absolutely capable of stealing onto the island to plot and execute an abduction.
He would have been Aleksi’s main suspect for that reason alone . . . if only he still lived. But Aleksi had run him through with a sword when the man had attempted to assassinate the young queen.
“I suppose we can discount the Beast and the Shapechanger,” he noted wryly.
“The Seducer,” Sachi said flatly. “He has the power to shroud his words and deeds in shadow, but I don’t know if that extends to hiding his presence from someone as strong as Dianthe.”
The Seducer was Aleksi’s counterpart in Sorin’s twisted little court.
Sachi had mostly refused to tell Aleksi anything about him—likely to spare him the pain of knowing how Sorin truly saw him, bless her.
But from what little Aleksi had been able to ascertain, the Seducer was the worst sort of predator, a pretty, smiling face to distract from the horrors he would happily inflict on a person.
“He escaped during the final battle,” Aleksi noted. “That lends credence to his powers of obfuscation.”
“The Stalker also managed to evade our grasp.” Elevia smiled viciously. “My dark shadow. From all accounts, the nastiest, cleverest bitch you’d hope never to meet.”
Nyx did not hesitate. “So it was likely her, then, who helped Sorin escape.”
“Oh, almost definitely,” Elevia confirmed.
Sachi drew in a sudden sharp breath. “The Shapechanger was her lover.”
And Aleksi had killed him.
“Just out of curiosity,” Aleksi asked dryly, “did she seem the vengeful type?”
Elevia rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor. “The Stalker is our likeliest suspect, but she could easily have had help. Maybe even help that’s right under our noses.”
Dianthe frowned. “You mean Gwynira?”
Elevia cut off Aleksi’s attempt to protest. “The three of you were in her home, under her protection. She had the greatest opportunity.”
“No.” Sachi was usually so soft-spoken that the sharpness of the denial made Elevia lean back a little. “Gwynira would never harm Aleksi. I feel that very strongly.”
Ash laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “But are you sure, darling?”
“Absolutely certain.”
Elevia pursed her lips, a clear sign that she was marshaling an argument, so Aleksi stepped in. “I . . . have done Gwynira a great service.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Elevia demanded.
But Zanya straightened in her chair, her gaze suddenly intent. “Is that what that was?”
“What?” Ulric asked.
“A few days ago, I felt a . . . pull through the Void. Almost like a plea?” Zanya sought Aleksi’s gaze. “Someone that my heart recognized needed something, so the Void answered.”
“And Isa was trapped there,” Ash murmured. “So it . . . what? Returned her at Aleksi’s request?”
“A literal hole opened up,” Aleksi explained. “And she fell out of it.”
For once, Elevia seemed at a loss for words. Finally, she breathed, “Well. That’s a neat trick.”
“Not exactly.” They wouldn’t like it, but they deserved to hear all of it, didn’t they?
“I was in terrible shape,” Aleksi admitted.
“My body was trying to fight off the poison, and losing the battle. In my mind, all I could see were the repercussions—of my death, and of my failure to make a firm ally of Gwynira. So . . . yes. It wasn’t a conscious plea, but it was a plea, all the same. ”
Zanya smiled shakily, then pressed her fingers to her lips. “I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but the Void would never ignore a cry for help from my big brother.”