Chapter eleven
The emperor must have known I wasn’t going to run from him again when we walked quietly back to the war camp.
He didn’t grab my arm or put a hand behind my back to ensure I followed him; he merely strolled ahead, shoulders back.
His confidence sent boiling rage coursing through my body.
The moon was well above us by the time he brought me to Camilla’s tent.
He turned around and held my gaze.
He was more than a head taller than me, so my neck craned to meet his scrutiny.
“The others wouldn’t have been so kind,”
he whispered.
My eyes fluttered to anywhere but his scrutiny, knowing he most likely felt the heat burning my cheeks.
I rushed into Camilla’s tent, and I didn’t have to look up to know he was walking back toward his tent.
He was right.
Gods, he was so right.
In that moment, I sent a prayer to Altis, hoping Klawdia wasn’t dead.
My heart ached for what could or perhaps had already happened.
I crumpled in my usual corner while Camilla lightly snored in her bed.
I never thought I would say this, but I missed the cot that I shared with Kryst and Brijet.
My head was spinning.
I was sick to my stomach, and not just from the lack of food I’d had the last few days.
Not to mention the emperor’s actions didn’t make any sense.
He and his own warriors were the cause of my pain and suffering, so why did he keep his own warriors from finding me?
The morning came and with it the pouring of the sky, the cleansing of the ages.
I knew that the gods above were in mourning for those who died brutally at the hands of these foreign warriors.
Pathways were running rivers with murky water.
The entirety of my clothes leached onto my body. My hair clung to my skin and clothes. The captives and servants were gathered deep in the center of the camp far from where I tried to escape the night before with Klawdia.
Speaking of the actual devil, in the middle guarded by several warriors with red sashes along with their leather armor, was Klawdia.
Her arms were tied around a large wood pole that was dug deep in the mud.
Her face was more colorful than it was the night before.
My stomach twisted. Poor girl. Just as the emperor said, she was to be a lesson for all who disobeyed.
Warriors, captives, and servants all gathered around Klawdia.
I could tell they were servants because they weren’t treated like they were an enemy.
I saw them as they helped with the cooks.
They spoke to the warriors as if they were on the same side, which they were.
Alongside me was Maeri.
We’d given each other a few kind glances and silent words since our village was seized.
It was nice to have a familiar face so far from home.
She was slightly taller than most women and had sharp but stunning facial features. Regardless of how intense she looked, there was something warm about Maeri. On my other side was a cook, most likely the same one that gave the extra servings to Klawdia the day before. She was plumper than the rest of the servants and had soft facial features with a pout to her lips. With narrowed eyes, she kept her intense gaze on Klawdia.
“The emperor would never allow this in our homeland.”
The cook clicked her tongue and shook her head in disappointment.
Maeri and I glanced at each other, making sure we heard the same words.
“The emperor wouldn’t allow this?”
Maeri asked for the both of us.
The cook faced us with her brows furrowed.
“Of course.”
She stared as if we should have already known this.
The cook released her brows as realization washed over her, and her eyes softened.
“This is not his doing.”
“Then why doesn’t he stop this from happening, Finny?”
Maeri questioned.
“Because this is the doing of the Strokan’s emperor, Malakar—the Emperor of Emperors.
He has power everywhere even if you can’t see it,”
Finny whispered as she nervously looked about.
“He is the one who is behind all of this.”
She waved her hand around the camp, towards Klawdia.
“And he controls the emperors who govern his territories.
He is fear itself.”
I glanced at Maeri once more.
If this was the doing of Stroka’s emperor, Malakar, then who was this emperor here with us? Who was the emperor that led these warriors?
Finny glanced to where Klawdia was thrown to the ground and on her knees.
I could only imagine what last night looked like for her.
Her eyes were swollen shut, but I saw tears rolling down her face.
Klawdia shook her head as she looked up, begging the warriors to stop and release her. My chest ached, and it was getting harder to breathe watching her suffer.
“This captive tried to escape in the night and for that, she’ll receive thirty lashes!”
one of the warriors walking around Klawdia said to the crowd.
The sounds of gasps and whispers spread amongst the people.
My face turned in the direction my eyes felt pulled to, and they met the emperor’s to the side of the gathering, near us.
He wore a dark hood and cloak that protected his body from the rain.
He leaned on one of the large sturdy tents, and his arms crossed against his chest as he locked eyes with mine.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
That could have been me.
“Who is he?”
Maeri followed my gaze and asked no one in particular.
Finny answered Maeri.
“He is the emperor of Siniya.
My emperor, Aris.”
She looked back at Klawdia.
“He is bound by servitude, as are the rest of the emperors from the east, to Malakar.
Emperor Aris is forced to fight Stroka’s battles as Malakar’s best weapon against his conquests.”
My world shifted.
This wasn’t completely Emperor Aris’ doing, I processed, possibly not at all.
Was that why he protected me against other warriors that were not, in fact, his own?
Klawdia’s shrieks broke into my thoughts as she took her first lash.
My face crumpled as I heard her piercing cries with each lash.
Her dress was becoming bloody shreds.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t look anymore. The guilt swallowed me whole, and my heart squeezed in my chest.
It should have been me.
The silver rain was relentless as it poured from the dark sky and into the arena.
We barely heard anything else besides its heavy drops and the screams that left Klawdia’s blood-stained lips.
Aris’ jaw hardened, and his nostrils flared as he watched every lash given to Klawdia.
“Isn’t there anything he can do to stop this?”
Maeri asked the cook.
“They would not listen even if he tried.
Those are not his warriors.
Aris is only here to ensure the conquest of these western lands for Malakar.
The girl is Malakar’s prisoner.”
“Where will we go? Who do we belong to?”
Maeri whispered the question I’d been wondering since we were taken.
Finny tore her eyes from Klawdia, who had received her final lash, and regarded Maeri with sadness.
“You belong to Malakar.
Aris does not take captives, from what I have seen.”
I stared off into the distance, my trembling hand reaching my throat.
“Where will we go?”
Maeri croaked, her voice rough and heavy.
Finny shook her head, eyes softening.
“I’m not sure, child.
Most of the captives will stay here where the new Stroka land will be built.
People like you are not common in Siniya.
As I said, Aris mostly has servants, those he pays for their work and have freedom to do as they please.”
I began to tremble, and it wasn’t from the rain, the cold wind, or the cracking lashes.
Once the warriors left Klawdia in the rain, her arms drooped around the stake, knees in the puddled ground, looking completely demoralized.
The cook uncrossed her arms and trudged through the mud toward Klawdia.
I wasn’t sure if she was conscious anymore, but the extra herbs in my pocket should help the swelling on her bleeding back.
When I began to follow Finny’s footsteps to help Klawdia, I was pulled back by one of the warriors.
They took ahold of Maeri as well.
We were pushed towards the front of the camp by a group of warriors dragging only a handful of us: Maeri, another slave, and myself.
I could barely see which path we were taking as it was hard to see through the pouring rain and the sound it made in my ears.
Were they taking us back to the villages—to the new Stroka? Glancing behind me, their sizes were intimidating; just the weight of one of their bodies could crush me to death.
Their faces held vacant stares that sent a shiver down my spine.
I swallowed.
They were not men. They were beasts.
The path we walked between the white tents finally came to a clearing at the front camp, and there were large horses, carts, and warriors scattered around.
They were preparing to head out.
Emperor Aris appeared, trotting on a large white horse towards the warriors that surrounded us.
The rain slid along his tan arms and face, glistening with every drop.
His horse didn’t seem to enjoy the rain with his hooves stomping in the mud.
Once we came to a stop, I realized that the warriors who guarded us had a wolf insignia on their sheathed swords.
One of the warriors bowed his head.
“My Lord.”
“Kallen,”
Aris greeted, shouting through the rain.
“We head out now.
The rain will continue to pour.
The storm’s coming in strong.
Gather up the rest.”
“Yes, Emperor Aris.”
Kallen nodded.
Aris rode off to where I imagined the front was, the white horse kicking mud behind him.
His legion seemed to span for miles ahead.
Finny, the cook, met us at the end of the legion.
She seemed surprised to see Maeri and I again.
With her hand on the horse’s reins, she led a cart full of supplies near us.
“Where are we heading to?”
Maeri dared ask Finny near the warriors.
The cook looked up to us, but it was the warrior, Kallen near me who answered.
“You’ll be going to Siniya with us.”
He clicked his horse to follow his pace.
“I thought the emperor did not take captives,”
Maeri whispered to him.
The warrior gave us a blank stare.
“Malakar insisted he take some back to Siniya, to help establish the prisoners equally across the empire.
If you’re lucky enough in a few years, Aris could grant your freedom like he has done for many in the past through servitude.
But it would be an insult or rebellious to Malakar if Aris rejected you all.”
I belonged to Malakar, and he gave me to Aris.
At this point, I wanted to vomit from how much I had been passed around.
Kallen continued.
“He’s taking as few of you as he possibly can without upsetting Malakar—he’s not someone you want to rattle.”
“What will happen to the rest of us?”
Maeri asked.
“Nothing good happens in Stroka.
Those who survive the journey could be used for labor in Stroka.
Some of them will be left in prison camps, but most...
I’m afraid most die from the conditions they put them in Stroka.”
After a moment, I realized that Kallen wore slightly different attire than the warriors I’d noticed around the camp.
He still had leather straps across his chest, still looked like a beast with massive arms, unwashed long hair, but different somehow.
I couldn’t place my finger on it.
“Where are you from?”
Maeri asked.
“Siniya.”