Chapter Twenty-Three – Scarlett
Chapter Twenty-Three
Scarlett
I strode through the banquet hall, delighting in the way the nobles parted for me like they had once parted for my father and brothers. They were all staring – whispering, too – but I welcomed the attention.
It felt exhilarating to be seen . Not as a toothless, ceremonial princess – but as a military commander, deserving of respect. And fear .
For once, I made no attempt to avoid Empress Ivalene’s former ladies, instantly recognisable by their fine gowns and insipid smiles. I walked right over and waited for them to fall into curtsies. Lady Verne, my old etiquette teacher, was the first to straighten. The first to dare to meet my gaze.
‘I’m surprised to see you in attendance tonight,’ I said conversationally, plucking a goblet of wine from a nearby refreshment table. ‘I thought you would be too busy packing.’
Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead. ‘Packing, Your Highness?’
‘Oh, I assumed Zandri would have told you.’ I swirled my goblet, not bothering to look at the other ladies as I said, ‘I’ve decided to exile Ivalene to the Red Dunes – along with her former ladies. Which I suppose means all of you.’
Lady Verne’s face whitened to the shade of curdled milk. ‘T-to the Red Dunes, Your Highness?’
‘I needed to choose somewhere isolated. I can’t have her causing problems in my court.
After all, she helped Cassius murder Emperor Kalias.
’ At least, that was the story Zandri had instructed her Masks to circulate, so she had an excuse to lock Ivalene up in the first place.
‘Who knows what lengths she will descend to if left unchecked?’
Beneath her carefully polite mask, I knew that Lady Verne was cursing my name.
But the knowledge of what my mother had done to Cassius’s loyal supporters no doubt stilled her tongue.
Being shipped off to a remote corner of the Western Lands was a better alternative than being sentenced to the dungeons – or fighting for her life in the arena.
‘Your Highness,’ a matronly woman interjected, ‘what does Prince Roran have to say about this? Surely such a crucial decision can wait until after he is crowned.’
Though her words were respectful, she watched me with a sharp gaze. The other ladies stiffened as they waited for my response.
After setting my goblet back on the banquet table, I said, ‘Should my brother survive his campaign in Kalure and become emperor, he can overturn my decision. Until then, Ivalene will have to embrace her new life in the desert. With such devoted ladies by her side, I’m sure the transition will be a smooth one. ’
‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Lady Verne said with a stiff curtsy. The others murmured their assent.
‘I wish you all a safe journey,’ I told them. ‘Remember to pack your coolest clothes – the heat is at a record high this year.’
I turned on my heel with a thin smile. Laughing without a word.
‘How long?’ one of the ladies burst out. I glanced over my shoulder, noting that it was a younger woman who spoke. I didn’t recognise her; she must have been a recent appointment to Empress Ivalene’s ladies. ‘How long do you intend to banish us? Surely not forever.’
‘Of course not,’ I said, and the woman looked relieved. ‘Only until Roran is officially crowned and orders you back to court – or until your mistress dies. Whichever comes first.’
I wondered how long it would be until they grew tired of all that heat and isolation and their demanding mistress. Surely at least one of these ladies had a hint of steel buried beneath their manners and their pedigree – enough to abandon Ivalene in the desert or slip some poison into her glass.
I felt no guilt at the possibility. Ivalene would have killed me a hundred times over if she could have; as it was, she had given Roran free rein to terrorise me as a child, not caring that he also turned his cruelty on Cassius.
It seemed only fitting that I pay her back for everything we had endured.
Striding away, I made a beeline for the dais – where Zandri was entertaining a few of the more useful nobles. But before I could reach her, Aric stepped into my path.
‘You’re in a good mood,’ he observed, his dark eyes twinkling.
‘I’ll be in an even better one when we leave for the arena,’ I said, smiling up at him from beneath my lashes. ‘Care to escort me?’
‘Won’t your admirers mind?’
I raised a brow, not understanding at first. When I did, I had to suppress the urge to laugh.
‘They’re not looking at me,’ I told him. A steady stream of noblemen had vied for my attention earlier, but I’d long since dismissed them, and our current audience was made up of mostly women. ‘They’re looking at you – the youngest and most handsome general in the last few decades.’
‘Only the last few decades?’ Aric’s smirk was positively wicked.
I looked him brazenly up and down. He really should wear courtly clothes more often; with his broad shoulders and athletic build, he was easily one of the most handsome men in attendance.
‘The youngest and most handsome general in Ravalian history,’ I amended, linking my arm through his. ‘No wonder so many women are scowling at me. But they can’t have you. You’re all mine.’
Aric didn’t object to that, though he might have if he’d seen the disapproval in Zandri’s lingering stare. I pretended not to notice. Tonight was for me. Tonight, I made the rules.
But as I left the hall with Aric, I could have sworn I heard Zandri’s voice follow me out.
Didn’t you learn your lesson with Severin? her insidious voice whispered. Aric will never love you. No one will.
No one, except me .
I reclined in the box seat that had been reserved for Emperor Kalias, which afforded me the best possible view of the fighting matches.
Zandri and Aric were in positions of honour at my side. Lillian would have been welcome too, but she had opted not to attend. Instead, a few of Aric’s lieutenants lined the nearby seats, and some of Zandri’s most treasured Masks.
I had to hand it to my mother: she had outdone herself. The fighters were all evenly matched, and there was a steady stream of them – members of Cassius’s so-called court pitted against each other.
It was just a pity Roran wasn’t here to see this. But he would know soon enough.
I hoped his spies told him that I had claimed the seat belonging to the rightful ruler of Ravalia. And that my opening speech had been so well received that the crowd had cheered for a full three minutes.
Zandri grew bored as the matches continued, her attention drifting. In contrast, Aric seemed to grow steadily tenser.
I tried not to hold his reaction against him. Aric was Ravalian, but he’d grown up away from the capital and our more bloodthirsty traditions. Still, as my senior general, he should set an example for the others.
Nearby, his lieutenants were getting into the spirit of the evening: I heard the clinking of coins pass between them as they betted on the outcome. But even they frowned as one of the prisoners hurled his sword – not at his opponent, but at the sand.
This happened occasionally. Even with their freedom as an incentive, not all prisoners wished to fight.
And these two . . . well, in another life they might have been friends. I wondered if they regretted throwing their lot in with Cassius now.
The Warriors encircling the arena looked at me, awaiting my order. A single nod was all it would take, and this man would be killed or dragged back to the cells, his opponent matched with a different prisoner.
I held up a hand instead, content to watch this play out. Self-preservation was a powerful motivator.
The two men were similar in height and build. Their main differences were their hair colours – and their enthusiasm. The blond man swung at his disarmed opponent, forcing him to retreat until his back was against the arena wall. I leant forward, not wanting to miss a second.
What a delightful punishment this was. Far better than execution, or allowing them to languish in the dungeons.
The blond man landed another hit – this time with his fist rather than his sword. He was drawing this out for the benefit of the crowd, as his opponent should have been doing.
‘You can stop this,’ Aric said quietly next to me. ‘If he doesn’t want to fight–’
‘It doesn’t matter if he wants to,’ I replied, watching the dark-haired man intently. ‘He will.’
The crowd was shouting, yelling at the blond to finish it. But he knew this was a show, and he knew that the audience wouldn’t free him unless they were suitably entertained.
His punches kept coming.
The dark-haired man was bruised and bloodied, but with every strike, his body became tenser – a cobra coiled to spring. And sure enough, when the blond drew back his fist for the next punch, the dark-haired man grabbed his hand and twisted .
What happened next was entirely predictable, but it still succeeded in taking the crowd by surprise. Shocked cries erupted as the dark-haired man disarmed his opponent and ran him through.
I watched him stumble backwards as the blond crumpled to the ground, the sword still in his stomach. The crowd’s shouts gave way to silence. But their silence was just another death sentence.
His mistake was not making it a show. If he had drawn it out, I might have been merciful. As it was . . .
‘Take him back to the dungeons,’ I instructed the Warriors in a carrying voice. ‘He fights again tomorrow.’
The hatred in the man’s face sapped any enjoyment from the proceedings. I leant back in my seat with a sigh.
‘You did well,’ Zandri murmured, but I wasn’t looking at my mother. I was looking at Aric.
Though he met my gaze, it would have been kinder if he hadn’t. I saw the opposite sentiment reflected in his eyes.
I can’t overturn centuries of tradition in one night , I wanted to tell him. That’s just not how it works.
But Aric was already refocusing on the arena, watching my Warriors drag the body across the sand. Too quietly for Zandri to hear, he murmured without looking at me, ‘During the parade, you said that you didn’t want your subjects to fear you. Decisions like this ensure that they do.’
Zandri would say that it was better to be feared by my subjects. That their fear was another kind of protection. But I thought of the trembling woman during the parade, and I wasn’t so sure.
Trumpets rang through the stands – a sound that heralded a royal arrival. For a brief, delirious second, I thought that Emperor Kalias was approaching. Then I saw the black armour, and shock flooded into me like ice.
Zandri stood in a fluid movement, shielding me bodily from view. Despite our disagreement, Aric did the same.
‘I didn’t think he would come here,’ I said, reaching for the dagger strapped to my thigh.
Neither Zandri nor Aric replied. They were so tense that I half expected fighting to break out in the stands. But my Warriors let the small procession pass, tens of thousands of eyes following the imposing figure in black armour. A helmet concealed his face – but I was certain this was Roran.
Who else would come into the heart of Ravalian territory unannounced? Who else would dare ?
When the procession was close, I brushed past Zandri and Aric. I wouldn’t allow Roran to see me cowed.
But it wasn’t Roran I saw when the Warrior removed his helmet.
‘General Harte,’ I said, almost too incensed to speak. ‘What an unexpected surprise. I presume you’ve come to offer yourself up for tonight’s finale? Watching a disgraced former general fight to the death would be suitably dramatic.’
‘A disgraced former general?’ He spat on the obsidian at my feet. ‘I returned to Kalure to fight for my true sovereign, Prince Roran Valerian. Last I checked, he was next in line to rule the Ravalian Empire. Not you.’
Aric raised his sword until it was pointed at General Harte’s chest. The general sneered at the dagger strapped to Aric’s hip – the dagger I had taken from him .
‘You disobeyed a direct order from your princess,’ I reminded him coldly, taking a threatening step closer. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t order your execution right now.’
‘You don’t deserve to rule,’ General Harte said disgustedly.
‘Dismissing and humiliating all your senior generals, all so you can elevate your lover to a position he hasn’t earned and doesn’t deserve.
’ He glowered at Aric, then back at me. ‘It’s a wonder that Roran is willing to show you any mercy. ’
‘I don’t need Roran’s mercy, and I didn’t ask for it. If you think that his protection makes you safe–’
‘Killing me,’ General Harte interrupted, ‘would be tantamount to declaring war. You might be impulsive enough to overlook the consequences, but I doubt your mother is so foolhardy.’
As if to highlight his point, Zandri shook her head at me. A minuscule gesture, but General Harte caught it. He smiled – a smug smile I wanted to carve off his face with my knife.
‘Your brother,’ he continued, ‘congratulates you on your military victory in the Western Lands, and orders that you join him in Kalure. He also requests that you bring additional Warriors and ships to assist in the war against Kasmira Volaris.’
‘Roran’s war has nothing to do with me–’
‘It’s a war that your father started,’ General Harte cut in. ‘You’re duty-bound to honour Emperor Kalias’s last standing orders. And now that the clans have allied with the Volaris girl, your brother requires your assistance. Or are you refusing a direct order from your future emperor?’
My teeth ground together as General Harte’s eyes glittered with dark satisfaction.
I glanced at Zandri, whose expression was unreadable. I knew what she would tell me if she could: committing publicly wasn’t wise. The safer option was to wait and consider my options.
But it was always going to come to this.
For the Ravalian throne to be mine, Roran would have to die. And killing him would be much easier in person.
Before anyone could stop me, I said, ‘I’ll be there. Tell Roran that I’m looking forward to it.’
Without waiting to be dismissed, General Harte strode away. He had an unfortunate habit of turning his back on me, but soon enough, I would have the opportunity to bury a blade in it.
Conscious of everyone’s eyes on me, I reclined in my chair and raised a hand to recommence the fighting matches.
As the next two fighters were led out, I raised my glass in a wordless toast to my brother. Roran wasn’t even in the country, and yet somehow, he had still managed to ruin the celebrations.
But that was alright, because I intended to ruin him.