Chapter 43 #2
Katell hesitated, her fingers curling into the rough fabric of her tunic.
A hundred memories clamoured for attention—painful, jagged moments she struggled to bury.
But as always, there was something about Leywani that made her feel safe, seen.
This was her childhood friend who knew her better than anyone, and so, after exhaling a deep breath, Katell spoke.
She told Leywani about the slavers who had captured her, about Alena’s daring escape with Leukos, and how she’d ended up in Bruna’s pit.
The words spilled out raw and unfiltered—Sinope, Nik, the Samnites, the patrons.
She spoke of the crushing despair, and of the small, stubborn ember of hope that had kept her going.
Talking about it felt strange at first, like reopening an old wound. But as she continued, the weight she’d carried since Dodona began to lighten. She hadn’t shared herself so openly in a long time—not even with Dorias.
Leywani listened, her attention never leaving Katell. When Katell finished, Leywani placed a hand over her heart—a silent offering of comfort, the closest she could manage with the distance between them.
Then, softly at first, Leywani began to sing.
It was Katell’s favourite: the Freefolk song from the Moon festival. The familiar melody filled the cell, weaving through the cracks in the stone and softening the oppressive air. In that moment, it was the most beautiful sound Katell had ever heard.
The song wrapped around her like a long-lost embrace, stirring something deep within her chest. She hugged her knees close, her breathing shaky as warm tears spilled down her cheeks.
Images of her past assailed her—Alena’s face, younger and brighter; her laugh echoing in the back of Katell’s mind, a ghost from another life.
The ache of her sister’s absence welled, filling Katell with a raw emptiness she’d tried to ignore for so long.
And now, it was too late.
A half-moon appeared through the small window high in their cell. Katell stared at its silver light, and another face came to mind—one framed by a teasing smile.
If you ever need help, Kat, just send word, and I’ll come. No matter what.
“You can’t beat them, you idiot,” she whispered to the moon. “Stay safe and look after Alena for me.”
A distant door groaned open, the harsh echo bouncing off the stone walls like a warning, and Leywani fell silent.
Heavy footsteps followed, accompanied by the metallic jangle of armour.
The dim corridor ahead flickered to life.
Guards in rich purple cloaks entered, their torches casting long, dancing shadows across the walls.
Katell got to her feet, heart hammering as the guards lined the hallway. Then came Dorias, striding between the ranks. His familiar legate armour gleamed in the torchlight, but it was not his presence that sent a chill down Katell’s spine—it was the man who followed him, surrounded by more guards.
Tall and imposing, he wore a magnificent purple tebenna adorned with gold threads that shimmered with every step. Rings glinted on his fingers, their weight a testament to his power. The circlet of golden leaves resting upon his brow left no doubt as to who he was—the Emperor.
Icy dread coiled in Katell’s stomach. This was no ordinary visit. This was something far worse.
Dorias came to a halt before her cell, his movements crisp as he inclined his head towards the approaching figure.
The Emperor stepped into the torchlight, his presence commanding the narrow corridor.
Katell had heard the stories—of his victories, his cunning, his ruthlessness.
Yet he didn’t look as old as she’d expected.
Though he had to be nearing fifty, his strong frame and sharp features gave him a vitality that rivalled men half his age.
His wavy black hair framed a face marked by a lifetime of battles and power.
Bushy brows arched over piercing eyes that seemed to strip away every defence, while a thick, well-groomed beard covered his jaw, lending him an air of unyielding authority.
This was the man who had crushed the Rebel Queen—her mother—at Kendrisia. The man whose name alone inspired fear and obedience.
He stopped before the iron bars, expression unreadable. His gaze flicked briefly to Leywani before settling on Katell, sharp and calculating, like a predator sizing up prey.
“So,” he said, his tone edged with contempt, “this is she? Laran’s Chosen?”
“Yes, Imperator,” Dorias replied in a clipped tone.
Katell met the Emperor head-on, refusing to lower her head or show the slightest trace of weakness.
“And she can summon the Makhai?” the Emperor asked. “You’re certain of it?”
Before Dorias could answer, Katell stepped forward, her chains clinking as she moved. “Why don’t you take off these dampeners,” she said, keeping calm despite the fury simmering beneath, “and I’ll show you exactly what I can do?”
The room tensed. The guards stiffened, hands moving to their weapons. One barked, “Silence!”
Dorias shot her a warning look, but Katell ignored him. She was done playing by their rules.
She met the Emperor’s stare, her defiance resolute.
This was the man who’d torn apart families, enslaved entire regions, and crushed rebellions under his heel.
The man responsible for so much suffering.
The one who had spun an elaborate web, pulling countless lives into his schemes—all to get to her.
The Emperor raised a hand to stop his guards. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s lashing out because she’s afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Katell shot back.
The Emperor’s lips thinned, and his eyes gleamed with an arrogance so thick it suffocated the room. “Perhaps you should be. Do you know who I am?”
Katell raised an eyebrow, the implication clear. Did he honestly think she was that na?ve?
“I am Emperor Caius Tarquinius, ruler of the greatest Empire the world has ever known,” he began.
“A direct descendant of the Great King Tarquinius, the first ruler of Rasenna. And I am not simply the Emperor, child—I am the most powerful man you will ever encounter. I hold the lives of thousands in my palms, and I can do as I wish, when I wish.”
His tone darkened, a flash of ruthless delight cutting across his expression. “I could snap my fingers, and my guard would kill you where you stand. I could order them to slit your throat—or better yet, slit your pretty friend’s throat instead.”
Katell ground her teeth but said nothing. He wanted her to cower in fear, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
He continued, his voice gaining strength with each word.
“You lash out at me because you’re afraid.
You have no power here. You are nothing but a pawn, thrust onto the stage by the whim of Laran, granted a fraction of his magic.
No choice of your own, no reason. You’ve been elevated from the masses, lifted from whatever miserable shithole you were born into, and you dare to spit in the face of fortune? ”
Katell let out a short, sharp exhale, her shoulders stiffening. “Why am I here?”
He laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the cell. “You heard us, didn’t you? The only reason you’re still alive is because you can summon the Makhai. And that power is exactly what we need.”
Katell clenched her fists, her pulse quickening with the weight of his words. “Why?”
“You haven’t earned the right to that answer.”
“For war, then?” she pressed, her mind racing. “Against the Achaeans? The Westerners?”
“Both.” His tone was flat, as though the question were beneath him.
Katell refused to back down. She tilted her head, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her lips, one she’d seen Nik wear a thousand times when he was toying with someone.
“Well, you’re out of luck. Because I can’t fully summon the Makhai.
I don’t have enough magic. So you’ll have to find someone else to do your dirty work. ”
The corridor went silent. The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, a darkness settling over his features, and for the first time, fear slithered in Katell’s gut like a cold serpent.
Then the Emperor’s command sliced through the stillness. “Open the door.”
One of the guards, his face shadowed by his helmet, stepped forward and unlocked it. The Emperor strode in, flanked by more guards, with Dorias trailing behind.
Tarquinius didn’t pause, his focus fixed on Katell. “Dalmatius was right,” he muttered. “You have the spirit of Laran running through your veins.”
Before she could react, his hand shot out, seizing her throat with brutal force.
He shoved her against the cold brick wall, his grip tightening until it squeezed the air from her lungs.
She clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin.
Panic surged, her chest heaving against a void that gave no air.
Black spots bloomed at the edges of her vision.
The dampeners smothered her magic, leaving her powerless.
For the first time, she felt like prey caught in the jaws of a predator, her strength stripped away.
“Tell me,” Tarquinius sneered, “how will it feel when we crush that spirit so thoroughly, so completely, that you’ll be nothing more than a mindless puppet—your only purpose to carry out my orders?
” His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
“How will it feel when you summon the Makhai at my command, watching as they decimate entire armies that dare to defy me? How will it feel when you massacre every single Achaean rebel… including your sister?”
Katell’s fury exploded. She lashed out, knocking the Emperor’s hand from her throat, and swung at his face.
But she never landed the blow. A guard surged forward, slamming her to the stone floor.
The impact jarred her bones, and then the strikes came—hard, merciless, each one driving the air from her chest until her body curled in on itself, gasping and trembling beneath the assault.
“Imperator.” Dorias’ voice broke through the haze. Strangely, there was a flicker of concern in it—an edge she hadn’t expected. Rage seared through her harder than the blows. She didn’t want his pity or help.
She wanted blood.
Leywani’s muffled sobs cut through the guard’s fists raining down on her, a stark reminder of the helplessness surrounding them—and what Katell still stood to lose.
“Imperator,” Dorias said again, his tone more desperate this time.
“That’s enough,” came Tarquinius’ command.
Dorias grabbed the guard by the arm, hauling him back with a harsh yank. “For fuck’s sake, Velthur.”
Katell gritted her teeth, forcing herself to sit up despite her body aching under the blows. Blood trickled from her lip, down her chin. She let the corner of her mouth curl into a crooked smirk. Then, with all the contempt she could muster, she spat a dark streak of blood at the guard’s feet.
The guard stiffened, but before he could react, the Emperor’s voice cut through the tension. “Bring her to the pool.”
Dorias’ brow creased, hesitation breaking through his mask of obedience. “Imperator… She’s injured. Surely this can wait—”
“The pool. Now.” He swept from the cell without a backwards glance, his cloak whispering against the stone, guards filing after him. “And bring her friend.”