by TR Cameron
Danna sighed. “No, New Orleans isn’t. But other things are.” The sight of Usha running into view distracted her. The look on her friend’s face was pained as the shielded fight with the girl was the last resort. At this point, unless they killed Leblanc, they had lost the city. The Champion of New Atlantis had become a non-factor in her own fate, which the woman would not handle well. Her second in command tilted her head in the direction of the road. Her friend nodded and ran to safety since she no longer had the ability to change the outcome.
“How about the lives of those we’ve captured, rather than killing them?” the girl asked. “If you surrender now, they live.”
She laughed. “Please, Matriarch. We both know you won’t kill them, so why pretend any different? No, this is it. You and me for the prize of the city.”
A frustration equal to Usha’s had settled on Caliste’s face. “Why? Why do all this?” She gestured around them. “If it was going to come down to this, why risk all those people?”
“That’s a good question.” It is, actually. “I guess the best answer is because that’s how it’s done in New Atlantis—how it’s always been done. You’re the leader of a noble house. You know how tradition works down there.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like this.”
Danna shrugged. “Maybe over time, you or other matriarchs or patriarchs can make a change and start some new traditions. But for now, this is what we have.”
Her opponent’s face changed and hardened as she accepted the inevitability of their battle. “I suppose incapacitation won’t do?”
“Not on my part.”
She nodded. “Okay, wench. Bring it.”
The Atlantean second in command clearly couldn’t be reasoned with. She was as combative and martial as Cali had ever seen her. Her slicked-back hair left her face looking even more angular and severe than usual. The suits that normally only hinted at the form beneath had hidden her muscular build, which was obvious in her fitted black leather armor. It covered her from neck to toe and looked rather similar to what Nylotte wore, and it would doubtless include both magical and physical protection as well.
She had no idea what was at work in the other woman’s mind. With her allies defeated or run off, there seemed to be little value in continuing the fight. Her connection with Fyre was still present but muted through the shield, which made it her least reliable backup plan. She had more power in the sword, two energy draughts, and two and a half healing potions. Plus a few extra toys that she’d prefer to hold in reserve in case the Malniets had eyes on this battle. If the situations were reversed, she would have paid good money for a preview of her prospective opponents’ abilities.
The shield that surrounded them was an unexpected twist, but she couldn’t be overly unhappy about it. At least now, her allies were safe—assuming they’d won their individual battles. She reached into Defender to initiate the connection that would allow her to pull magic and sensed the presences of those who had put their essences into the sword. This time, there were far more than only the two she had previously faced, all willing to support her needs.
Danna tapped the thumb sides of her fists together and drew them apart slowly. Her ice spear formed and extended to a blade at both ends. These had cutting surfaces at four angles that tapered into a point. Cali had seen the weapon before and Tanyith had reported that it was doubly pointy. Facing it now, she judged he had significantly understated the situation. She summoned her fighting stick to her left hand and held Defender at the ready in her right.
Her enemy gave her a final nod, darted in, and led with the point of her spear. Cali brought her sword around to block from the outside in, twirled away from the thrusting point, and whipped her stick in a backhand slash, her spine against the icy staff. A burst of force shoved her forward when she touched the weapon, and she staggered several feet before she made a quick shuffle to her right and whirled to face her foe.
The action wasn’t a second too soon. Her sword deflected the spear point enough out of line that it didn’t pierce her uniform shoulder but scraped up and over it instead. Danna followed with a front kick that she blocked automatically with a raised foot. She threw her stick at the other woman, who jerked her head to the side to avoid it. With a slight grin, she recalled it and the returning weapon smacked Danna in the back of the head. The blow lacked power but was enough to break her concentration.
Cali raced forward and chopped down with her sword. Her foe blocked it with a twirl of the staff and swished the bottom at her skull. She dropped under it and turned the dodge into a leg sweep, but the Atlantean leapt over it and backpedaled out of range.
She rose warily, ready for the next attack. Danna provided it an instant later when she circled left and thrust repeatedly with the spear to force her to focus on block after block. As soon as a pattern was created, the other woman broke it, stabbed once, and immediately repeated the thrust. Cali managed an X-block to stop the weapon, but the cascade of lightning that surged out of the tip savaged her. She jerked and twitched as she backpedaled and tried to absorb the magic like Nylotte had taught her.
Mostly, she failed and focused instead on not toppling as her enemy flowed into another assault. She sent her will into the sword in search of assistance, and Defender replied. The electricity was sucked into the blade, which glowed bright blue after the influx. She slashed it upward with a shout of relief and it met the ice spear a foot from her nose. Danna’s weapon shattered and shrapnel scattered everywhere, exactly as the trident had done before. This time, she couldn’t say the word to activate her shield fast enough and collapsed with shards of metal in her face. She struggled to breathe and fumbled at her thigh pouch for her healing potion.
Fyre sent her strength, which was all that enabled her to remain conscious. Another hand caught hers before it could find the potion she needed to survive. She threw her other fist up in a weak punch and her opponent caught it as she crouched over her stomach. Danna stared into her eyes from above. She had also been injured, her face sliced in a dozen places that welled blood. She shook her head.
“You’re a worthy foe, Caliste Leblanc. I can’t possibly end your story now if only because there’s a tiny chance your allies will catch me before I can escape. Give me your word that you’ll let me go and you get to live.”
Cali nodded and tried to speak but couldn’t. Her adversary returned the nod. “Close enough.” She removed the healing flask from the girl’s thigh pouch and dribbled a few drops into her mouth, then wrapped her hand around it so she could continue without her help. She stood and shouted, “You heard?”
When the girl turned her head, Zeb held his battle-ax like he intended to destroy the world with it but nodded. “We heard. Get out.” After a shimmer of magic and a rustle of movement, Fyre was on one side of her and Zeb on the other. The dwarf helped her swallow more potion and sit. After the wave of weirdness that always accompanied rapid healing had faded, she started to laugh.
Nylotte’s voice was long-suffering. “What are you laughing at now, Caliste?”
The sound made her laugh harder. “Oh, nothing. Only that we won. The Atlanteans lost. And I learned how to ask the sword for what I need and have it listen. The Malniets don’t stand a chance.”
Chapter Twelve
Shenni scowled at Gwyn as the seneschal extended the formal robe that was unquestionably the appropriate choice given the day’s tasks. “Is that necessary?”
The other woman shook her head with a soft sigh. “Yes, Empress, you know it is.” This was doubtless a tone she had used with her children in the past and it held traces of love and exasperation.
As the oldest child and heir of House Rivette, her parents had been good to her. She’d grown up in relative luxury but with a practical edge. Her family knew their place in the hierarchy of the Nine wasn’t assured and that as one of the smaller houses, they would have to fight for prominence again and again. Well, I certainly exceeded their expectations.
With a
sigh in response, the Empress extended her arms so her two valets could put her in the garment. She’d already endured the ministrations of hair and makeup specialists and now, only one thing remained to do. When she nodded at Gwyn, the other woman moved to the locked cabinet in her dressing room. It required spells and keys to permit entry and once opened, revealed her royal accessories.
The seneschal donned the ceremonial leather gloves hanging on the door as only the monarch was permitted to touch the objects with bare skin. She handed them to her one by one. First, the necklace, which was gold adorned with rubies and sapphires that sparkled in red and blue with the stylized shark that denoted House Rivette hanging as a pendant. Second came the crown, which was made of a simple gold circlet with diamonds all around. Finally, the scepter was a long thin tube with a sphere on the top made of gold and adorned with pearls.
Once that process was complete, it was time to move. Gwyn opened the main doors and preceded her into the outer room and into the hall, where she motioned for a squad of guards to move ahead of them. Another two fell into place behind her as she strode past, and two more took position outside the entrance to her private chambers to ensure no one accessed them while she was away.
The walk to the throne room was not lengthy, although it seemed that way, burdened as she was with both the physical and emotional weights of the monarchy. She banished the latter in cadence with each step and transformed from Shenni, who was allowed to feel, into the Empress of New Atlantis, who most definitely was not. By the time they reached the throne room and she walked the scarlet carpet, her face was impassive and fully controlled. A small throng of people bowed on each side as she strode through the center. At the top of the stairs, she deposited the scepter into its holder, turned, and took her place on the oversized throne.
She sent a telepathic message to Gwyn, and the woman nodded and gestured at the doors, which had closed behind them. The attendants pulled them inward again to reveal the matriarch of House Cormier and the patriarch of House Malniet standing beside one another. She smiled at them with parental condescension. They strode forward slowly, their chins high, and basked in the attention from the courtiers to either side who had been brought there at this moment for that specific purpose.
The event was, quite literally, the least Shenni could do. She had no time for anything more with the power arrangement in her city in flux. Nor did she have the will to celebrate the union any more publicly than this. Styrris hadn’t earned it. Once he’d done his part and rid them of House Leblanc, then and only then would she consider hosting the celebration she’d promised him. He’d bucked at the restriction but in the end, he was only one of nine and she was the monarch.
The bride was dressed in Cormier dark-green trimmed with white. Her gown was long and flowing but not so much as to require attendants. That, too, would have to wait for the more public version of the ceremony. Styrris, always elegant, had simply chosen one of his more formal uniforms—shining shoes below black trousers and jacket, a black shirt buttoned to the neck, and a golden jeweled pin at the throat that displayed the wicked hook that represented House Malniet. He strode stiffly, his eyes not on his bride but only on his ruler.
As it should be at this particular moment. His attempt to kill the girl had gone awry, which irritated Shenni. That failure had necessitated that the battle on the surface take place. Although Usha had not yet reported the results of the contest from two nights before, the other informants scattered throughout the gang all told the same tale. Leblanc, against all odds, had won again. If the Empress wished to claim New Orleans for herself, she would have to send an entirely different group to begin rebuilding from the ground up according to the rules.
But once Leblanc falls, perhaps the votes will be right to change those rules. And if not, well, houses are always rising and falling, are they not? Her lips twisted into a small smile as the couple reached the base of the dais, and if the crowd misinterpreted it as being directed at the bride and groom, so much the better. She rose to begin the ceremony.
An hour later, she glided into her office through the rear door in far more comfortable clothes—a simple but elegant suit—and nodded at the newlyweds seated on the opposite side of the large desk. She greeted them as she took her seat. “Less formally but no less genuinely, congratulations. It is always a cause for celebration when the head of one of the nine houses weds and all the more so when two of them do.”
Brielle inclined her head stiffly. Her figure was even thinner than her husband’s, which was saying something. Her mousey brown hair was unimpressive, as was the unhappy expression she wore. Gwyn had discovered that it was indeed a family member further down the Cormier line who had made the deal that handed the woman to Styrris. They would not ascend to lead the house but had a significant influence on the person who would, which worked in the Malniets’ favor.
Plus, having such a young bride will draw envy from people stupid enough to care about such things.
Styrris’s posture—leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled—was one step short of disrespectful. To be fair, that was to be expected. She’d made a deal with him and would continue to string him along until he delivered on his promises. This stopgap solution of a non-public wedding was ostensibly a partial payment of her debt but was more for her purposes. Now, Cormier would have a claim on Malniet if the house fell. It would muddy the waters, and anything that confused the nine was to her benefit. On the other hand, the new connection would also distract Malniet. Another win.
He sighed. “Yes, congratulations indeed. And thank you for delivering on at least one of your commitments, Empress.” His tone took a step over the line separating respect from disrespect, but she decided to let it pass. Unknown to him—or anyone other than her family and Gwyn—the guards stationed at the door were unlike any who had stood in that position before. Today, they were under the mental control of one of her relatives, who was behind the false wall with the archers. They would kill without a thought and even the possibility of thought at her word. Although the Leblanc girl had created some disruption in her family’s research, they had quickly recovered what was lost.
She pressed her lips together in a thin smile. “You’re welcome, of course, Patriarch. But my keen sensibilities tell me you are still dissatisfied.” She chuckled with him as he laughed and leaned forward.
“True, Empress. I recall talk of a celebration and a dowry of some kind. Unless it’s a surprise party, it appears to be absent. I also don’t see a pile of gems in your office.”
Shenni flicked her gaze to Brielle Cormier. The woman looked ill as if the stress of the moment was too much for her to take. Perhaps the relative who sold her to this walking corpse did the right thing for the house. She doesn’t have the backbone to lead if this bothers her. Then, she reconsidered. Or maybe it’s the wedding night that makes her seem like she’s about to collapse. She shuddered. It would do that to me too. She returned her gaze to Styrris and kept her face carefully neutral. “You have not yet fulfilled the terms of our agreement, Patriarch. Surely you don’t imagine I would pay in advance?”
He shrugged. “I could hope.”
“And you can keep on hoping but that won’t make it any more likely. Deliver what you’ve promised and you will have what you seek, but not an instant before. Is that completely clear? I feel like we’ve had this conversation twice now. Bringing it up a third time wouldn’t be good for anyone involved.”
Styrris nodded with a distinct lack of concern. “Very well, Empress. As you say.”
She leaned back with a nod and gestured to Gwyn, who stood against the back wall. The seneschal bustled forward with a tray of drinks already poured—dark rum for each of them—and offered the guests their choice of glass. Shenni took the remaining one and drank from it, proving that she wasn’t attempting to poison her visitors. There are ways, of course. An antidote cleverly applied as the cup is handed to me. Or an immunity built up over time. But now was not the moment to thro
w away the strategic advantage the conflict between Leblanc and Malniet provided.
“So, will you agree to the girl’s terms?” she asked. “A single battle to finish it? It seems as if that suits your purposes best, as well.”
He nodded. “I intend to. Originally, I had planned to have four champions to ensure killing her and her top supporters. However, one is recently unavailable, so it will be three on three.”
Shenni raised an amused eyebrow. “You could always step in, Styrris. I’ve heard you’re quite good with a sword.”
The patriarch straightened a little at the false compliment. “Quite good, perhaps, Empress, but I have no interest in combat with the girl and her lizard. No, I have people for that—people far better than me at dealing death face-to-face.”
Her smile inched a little wider. Patriarch, how bold. I do believe that was a threat. She turned to Brielle. “I wish you the most pleasurable of wedding nights, Matriarch Cormier. I am sure Styrris will not disappoint.” She stood and her guests rose and bowed slightly before they turned and were led out by two guards who entered from the hall.
When the door had closed, Shenni sat again and Gwyn took the seat across from her. The seneschal said, “I don’t envy her.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “She made her bed. Or her family made it for her. If she’s smart, she’ll kill him as soon as she can. A bold move at this time of uncertainty could cause real trouble for his House. She could ally with Leblanc.”
Her companion snorted. “She strikes me as prey rather than predator, Empress.”
Shenni lifted the glass to her lips, drained it, and set the empty crystal vessel gently on the desk. “Prey can be quite dangerous when cornered. I think Patriarch Malniet would be wise to remember that where his new bride is concerned—as well as where his enemy is concerned.”
“Do you think Leblanc is prey?”