The Last Dance: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Scions of Magic Book 8)

by TR Cameron

  You people must think I’m an idiot. He stepped forward and shot lightning to his left and right to catch both of the individuals who stood ready to ambush him. His expression glacial, he maintained the attack until they fell and continued it until they lay motionless.

  Styrris flinched and from behind him, Danna said, “Oh no. Do nothing or you and your lovely wife are dead, right here, right now.”

  The Malniet patriarch smiled. “I invoke my right as a noble to be judged by the Empress.”

  Ozahl sighed. Of course, he knows all the old rules. “That doesn’t protect your wife,” he observed in a conversational tone. And it’s not technically appropriate as you’re not being charged with anything in particular.”

  The older man inclined his head. “Letter of the law, certainly. But the spirit of the law allows it. And, like you’ve said, unless you also kill my wife, there will be a record of the claim. Do you want to bring the palace down on you? Does Leblanc?”

  He laughed and Danna joined him. Styrris looked confused while they indulged in their amusement. When he could finally speak steadily, he replied, “Oh, Caliste didn’t send us. We’re here of our own accord. Now, shut up for a minute or I’ll be forced to render you unconscious.”

  Ozahl stepped back to Danna and covered his mouth with his hand so the captives couldn’t see what he was saying. “Okay, he’s not wrong. And he has a fairly good point about the whole Empress judging principle. We probably don’t want to start our life as nobles by flaunting that particular law, however stupid it might be.”

  She mimicked his posture. “And if Shenni says he can go free?”

  He shrugged. “Then we kill him later. And while we’re at the palace, Usha and our mercenaries will ensure no Malniets remain to support him. We will have defeated them and she won’t be able to refuse our petition to replace them.”

  His partner shook her head. “And why is that better than simply killing them both and waiting it out?”

  “It allows us to meet the Empress from a position of strength and proves to her that we’ve taken over Malniet.”

  After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, when you put it that way, I’m in.”

  He lowered his hand and grinned. “Very well. Let’s all go see Shenni.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As she strode forward in the center of four guards with Gwyn leading the way, Shenni’s mind bounced constantly between several thoughts. It seemed to stick with one until it either ran its course or reached an impasse, only to return to it when the cycle was complete.

  The first was her enduring frustration at the success of House Leblanc. The girl’s parents had been irritating enough that she’d backed the play that drove them from the city. When they’d appeared in New Orleans and began to cause trouble again, she’d been the one to demand their deaths and even loaned her family sword to ensure the success of the endeavor. In retrospect, delivering the pieces of the Leblanc weapon to curry favor with the houses hadn’t been a smart decision.

  Acknowledging a mistake cut that thread off very rapidly. Shenni wasn’t in the mood for negative self-reflection. No, I’m in the mood to take someone’s head off their shoulders. The next thought was that she’d rarely been in this part of the palace, if ever. Her appointment needed complete security, which meant a secret entrance into the building and a chamber in a mostly unused wing. The halls and rooms through which they moved were well-kept but not at the level of the spaces she usually enjoyed. She’d bowed to the moment by throwing on one of her least favorite Empress costumes, a martial styled tunic that reached from her throat to her calves with golden buttons from top to bottom.

  Senseless irritation over that pushed her to the third thought, which was to wonder why she’d ever courted House Malniet in the first place. Gwyn had warned her—gently, of course—and the other woman’s concern that the patriarch was both untrustworthy and too often led by emotion instead of reason had proven valid. “He tries to look big,” her seneschal had observed, “because he feels small,” and those words had proved prophetic.

  Which derailed her onto her fourth thought. What the hell can I do now? Lacking an answer to that put her back into the cycle repeatedly, and she’d grown angrier with each turn through the list of failures. When they arrived at their destination—a room she was told was once part of a love nest for a previous monarch—people were already waiting inside.

  The entire chamber was ringed by guards who held spears, swords, or crossbows at the ready. Her protectors stayed out of the room to avoid messing up sightlines for the bows. She stopped within a couple of paces of the door, which put her about twelve feet away from the others.

  Styrris Malniet, looking as ruffled as she’d ever seen him, sat in one chair. Beside him was his bride, Brielle Cormier, who plainly looked sick. For a moment, Shenni’s heart beat in sympathy with the other woman’s. Then she recalled that the matriarch hadn’t been strong enough to withstand the internal conflict that betrothed her to the Malniet patriarch and the sympathetic moment ended. Their clothes were the same as they’d worn at the arena, which suggested that events had moved fast after that.

  Behind them, dressed in black and looking equal parts pleased and annoyed, stood two people. One she recognized from Usha’s descriptions and a picture she’d shared—Danna, the Atlantean gang’s secondary leader. The other she didn’t know. He was tall with brown hair and piercing eyes, and a sense of confidence radiated from him. The woman possessed the same air, Shenni realized, but she expressed it more subtly.

  In a rare moment of intelligence failure, Gwyn hadn’t been able to discern why these people had requested the immediate audience. The statement that a noble had called for judgment had been enough to set all this in motion without that knowledge, one of the few levers the nobility still possessed to move her to action. It wouldn’t do to ignore centuries of precedent. Besides, she was safe. Even if the newcomers suddenly exploded, the invisible shields her best guards maintained around them would keep everyone but the attackers from injury.

  She nodded at her guests. “Styrris. Brielle. Who are your friends?”

  The former started to speak but a light tap on the back of the head from the man she didn’t know silenced him. The woman said, “I’m Danna. This is Ozahl.”

  Shenni stared at her. “It seems you have a story to tell.”

  The man laughed. “It isn’t a complicated one. Simply put, Malniet is finished. The family line is ended and we have claimed the properties and statuses they once owned since we are the ones who did the ending. You’re looking at your newest nobles, Empress.”

  The revelation was unexpected, although in retrospect, the scene before her should have told her what was coming. There’s so much on my mind, to be fair. She addressed her seneschal. “Gwyn, is there precedent for this?” Styrris tried to speak and was rewarded with a harder slap, which would probably have been her response to the interruption too.

  The older woman nodded. “Yes, Empress. It was more frequent in Old Atlantis but it has happened here as well. If, in fact, they hold the mansion and other family properties and can demonstrate that they do so unchallenged, the holdings would be legally theirs.”

  Shenni smiled at the recently wedded noble couple. “Styrris, I presume you have something to say about this?”

  He cringed a little as he replied, possibly expecting another strike to the back of his head. “Indeed, Empress. You hold the power to reject their ridiculous claim. Kill them now and all will be as it was. Together, we’ll finish Leblanc.”

  Her appearance at the contest had revealed her position regarding that particular house, so she wasn’t worried about the spilled secrets. She could always play it off if the two upstarts decided to make an issue of it. “Gwyn?”

  The seneschal shrugged. “Also true, Empress. While it’s not technically legal, monarchs have unquestionably taken such actions in the past. It carries the advantage of maintaining the current balance among the Nine.” Unsaid was thei
r shared opinion that Styrris had looked for a way to tip that to his advantage for some time, which is what led him to the alliance with Cormier in the person of his bride.

  Outwardly, she kept her face impassive as she appeared to ponder the situation. Internally, she laughed at the sight of the pompous patriarch brought low by a couple of commoners. Like Usha’s, it was a great story. The new arrivals would sow chaos among the nobles for a time, during which she could analyze the changing power structure and find a way to exploit it. The destruction of the Malniet House—one of the longest-tenured and most powerful of the Nine—would result in dramatic repercussions. She couldn’t anticipate them all but was confident she could ride the waves as they appeared.

  She sent a mental message to Gwyn. Do you have an opinion on the matter?

  The other woman’s reply was tinged with a little worry and considerable satisfaction. Styrris is a wretched person. He’s earned this outcome.

  The Empress agreed completely. And yet I probably owe him something, after all. She nodded and focused on the four in front of her. “I won’t intervene in this affair. It is a matter for the nobles. If Malniet is in fact dispossessed, the protocol is clear. In nine days, if you still hold their properties, Malniet will be no more and you will replace them. I suggest you prepare for any number of challenges.” In truth, no one was likely to stand up on the fallen family’s behalf and she didn’t think anyone else was ready to make a move. Plus, the situation would allow for another of her plans to reach fruition. “I will award you a half-hour head start, Styrris, in recognition of what has gone before. I urge you to make your way to safety somewhere other than New Atlantis. Also, before you go, you will give Gwyn the information you owe Leblanc.”

  He sputtered and she raised a hand. “I have spoken and it is so. Gwyn, see him out.” The barriers fell and the guards and seneschal took the patriarch in tow and left the chamber.

  To the remaining three, she said, “I will entertain Matriarch Cormier for the duration. You two can discuss details with Gwyn when she returns. You may wait in the hall.” They nodded and headed to the door, accompanied by yet more guards. Shenni sat beside Brielle. “So, that didn’t work out too well for your house, did it?”

  The other woman sniffed but remained silent, a pained expression on her face. The Empress patted her hand. “There, there. Everyone makes poor decisions sometimes. But maybe we can make this one turn out for the best.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Styrris Malniet had raged internally at his reversal of fortunes for hours, which was how long it had taken him to make his way in secret to his destination. He’d planned ahead for the day when something went wrong and had prepared a bolt hole to hide in, but that was only a temporary solution. Never in his wildest estimation had he imagined such a disaster as he now faced.

  But it’s fixable. I have options. The night had been almost endless, but when the sun rose an hour before, he had readied himself to act. Now, he sailed over the boundary fence on a burst of magic like a common criminal, having compromised the wards surrounding the house long before. It was the only place left for him, and while it wasn’t his original plan, it would still work out over time. He’d build a newer, stronger base and continue with his plans to replace the other weaker houses. Styrris took a moment to tug his tunic down to straighten it and ran an absent hand through his hair to push it back. He steeled himself and strode around the corner to present himself to the two guards who were on duty at the mansion’s main entrance.

  The senior of the two—a woman he recognized from previous visits—nodded at his appearance and seemed unsurprised. It’s to be expected that I was expected. A back portion of his mind snickered at the wordplay and he stifled it quickly. Madness lay in that undisciplined direction and he wouldn’t countenance it. “Patriarch.”

  “I would see the matriarch.”

  “Of course.” She gestured and the other guard knocked on the doors in a complex rhythm. They opened to reveal the majordomo in a uniform of Cormier green with silver trim. The woman nodded and requested, “Please follow me, Patriarch.”

  He raised his chin to the proper angle for dealing with a servant and strode after her as she walked deeper into the mansion. The House of Cormier’s abode was far less opulent than his, fitting his opinion of them as a lesser family. It was one of the things that made his effort to join with them possible. A stronger opponent would have offered far more resistance.

  Styrris was escorted into the fanciest of the house’s reception rooms, which wasn’t saying much. It featured dark wood walls hung with art he found pedestrian, a thick brown carpet on the floor, and several pieces of leather furniture—a couch, a loveseat, and four wingback chairs. Lamps throughout the room cast a soft glow over everything. It was pretty but lacked personality. Kind of like my wife, the voice in his head chittered. Again, he pushed it down vigorously.

  The woman in question entered from a different door than he’d used. She was dressed in dark-green, a hunting dress with a wide belt at the waist and pants and boots beneath. They’d shared a hunt on Oriceran once, and she had proved surprisingly capable. She gestured for him to take the loveseat and sat near him on the couch. Close but not together. He took that arrangement as a warning to be on his best behavior, as the power balance in their relationship had momentarily swung to her side.

  He gave her a smile and said, “Hello, darling.”

  She nodded. “Styrris. Where have you been?”

  “Here and there.” He chuckled. “While this is a setback, it is only that.”

  The matriarch gestured at the servant who had entered the room. “Tea and whiskey—a service, please.” The man bustled away and she returned her attention to him. “How is losing your house simply a setback?” Brielle’s tone was neutral but the question was irritating, regardless.

  “That’s why we married, dear girl, so we can support one another in times of trouble and rise together. The challenge has come sooner than expected and from an unanticipated direction, but we will prevail.”

  “It sounds logical. However, don’t you feel as if your recent decisions have made the situation more difficult, rather than less? For instance, the last leverage you had against Leblanc was the secret you held, and you’ve given that up to the palace. That kind of poor decision making is unlike you.”

  The doubt in her tone left him unsettled—as if important things were slipping away. He nodded. “Had I surrendered that, you would be correct. However, since Shenni reneged on her end of our deal, I didn’t feel the need to obey. We still hold an advantage over that damn girl and her friends. One that will give us her house if she wishes to save her pathetic brother.”

  The servant who returned with the tea was a different one, and he was careful to not meet the man’s eye. He’d planned to move on Cormier for years and had inserted one of his most skilled and least recognizable relatives onto her staff. His agent had standing orders to find a way to be close whenever he was present and received a steady flow of income as a reward for his actions and the information he shared. Because of him, the patriarch had known for months before it happened that an offer to wed the matriarch was in the works. The man set the service between them, poured the bitter brew and the warming liquor into cups, and withdrew to stand at the back wall.

  Brielle lifted the cup to her lips, sipped, and returned it to the tray with a sigh. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Styrris. I guess I’d hoped that in the end, some honor remained in you. But apparently not.”

  He scowled at her impertinence. “Be that as it may, you will do your duty per our arrangement. The first step is to name me patriarch of House Cormier and step back to allow me to do what has to be done.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. You see, the one who made that deal with you has selected exile—as have many members of your family—in order to save their lives. Now, I make the decisions for Cormier, regardless of any arrangement you may have thought you had. And before you t
ry to object, the Empress supports my position.”

  Styrris’s hands clenched involuntarily as he imagined throttling the woman. He kept his gaze locked on hers because if he looked at his man in the room, he might not be able to resist giving the eye blink pattern that would communicate a request for her quick demise. That moment wasn’t yet at hand. He crossed his legs, stretched his left arm along the back of the loveseat, and rested his right on the armrest. “So what is your desire then, Matriarch?”

  “Actually, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.” She turned to look at the door and he followed her gaze as Caliste Leblanc walked through it.

  Cali had listened from the hallway for only a minute, not wanting to be seen by the servants who had attended the couple. She hadn’t had the highest of hopes when she’d confronted the matriarch at the crack of dawn, but it had been an option she couldn’t leave untried. Her shock at finding Brielle receptive to her entreaties had been complete.

  But it wasn’t nearly as intense as the shock that overtook Styrris’s face at her entrance. The servant against the wall flinched but she didn’t react. At Brielle’s request, she had left her weapons in an outer room, having first sent Fyre to retrieve Invel to watch over them. The Draksa hadn’t been permitted entry but circled over the estate hidden by a veil. She’d known Styrris was close before the guards had.

  She grinned. “Hey, Styrris. I couldn’t help but overhear the part where you lied to the Empress. But you lost, despite your constant efforts to cheat. This is where you make good on your commitment and tell me what I need to know.”