The Emperor's Daughter

by H M Angues

  “Well, look who we have here. My plan was to take Rysen originally, but you? You will do just as well, if not better. You're the one she loves most, after all.” She stands, long legs moving effortlessly over the dull floors. She’s wearing nothing more than a simple black robe and a delicate silver crown on her brow, accenting her void-black hair which falls past her hips.

  I always thought Calla was stunning, beyond beautiful. But this woman is ethereal. A mortal in a goddess’ body.

  “I was wary about attacking such a public event. Especially the funeral of one of my own blood. I hate the Renald dynasty, but still, Augustus the Fourth was family. As is his lovely daughter, the new emperor.

  “It seems, however, that bringing down that damn tower my father built was a fantastic idea. Now I know that our little Calla is just full of surprises. Like the fact she could hold up that building.”

  Ramsey scrapes my chin with a meticulously manicured finger, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “That building was made of nothing more than metal and concrete mixed with alloys that an Metallurge could control. I should know, having spent years watching my father build it. It’s interesting, isn’t it, to see a Fireblood possess not just one, but two other abilities? Truly fascinating.”

  Her voice reminds me of a venomous snake, her words like poison dripping from her tongue. She returns to her throne, gracefully placing herself back on the seat. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

  Her smile makes my blood run as cold as the air around me.

  Chapter 21

  Calla

  A week passes since the last Concilium session, and there is no sign of Blade. There is, however, word from the Underground that Drakonis has been evacuated entirely and all forces involved in the war against Roran have moved to another one of their cities: Jurynn. It’s far beneath the forested swamp lands of Morda. Rysen stayed with them in the city for a few days before finally returning to the palace.

  Ramsey’s army has grown, her troops massing at the border separating the Capital Province from her own. Hoverjets, tanks, land transports… She has access to it all through the military bases she’s secured under her control.

  Bellamy appears occasionally, spending most of her time locked away in the library. Kainan spends a lot of time with her. She’s grown to be quite protective of me, and I think Kainan told her about Rysen, because the look she sends the younger Dane every time they cross paths could kill. I still don’t know much about her beyond what I figured out on my own, and I would love more than anything to sit and get to know my younger sister, but I haven't the time. Or the energy, for that matter. I am constantly exhausted, but I won't be getting rest any time soon.

  Today is the day I leave to meet with my troops at Haercayn Province’s border, along with King Cesairan. He had insisted on attending. He’s been spending the last few weeks in Stonefire, since Tiladen’s riots and large rebel presence have only grown exponentially, so he wanted to be here to potentially learn more behind the strife facing his own Province. Although, I wonder if this is just a front. There are three Imperial Air Force bases in Roran, all of them now under her control. With that amount of air power, Ramsey could easily order a strike from above on any of the Provinces while the king and I are distracted with Haercayn’s issues.

  “Are you all right?” I ask Cesairan as we board the awaiting hoverjet. We’re taking my other Golden Eagle, an RH-47 from the Marine base near the palace, a white hoverjet with the imperial crest plastered on its sides. The Tila king looks pale and shaken, his fingers trembling as he takes a glass of champagne. He gives me an unconvincing nod.

  “Don’t worry,” I say as the vessel takes off. “You’re only going to be there for the debriefing. The information is too sensitive to risk transmitting via comm, otherwise you’d be able to stay in Stonefire, or even your manor back home, if you wished. You won’t be there for long, and we’re far from the danger zone where we’ll be. It’s just going to be a few hours.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  I inquire with my gaze and he says, “There are... other things that concern me right now. I’d rather not speak about it.”

  “As your emperor, King Cesairan, I will only ask nicely once more. If this concerns Tiladen, you should know that I am their emperor. You are merely a representative.”

  He gulps, throat bobbing from the action. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

  A chill runs through my bones. I don’t question him further, not now. I will find out eventually, but once the jet has landed. Once we’re surrounded by my loyal troops, my people. Cesairan has never given me a reason to doubt him, but right now I can’t find it in myself to trust the young king. Maybe I should have left him in the Capital.

  ∞∞∞

  We land at Fort Hullard, an Imperial Army base right on the Provincial border of Haercayn and Roran. Men and women in camouflage service uniforms are running about, in a hurry to attend to their duties. A half-dozen of them, armed with rifles slung over their shoulders, fall in line next to and behind the king and me. Even though they’re meant to be my escorts, They trail behind. I don’t need to be shown the way to the large, rectangular concrete building across the runway the Nighthawks occasionally use. Once inside, I navigate the halls until I found the computer-filled room where communications officers spend their work days.

  The debriefing is short as a commanding officer explains the situation. Ramsey has sanctioned infantry and land vehicle convoys near the border, just a few miles from where we are now, but they haven’t made any hostile maneuvers... yet.

  King Cesairan is trembling beside me the entire time we’re being spoken to. When we have all the information needed, I grab his arm and steer him into the hallway. His face is pale, frightened.

  “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I snap at him. He flinches at the harsh tone. A spineless king, that’s what he is. He isn’t loyal to me, he just lacks the backbone to speak against his emperor.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” is all he says. Again. I groan in frustration, slamming my hand against the concrete wall. A crack appears in the stone, snaking up to the ceiling. Cesairan starts shaking even more violently.

  I open my mouth to reprimand him for being a weak ruler when I’m interrupted by heavy machine gun fire from outside. The commanding officer that had debriefed us darts out of the communication center. The look of utter horror on his face tells me this isn’t some training exercise.

  “I thought you said her troops haven’t moved?” I shout at him.

  “They haven’t! We’ve had satellite imagery of their encampments coming in every ten minutes since they arrived, and they haven’t made a move against the fort until now!”

  I grab him by the collar of his uniform, pressing the much larger man against the cracked wall. “We are four miles away from them! It takes a lot less than ten minutes for ground transports to cross that distance, Commander,” I spit.

  He flinches. “My apologies, Emperor. I thought—”

  “I don’t care what you thought!” I release my grip on him and spin around to grab Cesairan and get him out of here.

  But the Tila king is not there.

  I turn back to the lieutenant. “Find King Cesairan. Now.” And I disappear down the hall.

  ∞∞∞

  Ramsey didn’t send in heavy artillery, just a few ground transports with no more than three infantry units, according to one of the enlisted soldiers I encounter on my way out of the building. The moment I step outside, I’m met with a bullet to the shoulder, shot from a standard infantry assault rifle.

  I let out a groan, clutching the wound and stumbling back inside. I don’t feel an exit wound, but I can sense the metal bullet’s location buried deep in my muscle. I focus on that and, with a bolt of searing pain, it falls out of my shoulder and into my hand. I lunge back into the open air, quickly locating three men making their way toward me, weapons raised.

  Time to see how useful my Metallurg
e skills are in a fight.

  I cock my fist and hurl the bullet through the air, focusing my mind on its movement. I push it to go faster, faster, until it’s travelling at the same speed it was when it was fired from the soldier’s rifle. The bullet explodes through his skull.

  I block the gunfire from one of the others, the bullets pausing in midair just inches from my body as I focus on the second soldier. I pull the air out of his lungs, leaving him to suffocate on the ground.

  The final man I set on fire.

  I’ve killed men and women in war before, but never have they been my own people. Rorani are, in fact, my people—not Ramsey’s or any king or queen’s, but mine, despite their treasonous acts. Their screams will haunt me for the rest of my life, three more faces to add to the ever-growing horde of ghosts that follow me. My mother, brother, father… I don’t know how much more death that I can handle.

  They chose their path. They were willing to kill you, I say over and over in my head, trying to relax the rising feelings of guilt and dread.

  I look around, seeing my own confused soldiers watch as the remaining infantry units disappear. I slip back into the command center to speak with some of the officers on what exactly just happened. They don’t know much more than I do, except that Ramsey’s small force retreated as quickly as it came. Cesairan, I am told, was seen willingly leaving with them.

  I hear from his wife while I’m in the on-base hospital getting my shoulder attended to. Everyone’s on high alert, though it’s unlikely Ramsey will strike a second time today. She got what she wanted, according to the grieving Queen Allyri. Her comm claims that her husband sold out their Province—my Province—to Ramsey and the Uprising. I’m tired of these monarchs thinking they have any sort of ownership over my empire.

  While I was here dealing with the small infiltration of rebel forces, Ramsey was sending mass amounts of soldiers, airmen, and marines to Tiladen to establish her dominance. Allyri was allowed to flee to the Capital.

  Shit.

  Two Provinces. Taken, just like that, now under the rule of a tyrannical immortal bitch with a massive temper. And I had a feeling this could be coming. A feeling that I ignored.

  Ramsey better not be betting on me making that same mistake twice.

  ∞∞∞

  Blade is gone.

  It doesn’t truly hit me until I return to Stonefire with a heavily bandaged shoulder the next morning, after spending the whole night trying to deal with the mess Cesairan left me. Ryse and Kainan rush to dote over me. I shove them both away, telling them I need to be alone and that I’ll explain what happened at a later time.

  As much as I appreciate how the Dane brothers care for me, only one person other than Blade could comfort me right now, and he’s dead. I can’t bear the thought of potentially losing them both, and it kills me on the inside to even think of it.

  But my need for doting and nurturing attention from people like Rysen and Kainan has vanished with Blade. He is gone and missing him makes me feel more like my old self. The Calla that strode through life without fear, without the pain that I now carry.

  I can’t tolerate his absence. His dark and messy hair that he won’t get trimmed, even though it falls to his chin. That face he refuses to shave every day because he likes looking scruffy. That scarred and calloused golden-brown skin. Blade was the closest thing to family that I had left.

  I hadn’t paid attention to where I was walking until I look up to see that I’m standing in front of his room. I push the doors open and I’m overwhelmed by the smell of that heavy cologne he always wears.

  I collapse to the floor, hot tears pouring down my cheeks. I feel the fire inside begin to burn, and the tears sizzle and evaporate from my skin in wafts of steam.

  It starts to rain inside his bedroom.

  ∞∞∞

  Bellamy is the one to find me. I hear her startled gasp as she opens his chamber door to find a rainstorm inside. The water is warm, and I look up to see the dark-skinned girl cupping her hands to catch the raindrops. Like my tears, it sizzles when it touches her hands.

  “I'm sorry you never got to meet him,” I murmur, referring to the brother we shared. “These were his rooms.”

  “I met him. In Roran, on one occasion. He's the one who hired me to work in Darinthe. But meeting him or our father wasn't what I wanted. It's not why I left Morda and tried so hard to connect with my real family.”

  I tilt my head in question, rain sliding down the side of my face, and she continues. “I’m Fireblood, Calla. I wanted you to teach me how to harness it, how to fight with it. And... Growing up, you were the empire’s poster child. The first female heir, the most gifted Fireblood ever seen. Not to mention, a war hero at the age of sixteen when you saved those Marines captured by Helkyn. You defied all odds then and continue to do so now. And all the ‘norms’ of society, all the expectations for what a woman is supposed to be... You took those standards and set them on fire.

  “I wanted to be you, Calla. Not because you’re royal or anything like that—but because you kick ass. You could set the world on fire and call it rain, and no one would dare question it. Not out of fear, but out of respect.”

  I can’t help but smile at her, tears welling in my eyes. When she speaks, she has the same fervor Talon always did. The same passion pouring out through her words, and it makes you latch on to every syllable. "I didn't know anyone thought so highly of me," I mutter.

  “You've inspired the entire empire. Every citizen looks up to you to be the best leader we've ever seen. Now, can you please turn off the water works?”

  I laugh through the pain of all the loss I’ve faced these past weeks, and the rain stops.

  Tempest, like one of the many emperors before me.

  ∞∞∞

  Training in the courtyard of the barracks with Bellamy takes my mind off things. I need the distraction, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.

  “Did you know your eyes change?” she asks as she balances a small fireball in the palm of her hand.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes—they change with your ability. Back in that room, they were this really cool like stormy-gray color. When you use your fire, they’re the normal amber shade. And when you picked up that sword just now with your mind, they flashed a darker, shiny sort of silvery gray. It’s pretty damn cool.”

  I shake my head softly. “No, I never knew that. Now close your fist and will the fire away.” She does as I ask, the flames snuffing out with the curl of her fingers.

  “Why the little fireball?” she asks.

  “So you can learn to do this,” I say, rolling my shoulders as fire snakes down from the base of my neck to my wrists, where it curls into a ball engulfing my hands. Her mouth falls open in awe.

  “The whips are my favorite.”

  I spin around to see Kainan making his way toward us. Rysen ambles lazily behind him, keeping a safe distance from his older brother.

  “I wanna see!” Bellamy squeals. I oblige, snapping my arms down and to the side. My fire leaves my hands and shoulders to form two long whips of flame that wrap around my wrists and coil up on the ground.

  I ignore Bellamy’s gasp of amazement when I catch Valek and two Guardsmen approaching from the corner of my eye. The fire fizzles out in a cloud of smoke as I start walking toward them.

  “What is it?”

  “A message... from Ramsey,” Valek mutters hesitantly, taking a large gulp. He hands me a datapad with a vidcomm open on the screen.

  That ebony skin, those blood-red eyes—she looks nothing like a Renald, though I’m sure it’s because her flawless skin has been washed out through the generations, leaving my skin freckled and a much lighter brown. Those high cheekbones, though, are the same as my father’s.

  When the vidcomm plays, her voice sends shivers of fear down my spine.

  “Emperor Calla. It’s good to finally speak to you.” She flashes perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. If the ancient pagan goddesses
were real, I imagine they’d look like her. “So sorry about your father’s funeral, even though I am the one the ruined it for you.” Her laugh is cold, soulless. “I’m sending you this comm because someone would like to speak to you.”

  The video cuts out for half a second. When it reappears, I drop the tablet at the sight, the device clattering on the stone.

  Hot tears well in my eyes as I fall to my knees in front of the datapad. My fingers fall gently on the screen, on the horrifying image before me.

  Blade, slumped and beaten in a small cell. One of his eyes is swollen shut. A dark hand reaches for him, beckoning him to turn around. He follows her orders, struggling and groaning to turn his back to the camera.

  Lashings. Bleeding, swollen whip lashings across his back and shoulders.

  Ramsey has been torturing him, and now she’s showing it off to me.

  “Blade,” I whisper through the sobs that are fighting to escape.

  The video isn’t over. It cuts back to Ramsey’s infuriatingly flawless face and ruby eyes. “I know you, Calla Renald. I have only one demand, and if you meet it, I will let your friend go home.”

  She pauses for dramatic effect. “The price for your friend, Calla, is you.”

  The video cuts out and I am left in the courtyard, sobbing into my hands. It starts to rain again, only outside this time. It’s accompanied by lightning, striking the ground around me. The earth itself begins to tremble, and the trees around me set fire, burning bright even through the rain.

  I’m losing control of myself.

  ∞∞∞

  Blade

  Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

  Done. Ten lashings for the day, and they’re done. I let out a heavy sigh of relief through the excruciating pain.

  She can’t give in. She can’t give in.

  I pray that Calla lets me die here, that she doesn’t give in to Ramsey’s request. But it’s wishful thinking. I know her too well.