Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  As I winced and edged away, he laughed.

  “Hey!” a woman’s voice boomed. My harassers tensed.

  “You step away, Grassle, or I’ll knock your head off!”

  The leader turned to speak to the woman behind him. As tall as most men, her muscles spoke of both strength and speed. Her high cheekbones gave her an imperious look while the light brown braid down her back showed that she favored practicality over vanity.

  “Come on, Sirez. We’ve been in here for days with no entertainment.”

  “No entertainment besides forcing those boys to fight like boars in a ring. Cost one of them a tooth. I warned you already. Bother any more innocent kids, and I’ll have my... friends visit your home as soon as this is over.”

  “Look,” the man, Grassle, said. “I’ve got no reason to make enemies with Stormshard.”

  My eyes shot to the woman. A Sharder! She could help me find my father.

  “I never said I was a Sharder. And you’re making enemies fast. So either step away, or the rest of us will have to remove you.” As the woman spoke, I noticed other prisoners approaching.

  Grassle rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what’s wrong with you people.”

  “We people have a sense of common decency,” Sirez said. “Which is unfortunately beyond your comprehension.”

  Hawking a gob of mucus from his throat, the ruffians’ leader spat on the ground. With a twitch of his chin, he signaled his lackeys to leave me alone. A few cast longing glances over their shoulders as they stalked away.

  “Thank you... Sirez, is it?” I said.

  She looked me up and down. “It worked this time. But if you’re smart, you’ll find a way to escape. You’re far too young and too pretty to be safe here.” With that, she turned to leave. The other prisoners had already backed away and were leaning against walls, tracing lines in the dust.

  “Wait,” I called. “He said you were a Sharder. I’m looking for someone.”

  The woman whirled on me, eyes blazing. “That man has no idea who I am. And if you value your life, I’d think again before asking about Stormshard. Without direction from Steelhold, the protectors are eager to find scapegoats for the chaos. Any old Prov will do. Better if they have known ties to renegades.”

  “But it’s important. His name is Evrain. He’s… an old friend.”

  I thought I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. She stomped close and raised a hand as if to slap me. “I said no discussions. If you get out of here, who you contact is your business. From now on, you won’t speak to me again. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” Once again, she turned to walk away.

  “Thank you again,” I said. “For getting those men away from me.”

  She shrugged a single shoulder. “I was young once. New to the city. No one was there to help me. Couldn’t let the same happen to you.”

  ***

  It took until midday for my predicament to sink in. As the sun reached its zenith, a pair of protectors let themselves in through the gate. Examining the scattering of prisoners, they spoke with heads leaned together.

  After a moment, they seemed to reach an agreement. With a nod, one of the men stalked across the yard, armor creaking, and hefted a young man by the scruff of his tunic. The man—more of a boy I realized—yelped and cried out for help.

  Everyone averted their eyes. Everyone except me, of course.

  Dragging him to the center of the arena the guard dropped him in the dust and delivered a swift kick to the boy’s gut.

  “That’s for yelling,” the man growled. He looked up. “Now! We need information. You know the drill. As soon as you volunteer something of use, this punishment stops.”

  He kicked again, catching the boy in the back of his elbow. On hands and knees, the joint had been bearing a large amount of weight. It snapped with a hollow sound.

  My stomach heaved.

  “Anyone?” the other guard yelled.

  Across the yard, someone raised a hand. “I already told you what I know. But I’ll repeat it if you’ll just spare the boy.”

  The guard stomped over the man and grabbed him under the armpit, pulled him through the dirt.

  “We’re listening...”

  “I was traveling through the chasm. Home too late from the pubs. I was trying to take a shortcut. I heard an alarm gong.”

  The guard attacking the boy curled his lip and brought a metal-armored fist down on the boy’s back. “Useless.”

  The confessing prisoner raised his hands in a silent plea. “But there’s more. When the Span fell, I saw a body.”

  “A body,” the guard sneered. “Right.”

  “A man. He screamed and fell with the bridge. If you find the body, you may learn more about the collapse.”

  The guard laughed. “I guess I’ll spend the rest of the day digging through rubble, then.” He turned to his friend. “Seems we haven’t made enough of an example, eh?”

  “Seems so.”

  As one, the protectors drew swords. When I realized what they intended, I screwed my eyes shut.

  The blackness behind my eyelids faded as auras leaped to life in my vision.

  I could see the red terror of the boy. The emptiness of the guards. The sorrow of the man who’d tried to have the boy spared.

  And suddenly, blazing heat surrounded my wrist. I gasped, terrified of the burning.

  You can stop this, a male voice said in my thoughts.

  “Parveld?” I asked.

  A strange amusement flooded my thoughts. I wouldn’t be caught dead... the voice said. Oh, wait.

  She’s not ready. A woman spoke this time. And this is not a laughing matter, Raav.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  So we’re just going to watch those rotted men kill that boy? the man asked.

  What choice do we have? the woman said.

  We could trust her abilities. A tendril of warmth joined the man’s thoughts.

  “Trust me with what?” I said aloud. Though part of my mind recoiled at these strangers conversing in my head, a lifetime of night whispers and aura-sight made it easier to accept.

  Fine, the woman said. But if this goes wrong, I’ll make the rest of the decisions.

  “Excuse me,” I said, a hint of frustration creeping in. “But if it’s regarding me, I’ll make the decisions.”

  Savra, the woman said. You need to Want to stop this.

  Of course I wanted to stop this. I shrugged, frustrated.

  Open yourself.

  “Open how? And have you considered telling me who you are first?”

  I will. We will. But they’re going to take his head.

  My attention snapped back to the auras. Yes, the boy’s terror had gone from red to pure, black dread.

  “Yes, okay. Introductions later.”

  And don’t speak aloud. You’ll draw attention.

  True to the woman’s words, I noticed a flicker of aquamarine curiosity in one of the protector’s auras. He had moved ever so slightly closer to me though most of his attention remained on the boy. I nodded.

  Now, reach for the sparks.

  Sparks? I shrugged my shoulders and hoped she’d catch the meaning.

  The lights. The colors. Do you understand?

  She must have meant the auras. The memory of what I’d done before, grabbing the auras of my attackers, surfaced. As I had then, I stretched my awareness.

  Nothing happened. As I tried again, the world began to sink back into place. My feet were rooted to the dusty earth once more. The smell of sweat and sun-warmed wood entered my nose. Distracted by the voices in my head, I’d lost the panic which had caused the aura-sight to flare.

  The sword swung, catching a moment of sunlight on its blade before taking the boy in the neck. I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

  Run. The gate.

  The voice was so faint now. As the protector raised his sword again,
I swallowed the vomit in the back of my throat and looked toward the gate. Chaos had erupted in the yard, half the prisoners running toward the protectors in anger, half fleeing for the fence.

  And one, Sirez, stood at the gate, hands behind her back. As she stepped aside from the lock, the chain fell open. With a nod at me, she slipped to the side and stalked toward the protectors. Once near, she picked up a rock and shouted to grab their attention.

  I ran.

  Feet pounding hard earth, all I could think of was the sight of steel cutting flesh. Again my stomach heaved. Moments later, the gate stood in front of me. I shoved it open, stumbled into the street. Skidding to a stop, I pulled the gate shut behind me. With luck, the protectors wouldn’t even realize I’d escaped.

  A pile of confiscated belongings was heaped beside the outer wall of the fence. Spotting my satchel, I sprinted for it. As I snatched it, I peered through a gap between the wooden uprights of the fence. A man cowered against the wall.

  “Graybranch,” I said, hoping he could hear. “Tell Sirez. And tell her I said thank you.”

  With visions of blood and a dead Prov boy pounding the inside of my skull, I turned and sprinted away from the horror of life in the Atal Empire.

  Chapter Forty

  Kostan

  Common room, Graybranch Inn

  FISHEL PACED THE COMMON room back and forth. He kept glancing at the table as if wishing he had another bucket of peas to shell.

  Around midday, he’d disappeared into the back rooms of the inn, returning with a pair of boots. “They’re old,” he’d said. “I’ve only kept them for mucking out stables. Seems you could use them though.”

  I wore them now. The heels were rounded and worn from use, and a crease in the leather rubbed the top of my right foot. Still, they were the nicest gift I’d ever received. I wondered what he would do if I admitted to being a Scion. Rip them from my feet before throwing me out the front door?

  As I watched him pace, I fought the urge to do something. After he’d given me the boots, I’d walked through the Splits to get a feel for the city’s situation. Plus, I figured Azar might have people watching for my arrival. I had discovered little and yearned to march on Steelhold now, but I knew I’d accomplish nothing alone. Patience would serve me best. If I hadn’t heard from Azar within a day or two, I could start looking for allies within the city.

  Fishel stopped at a window and brushed aside the curtain. Afternoon light baked the packed-earth street. He huffed in dismay and resumed his pacing.

  “Hello?” Savra’s voice came from the inn’s back rooms. “I hope you don’t mind. I came through the kitchen.”

  Fishel whirled, relief so plain on his face she might have been his lost daughter.

  “What happened?” he asked, rushing to her.

  “You were right to caution me,” she said, eyes downcast. “But I’m all right now.”

  Dust smudged her clothing and cheeks, unsurprising given the state of the city. Her braid had come loose, and she carried a saddlebag over a shoulder.

  Fishel cupped her elbow, and she sagged against him, weary but unafraid to accept comfort. I wished I had such trust in other people.

  The innkeeper led her to my table in the corner. She hadn't yet noticed me, and her eyes widened at the sight.

  “Hello… uh… my betrothed,” I said.

  Her cheeks went such a bright shade of red I almost felt bad. But the color was so striking with her auburn hair and green eyes that I couldn’t make myself regret it.

  Storms, but this was confusing.

  “I’m sorry—I—” she began before I hurried around the table and pulled out a chair.

  “Why would you be sorry?” I asked. “Without you, I’d have slept in the streets. If I’d survived the night.”

  “Now that you lovebirds are reunited, I’ll see about dinner,” Fishel said with a bow and a smirk.

  “I don’t know what prompted me to say we were betrothed.” She rubbed the back of her hand.

  “Kindness is rare in the Empire. I’d like to learn how a young woman like you survives in Atal without having the goodness struck from her.” I winced. I was talking too much.

  Fortunately, my words sparked something in her. When she looked up, a faint smile touched her lips. “To tell the truth, I was just passing along the good fortune. If it’s not obvious, I’m not from Ioene.”

  Somewhat tentatively, she lowered the saddlebag down beside her chair. As she moved, a faint scent came off her hair. It reminded me of the open air I’d loved to breathe from atop Steelhold’s walls, brushed with hints of grassland flowers and mountain snows. I fought a maddening desire to touch her.

  This was definitely not how a Scion of the Empire behaved. Much less an emperor.

  “Fishel looked outside,” she said. “He couldn’t find your boot anywhere.”

  The corners of my mouth drew back in a smile. I hadn’t felt this at ease with anyone besides Vaness. Kei had been an intriguing person, but her allure had been in the... promise of adventure I supposed. She’d represented the freedom I could never have, and I’d been fascinated by her because of it.

  “He was kind enough to give me a pair,” I said as I sat and raised a foot for her inspection.

  “So what brought you here wearing just one shoe and ready to collapse?”

  I tensed then summoned my Scion’s mask. What could I say? Not the truth, certainly. But I hated to lie to her. “I was in the mountains when the quake struck. It was a difficult journey back to safety… not that I’d call Jaliss safe at the moment. And what brings you here?”

  For an instant, I thought I saw my hesitation mirrored in her eyes. She swallowed then spoke. “I came for my Function writ. Scribe. But the Hall of Registry is closed.”

  “They didn’t issue it when you received your assignment?”

  “No, well—the registrar changed her mind. I was supposed to be given a different Function, and she didn’t have the proper writ.” She chewed her lower lip and looked sideways. “I didn’t get a chance to see Jaliss before the shake. I imagine it was even more impressive.”

  “People used to say Jaliss was the jewel of the Empire. I... I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen any other cities.”

  “How about your home? Is it in the mountains?”

  I shook my head. “My recent journey was my first into the mountains. I grew up near here, but I can’t return to my home just yet.” This conversation was still dangerously close to topics I had no wish to discuss. But I couldn’t seem to find my wits with this woman sitting across from me.

  She sighed. “Damaged by the quake. I’m so sorry. Well, my hometown isn’t anything to compare against. We had twenty or so families. A couple of buildings. Sluices.”

  Cosmal Province. That explained her accent. As part of my lessons, I’d often been given the task of conversing with couriers from the Provinces. But Cosmal was so isolated. Not to mention, anyone bred there was an asset to the Empire. Cosmali were almost always assigned the sluicing Function. She must have shown an extraordinary talent for scribing.

  Both Savra’s hands were laying on the table, and her index finger tapped the wood over and over. Nerves? I could only imagine the shock of leaving Cosmal Province only to arrive during the worst disaster ever to strike Jaliss.

  I swallowed, searching for something to break the tension. “In any case, about our wedding...”

  She blushed again and covered it with a small laugh. “Perhaps we should wait until the streets are cleared of rubble and order is restored.”

  A strange sadness crossed her face, and her fingers strayed to the bracelet she wore. I doubted she’d seen the kind of poverty and hunger currently plaguing the city. My heart panged. I wish I could have spared her this. When I took the throne, I would improve things. I swore it.

  But when I took the throne, I’d never speak to her again.

  “Dinner is served!”

  When Fishel’s
voice boomed from the kitchen, I felt a wave of relief at being rescued from the conversation. I wanted to spend hours talking to Savra, but it seemed that everything I said just brought up topics best avoided.

  “You’ve done so much,” I said as I stood. Wiping my hands on my pants—my palms were embarrassingly sweaty—I strode to the man and relieved him of one of the trays.

  “Least I could do for my friends from Ioene,” he said with a wry smirk. “I realize the accommodations are nothing like what you must be accustomed to on your estate.”

  I thought back to what I’d learned about Ioene. The island was supposed to be a haven for mystics. The cities were unlike any other. But the estates? I had no idea.

  “My betrothed doesn’t live with us yet, Fishel. That would be highly inappropriate,” Savra said. “His family is in shipping, and they keep a fine home in the city.”

  The innkeeper smirked. “Right. Living together already... How could I have assumed such a thing?” The man seemed to be enjoying this, watching us fumble for stories. If only he knew my real identity. Fugitive imperial Scion would certainly beat shipping magnate from Ioene.

  I followed Fishel to the table and set the tray before Savra. There was bread, a vegetable stew, and steamed peas from the afternoon’s shelling.

  “Looks like the both of you could use a calming herbal tea,” Fishel said with a wink. “To soothe the nerves.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Savra

  Common Room, Graybranch Inn

  THE ARRIVAL OF dinner saved me from trying to answer any more of Kostan’s questions without lying. I hated to speak in half-truths and evasions, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t explain what had really happened with the registrar and Havialo, much less my hope to find Stormshard and my father.

  But I wanted to. Kostan made me feel so comfortable I wanted to tell him everything about my life.

  As our plates emptied and Fishel bustled about, tidying the common room and refilling our tea, memories of the afternoon crept back. The boy. The protectors’ swords. The screams of fear and fury from the prisoners.