Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  AT THE DOOR to Minister Brevt’s chamber, one of my guards stepped forward and exchanged words with a sentry. As the sentry fished a key from his pocket, a messenger came sprinting down the hall.

  “The plan has been moved up. Minister Brevt requests that you bring the captive to the courtyard now.”

  The guards turned dull eyes on the messenger. “Anything else?”

  “Only to watch her carefully,” the messenger said. “She’s dangerous.”

  I recognized the messenger now; he’d been one of the new staff brought into the Hold at the same time as me. I tried to put my question into my eyes. What was this about?

  A tiny shake of his head was my only answer. The messenger stared at the floor. Not good then. I swallowed.

  Rough hands shoved me forward. Ahead, the corridor opened into the entrance hall. From there, just a few paces would lie between me and the central courtyard. All at once, reality struck me. Minister Brevt was going to execute me now. I’d pushed him too far.

  Maybe I should have agreed to ally with him until I figured out the Shadow Gate. Maybe I should have left him alone with Oralie. I doubted he would have killed her when she might have been of use to him.

  Or maybe my mistakes began earlier. The plan to present myself at the Hall of Registry with a forged ledger had been Havialo’s. Why had I followed it? Why hadn’t I returned to Cosmal Province after Parveld rescued me? For that matter, why had I trusted Havialo in the first place? I should have listened to Avill and gone fugitive.

  All along, I’d made the wrong choices. But I wasn’t going to go meekly to my death. As we neared the end of the hallway, I planted my feet, forcing the guards to drag me forward. My toes bumped over ridges on the floor. The guards snarled and tightened their grips on my arms.

  Sunlight fell into the entrance hall, gleaming off polished stone and stabbing my eyes. I couldn’t see beyond the glare of the outer doorway.

  Savra, Lilik said, low and commanding. It doesn’t end like this. Do something.

  Like what? I glanced at the protectors, their vacant auras filling bodies bulging with muscle, armor, and weapons. With every step they dragged me forward, the void in their souls kept pace. I’d beaten Minister Brevt by suffocating his magic with my aura, but he’d still knocked me flat with a slap. I couldn’t use the same technique here.

  If I knew, I’d tell you.

  With a deep breath, I focused on their auras and attempted to dispel their attention. No use. Very little of their attention was focused on me anyway. Another force held their focus. It compelled them to keep a grip on my arms, but they gave little thought to me beyond that.

  The brilliant rectangle of light at the Hall’s exit grew closer. I kicked at the backs of their knees and earned nothing but a few rough grunts and a tighter clamp on my arms.

  Useless, Lilik said. You already know you can’t fight them outright. Even if you were trained. Which you clearly are not.

  I don’t know what to do! I yelled into my own head.

  A faint thread of calming energy tunneled into my mind. Parveld’s voice was faint. The night of the quake. You did more than force those men away. You frightened them.

  That was true. My first night in Jaliss, I’d sent a group of Atal men fleeing. The trick with redirecting attention was similar, but not quite what I’d done. The problem was I couldn’t remember what I’d done. I’d grabbed their auras… yanked and twisted. But how?

  I focused on the guard to my right, closed my eyes so that only his aura showed. Imagining spectral hands, I reached for his spirit. When a portion of my consciousness contacted his aura, I screamed and recoiled as his frigid spirit flooded me.

  Part of my mind went numb as if punched in a nerve. Only a faint tingle gave me hope it would recover.

  From outside the entrance hall, I heard a shout. More people took up the cry.

  The guards dragged me closer to the exit.

  “Ministers,” someone called from the courtyard. “Word from the protectors’ post. Full riots have broken out in the city.”

  My guards slowed to listen. It wasn’t that they lacked the ability to make decisions. More that whatever had been done to their auras stole their willpower.

  I yanked at their grips, trying to take advantage of the distraction. It made no more difference than if I’d tried to break through iron cuffs.

  The cuffs. I remembered the glimpse of Maelstrom-silver I’d noticed on the gate guards. If silver altered the spirit, did that mean the cuffs forced the guards to obey? Could I break the magic’s hold by severing the link to the bracelets?

  Minister Brevt’s nasal voice rose above the din in the courtyard. “Send a response immediately. The Emperor demands an immediate and savage response. Any Prov caught with a weapon or in Atal districts will be severely punished. Any Prov caught engaging in violence will be killed on sight.”

  I couldn’t hear the response, only muffled words of confusion.

  “The scribe is not available,” the minister responded. “Pen it yourself, or if you’re too illiterate, find someone who knows their cursed letters.”

  The guard on my left shook his head and yanked me forward. “Not our concern,” he said to his partner.

  As we neared the door, my eyes began to adjust. At least a score of people had gathered in the courtyard. A tall post had been propped upright, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a man had been lashed to it by the wrists. His back was turned, but the lines laid down by a whip were dark stains on his shirt. The impostor?

  Was this how they intended to kill me, too?

  I threw my awareness into my aura-sight, desperate for some sense of the Maelstrom-silver that bound the guards. Back in Numintown, I’d had an uncanny knack for sensing the nuggets in the sluice box. I’d always figured I just paid closer attention than most people. Now, I hoped that was wrong.

  There. I sensed coldness flowing from the guards’ left wrists. As I had with Minister Brevt, I allowed my aura to expand. But rather than enveloping the protectors’ souls—I didn’t dare contact their auras again—I wrapped my aura-sense around their wrists.

  Instantly, the grips on my arms loosened while the guards grunted in confusion. I didn’t stop to think. I yanked my arms free, sprinted into the courtyard and cut hard to the right. My feet pounded the stone, sending knives into my knees. Sucking hot air that tasted of baked granite, I careened for the alley at the far side of Ministry Hall. All the while, I expected a crossbow bolt to pierce my spine. I waited for the thump of boots and the guards’ long strides to run me down.

  As I veered into the alley, I felt a strange tugging at my mind like a rope pulled tighter and tighter. I’d forgotten to release my aura’s grasp on the guards’ cuffs. Shuddering as the link stretched taut, I visualized the Maelstrom-silver bands and imagined slipping away from them.

  The tendrils of my mind snapped home, a lightning strike within my head. I coughed and staggered but kept my balance. Behind, I heard the shouts of the protectors as they regained their senses.

  Another voice boomed across the square.

  “Ministers! You are commanded to halt your proceedings and to gather at the Sun Gate.”

  “What?” Minister Brevt shouted. “A gate guard thinks to command the Ministry? You are in direct violation of your Emperor’s orders!”

  The shrill edge to the minister’s voice was so unexpected I slowed to hear the gate guard’s response.

  “I would never break my vow of obedience, sire. I was sent by Emperor Tovmeil himself.”

  An immediate silence descended over the courtyard. I stopped and pressed myself against a wall to listen. Something unexpected was happening. My roaring pulse told me to keep running, but I’d already learned there were few hiding places within the Hold. Better to get information first.

  “Emperor Tovmeil is confined to his chambers,” Minister Brevt said into the quietness. “He remains in deep meditation regarding the difficulties brought b
y the latest quake.”

  “I must correct you, sire,” the protector responded. “Emperor Tovmeil is standing outside the Sun Gate. And he appears rather angry.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Kostan

  Lashed to a whipping post, Steelhold courtyard

  TOVMEIL?

  My head was full of wet gravel, rolling on my neck. The rough wood of my whipping post rasped against my face. Knees wobbling, I groaned as I pushed myself upright to take the weight off my shoulders. As I stood, the Heart of the Empire settled against my breastbone. In response to the touch of the pendant, my heart beat stronger, sending life surging through my body.

  Sounds flooded my ears, a confused babble that filled the courtyard.

  “Explain yourself,” the Prime Protector said as she stalked toward the gate guard.

  “It’s as I say, Prime. He claims treachery from within the Hold. According to his eminence, everyone here has been misled.”

  Whatever this was, it might be my only chance to escape. As I craned my neck to watch the conversation, I plucked at the knots binding my wrists. No use—the knots were so tight they might as well have been forged of iron. A tug of my ankle set the chain clinking on the granite of the courtyard. I cringed, but the Prime Protector paid me no mind. Her keen eyes bored into the guard.

  I looked toward the Hall of Mages, hoping the chaos would finally move the aurums to help me. But the shades were drawn over the windows in the gold-capped tower.

  “The Emperor is dead, Protector,” the Prime said to her subordinate. “Killed by this man.” She stabbed the air with the handle of her whip as she gestured toward me. “I command you to cease this nonsense.”

  As I glanced back at the pair, the gate guard shook his head, dead eyes meeting the Prime’s gaze. “I cannot disobey my Emperor’s order. Even for you.”

  The Prime’s face hardened. I expected her to strike the man, but after a moment, she blinked and turned to the ministers. She grabbed the guard’s arm and exposed the silver cuff encircling his wrist. “He is speaking the truth. You know as well as I that the Emperor’s command is the final word for a protector.”

  As I contorted my fingers again, straining to get better purchase on the knots, the words sank in. Could this be true? For a protector, the only person who could override the Prime was the Emperor himself. I’d hoped to use that very fact to bring the Order of Protectors to my side.

  Ilishian claimed he’d seen Tovmeil’s body. Could he have been fooled? Worse, could he have been lying? Storms. If Emperor Tovmeil was still alive, I hoped he’d forgive me for attempting to claim his throne.

  Minister Brevt’s face had blanched to a pale cream, purple spots high on his cheeks. He stomped toward the Prime, drawing himself up.

  “This is outrageous. The Scion murdered our Emperor and must be punished. Your guard is confused.”

  Winding the whip around the handle, the Prime Protector shook her head. “Perhaps. But I believe we owe it to the Empire to investigate the matter. I believe you were summoned to the Sun Gate. Shall we proceed there together?”

  “Absolutely not,” the minister said, crossing his arms.

  “Protectors,” the Prime said, “attend me.”

  Across the square, fists pounded chests.

  “Please escort the ministers to the Sun Gate. Harm only those who resist.”

  “What about the prisoner, Prime?” a protector asked. I relaxed my fingers and hoped no one had noticed me working at the knots.

  The Prime Protector stalked closer to me and peered. Her gaze seemed to pierce my mind as easily as an argent’s, though I knew she had no such powers.

  “Bring him some water,” she said. “I can’t have him dying until we figure out what’s happening here.”

  ***

  I drank greedily, lukewarm water pouring over my chin and cheeks. The protector holding the water skin remained expressionless save for a squint to keep out the glare of the afternoon sun. Around the perimeter of the courtyard, servants shifted.

  As I scanned their faces, my thoughts circled back to Lyrille. Had the argentmaster thrown her into the chasm yet? Had she screamed when she died, or had she kept that unbreakable pride? I shuddered at the thought of her fall, no vision to warn her when the jumbled rocks at the bottom of the chasm approached.

  My face went hot, eyes stinging. She’d been doomed because of me. What a fool I’d been to come here. Savra. Fishel. Lyrille. Evrain. No doubt I’d have added more to that list if I’d remained free. Maybe my death at the whipping post would be a mercy if this commotion with Tovmeil proved nothing but a ruse.

  I choked when the water spilled into my mouth too quickly for me to swallow. With a grunt that might have been disdain, the protector withdrew the water skin and capped it. He walked away without a word, leaving me alone in the center of the granite courtyard. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched me sag helplessly against the post.

  “Go ahead and look!” I tried to yell, but my voice was weak. Still, feet shuffled as a few people moved closer to hear. “This is what the Ministry will do to hold power,” I continued. “I did not kill Emperor Tovmeil. More, I bear the Emperor’s Mark. They’re killing me for it.”

  Near the entrance to the Hall of Mages, a robed woman snorted. Her silken garb marked her as a ferro. No doubt she’d been promised rich rewards to support the coup.

  “Anyone brave enough to remove my boot will see the Mark. Ascension is my right,” I said. I caught the eye of the hawk keeper. Unlike many of the Hold’s staff, I recognized her from my time as a Scion. She had access to the Ministry’s communications and had possibly seen enough to doubt their story. Aside from the palace scribe, an elderly man I didn’t spot amongst the onlookers, she was most likely to believe me. Doubt flickered in the hawk keeper’s eyes. She knew something wasn’t right. But she didn’t move from the edge of the square.

  I licked my parched lips, preparing to speak again, when a command echoed across the courtyard.

  “All hail Emperor Tovmeil! Avert your eyes and keep your distance.”

  I whipped my head around and looked into the eyes of my Emperor. The man nodded a greeting.

  Emperor Tovmeil wore the official garments he’d always donned for audiences in the palace hall. Bejeweled rings—Maelstrom-relics most likely—crusted his fingers. The forearms of his ornate tunic were thick enough to disguise the rigidity of the Bracer of Sight. Yet as he approached me, I recognized the man who’d worn simple clothing and spoken to me as an equal.

  “Your eminence,” I said, bowing my head.

  “Scion Kostan.” He stopped a few paces away, feet set in a wide stance. “As I approached the courtyard, I heard whispers that you claim to bear the Emperor’s Mark. Apparently, you seek to break custom by Ascending before the ordained date.”

  “I believed you were dead, your eminence, and only wished to uphold your wishes,” I said, meeting his gaze despite the effort it took to stand upright. “I would never seek to usurp you.”

  The Prime Protector stepped to the Emperor’s side. “I was not informed of the Scion’s claim, your eminence. This punishment was due to the allegation by Minister Brevt that Scion Kostan was responsible for your murder.”

  “And what investigations did you conduct to validate the minister’s claim?” Emperor Tovmeil turned his glare on the woman, who blanched at the expression.

  “I—The evidence was compelling. The ministers claimed to have your body. You were nowhere in evidence. Scion Kostan fled across the Chasm Span shortly after your murder.”

  After a moment, the Emperor gave a curt nod. “Release the Scion. I will consider your actions and my response this evening.” He turned to the gathered servants. “Whomever among you is a messenger, summon the Aurum Trinity to the Scion’s chambers with healing supplies. And as for the Ministry...”

  The twelve ministers had clustered together to whisper at the edge of the square. As the Emperor’s gaze fell
on them, the group seemed to wilt. Those at the rear glanced toward the alleys as if contemplating escape. A gesture from the Emperor brought a line of protectors up behind them.

  As the men and women cowered and shuffled closer together, a guard released the rope binding my wrists and unlocked the shackles around my ankles. I rolled my shoulders and bent my knees slightly to keep from swaying. Still unsure of my situation, I scanned the surroundings for a weapon. I wouldn’t be captured again without a struggle. Unfortunately, every blade in the courtyard was in a protector’s belt or hand.

  “The ministers shall be confined to their chambers until further notice,” Emperor Tovmeil stated. “See that they relinquish any metalogy bands first.”

  The ministers shouted protests as the protectors closed in.

  “Your eminence,” I said. “There’s a servant who cleaned the Scions’ wounds. Her name is Lyrille. Minister Brevt instructed the argentmaster to throw her from the Chasm Gate, but there may still be time.”

  The Emperor’s cheek twitched as he turned to the Prime Protector. “Send guards to search out Master Yevinish. If the girl still lives, I will not have her services wasted so thoughtlessly.”

  I clenched my jaw to avoid commenting. The Emperor couldn’t afford to look weak, especially now. But to hear him speak of Lyrille’s value simply in terms of her services turned my stomach.

  As the protectors began separating the ministers and stripping them of their rings, Minister Brevt shouted, a bestial roar. He threw his arms wide, gold and silver rings gleaming, and the protectors attempting to control him staggered backward and fell.

  Darkness swelled in the air around the minister as he marched toward the Emperor. Tovmeil crossed his arms over his chest, smirked, and stepped behind the wall of protectors who immediately rushed to defend him. He reached into his collar as if fishing for a pendant. My hand fell on the Heart of the Empire where it lay beneath my tunic. Did Tovmeil need it to defend himself? I got ready to pass it to the Emperor when he pulled an amulet free.