Apostate: Forbidden Things

by Nikki Mccormack

  Myac.

  The adept he’d failed to kill when he took the throne was the only one who’d been able to harm this new enemy. That must be a considerable blow to his ego on top of having to admit that Suac Chozai was right. A cold calm settled over Adran. War was coming to Yiroth and the enemy wasn’t one they knew how to fight. He had to believe they would find a weakness. Otherwise, there was little point in even trying to fight.

  As expected, Lord Terral and Lady Auryl were still chatting on the terrace. It was a pleasant day, sunny and not too warm with a clear view of the water below. The three stepped out onto the terrace and Terral’s charming smile transformed to a look of openmouthed shock when he saw Yiloch. The little color drained from his face and he froze midsentence. In sharp contrast, Lady Auryl’s eyes brightened and she smiled, rising from her chair to execute a graceful curtsey before her emperor and fiancé.

  “My lord,” she greeted. Her brow furrowed with concern when her pale violet eyes skimmed over him, noting his ragged state, but she kept her voice steady as she lowered her gaze and said, “It is so good to see you.”

  Terral hesitated, staring at her for a few seconds as though in need of guidance before he followed her example, bowing to Yiloch. “Emperor Yiloch, what a relief it is to have you back.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Yiloch’s words dropped like blades of ice on Terral and Adran could feel the restrained anger chilling the air. Did he have new information about Terral or was it the startled reaction by itself that earned the man such a frosty reception? Regardless, Adran was glad he wasn’t the recipient of the emperor’s unpleasant smirk. There was something in that expression that reminded him of when Yiloch returned from his father’s prison and slew the man who’d betrayed him in front of them, a glint of fury so intense it danced on the edge of madness. “Why so shocked, Cousin? One might think, judging from your expression that you expected me not to return.”

  “Of course I hoped you would return, my lord. I only feared that you might not, given the ill fate of the other adepts in Caithin,” Terral responded, managing to sound calm despite the bright fear in his eyes when he met Yiloch’s cold gaze. There was little doubt that Yiloch saw that fear as well. Terral’s gaze flickered away and he licked his lips before speaking again. “There was a man, an envoy from Demin, who came here looking for the Lady Indigo Milan? Did you encounter any such man?”

  “We saw no one,” Yiloch replied curtly. “He may have fallen to the Grey Army. Come, we have much work to do. Please excuse us, my lady,” Yiloch said, the ice melting from his tone when he spoke to Lady Auryl.

  To Adran’s surprise, he actually waited for her nod of acknowledgement before he turned back into the palace. There might be hope for some relationship there after all. He hoped so, for her sake.

  Terral scampered to catch up, falling in to step next to Yiloch when Ian made room for him. The creator gave Terral a chilly scowl of warning and Adran marveled at how he had changed. Once he had feared Yiloch, now he bristled by the emperor’s side like a devoted guard dog ready to kill for its master, but he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind in front of that master either. It was a change that pleased him to a degree, but he also feared for the young creator. Eris had died because she was willing to sacrifice everything for Yiloch. How long would Ian last at the emperor’s side? Would the next battle be his last?

  They were heading toward the council room on the far side of the throne room. Despite his travel worn attire and the weariness that drew dark circles around his eyes, Yiloch was every bit the proud, magnificent leader Adran had followed and loved most of his life. His strides were bold and his head high, determination in the tightening of his jaw as he led the three men through the halls.

  “Lord Terral.” Yiloch spoke as they walked, not looking at his cousin, who visibly tensed in response to that deceptively casual tone. “You are close to being the only family I have left and certainly the only family in a good position to betray me. Suac Chozai’s prophecies, though somewhat misleading in ways, have been remarkably accurate so far. Might I suggest that, if you have betrayed me or plan to, you take some time to consider how much protection the ties of blood afforded my father.”

  Yiloch never once looked at Terral as he spoke, but Adran did. The emperor’s cousin hung his head, chewing at his lower lip for a moment before opening his mouth as if to speak. He hesitated then, perhaps unsure of his words and several uncomfortable seconds passed. When they slowed in front of the council room, he said only, “I understand, my lord.”

  Adran didn’t believe that was what he originally intended to say and the desire to hear the words he’d swallowed back made his skin itch. It certainly wasn’t a denial.

  “That’s good, Cousin,” Yiloch replied, glancing at Terral as he allowed an attendant to open the door. “We have powerful enemies. I would hate to waste effort guarding my back against my own kin when we could be working together against much greater threats.”

  They followed him into the room then, three dogs on the heels of their master and happy to be there for the most part. It was hard to imagine Terral betraying anyone. He simply didn’t seem the type. He reminded Adran in many ways of Yiloch’s late, mild-mannered brother. The blood he shared with Yiloch showed in his striking appearance, but beyond that, it was hard to tell that they came from the same line. In the past, Terral did exactly as much as he had to do to maintain his standard of living and nothing more. The effort of executing some complex betrayal was so out of character. Although, if someone else was pulling his strings who he feared more than the emperor, it could happen. Cowards could be the most dangerous of allies.

  Hax, already in the room, faced them as they entered, offering a respectful nod to Yiloch. “The first shift of full force patrols is arranged, my lord. All gates are being closed.”

  Yiloch nodded. “Your haste is appreciated, Commander Hax. Please sit.” His expression was somber as he took his own suggestion and sat at one of the chairs around the square council table. When all of the others had followed suit he turned his attention on Hax again. “Where are Captain Paulin and Captain Leryc?”

  “Paulin is out doing field work with some recruits and Leryc was running a patrol in the city.”

  “They should be called in immediately.”

  “Already done, my lord,” she replied. “I sent two soldiers out to find them and call them back.”

  The ghost of an appreciative smile touched his lips before his gaze moved to his hands and he frowned. Adran ached with the beauty of him. For all that he adored Leryc, his love for Yiloch was built upon a lifetime of experiences together and the new emperor was always the most strikingly handsome in moments of trial.

  “Unfortunately, I still don’t know much about our enemy. The Kudaness call them the Grey Army. Given the few bodies I have seen and descriptions I’ve heard, it’s an appropriate name. From what I understand, they have a large number of adepts and seem immensely skilled at the creation of protective barriers. The first and, as far as I know, only casualties the Grey Army has suffered were in AhnSegys and appear to have involved a face off with a very powerful adept. Un…” Yiloch trailed off, his eyes going to Terral who had stiffened a fraction in his chair. “You think this might be the envoy from Demin?”

  Terral shrugged, trying to dismiss his own reaction, but he wasn’t so skilled in the political art of deception.

  Yiloch’s eyes narrowed. “You failed to mention that he was an adept. An important point under the circumstances, don’t you think?”

  Terral nodded, lowering his gaze. “Yes, my lord. You have my apologies.”

  Yiloch’s eyes remained narrowed and Adran wondered if he would tell Terral that Myac was the adept. Could the envoy to the palace have been Myac in his disguise? He wished now that he had been more insistent on staying in the room that day.

  “Keep your apologies and give me your loyalty, cousin,” Yiloch snapped. “As I was saying, that adept is either dead or moved on—”

/>   “Might they have taken the adept captive?” Terral interrupted.

  “It’s possible, though they hadn’t shown much tendency toward taking captives up to that point. Regardless, we will have to discover their weaknesses on our own. Ian?”

  The young creator was in complete attendance, his entire being radiating attention to the council. Not so long ago, he would have been sitting with his gaze downcast, locked on his hands as he wrung them nervously in his lap. The disappearance of that timidity was Yiloch’s doing. Adran hadn’t necessarily agreed with his method of dragging the boy into the heart of things then, but now, as Ian met Yiloch’s gaze with confidence and a flicker of challenge, Adran had to appreciate the success.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You said there was a powerful barrier around the army?” Ian nodded. “Do we have anyone among the ranks of our adepts with the skill to bring down a barrier that strong?”

  Ian started to shake his head, and then paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “I don’t believe any one adept could, but perhaps, if we can mimic what Lady Indigo did when she and I took down the barrier around the traitor at the rendezvous camp, several adepts working together might be able to bring it down.”

  When Ian mentioned Indigo, a shadow fell over Yiloch’s features for a few seconds, guilt and sorrow rising in his eyes.

  She’s here even when she is not. Adran gritted his teeth against a twinge of jealousy.

  “Good. Go now and start work on that. We should also have some strong defensive groups ready in case that effort fails.”

  Ian stood and gave a quick bow. “My lord,” he acknowledged before leaving the room with purpose in his long strides.

  Yiloch regarded the rest of them. “Hax, get our troops ready for combat. If the adepts can bring down the Grey Army’s protections, I want everyone ready to attack. Have Leryc assist you when he returns and send Paulin out to work on evacuation plans in case things don’t go our way. Terral, go with Hax and see that your troops are also prepared. When you’re done with that, find a quiet spot to sit and consider your next move.”

  Hax and Terral followed Ian’s example, Terral with a hint of relief in his drawn face as he hurried from the room.

  When the door clicked shut, Yiloch rose, slow movement attesting to a deep exhaustion. Adran followed him from the room. With no orders to act upon and no dismissal, it seemed the obvious choice. Yiloch walked to his personal chambers, leaving the door open behind him, confirming that he expected Adran to follow. He closed the door behind them and turned in time to watch Yiloch sink down onto the chaise with a bone-weary elegance. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, long silver hair cascading over the edge.

  “Give me just a moment,” he said. His voice was little more than a drained whisper.

  After a few seconds, his breathing became steady and shallow. Adran smiled fondly at his sleeping friend, then he sat in another chair and put his feet up, settling in to give Yiloch his moment.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Yiloch woke with a start. The speed with which he had fallen asleep the second his body contacted the comfortable surface of the chaise, heedless of the threat to his empire, vexed him and brought to painful clarity the level of complete mental and physical exhaustion he had reached. The confidence and power he was accustomed to feeling were lost behind a weary, heartbroken haze, tauntingly out of reach. Like a sniff of good wine from a broken bottle, the aroma so perfect you would almost lick the floor for a taste.

  His body demanded a stretch while he struggled to banish the fog that filled his mind.

  “Feel better?”

  Finishing his stretch, he turned, setting his feet on the floor, and regarded the other man. His sense of decorum told him to gloss over the truth, to put on a strong face, but this was Adran. Adran often knew how he felt before he did.

  “Worse,” he muttered. “A little comfort was all it took to bring the strain of this entire ordeal crashing down on me. I must be getting old,” he added, looking at hands that appeared as smooth and strong as ever. “I thought I said I only needed a moment.”

  Adran’s smile was gentle, sympathetic, and not even a little apologetic. “You needed a long moment. Dare I say, a much longer one than you took?”

  Yiloch, fighting a powerful desire to lie back down, forced himself to sit up straighter. “Perhaps, but there isn’t time.”

  Adran snorted and Yiloch scowled at him.

  “You’ve set everything in motion,” Adran argued, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “There isn’t anything else for you to do right now. Without some more rest, you will be no use to anyone.”

  He rubbed his temples and sat back. Adran was right, there was nothing more he could do, outside of fretting over the coming conflict, an activity he was unaccustomed to. There was so much he didn’t know about their enemy and what he did know only made him nervous. He yearned for the certainty he felt when he campaigned against his father. If only Indigo were here.

  He let out a heavy exhale. “I’m not sure I know how to defeat this enemy. What if Chozai was right? What if Lyra is doomed to fall to these foreign warriors?”

  “I think we should plan for the worst, but go forward as though we believe we can win. What good does it do us to believe otherwise?”

  He grunted noncommittally. Perhaps it was the fatigue and loss that left him feeling defeated before the battle had even begun. With a little more sleep, things might not seem so bleak.

  “What happened with Indigo?”

  “I treated her unkindly and she wisely chose not to return with us,” he replied, kicking up his feet onto the table and grimacing at the memory. “I was a fool.”

  “She did imprison you,” Adran offered.

  The man was trying to defend his actions for him, but Yiloch didn’t want the support in this case. He didn’t deserve it. “She was tricked into it.”

  “If she truly loves you, she should never have believed you guilty,” Adran countered, his tone unforgiving.

  Yiloch gave him a stern look. “Have you ever considered that maybe she is the sensible one. In her shoes, what would it take for you to believe that a man who beheaded his own father in front of you to take the throne would order the assassination of a foreign king who helped enslave so many of his people? Pitting that and the word of people she’s known all her life against a rather irrational love, I should not have expected anything else.” His biting cynicism seemed to strike Adran like a blow and the other man glanced away, perhaps trying to hide the hurt in his eyes. He continued in a gentler tone. “Given some of the things she’s seen me do and Myac’s involvement in the situation, I can forgive her for falling victim to doubt.”

  Adran nodded. When he said nothing, Yiloch leaned back into the chaise and closed his eyes again. He was nearly asleep when Adran’s voice broke the silence.

  “I have always loved you,” he murmured. “I would never doubt you.”

  “You have always known me.” Yiloch replied. To lighten the mood, he cracked one eyelid to peer at the other man and added, “And who can blame you. Have you looked at me?”

  Adran grabbed the pillow next to him and hurled it at Yiloch who deflected it with a chuckle. Adran rolled his eyes, though he laughed as he shook his head at him. The levity felt good for a moment, but the feeling didn’t last. There was too much to worry about. This was what he had chosen though. He wanted to rule, wanted the responsibility his father had carried, and he didn’t regret that it was now his. He only wished he knew more about this enemy.

  “Are you worried about Indigo?”

  He glanced at Adran and started to say that he was, but when he thought about the question for a moment, he realized with a mild surprise that he wasn’t all that worried about her.

  “No.” Adran raised his eyebrows in an expression of disbelief. “I’m worried about many things, mostly the coming army and the damage it has done—the damage it may still do—to my country and my people. Indigo has proven herself
capable many times over. Whatever compelled her to go into the desert with Suac Chozai, I can’t believe she went without a plan. If he expects to take advantage of her in some way, I pity him.”

  Adran chuckled and smiled, his gaze becoming distant.

  “See,” Yiloch remarked with satisfaction, “even you’re fond of her.”

  Adran gave him a look of mock severity, then he grinned, but the grin faded too fast. “I do wish she were here.”

  Yiloch didn’t have to ask why. She would be more likely than anyone to have the strength and skill necessary to bring down the barriers around the Grey Army. He was convinced now that even Myac would have been no match for her the night he took the throne if she hadn’t come into the confrontation exhausted by long days of healing and then masking their presence on the way in. Even with those things, it had taken the adept some time to build up enough power to break her hold on him. Enough time that Emperor Rylan was dead before Myac could interfere.

  If only he hadn’t acted out in his rage and sorrow like a spoiled prince and driven her away.

  Myac.

  The miserable bastard had gone on to Demin after fleeing the palace. There was little doubt that he played a part in manipulating Indigo into this mess. The man that had followed her into the prison when she had freed him and Ferin, the man he learned later was Myac in disguise, had been Caithin by all appearances. He’d only noted the individual for his brief involvement in the betrayal, but the circumstances had etched his image in Yiloch’s mind.

  A Caithin adept. Yiloch let out a soft, animalistic snarl and Adran’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you see the Caithin adept that came here to talk to Terral?”

  Adran nodded. “I was wanting to talk to you about that—”

  “Describe him?”

  Adran’s brow furrowed at the interruption, but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “He was a young man, Caithin, average looking…”