by Emily L K
“We’re the kings,” Amante muttered back. “You would think we could do what we want... like she can,” he added as an afterthought, jutting his chin towards Cori who was now declining an offer to dance from someone else. Gold bracelets jingled on her arm, though Amante couldn’t hear their seductive tinkle from the dais. Fuoco grinned at him.
“Ah, but we all know the lovely Cori can do what she wants. They say she has daggers hidden in her dress and if anyone so much as suggests that she cannot have the fun that she wants, well she’ll kill them faster than they can finish their words.”
Which is why I have to get her with no clothes on, Amante thought. He waved a servant to bring him some wine, downed his first glass in record time and requested another. He stopped after that, however, he needed to keep his wits about him.
The night dragged and Amante found himself agreeing with Fuoco more and more; the throne bloody well chaffed. Finally Vecchio stood, which meant the rest of them could, one-by-one, rise from their thrones.
They moved through the audience and Amante returned the smiles of the noblewomen who moved close to flirt with him. Only a week ago he had been dancing and courting these women. Now he was their king. His eyes grazed surreptitiously over his subjects for Cori, but she was already gone. Gone before her kings. How dare she.
Once clear of the Hall of Twelve, he dismissed the servants who waited to show him to his new wing. He knew the way, and the walk alone would give him time to plan. He knew she would come tonight. For all her pretentiousness, he knew she was good on her word.
He let himself into his new wing and allowed himself a moment to bask in the achievement. King. King of Dodici. He’d done his father proud. He moved about the rooms, closing all the doors save the one that led to the master bedroom. Then he slowly stripped out of his finery, dropping each piece to the floor as walked towards the bed. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he dropped onto the feather soft mattress to wait.
She took just long enough for him to become impatient but finally he heard the main doors click open. She ghosted towards the master bedroom and paused in the doorway, arms crossed over her breasts.
“You took your time,” he said irritably, then cursed himself for displaying his emotions so freely. He was a king now, he shouldn’t let the common folk see his thoughts so easily on his face. But Cori was far from common.
A sly smile curled her lips, and he knew she took pleasure in his discomfort. Still, she reached behind her back to unbutton her dress. Amante watched the green gown flow down the length of her body to pool at her feet. Beneath she wore green lace undergarments. She took a step towards the bed and he watched the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight move across her slim, toned body. His breath hitched and again she smiled. Once more he cursed himself.
“You should show more deference to your king,” he told her as she reached him. He put his hands on her hips, his hatred warring with desire. She laughed at his words.
“You aren’t my king,” she replied before leaning down to kiss him.
That was the last straw for him. He had wanted to have his fun first, but now he just wanted revenge. He pulled her onto the bed, rolling her so he was on top and she beneath him. He ran his thumb over her jaw and down to her collarbone. Then he put his plan into motion.
“Guards!” He yelled and heard the other doors in his suite slam open as the men he had hidden there burst forth. Cori struggled beneath him as the guards spilled into the master bedroom. “Easier than I thought,” he laughed, rolling away from her so that the guards could seize her. “You aren’t as dangerous as everyone makes out.”
The guards yanked her to her feet, and she attacked. Her hands shot out in front of her and the guards were flung away, as if hit by an invisible force. Amante felt his heart jump to his throat. He hadn’t considered that she could use supernatural forces, though he should have guessed, after hearing the stories of other Gold Eyes. Her eyes found his and his heart nearly stopped under her fury. She was going to kill him.
“Asshole,” was all she said, then she darted from the room, yanking his shirt from the floor as she did.
“Go after her!” Amante screamed when he could speak again. The guards scrabbled up. “Find her! Bring her to me!”
He thought they would bring her straight back, but they didn’t recapture her until the following evening. He had almost thought she’d escaped him, but by luck, some of his army had had the good sense to check buildings on local farmlands. They had found her in a cabin, and she returned with not much of a fight.
This time he forced her to the Hall of Twelve and before all the kings and Dodici’s nobles, he smugly announced her fate.
“My first order as the twelfth king,” his voice carried impressively across the hall, “is to sentence this dangerous Gold Eyes to death by hanging.”
Shocked and scandalised whispers travelled across the hall, none looking more disconcerted than Vecchio. The first king’s eyes met Cori’s, and she shrugged. Heat crept up Amante’s neck and fury turned in his stomach. She should fear him, he was going to kill her.
“You were always rather dramatic,” she told him, her golden eyes glittering as if she knew just how sharp her words cut.
“Lock her up!” He roared at the guards who held her. Spittle flew from his mouth and the nobles closest to him murmured and moved back. “For one year she can be imprisoned, and then she will hang.”
The guards pushed her from the hall but as she turned left out the door, she looked back at Amante and smiled.
Chapter Thirteen - Calling Her Home
Five hundred years post war | Rowan of the House of Auksas
"I don't understand why you would go back after so many years," Sigrid said. "Don't you like it here?" She placed her hand on Rowan's arm, but he ignored the gesture. He didn't tell her that this wasn't his first attempt at the journey home. He could very well return to her in half an hour if the dragon souls proved too strong for him to withstand.
They were standing on the northern fringe of the Hen Goeden forest. The trees on this side were the oldest of the dragon souls, and already Rowan could feel them pulling at his mind.
"I've mentioned it a few times," he replied to Sigrid finally, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "I have to know what happened to her and I need to pay her homage, she deserves that at least."
Sigrid made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. He knew she was jealous of even the idea of Cori, and she had every right to be. He'd led Sigrid on by kissing her, and for whatever reason, he couldn't find the words to set her straight. It wouldn't matter much longer. Soon he'd be gone and Sigrid just a past mistake.
"I hope your travels go smoothly," Bjarte told him, moving to stand on Rowan's other side. "If you don't find the answers you seek, you are always welcome back here at the House of Valkoinen."
Rowan inclined his head to the elder. "Thank you, Bjarte. Your hospitality these past years has been appreciated." He looked once more at Sigrid who watched him with sad eyes, then he shouldered his pack and stepped into the Hen Goeden forest.
The trees were an immediate onslaught. They were so old, their souls twisted to madness with age and they wanted to devour his mind, for that's what mature dragon soul trees delighted in. If one let them in, one would find themselves dead by the roots of the tree within a matter of moments.
They were almost like a Deathsong in themselves, he reflected as he strode the overgrown road beneath their boughs. They would feast on his emotions first, before completely draining him of his essence.
But this time he didn't feel as if he was being picked to tatters by these trees, as he had when travelling north to the great library with Cori, and as he had when he'd tried to return to Tauta before he'd fully recovered his strength. Looking back, he could easily pin his susceptibility to the trees on the Deathsong he'd been weaving. That song had been so painful to carry, that if he hadn't felt a responsibility for having Cori with him, he probably would
have let the trees put him out of his misery.
Of course, he probably would have thrown himself off the cliffs of Lautan if he hadn't met Cori when he had. It still amazed him that he'd found her in his palace. Someone who was so like him, yet a total opposite. Someone who made his blood boil, yet had his heart singing in the same beat. Someone who hadn't cared that he was the Karalis, and simply saw him for the man that he was. She had paid his rank lip service, of course, but every time she’d been forced to suffer any sort of deference to him, he'd seen the glint of defiance in her eyes, and that was probably what he'd loved about her the most.
And now he was going home to bury her. He'd led her to her death, then left her to die alone. There was no way she would have gotten out of Hen Goeden alone. Even if her mind had been able to withstand the onslaught of the dragon soul trees, her infected wound would have killed her.
His stomach twisted. He hated himself for how selfish he'd been. He should never have let the Advisor gain the traction for a mutiny that he had, should never have dragged her north to seek revenge for his decimated race. The Deathsong had driven his actions. He knew it would when he started weaving it but still he'd let it tell him that abandoning the throne to pit himself against Daiyu and Cadmus was an appropriate step to take.
Hindsight was a bitter thing. He knew when the isolation of Karalis had started to get to him he should have contacted Jarrah to work something out. He'd once told her he would have waited for her. And he would have; he would have waited until her childish infatuations were done with, would have waited for her to experience love and heartbreak with as many men as she wanted, would have waited until all her human friends were dead, would have waited for her to leave him to explore the world then come back. He wished he hadn't waited. He wished he'd demanded every moment of her time that he could have.
It took a little over a day to reach the great library, and when he stepped into the clearing with the overgrown, decaying building at its center, he found himself unable to go on. For a long time he stood there, dragging in lungfuls of air. Her remains would be here; just bones after five hundred years, but he still didn't want to see her that way.
Finally he forced himself to walk forward. He circled the library towards the front, picking his way around fallen hunks of stone and overgrown thistle shrubs. Before him, he could see a stand of white trunked trees - the dragon he and Cori had killed. The trees were only saplings and he had to get close to them before he could feel their whispering pull on his mind. He didn't bother to press his hand to the trunks to talk to them; he knew that dragon souls were reborn with no history; they were no longer the mad dragon that Cadmus had sent after them, rather they would be young, excitable and eager to please.
He wandered for a time, seeking Cori's remains, but he found nothing. He even went inside the library, wondering if she may have gone in there to take shelter, but he found nothing human in there either. He went back outside and combed the clearing around the library again. Finally, just as night was falling, he found himself standing at the mouth of the road that led to the south and to Tauta.
His heart thumped unevenly. He would find her on the road, he told himself as he set off along it. She would have tried to get home, but she wouldn't have gotten far. Still, he couldn't stop the flare of hope in his chest.
He walked all night, unwilling to stop and sleep. His eyes combed the road meticulously lest he miss her, but the further he went without finding any signs of her, the more he allowed himself to hope. He walked well into the next day too, faster and faster until he could have almost broken into a jog. She wasn't here. Had she made it back to Tauta?
He reached the border between Hen Goeden and Resso and still he didn't stop. He needed to sleep, but he wove a strengthening song to keep himself going a little longer. His stomach churned with nerves and excitement. Was it possible that she'd made it out alive? Had she turned? Could she still be alive now? He reached out with his Hum, letting it span the length of the realm, all the way to Lautan. He felt other Dijem in the realm - though they were unaware of him - but he didn't find the one he wanted.
He kept walking until he reached the border of his mother's farm - his farm now, he supposed - then he conceded to the fact that he needed to rest. The old track was overgrown, but he knew the way to the cabin and he reached it as night was falling again. Even in the dark he could see that the cabin had been well cared for. When he had been the Karalis, he had paid the state of Resso to maintain the property, but he doubted they would continue the contract once he'd left. Had Cori been looking after it?
The thought sustained him as he moved into the cabin and lay down on the bed. If it weren't for his near exhaustion, he probably would have lay awake all night thinking about the 'what ifs'. Thankfully, the moment he cut off his strengthening song, he sank deep into to sleep.
He woke early, however, before the sun was up. His body was tense with anticipation and he wasted no time in leaving the cabin to get back on the road. He alternated between jogging and brisk walking and when he ate, he did so while moving. He was desperate to get to Bandar Utara and find out what had happened to her.
It was almost another whole day before he reached the great stone city. By then he was cursing the fact that he didn't have a horse, even though he knew one would never have survived the trip through Hen Goeden.
Walking past the guards and through the northern gates made him instantly aware of how much things had changed in the past five hundred years. Clothing was dark and tight, and he saw knives or daggers at most people's belts. The way they looked at him surprised him as well. Of course, he'd been the Karalis before, so people had only ever looked at him with either trepidation or adoration, but the blatantly hateful looks that he got were something else. He instantly reached out with his Hum, touching the minds of some of the Hiram around him.
Bloody Gold Eyes, one thought.
Should be hanged, said another. Far too dangerous to be left alive.
That was curious. No one had considered the Dijem to be dangerous before, except for him in his role as Karalis. None of the people staring approached him, so he sought out a tailor to change his clothing to something more contemporary. The seamstress watched him with baleful eyes, until he withdraw a gold coin from his pocket and flicked it in her direction. One thing he had learned as Karalis; anyone could be bought.
She supplied him with several shirts; three form fitting in various shades of grey, and one long sleeved button up shirt in a refreshing white. She also fit him with three pairs of trousers, all black.
When he was set with his new clothing, he sought out a tavern. He kept his gaze low as he took a seat at the bar so that other patrons didn't notice the colour of his eyes. Of course, he could have gotten into their heads and forced them to look away, or forced them to fear him instead of hate him, but he let them be. he would learn more from them if he let them speak naturally.
"Just a beer, please," he said to the barman, putting another gold coin on the countertop. As Rowan had expected, the barman's expression changed from weariness to one of delighted surprise. He took the coin and returned with Rowan's beer and a handful of silver change.
"Don't see many of you lot hanging out in public," the barman said, leaning on the counter. Obviously Rowan's money had made him amicable.
"I've been travelling in the north," Rowan said truthfully. "Last time I was here, Tauta was a more peaceful place."
"Ah well, you have the Karaliene to thank for the change," the barman told him with a crooked smile. "T'was before my lifetime, but the stories are still horrific to listen to."
"Karaliene?" Rowan said in surprise. What had Cori done?
"Haven't heard of her? You must be the only one." The barman moved off for a moment to refresh another man's drink before returning to Rowan's end of the bar. "She came to power out of nowhere. Toppled the Advisor of the time off the throne in Lautan in spectacular fashion. Don't know what happened to the Karalis, though. A lot of peop
le say she probably killed him first. Of course, Resso has always been her ally. She's always protected us and we've helped her wage her wars against Hearth."
"So why all the looks of disdain?" Rowan asked then took a large swallow of his beer. He couldn't believe that Cori had made it all the way back to Lautan to kill the Advisor. He had severely underestimated her.
"Ah well. She might be our ally but she is very dangerous. If she can rip cities apart at a whim, so can the rest of you. They don't hang Gold Eyes in Resso, but you can be sure all the other states have taken up the practice. Trying to catch the Karaliene, they are, but I don't think they ever will. Nobody's seen her for near three hundred years."
Rowan pushed the silver coins back towards the barman then downed the last of his beer and stood. His ears were ringing with the information he'd just received. Cori was alive and it sounded like she'd become a tyrant, but he didn't care; most histories were over-embellished anyway. She was alive and that was all that mattered.
He left the bar and headed towards the south of the city. He reached out with his Hum again, pushing it right to the edge of its reach. The barman had said Cori hadn't been seen in three hundred years which meant she may no longer be in Tauta. He lowered his Hum, allowing it to begin touching the various points of life throughout the realm. He risked being identified by other Dijem, but it would make it easier to find her, and allow her to feel his touch.
He searched and searched, standing in the middle of the road with the people of Bandar Utara flowing around him. He was almost going to give up when he felt something at the very edge of his reach. It wasn't her Hum, but it felt like her.
Her Hiram side, he realised with a jolt of excitement. He withdrew for a moment and took a deep breath. She had her barriers up, which meant she wouldn't be able to feel him unless he forced his magic against her mind. He set off at a run; he needed to get further south.