Legacy of Souls (The Shattered Sea Book 2)

by D. Wallace Peach

“Father, nae!” Nallea cried, clinging to Azalus. Two men wrested her aside, tearing her grip from her husband’s arm. Guards swarmed down the steps, and those in the escort spread out, spears leveled as they surrounded their prisoners. Kestrel’s eight guards drew their swords, facing the larger force. At their center, Azalus stood beside Rydan, his blade silver in the sunlight. He glared at her father, fury and hatred tight on his face.

  “Stop this!” she shouted. “Father!”

  “Drop your weapons!” The mustached captain of the Avanoe guard ordered. “Or we will respond to your threat without mercy.”

  “Father!” Nallea wrenched her arms free of the men holding her. “This is insanity!”

  He frowned at her, pivoted, and retreated into the hall. She bounded up the stairs after him as the guards yelled orders to their captives. Terror swept her, and she spun before storming through the door. She faced the Guard’s captain, her temper seething, “Do. Not. Harm them! Or, mark me, one day I shall have your head. I swear it!” She met her husband’s eyes, pulled away, and charged after her father.

  The grand foyer enveloped her, the man nowhere in sight. “Father!” she shouted.

  “In the salon,” Arrick said behind her. “This way.”

  Nallea marched behind him down a corridor, the palace a mystery. The hallway ended at the throne room, a place she’d visited before, then proceeded to a private chamber. Dark wood paneled the interior, comfortable chairs dominated the room’s center, and a table for conferences flanked one wall. Her father had brought his cabinet of knives as well as the ornate desk nestled in a corner, its surface shining like a mirror. He stood at the window, hands behind his back as he gazed at the blustering day.

  She clenched her hands into fists. “Have you gone mad? You just arrested my husband and his father, and your guards are threatening to kill them! Do you want a war?”

  “I won’t fight you, Nallea.” He didn’t turn from the view. “Perhaps we should discuss this another time.”

  She composed herself. “I’m terribly sorry to hear of Athren’s death.”

  “Raze Anvrell strangled her on the settee.” He slowly faced her. “I caught him leaving this very room. When I entered, I thought she slept. But she was dead, her body still warm.”

  How could she respond to those words? “Father, that sounds so unlike the man I know. And you raided his freehold. Why? Why steal Bel? Two people were murdered, people who saved my life.”

  “I ordered no such thing.” He sagged behind his desk and rested his forehead on the heels of his hands. “Sajem raided, and I bought the woman from the slaver before anything worse befell her. I intended to release her to Raze, but Athren… She never recovered after Laddon’s disappearance. She made no sense, Nallea, her madness heightened by grief. She insisted on the delay, on applying pressure, just in case the Anvrells were involved.”

  “Which they weren’t,” Nallea bit back.

  “A tragic assumption that Athren refused to abandon.” He dropped his hands. “But Raze found Laddon’s body, and instead of satisfying Athren, it deepened her suspicions. He brought back an empty pendant, her son’s soul stolen from her forever. She lost control, consumed by a wild hysteria, and when he demanded the woman’s return, she refused. I’d planned to reason with her, but she’d needed to calm first, so we retired for an hour. I thought Raze had departed, but it appears he’d hidden in the hall, perhaps intending to hunt for the woman himself.”

  “And no one noticed him lurking in the corridors? No servants or guards?” She wanted to tear out her hair. “It makes no sense! How could you even think such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, my dear. Chaos consumes my life, and I haven’t been thinking clearly.”

  Nallea sank into a chair, her heart aching for her father. But Raze a murderer? And why kill Athren? “Where is Belizae?”

  “Athren sold her to Johzar. He shipped her to King’s Fist or Tegir, perhaps. I don’t know. It was a mistake to hold her in the first place, and now I’m afraid Athren’s made matters worse.”

  “Johzar?” Nallea frowned. “How is he involved?”

  “It’s a terrible mess.” Her father rose from behind his desk and sat in the chair adjacent to her. “We heard Johzar had arrived from Tegir. Athren sought him without my knowledge. I should have insisted on isolating her from the very start, but I loved her. And how could I lock the Lady of Ildus away like a prisoner? I apologize for all the trouble this has brought you.”

  “When did all this happen? Yesterday?”

  “I never paid attention to how Athren spent her time. She ranted, Nallea, and despite my intentions, I struggled to manage her. My attempts at soothing her only increased her rage. I was preoccupied with governing and assumed it would all end when Raze returned emptyhanded.”

  “I’m sorry, Father. Athren’s madness may have started this horrible chaos, but it doesn’t erase what you’ve done. She’s gone now, and you can fix this immediately, without her interference. Free my husband and his family. And we have to find Bel. I’ll send our guards out to search for her right away. Perhaps she’s still in Avanoe.” She stood and swept toward the door, halted and faced him. “Sajem killed Laddon, and you knew he was dead.”

  Her father looked up, brow fissured as his eyes searched her face. “How would I know that? Why say such a thing?”

  “A woman told us. That’s why we’re here. She feared Raze was in danger. I didn’t believe her, but it’s true. He’s not a murderer. You know he’s not a killer.”

  “Who is this woman?”

  “I don’t know. She never shared her name.” Nallea bit her lip. She’d never lied to her father, and the realization that she’d lost her faith in him wrung tears from her eyes.

  He joined her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not the only one who saw him leave this room.”

  She wiped her eyes, her grief pushed aside for a new surge of anger. “Why arrest Azalus and Lord Rydan? What possessed you?”

  “They stand accused of the murder of Empress Ezalion. Kyzan is the Emperor, and I cannot risk defying him. We must prove ourselves loyal.”

  “But that’s absurd.” She gritted her teeth and twisted free of his hands. “Rydan was in Kestrel, and Azalus stood beside me when the arrow flew. You and I should be equally suspect.”

  “Nallea, increasing the number of fugitives doesn’t help them or us. They will protest before the justices of Tegir, and if they have nothing to hide, I’m certain the law will find them innocent.”

  “If they have nothing to hide?” She paced behind the chairs. “Of course they’ve nothing to hide. Are you even listening to yourself? What’s happened to you? You were never like this, Father. You were the rational and methodical one; I was impulsive and out of control. Now you’re in the thick of these conspiracies. Have you been swallowing souls?”

  “Nae.” He furrowed his brow. “None in years. Not since my father. I’m simply attempting to safeguard the Vales, to manage Ezarine rule, and ensure a future for you. I’ve no choice but to appease Kyzan. Our power and wealth demand it.”

  She ceased her pacing. The suggestion that riches and duty to a tyrant would turn her heart aside revolted her. “Kyzan is unfit! He’s disgusting and disturbed. You placate an ambitious imbecile. He assassinated his sister and requires an innocent to blame. And by appeasing him, you’re complicit. You’re disgracing yourself.”

  “I have no choice, Nallea.” Benjmur retreated to his desk. “You are the Lady of Avanoe, Kestrel, and Ildus. If we are not useful to the Emperor, we place all the Vales at risk.”

  “I am the Lady of Kestrel. And I will have my husband and his family back long before I bow to injustice.”

  ~32~

  Nallea set the candle on the corner of her father’s desk and rummaged through the dusty corners of the drawers for a key.. She growled her frustration, slid her fingertips along the bookshelves, and peered into the sideboard. All to no avail.

  With a sigh, she picked
up his inkwell, stood before his locked cabinet of ancient knives, and cracked a small pane of glass. She winced at the sharp snap, froze, then tapped it again, harder. The glass shattered, and she pried out the jagged shards before she stuck her hand through the hole. She grabbed the nearest knife, afraid to twitch as she eased it out and slipped it into her pocket next to a purse of chits.

  A hand cupped around her candle, she abandoned the salon, and crept through the hall’s dim corridors, headed for the servant’s wing. A full moon painted the walls in soft blues. Guards chatted in the kitchen, and she slipped across the doorway without raising a stir. As stealthy as a cat, she climbed the back stairs and counted doors until she found the steward’s room, its location ferreted out earlier in the day.

  She tapped softly on the door. “Arrick? It’s Nallea.”

  A bit of shuffling reached her ears from the door’s other side, and it opened a crack. The wrinkles in Arrick’s face deepened into ravines. “Lady Nallea?”

  “Please, Arrick. You must tell me where they’re confined, and I need a key.”

  His old face blanched, and he swung the door a fraction wider, drawing her in. He wore a grayed nightshirt, his ring of white hair ruffled by sleep.

  “Where can I find a key,” she whispered.

  “What key? Are you locked out.”

  She raised her voice as much as she dared. “The key to wherever my father has imprisoned my husband and his family.”

  Arrick’s chin disappeared into his neck. “You’re asking the impossible, my dear.”

  “I’m asking for justice.” She clutched his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re blind to it.”

  “I mustn’t disobey the lord,” Arrick replied. “I’m an old man, my lady, and I’ve few choices.”

  “Arrick, I have known you all my life, and you must see that what’s happening here is abominable. I wouldn’t ask if I had other options. I swear, I will not implicate you. Tell me where to go and how to get a key.” Tears burned her eyes. “Azalus is my husband, and I love him. I must try.”

  Arrick blinked at her.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “They’re locked in the cellar in an old storage room. Down past the wine locker and armory.”

  “I’ll find it. Now, how do I get a key?”

  “The guards would have one. But they aren’t likely to give it to you.”

  “Guards?” She blinked at him.

  “Two, I believe. Lady Nallea, this rescue is ill advised."

  “Isn’t there another key other than on their persons?”

  “Lady Nallea.”

  She sagged and withdrew the old knife from her pocket. “Then I suppose I shall have no choice but to kill them.”

  “Oh, blessed gods.” The steward pushed the knife away and shuffled to his clothes chest. He picked through the jingling keys on his ring, slid one off, and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, Arrick. I shall return it before anyone notices.”

  “If you do, you will save this old servant’s life.”

  She stared at him, the horror of her predicament intensifying. No time for assurances, she kissed his cheek and fled into the hallway. With the candle’s flame sheltered by her hand, she hurried down two flights, landing her in the cellar’s corridor. She paused on the stone floor and shivered, the hall’s bowels icy as a tomb. A lantern’s pale glimmer washed the gray walls to her right accompanied by the soft rumbling of conversation.

  The key solved one problem, but she still needed to finagle her way past the guards, and she’d no intention of killing anyone, assuming she had the nerve in the first place. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. The Lady of Avanoe, Kestrel, and Ildus would demand obedience even if her bones rattled from cold and fear. Chin up, she marched down the corridor.

  The pair of unfamiliar guards popped to attention in front of an ill-fitted storage room door, the thick wood banded with iron. The guardsmen bowed. “My lady?”

  She ignored them and strode to the door as if she were an empress intent on entering her chambers, key aimed for the lock. “I’m here to release the prisoners.”

  The older of the guards, a man with a snowfall of white hair, pressed a hand to the portal. “We have orders from the governor to hold them.”

  She glared at her challenger. “Question my authority at your peril. I bear new instructions, as well as my father’s key. This travesty of justice is at an end, and the lords of Anvrell shall be released this moment.”

  “We require your father’s instructions. I apologize, my lady, it will take but a moment to verify.” He gripped her arm, drawing her from the door, and jerked his head at the other guard. “Wake the governor.”

  The younger guard jogged down the corridor and disappeared. Her plan in ruins, Nallea pressed a hand to her forehead and swooned. She sank to the floor before the guard could catch her, and with a flick of her wrist, skittered the key through the gap under the door.

  “My lady?” The guard drew her up. “The key?”

  “I dropped it when you so rudely grabbed me!” She shook off his hand, reached into her pocket, and whipped out her knife. Hand trembling, she aimed it at his stomach. His eyebrows rose, and his lip quirked into the start of a smile.

  The door slammed her into the guard’s chest. Nallea gasped as her knife poked his arm, and he thrust her aside with a shout. The back of her head smacked into the stone wall and her knees buckled. The knife clattered to the floor. Raze drove a fist into the guard’s face, snatched up the weapon, and stabbed him in the throat. Blood leapt from the wound, and she screamed, her hand slapped over her mouth to trap the sound.

  “We have to run.” Azalus grabbed her arm and yanked her up.

  Raze stole the dead guard’s dagger, a longer blade than the one impaled in the man’s neck. He sprinted down the corridor, encountering the young guard who’d surely heard the din. The guard’s eyes bulged, and his sword swung wildly. Raze ducked the blade and bulled into him, shoulder pounding into his chest. The man fell backward. Raze landed on top of him and rolled off. He wrenched the sword away and stabbed.

  “Hurry!” Raze said. The guard’s sword in his fist, he forged ahead. Rydan followed and Azalus pulled her along. Her wooden joints refused to bend, and her mind stuttered, wallowing in blood and death.

  Ahead of her, a scream fractured any lingering silence. Somehow, she’d climbed to the main floor, her gaze focused on Azalus’s hand as he clutched hers, urging her along. The kitchen lay in chaos, servants awakened and huddled by the hearth. Two guards bled on the floor. Raze’s sword clashed with a third guard’s blade before Raze slipped a knife between the man’s ribs. Rydan stole a dagger from the dead man’s sheath.

  Nallea stumbled outside. The guards at the gate died next. Shivering, she dashed through Avanoe’s streets, unsure where she fled, none of it familiar. Azalus dragged her behind him, and she ran, legs complying while she gasped at a world bathed in crimson. What had she done?

  Among all the horrors replaying in her head…she’d lost Arrick’s key.

  Azalus yanked her down an alley. He glanced back at her, his worried eyes brimming with fear and love. The reason for her actions returned to her and cleared the bloody cobwebs ensnaring her mind. Rydan stumbled, his stamina on the verge of snapping. “We need a place to rest,” she called ahead.

  Raze changed course, jogged to a lightless building, and kicked in the door. He grasped his father’s arm and helped him inside. Azalus towed her into the gloom and eased the door shut.

  The sound of labored breathing stirred the silence while her eyes adjusted. Wisps of moonlight seeped through the dusty windows. They’d broken into the back room of a mill with sacks of grain piled against a wall. Azalus released her hand, and she shook out her crushed fingers. She slumped on the sacks beside Rydan and caught her breath, her body shaking like winnowed wheat.

  The gray-haired Lord of Kestrel touched her hand. “I’m sorry, Nallea.”

  “I had no choice
.” She turned her eyes to Azalus where he whispered with Raze by the door. “My father wouldn’t see reason. He left me no choice, and I accept the consequences.”

  Her husband and his brother joined them. Raze got down on a knee, his voice a murmur, “You’re going to rest, but only a short while. Avanoe guards will patrol the roads north and watch the harbor. The force you brought from Kestrel is somewhere here as well. If you can, link with them, but don’t wait for either. Azalus will lead you to Ildus where you can board a ship for home.” He faced his father. “Can you manage it?”

  Rydan nodded. “You’re not joining us?”

  “I need to find Bel. I can’t leave without her.”

  “Athren sold her to Johzar.” Nallea swallowed, the horror of the whole ordeal enveloping her once again. “Or that’s what my father said. I don’t know what’s true anymore. But he told me Johzar shipped her to Ezar. I’m so sorry. I don’t understand why this is happening.”

  “Johzar? Why?” Raze stood and paced, an inferno of fury radiating from his skin. He rubbed the back of his neck and faced her, a warrior in armor with a bloody blade at his hip. “I didn’t kill Athren. She was already dead when the steward left me there.”

  Nallea met his eyes. “I believe you.”

  He blew out a breath. “I have to sail for Ezar. I’ll travel with you to Ildus, but from there, I head to King’s Fist. I haven’t a choice.”

  “I shall accompany you,” Rydan said. “I’ll help you bring her home. Azalus will make for Kestrel with Nallea.”

  “I’m staying here.” Nallea blew out a breath, her choice clear. “I’ll distract the guards and return to the palace, or my father will accuse you of kidnapping me on top of everything else.”

  “Nae, Nallea.” Azalus sank to a knee beside her. “You helped us escape. Your father—”

  “My father will do nothing but accept the truth. He won’t harm me; he loves me. And I have to help the man who lent me the key. Did you keep it?”

  “It’s in the lock,” Azalus said. “They will already have found it. You can’t go back, Nallea.”