He stole a glance at his brother as Benjmur attacked, sword tip biting a rib. Samoth screamed for focus while Raze ceded ground and his opponent grew in confidence. Wrath blazed in Benjmur’s eyes, and he fought for a brutal and bloody kill. Raze blocked a low swing and rolled in. His right elbow rose with a grunt of pain and cracked into Benjmur’s chest. The man heaved a breath, and punched the gash in Raze’s arm, unleashing a torrent of agony. Raze stumbled back and gathered his senses. Sword up.
Benjmur advanced, teeth gritted.
“You should have let us all be,” Raze said and parried a blow that would have opened his gut. Benjmur’s blade flickered past his eye and reversed for a slice at his neck. Raze bent and ducked, kicked at Benjmur’s knee, and only succeeded in making him wobble. “Nallea was happy,” he taunted. “In love.”
Benjmur pressed forward, every strike a shrill peal of fury. Raze met the blows with increasing concentration. The soldiers drew back to the walls as the fight traversed the room. Raze blocked them all from his consciousness. “She adored you, Benjmur, and you threw her away. Your ambition mattered more than your daughter’s love.”
With a roar of rage and despair, Benjmur threw himself forward. Their swords tangled, and Raze’s steel tore from his hands. He leapt inside the thrust and wrapped his wounded arm around his enemy, bloody hand dangling. Benjmur’s blade extended over Raze’s shoulder. The horrid embrace rendered it useless, prevented a retreat that would guarantee a fatal slash to Raze’s neck.
Benjmur struggled to break the hold, and Raze headbutted him in the face, uninjured hand grappling at the man’s belt. He found the dagger’s hilt, ripped it free, and stabbed. The ancient blade rammed between Benjmur’s ribs and the man gasped.
Raze let go, snatched the man’s soulstone and ripped it from his neck. Benjmur staggered back, eyes wide as full moons. He dropped to his knees, blood drooling from his lips. A woman screamed, and every eye turned. Nallea stood in the doorway, fingers splayed as if she could ward off the gruesome sight. She darted across the floor and her keening wail cleaved the air. Soldiers lent her space, the spectacle playing out before them demanding silence of all but her. She landed on her knees by her father, and her frantic cries begged for help from mortals and gods. Her trembling hands hovered over him, recoiling from the blood and the desperate plea in his eyes.
Raze twisted away. He caught Danzell’s hint of a smile and his brother’s nod. Azalus strode by him and dropped a hand on his shoulder, his face a blend of relief and apprehension. He knelt at his wife’s side.
The giant ravenwood’s roots splayed behind Danzell, radiating like a black sun. She stood before her throne, bruised, bloody, and regal. “Nallea Demiris, tell us truthfully. Lay to rest all this death. Did the Anvrells shoot the arrow that killed Empress Ezalion?”
Nallea looked up, the dam of sorrow inside her broken, and she seemed to notice for the first time that she knelt in a room brimming with blood, steel, and soldiers. The Ezari captain stared at her, awaiting her answer. Her lip quivered. “Nae. I was there. But I don’t know who killed her.”
Danzell lowered her voice. “Is the man who slew Kyzan Tegir dead?”
She gazed at Azalus, and he wiped a tear from her cheek, the gesture steeped in tenderness. Her eyes rose to Danzell. “Ai, my father is dead.”
The tall officer dropped to a knee. “Long live Empress Danzell Tegir.”
~44~
The soldiers’ oaths of loyalty echoed off the stones of the vaulted room and faded from Raze’s awareness. He knelt by his father. His undamaged hand rested on the dying man’s shoulder. Still alive, though his pallor matched the ashen shroud of a corpse and breath rose and fell with a softness bordering on silence. He opened his eyes, focus distant as though he already peered through the veil of this life into what lay beyond. Azalus joined them, holding Nallea’s hand though she too seemed to wander, lost in a drifting world.
“Raze,” Rydan murmured his name. “Azalus.”
“Rest,” Azalus said. “We’re here.”
Raze slipped a hand under his father’s head and with a painfully crooked finger gently lifted off his soulstone. Azalus frowned at him, prepared to argue, but Raze met his father’s frightened eyes. “You don’t need it, I promise. Your soul is eternal. There’s nothing to fear beyond death. Nothing lies ahead but new life. And perhaps our mother awaits you.”
His father closed his eyes. “Find Bel, my son…” The words whispered with a final sigh.
Raze sat back on his heels, his father dead, the order to find Bel a final gesture of approval and peace. He blew out a lungful of air while his brother choked back a sob. Nallea sank into Azalus’s shoulder, her grief uncontainable. Raze pitied her. Brutal violence hadn’t been an intimate part of her world, and it had played out in vivid detail throughout the day. He’d slain her father, and that would forever change their relationship, probably destroy it.
But from the start, this hadn’t been his battle. The war was Benjmur’s doing. A tangled mess of intrigue and death that might never fully unravel. So many lives had been stolen, too many to list. And truly for nothing when kindness and integrity had always been a choice. Danzell would make an exceptional ruler, but Ezalion had possessed her own store of wisdom. The ambitions of two powerful men had crossed paths and left a swath of destruction behind them. Now, Benjmur and Kyzan had added their names to the ranks of the dead.
Draeva squatted beside him. “My regrets, Raze.” She hung her head, beaten and blood-spattered, her face drawn. “Do you know where they left Johzar’s body?”
“He’s in the catacombs,” Danzell said behind them, and they all rose to their feet like crooked old men who’d been sitting too long. “I’ll send soldiers with you to bring him here. I wish to honor my friend as well.” She faced Raze, her eyes glistening. “Lord Rydan too, if you’ll permit.”
“What becomes of my father’s body?” Nallea asked, her voice a whispered plea.
“I shall consider an allowance,” Danzell said, her regal formality returned.
“Thank you, Empress.” Raze bowed.
Danzell touched his arm, and a kind smile twitched her cut lip. “Danzell to you, Raze. And we must find a healer to see to your wounds.” She beckoned to the officer who’d challenged her right to the throne, and who now appeared adamant about guarding her life. Under his direction, the chaos in the room had surrendered to a semblance of order. Soldiers removed bodies while surgeons and healers attended to wounds. Servants scurried to and from the corridors. “Is the fire contained?” she asked the officer.
“Yes, Empress.”
“Good.” She gestured to Draeva. “This is Draeva, a hero of Ezar. She requires a company of soldiers to assist her. There are bodies in the catacombs and bodies of slavers in the palace that we shall treat with respect. All but one, a man with red eyes. You may dump that one in the sea.”
“Yes, Empress.” He dipped his chin with all due decorum.
She smiled. “And I need a surgeon for Lord Anvrell’s hand. Tell me, is my sister’s steward still in the palace?”
“I believe so, Empress.”
“Send her to me. She has arrangements to make.” Danzell exhaled as the man strode off to assign tasks. She staggered a step, clutched Raze’s arm, and sighed. “This has proved a tragic day for each of us, for the Vales, and for Ezar. But I swear to you, my friend, I shall not allow it to pass in vain. I’ll order rooms prepared. We have much to discuss regarding the future.”
~
The breeze blowing off the Shattered Sea bore the scents of autumn to shore, cool and crisp and scented with brine. Clusters of warm days lay ahead before the monsoons settled in, but the change felt welcome.
Raze stood alone on a broad green bordering the cliffs, a distance from the marble benches and ornate urns planted with yew. He needed the space to grieve without worrying about his brother or Nallea, or they fretting about him. Samoth had receded during the days of healing—still present, but more the ge
ntle horseman than the hardened warrior. Briyon’s calm spirit resurfaced from the depths of Raze’s heart like a balm, his peaceful nature easing the heartache of the day.
His father’s body had plunged into the waves at dawn, one of many, including Johzar. And with the loneliest of ceremony, Lord Benjmur.
It had all added up to a monstrous waste of life, of years, of potential. He foresaw the losses as they stretched into the future, every absence a reminder of what could have been and wouldn’t be, every death leaving a lonely trail that tugged at his regrets and made his longing sore.
His feelings regarding his father heaped themselves into mountains he’d never be fit to scale. They’d achieved a tender peace, but it hadn’t been nearly enough to fill his heart. He expected difficult days ahead, perhaps a lifetime littered with them.
Movement at his side helped him regain control. He wiped his eyes and adjusted his cowl to the rising sun. Azalus stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing out to sea in the direction of the Vales. “Nallea told me that a soldier stabbed our father when he attempted to protect her.”
“How is she?”
Azalus shrugged. “Not well. She’s piled a world of guilt upon her back. She talks in circles and doesn’t listen to reason.”
“It will take time,” Raze said, the inner turmoil familiar. “Do you still love her after all this?”
Azalus’s chin retracted. “Of course.”
“Then she will recover.” Raze rested his uninjured hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Azalus looked down, and his boots scuffed at the grass. “Nallea and I will depart for Kestrel tomorrow. I plan to leave the city in her care for several weeks, though it will be hard for her. Avanoe and Ildus are without leadership, and time won’t wait while Juntis and I work out a plan.”
“I don’t envy you the challenge.” Raze sighed. “But I have confidence in you, both of you.”
Azalus faced him. “Would you consider a role? Kestrel, at least? It’s your rightful place; you’re the true heir.”
“Nae.” Raze quirked a smile. “I have no idea what’s ahead for me. Nallea doesn’t need my presence, and I can’t return to the freehold without Bel. I’ll travel the cities and search for her.”
“It’s time,” Draeva called from farther up the green as mourners dispersed. A cloak of indigo hung from her shoulder and billowed in the breeze. She and the other slavers of Ezar would remain on their side of the sea, a concession agreed to by the new Empress.
Azalus joined Nallea in a carriage, and Raze boarded the next in line with Draeva. He would have preferred to walk but his empress had summoned him, and he’d obey. The sun climbed with each turn of the axle, wheels clattering as they wound up the roads of Tegir to the palace. Raze spent the minutes in silence, content that his acquaintance with slavers drew to a close. They had nothing to offer each other, the vast sea between them to his liking.
At the palace, he joined his brother and Nallea. They climbed the steps to the arched door, and though they carried swords on their belts, the soldiers let them through. Ezari nobles and moneyed citizens packed the floor, their chatter filling the air with an animated drone. Raze imagined the novelty of a new empress would wither with time while stories of her rise to power would grow from seeds of truth into epic tales.
His heels tapped the polished floor, all blood sopped up by a score of slaves. He, Azalus, and Nallea approached the dais and bowed. “Empress Tegir.”
Danzell smiled, eyes half-lidded, the lingering green and yellow bruising on her pale skin concealed with powder. She wore topaz in her ears and around her throat, a circlet girding her head with a single teardrop on her forehead. A long indigo gown pooled at her feet, the bodice embroidered with thread of gold, not the sort of garb Raze had become accustomed to seeing her wear. She dipped her chin in greeting. “Lady Nallea. Lords Raze and Azalus, my condolences. I trust the rites went as planned.”
“They did,” Azalus replied, “and we’re grateful for your hospitality as well as your compassion.” He chose silence regarding the subject of her benevolence, but they all understood. Benjmur’s inclusion was an extraordinary exception.
“A small concession.” She gestured to the officer attending her. “We shall recess to the council chamber.”
The tall captain bowed. “As you wish, Empress.” He presented his arm and escorted his charge to the side chamber, stealing glances at her while a contingent of soldiers cordoned off the fawning crowd. Raze, his brother, and Nallea followed.
In the newly scrubbed and restored chamber, Danzell sat on a cushioned seat by a modest fire, the space overly warm. The room provided no chairs for guests, and Raze chuckled at the arrangement. She leaned back and huffed, all formality surrendered. “Rather pompous, isn’t it? They tell me it encourages short visits.” She smiled at Azalus. “I hear you’re departing for the Vales on the morrow.”
“Our cities require our presence.”
Danzell studied him. “Are you up to the task?”
“Wise men and women inhabit every city. I shall rely on their knowledge and won’t rest until we’ve restored order.”
“I can ask for no more or less.” She tilted her head, her gaze including them all. “You are free of Ezari slavers but not of bondage. It is up to the Vales to recreate your laws regarding penalties for crimes and up to you how you will provide for the poor without servitude, all undertaken with and within reason. I ask for tribute, loyalty, and peace, and as long as I receive those three—without exception—you will face little interference from me. You will rule your people as you see fit.”
A smile edged across Nallea’s lips, and Azalus grinned. They both bowed and locked hands. “You will have all three.”
Her eyes shifted to Nallea. “Remember my sister’s words. As a woman, you are capable of ruling. Do not cede your power because you’ve made mistakes. If you defend your people with the same vigor that you defended your father, I have faith that your citizens will prosper. Rule wisely.”
Nallea blinked back her tears. “Thank you, Empress.”
“Then I wish you safe travels, Lord and Lady Anvrell. You are free to enjoy the city.” She reached for Raze’s hand. “If you would grant me a moment.”
Azalus and Nallea bowed and departed, leaving Raze behind. Danzell dismissed her guards and when the officer objected she shooed him off with a frown.
“Is that one protective or charmed?” she asked after they all left.
“Perhaps a bit of each.” Raze chuckled.
“My ability to walk Tegir’s streets in anonymity is gone forever. I’m afraid there will be aspects of rule I’ll detest.”
“The price of power, which not all of us are willing to pay. But I’m grateful you prevailed.”
“My victory brought its share of suffering, Raze, and I suspect I’m better for it. All these wise souls in me clamored about compassion, but I needed to experience the nature of pain myself, to burn away the excuses of my forebears and the familiarity of privilege.” She peered into the fire. “The curse of power and wealth is that it often comes at the cost of empathy. I hope to carry the light of healing to both our lands; I pray it’s my destiny.”
“I expect nothing less.” Raze smiled at her dreams, confident in her strength to see them through.
“You’ve left a positive imprint on our world. I hope that, despite your losses, you find solace in the accomplishment.”
He appreciated the sentiment. Long ago his father’s old sergeant, and later Briyon, had told him to make a difference with his life. In a way, he’d accomplished that goal, though the costs left him bereft of pride. “I may in time.”
She looked up at him. “Your plans?”
“I’ll hunt for Belizae. I can’t go home without her.” His future haunted his thoughts, losses stacked one atop the other with nothing to do about them but endure. But he refused to count Bel among the victims. Not yet. Not if she still woke each morning somewhere out in the world. She held all his dr
eams and desires cupped in her hands, and his life demanded that he seek her; his future depended on finding her.
Danzell rose, glided to the sideboard, and retrieved a leather purse she then placed in his hand. “To assist you in your quest.”
He would have refused, but he’d relied on the charity of others all summer, and his poverty had shown no sign of abandoning him. The chits clinked together inside the purse, and he bowed. “I’m grateful, Danzell.”
“It’s a gesture, Raze. Little else. But it’s not the reason I asked you to stay.” She sank into her chair and sighed. With a sense of reverence, she lifted a glowing pendant from around her neck and held it in her lap. “When you return to Kestrel, you will learn that the Temple of Souls burned there too.”
Raze inhaled, the reaction visceral and beyond his control, though he believed to his core that she had set those souls free. He had to; his father’s pendant hung empty against his chest.
“Did I do the right thing?” she asked. “Burning all those souls?”
“Ai, Danzell. We trusted Laddon, both of us. He wouldn’t lead us astray.”
“He’s gone.” She gazed up at him. “I haven’t seen him since I fought Sajem in the catacombs.”
“Maybe he accomplished his goals.” He glanced at the pendant clutched in her fingers. “Johzar?”
She nodded, her eyes welling. “I kept it, but I want to set him free too. I just couldn’t do it alone.”
Raze got down on a knee by the fire and held out his hand. She opened the pendant and rolled the pearl of light into his palm. He faced the hearth. “We free you to the mystery, Johzar. I pray our paths cross again in another life and in happier times.” He gently tossed the luminescent soul into the fire.
Legacy of Souls (The Shattered Sea Book 2) Page 28