“I trust everything went as you expected?” Krystia asked as she filled a pair of wine glasses.
Darius nodded. The crowds in the tower had been thin enough that he’d been able to make his way to the temple in less than half an hour, which was no small accomplishment for a man of his status. Unlike most of his peers, he traveled with a minimal entourage these days whenever possible, preferring to send the people a message of hope that one of their generals wasn’t afraid to be seen in public or walk among them. Plus, he really hated having to deal with bodyguards; it just reminded him of all the presumptuousness, bureaucracy, and arrogance he despised so much in the current government.
But here he felt perfectly safe and welcome—though he imagined it would be almost impossible not to when spending time with a woman like Krystia. A high-ranking priestess, she had an excellent reputation as a healer, both physically and spiritually, and spent her days at the temple tending to wounded bodies and minds. Like him, she was young for her position; at only twenty-one, she had risen through the temple ranks quickly in the last five years. She was loved by the people and the king.
For him, of course, those were just bonuses. She had saved his life once during the last war when she had only been eight years old, and he had found her again just two years ago when he had still been a colonel. Despite their age difference, he wasn’t ashamed to admit being enamored by her short but voluptuous figure, shoulder-length blond hair, and arresting pale blue eyes.
But in truth, her mind was every bit as impressive. Despite never spending a moment at a military academy and having no real combat experience, she had a keen understanding of tactics at almost every level. At Serogar, just before she had invited him into her bed, she had helped him make many tough operational decisions. She’d intuitively picked up on strategy far faster than trained men twice her age.
“They fail to see what is right before them,” he said, unclasping the buckles on either side of his ceremonial breastplate. “It’s going to get them all killed someday.”
“Hopefully we can avoid that,” she replied, handing him a glass as he set his armor down.
He carefully sampled the wine, rolling the liquid on his tongue in a vain effort to identify the vintage. His position demanded a certain familiarity with the nuances of “elite” life, but he fully admitted his weakness on many of the subtleties.
“Izarian 2007,” she told him, smiling knowingly. “Not that you’d notice the difference.”
“I try,” he shrugged. Her personal quarters weren’t particularly spacious here on the upper levels of the temple, but she had arranged it well—a large, comfortable bed on one side, a luxurious padded sofa on the other, and several rare curios from around the world scattered between. She had a love of Izarian art to match her love of their wine, and several ancient pieces decorated the walls. He was no art critic, but he imagined they were worth a great deal—even more since Izaria had been swallowed up by the Imperium over ninety years ago.
“So none of them looked convinced?” she asked.
He sighed. “The usual bunch was just as hostile. Only Tamas and Zoreal really show any signs of support. Honestly, at this point I don’t know what we are going to do. The lines are drawn, and they aren’t moving.”
“Just keep the idea out there, you know that,” she assured him, finishing her glass with an uncharacteristic gulp and heading back to the bottle. “The Crell will do something soon enough to make the choice easier; they always do.”
“Maybe,” he said neutrally. “The latest reports still show a very slow but steady build up at the border, but not much else. There are a lot of rumors about troop reallocations elsewhere, but we haven’t been able to confirm anything.
“Did you speak to them about the Highlord?”
He nodded and grinned. “I managed to slip it in. Alistan was furious, but the king thought it was a good idea. So did Savilen, I think.”
“Tevek will find something if it’s there,” she assured him. “He’s the best there is.”
“Areekan is going to contact him tomorrow. I imagine he’ll come himself instead of sending an envoy, so I’ll stick around to make the case personally.”
She smiled. “He won’t take much convincing. Just tell him about the rumors that Jason is leading the new Resistance and he’ll show up by the end of the week.”
“You’re probably right,” Darius admitted. He actually wouldn’t mind seeing his old war buddy, either; he hadn’t seen or spoken to Jason in a long time. “I can’t think of another organization in the world where the leader goes on the most dangerous missions himself. It’s a wonder any of them live past forty.”
“Many don’t,” she said soberly. “I doubt he’ll go alone, regardless.”
Darius finished the rest of his glass. “I wonder if it really is Jason. Last I heard he was still running around playing archaeologist, and I can’t see him throwing himself into another war.”
“I don’t know, but I’d love to see him again,” she said, smiling coyly. “At least he’s closer to my age.”
Darius grunted. “Uh huh.”
Krystia smiled wider and placed her second glass on the table, then slinked her way over to him with a seductive gleam in her eye. “But right now, I think you just need to relax.”
He set down his empty glass and sighed. “I would love to, but unfortunately, I have a meeting with the local garrison commander in an hour.”
“An hour is a long time,” she said, pressing up against him. One of her hands worked its way across his chest, while the other looked for the buckles on his belt.
He leaned down and kissed her. As usual, she was wearing one of the white-gold robes of the priesthood, but as his hands slipped inside and traced along her back, he realized that was all she was wearing.
It was, he mused, the other thing about her he found so intoxicating. Of all the women he had bedded in his thirty-five years, none had ever come close to her passion or sensuality. She intuitively knew exactly what he wanted when he wanted it, and he had never left her embrace unsatisfied.
“I suppose it is,” he whispered as he nibbled his way down her neck.
Here, at least, he was General of the Sixth Legion, decorated war hero, combat veteran, and scholar. He was powerful. And no man could be considered a pauper with such a magnificent prize wrapped around him.
Chapter Four
“Ghosts of the past often become the demons of the present.”
—Unknown
Krystia waited for Darius’s booted footsteps to fade before opening her eyes. She was tired and sweaty, as was usually the case after one of their love-making sessions. If not for his meeting she would have gladly spent another hour testing both of their limits. He was an excellent lover, and the thought of his taught, muscular form in her bed sent a hot shiver through her body. Unlike most men her age, he knew when to take control and when to let it go.
She had let him have it for most of this visit, of course, given his mood. But had he stayed, that would have changed. Fortunately he would be in town for a few more days, so with any luck they could both sate themselves. In the meantime, she had other things to do.
Krystia slid out of bed and into the adjoining washroom. She stepped into the marble basin and tapped one of the faintly glowing crystals on the wall; a moment later a crisp stream of warm water emerged from the fountain mounted nearby. She allowed herself a few minutes to enjoy the soothing sensation of the steam and water on her skin, musing as she always did about the benefits of having standing amongst the priesthood and finally getting her own washroom and steam fountain. Seven years of sharing a communal washroom with dozens of other men and women was something she wished she could forget.
She had managed to mostly clean herself when a familiar presence flickered in her mind. Even without trying, she could always feel the ebb and flow of the basic emotions of the people around her, which typically revealed their presence even when they attempted to be discreet. All Solarian prie
sts had this training, from basic empathy to full-blown telepathic manipulation. With subtle coaxing, priests could soothe the minds of troubled souls or inspire the morale of nearby troops. Half of her daily tasks involved the former, talking to nobles and commoners alike about their problems and helping guide them towards hope. This “mental healing” combined with the physical variety encompassed the majority of techniques taught to Areekan’s servants. It was a limited role, to be sure, but also a vital one. The health and prosperity of a sprawling nation filled with millions of people relied on their abilities.
Krystia’s personal abilities were far more expansive. At six she had already learned to sense the presence of other minds at great distances, and even remember specific patterns, letting her know who was who even rooms away. By eight, she had learned to influence those minds and thoughts if she wanted to—a tantalizing power for anyone, let alone a young child. Fortunately, she had quickly realized the consequences of those indiscretions and the value of self-discipline.
But in the here and now, this particular presence was unmistakably cold and calculating. They weren’t scheduled to have a meeting today, and she couldn’t discern his purpose here without probing farther than she wanted. The man was not amenable to such intrusions, and she would have to hurt him to dig farther.
She managed to turn off the fountain and wrap a towel around herself before the nearly invisible stone door at the back of her chambers slid open. Stepping out was a human man wrapped in a dark cloak and light leather armor. His face was concealed by the cloak’s cowl, which cast a deep shadow strengthened by an Aetheric enchantment. He rarely revealed his face to anyone, even her, though she could see a few thin wisps of his white beard. It would be an easy task for her to shatter his meek illusion or even augment her own eyes to see through the shadows, but she allowed him to maintain his dignity. Such as it was.
“We have a problem,” the man said.
“Do we?” Krystia moved to the edge of her bed and crossed her legs. “I’ve told you before to warn me before you approach.”
“I gave you an hour to fuck him,” he bit out. “Would you prefer if I opened the door while your legs were still in the air?
She smiled. “My concern is for your sake. You have enough regret in your life without wishing yourself in my bed instead of Darius.”
His snort was inaudible, but she could hear the derision in his thoughts. It was enough to make her smile widen. She could simply threaten to shatter his mind if he entered unannounced again, but he wasn’t one to heed genuine threats, let alone idle ones.
“Iouna managed to convince Areekan to send the Last Dawn into Galvia.”
“I’m aware,” she told him. “It should work out nicely.”
He shuffled, and she could feel his frustration. “Nicely? You realize when Dracian heads into Lyebel—and make no mistake, he will go himself—the rebels will feel obligated to have an audience with him?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” he seethed. “And this doesn’t strike you as a problem?
Krystia shook her head. “Quite the contrary. It’s an excellent opportunity.”
He laughed. It was an unpleasant, raspy sound, and it soon broke into a full-fledged cough. His withered body was deteriorating rapidly; she doubted it would last more than another year or two.
“Opportunity? I assume you realize that if Dracian or any of his dogs come anywhere near me or a half dozen other rebels, they’ll smell us out in an instant.”
“The downsides of using demons instead of flesh-and-blood underlings,” she murmured. “Why is it that villains always leave such obvious trails to follow?”
Had his rage been a weapon, he would have skewered her with it. When she was younger, Krystia never would have been so brazen with the great Ethan Moore, but many things had changed over the past few years. Stripped of his channeling ability with the death of his king—and then of his homeland by Crell invaders—Ethan could have easily crawled into a grave and died at the end of the last war. Many believed he had done just that. Only she and a handful of his loyal rebels knew the truth.
Ethan hadn’t given up his fight against the Imperium in the slightest; he had merely changed tactics. The demons of the Void were always willing to grant their “gifts” to mortals, especially former channelers who had been stripped of their power. Such dark magic was illegal in every civilized society, of course, even the Imperium, and after the horrors of the Serogar Gate incident, demonic conspirators—typically called warlocks—were hunted down by everyone from soldiers to bounty hunters to the Knights of the Last Dawn.
But the inconvenient truth of the matter was Ethan’s demons were winning his private war against the Crell. The Galvian Resistance relied on their support, even if most of its membership didn’t know it. Deep down, Ethan knew his dark pact would ultimately end in his own destruction, but he also knew it was his only chance to avenge his fallen people. Krystia could never quite decide if that made him brave, petty, or just outright insane.
“If you are done wasting my time,” Ethan growled under his breath, “why don’t you enlighten me on what precisely you have in mind?”
Krystia sighed softly. “Despite what you may believe, I am not stupid. Tevek won’t ever get close enough to sense your little secret or flush out any of your special underlings.”
He leaned against the nearby wall. “And how exactly will we accomplish that?”
“Simple,” she told him. “You attack him.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was blinking in confusion. He wasn’t stupid, either—quite the opposite, in fact. He would put it together sooner or later, and maybe even be annoyed that he hadn’t come up with the scheme himself.
“You want us to kill him and frame the Crell for it,” he reasoned.
“Tevek will not be harmed,” she said pointedly. “Attacked, yes—but just enough to point fingers at the Crell. If he brings other knights along with him, they should be your primary target. I don’t wish them to be seriously hurt either, but a few bumps and bruises is all we’ll need.”
Ethan shuffled in place. “He may go alone.”
“No. Tevek can be brazen, but he’s not a fool. He won’t risk going into Lyebel alone. I’d bet my Tario painting he’ll take someone with him.” Her cheek twitched. “Probably Elade, if I had to guess.”
“Ah,” Ethan muttered knowingly. “So you aren’t an idiot; you’re just selfish and short-sighted. You’re worried that your lover might want some fresh meat.”
Krystia was quite adept at keeping her emotions controlled when it mattered, and she didn’t let the anger flare across her cheeks—at least not much of it. But it wasn’t easy; she didn’t even realize Ethan knew about Tevek’s squire, or that Krystia, Darius, and Elade had met at Serogar two years ago. Not that it mattered—Krystia’s motives weren’t based on jealousy or anything so trite. Back at Serogar, maybe; she had been a nineteen year-old girl trying desperately to get an older man’s attention, all while he was fawning over another woman. But Krystia had grown up a lot since then, and she was the one who had seduced Darius into her bed. Besides, Elade was a vaeyn—no self-respecting Solarian man would sully himself by touching one of those disgusting, gray-skinned elves.
“It doesn’t matter who he sends,” Krystia said, waving her hand dismissively. “I just think Elade is the most likely choice.”
“And I thought you were really serious about all of this,” Ethan replied coolly. “Instead you can’t see past your lust.”
“Nor you your bitterness,” she countered. “I’m giving us a perfect opportunity to set our plans in motion with the Council. I can tell you exactly what will happen. Tevek will agree to meet the rebel leader on behalf of the Dawn and the Council. Before they make final contact, your demons possess a Crell soldier and attack, promoting the rumors of an infestation in the city. Tevek will be convinced there is a mole within the Council—there’s no other way the Crell would know the knights would be the
re.”
“Knights of the Last Dawn are enemies of the state,” he reminded her. “Being attacked by a group of city watchmen or even garrison soldiers wouldn’t be at all out of the question. I bet there are a score of them just looking for that opportunity to kill a paladin and get a promotion.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “He’ll sense the demon inside the watchmen, and that’s what counts. The Council will become much more interested when they start to believe there is an uncontrolled infestation behind enemy lines—they might even send in reinforcements.”
“That still won’t move them,” Ethan replied skeptically. “Not when they can rely on the Dawn to handle it for them.”
“Maybe not, but it will continue to press the issue into their heads and maybe get us a few votes. Darius only needs the support of a few more councilors to expand his operations. Everything will be set perfectly for one final push to bring it over-the-top.”
Ethan paced for a moment. “Too many variables. The Council may react with complete ambivalence, or the paladins might just stumble on our secrets too early.”
“All of which are manageable risks. We’ve had months of talk, and now we’re finally in position to see some real action.”
“Real action,” he repeatedly cynically. “Patronizing words from a pampered girl who never gets her hands dirty.”
“It’s the truth,” Krystia said, ignoring the jibe. “I have full confidence you can pull this off. And just remember that you are the one who needs to prove valuable to me, Ethan.”
His lips thinned and he paused briefly. “There may be no way to keep your paladin alive.”
The bait was too easy. He knew she cared for Tevek. The Highlord had rescued her when she was only a child during the war, and he would always remain her savior. Her petite frame might not have been up to the physical demands of life as a paladin, but she knew he did think of her as his own daughter in many ways. She held out hope that when all of this was done and her plan unfolded as they hoped, Tevek would join them in freeing her Unbound brethren and destroying the Crell. He was a man of honor and integrity, and he had fought on behalf of the Unbound before. When the moment came, she knew he would back her up—even if she had to keep a few things from him for now.
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