Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  Revathi’s lips thinned. “They’re mercenaries. They’ve probably been hired to.”

  “They’re definitely working for someone,” Esmer agreed. “The mercenaries that came back for this said something about their employer. I thought about following them into the crypts, but they locked the door after them.”

  Revathi rolled up the parchment. “I’m glad you didn’t follow them. There’s not a lot of cover in those halls, and if they’d shut you in, you could have been trapped.”

  “Maybe.” Esmer sounded unconvinced. “But I’m going to go sniff around the crypt door anyway.” She set the clay lamp on the table and vanished into the shadows.

  “She’s worried,” Revathi said. “So am I. This could be very bad—” She stopped, her head snapping up. A metal clicking sound echoed through the house.

  The sound of someone unlocking the front door.

  MARA STEPPED IN front of Revathi as the front door creaked open. A dark figure stood in the opening for a moment; then a hand came up, holding a lamp. Weak, inconsistent light flickered over a familiar face.

  “Tamas?” Revathi’s voice behind Mara was incredulous, but there was a note there that Mara couldn’t place, something sad and sharp. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” Tamas said. “The tar’Vey family left the keys with me when they went to Deshe for the summer. What are you doing here?”

  Revathi picked up the lamp. It cast light over her hands and lit up her dark, dark eyes.

  “You lie,” she said softly. “No one would leave a key with you, Tamas. They would have left it with your father. And your father would have sent servants to check on anything suspicious. What are you doing here?”

  “I . . .” Tamas took a step back. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

  “Can you justify this?” Revathi held up the parchment. The lines of writing seemed to twist and move in the flickering lamplight.

  “Where did you get that?” Tamas blurted. The changing light distorted his features, his face a mask of anger and panic. A sick feeling twisted in Mara’s chest. She pulled the dagger from her belt.

  “I wondered,” Revathi said. “After Emil vanished. No one in the palace would have a reason to grab him, and the mercenaries had no way of knowing he was there. Someone told them.”

  She waved the parchment, making it rattle. “And this? Only someone in the guard would know these things. Only someone who sparred with them, served with them, lived with them would know these personal details.” She dropped the paper, letting it float to the ground between her and Tamas.

  “Only someone like you.”

  Tamas snarled and lunged forward. But Mara was ready. She pulled Revathi behind her with one hand and stepped into his path, bringing her dagger up.

  “Back off,” she said. “Or I will gut you.”

  Anger, dark and ugly, twisted Tamas’s features. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Mara,” he said.

  “I was about to say the same of you,” Mara said, glancing at Revathi. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve pledged to Revathi, Tamas. She’s my charge, and I won’t let you hurt her ever again.”

  “What?” Tamas’s eyes flicked to the earring in Mara’s ear. “You can’t do that!”

  “I think you’ll find that I can,” Mara said. She jerked her head toward the door. “Come on, Revathi. We’re leaving.”

  Tamas put his hand on his sword hilt. “I’m afraid not,” he said, and he suddenly seemed larger, more dangerous. “You’re going to have to stay right here.”

  “What’s going on, Tamas?” Revathi said. “What are you doing?”

  “Proving myself,” Tamas replied. “To you, to my father, to everyone.” He pulled his sword. “Now sit down and be quiet.”

  Mara didn’t move.

  Tamas’s face stretched in a wide, humorless smile. “Are you really going to die for her?” he said.

  Mara tightened her grip on her dagger and dropped into a fighting stance. “If I have to.”

  Tamas lunged at her. His sword moved like quicksilver in the lamplight. Mara’s blade met his, the ringing harsh and loud in the dark house.

  “Just let us go,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” Tamas said. He fell back, twirling his sword. Mara circled with him, careful to keep herself between him and Revathi.

  This time Tamas tried an overpowering rush, striking her dagger so hard that Mara almost dropped it. He was good.

  But Mara was better.

  Instead of stumbling back, like he was probably expecting, Mara turned her momentum into a pivot, ducking under his attack and jamming her elbow into his gut. Then she snapped her head back, striking him in the face.

  Tamas staggered back, his hand to his face. He blocked her next two attacks, then rushed her again, swinging his sword in an overhead arc.

  Mara blocked it, catching the edge of the blade inches from her nose.

  Tamas pressed down. He was very close now; she could see the sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead.

  “You shouldn’t have pledged to her,” he said, low and savage. “Now I have no choice but to kill you.”

  Mara’s skin was cold. The darkness of the house seemed to press closer, the light narrowing to the shine of Tamas’s sword and the glimmer of her dagger. Her muscles strained and the wound in her shoulder burned.

  Suddenly Mara heard a sound that made her stomach clench, the sound of feet and clanking swords and chatter. And it was coming from inside the house, from the direction Esmer had disappeared to.

  The mercenaries were coming back.

  The knowledge gave Mara new strength. With a snarl, she shoved Tamas away. He grabbed the neck of her tunic as he stumbled back, and Mara felt the fabric tear. She ignored it and followed up with a whirling attack, keeping Tamas off balance. Her breathing was loud in her ears. Tamas swung at her and she blocked his sword, aiming a kick at his knee. It connected with a solid crack. Tamas fell with a howl of pain, and Mara leaped on top of him. She dug her knee into his chest and put her dagger to his throat.

  “Revathi, run!” she gasped. “Get out of here!”

  “Mara.” The sound of Revathi’s voice, choked and afraid, made Mara look up.

  The room was filling up with people, silent shadows lining the walls. Revathi was staring at Mara, her eyes wide and dark. She had the clay oil lamp in her hand . . .

  And Aari’s hand on her throat.

  “Let him go, Mara,” Aari commanded. Her hand tightened, and Revathi gave a pained whimper.

  Mara stepped back, letting Tamas get to his feet. The room was full of mercenaries now; their torches filled the house with strong, warm light. Mara caught a glimpse of a familiar tall figure in the crowd.

  It was Emil. He looked as stricken as she felt.

  “Put down the dagger, Mara,” Aari said. Her eyes flicked to the earring in Mara’s ear. “Don’t make me hurt your charge.”

  Revathi made a strangled noise that pierced Mara’s chest like an ice shard.

  Mara let the dagger drop.

  Tamas was breathing heavily. He sheathed his sword. “You’re better than I thought.” He made a gesture to his men. “Take her.”

  Mara struggled, but two of the mercenaries grabbed her and held her fast. Her eyes flicked up, meeting Emil’s for a moment, and she shook her head slightly. It wouldn’t do for Emil to get caught as well.

  Aari released Revathi, who fell to her knees. She barely managed to set her lamp down on the floor before a wave of coughing overtook her. Mara pulled against the men holding her, trying to get to Revathi, to help. One of them grabbed her injured shoulder and squeezed, the pain turning her knees to water. She stopped struggling but didn’t take her eyes off Revathi.

  Revathi finished her coughing fit and glared at Aari. “Since you’re here, I assume Lord u’Gra is involved in this too,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Of course he is. Tamas couldn’t be paying these
men otherwise.”

  “My father has nothing to do with this,” Tamas said.

  That’s what he’s supposed to say, Aari drawled inside Mara’s head. I have to hand it to Sathvik. He knows exactly what carrots to dangle to get his son to do what he wants him to do.

  Why are you telling me this? Mara sent.

  Consider it an open invitation. I want you on my side, Mara. We should be allies, not enemies. Something changed in Aari’s voice, and for a moment she almost sounded wistful. I miss the company of other tiger-Sune. Don’t you?

  Mara didn’t answer.

  “This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen,” Tamas was saying to Revathi, as he limped over to her and lifted her to her feet. “I was going to tell you after it was all over, after I’d taken the throne. When you could take your place beside me as my Empress.”

  “No,” Revathi said. The marks of Aari’s hands were still visible on her neck. “Tamas, this is wrong, this is treason. Don’t do this.”

  “Treason?” Tamas said. “I’m trying to protect the Empire! We’ll be good rulers, Revathi, better than the Emperor is now.” He ran a hand over her cheek. “Don’t you want to be Empress?”

  “Not this way,” Revathi said, shaking her head. “Tamas, please . . .”

  “It’ll be over quickly,” Tamas promised. “I have a plan to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. All I need to do is get into the Palace of Flowing Water while the Imperial Guard is busy with the battle, and the Emperor will give me the throne.”

  “You’re crazy,” Revathi said, her voice strengthening. “Emperor Saro isn’t going to hand over the Empire just because you threaten him.”

  “We’re not going to threaten the Emperor,” Tamas said. “We’re going to offer him a trade. The throne for his most precious possessions.”

  Mara saw Revathi stiffen, saw the panic that crossed her face. “The princes,” she whispered in horror, pulling away from Tamas. “You’re going after the princes.”

  EMIL WAS FURIOUS. It had been hard enough coming up into the house and seeing Mara taken captive. Only Stefan’s hard grip on his arm had stopped him from throwing himself forward. Now he stood, feeling sick and angry as Tamas explained his plan.

  “That’s right,” the nobleman said, and he actually sounded proud of himself. “This attack is only a distraction, a way to keep the palace soldiers away from the real coup. Once I take the princes hostage, the Emperor will give me anything I want. He’s tired, he has no heart for ruling, and he won’t want to lose the rest of his family.”

  “That’s how you plan to take over the Empire?” Emil whispered to Karoti, who was standing next to him and Stefan. “By threatening children?”

  “Not us,” Karoti said, but Emil thought he looked uncomfortable. “We’ve just been hired to fight. Tamas has assured us the princes won’t be harmed.”

  Emil turned to Stefan. “Did you know you were working for him?”

  Stefan shifted from foot to foot. “No, I didn’t.” He glanced at Karoti. “I wouldn’t have joined if I’d known.”

  “Is this going to be a problem for you two?” Karoti said, putting a hand on the hilt of his knife.

  Stefan’s face was strained and miserable, and Emil felt a stab of pity for his brother. Stefan had wanted to change the Empire. He’d wanted justice. And now he was being forced to fight for the very person who’d humiliated him.

  “You.” Tamas’s voice cut through the crowd and Emil turned to see that the man was looking at him. “The tall one with the red scarf. Come here.”

  Stefan cursed under his breath. Emil felt like swearing too. He’d forgotten he was even wearing the scarf.

  “Well?” Tamas said. “I said, come here.”

  Emil moved forward. He kept his eyes down and tried to put a vacuous look on his face, the way Abhra had taught him. But his shoulders were tight. He was wearing different clothes and he was cleaner than before, but surely that wouldn’t matter. Tamas was surely going to recognize him.

  But he didn’t. In fact, the noble didn’t even look at his face. He simply waved a hand in Revathi’s direction.

  “Give the lady the scarf around your neck. And give the other one your shirt before you tie her hands. I have plans for them, and I want them to look presentable.”

  Emil let out the breath he’d been holding and untied the red silk scarf. The gold-embroidered tigers glistened in the light as he tied it loosely around Revathi’s bruised neck. The girl’s ink-dark eyes watched him without expression.

  “I’m sorry,” Emil whispered to her. “They have my brother.”

  “They seem to have us all,” Revathi replied, her mouth barely moving.

  Emil turned his attention to Mara. Her tunic had been ripped down the shoulder, and it hung loose and ragged on her. She hadn’t been tied yet, but two mercenaries held her tightly, one on each side. One of them handed Emil Mara’s dagger and a length of rough rope.

  “Just cut the rest of the shirt off,” Tamas ordered. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  Nausea rose in Emil’s throat. He pulled his loose shirt over his head and placed it over his shoulder, feeling the cool night air on his bare chest. The weight of all the eyes on him felt like it was crushing the breath from his lungs. He reached for Mara’s tunic.

  “Does this have to be done in front of everyone?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

  “I’m sure I can find another volunteer to undress her,” Tamas said. He looked at the crowd of mercenaries around him. “Any takers?”

  Someone hooted, and Emil saw Mara flinch.

  “I’ll do it!” Stefan pushed himself forward. His head was up, and his pale-brown eyes shone in the torchlight. “I’ll do it.”

  Tamas’s head swiveled around. “You,” he said, and anger twisted his face. The watching mercenaries fell silent. “I know you. You struck me.”

  “Yes,” Stefan said, lifting his chin. “That was me.”

  Tamas stepped up to him and dealt Stefan a blow to the face that made Emil wince. Stefan rocked back on his heels, then wiped the blood from his lip.

  Tamas moved to hit him again, but Rajo stepped in.

  “This boy is a member of my crew, Lord Tamas,” he said, and his voice was a sword’s edge. “I will not stand by and see him beaten.”

  Tamas collected himself with an obvious effort. “Of course not. But he does owe me something.” He held out a booted foot. “Like a clean set of boots. I’ll even let him spit on them instead of licking them clean.” He gave Stefan a victorious smirk. “Isn’t that generous of me?”

  Stefan took a deep breath and looked over at Emil. Their eyes met, and a corner of Stefan’s mouth turned up.

  “Yes, sir,” Stefan said, and wonder of wonders, he actually managed to sound humble. “Thank you, sir.”

  Then, with every eye in the room on him, Stefan knelt before Tamas. He spit onto the leather of the nobleman’s boot and started to clean it with his sleeve.

  Thank you, Steffy, Emil thought. His brother had given him the distraction he needed. Carefully, he slit open Mara’s tunic, the dagger cutting through the material as easily as if it had been made of paper.

  Mara didn’t resist as he slid the ripped tunic off her shoulders. She looked so vulnerable standing there in just her breast band and trousers. Something tender and painful twisted in Emil’s chest.

  Shielding her from view as much as he could, Emil slipped his own shirt over Mara’s body. His fingertips brushed the skin of her upper arms, her waist. She was warm and smooth under his hands, but every touch felt like a violation. Like he was stealing something that should be given freely.

  He reached behind her to adjust the shirt, keeping her in the protective space of his arms. “I’m sorry, Mara,” he breathed in her ear. “I didn’t want them to touch you.”

  Mara lifted her face. “I’d rather it were you,” she whispered. Her eyes were huge and dark. “Oh, Emil, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,�
�� Emil said. He took the rope and bound her hands in front of her, careful to make knots that looked tight but could be easily undone. He kept his voice soft. “But we can’t give up.”

  Everyone was still watching Stefan spit-clean the noble’s boots. Emil moved behind Mara and slipped the dagger into the back of her trousers. His shirt was long and loose on her and covered the hilt completely. She stiffened at the feel of the metal.

  “May the Horned God protect you,” Emil murmured in her ear. Then, without looking at Mara again, he went to stand next to Karoti.

  Stefan finished polishing Tamas’s boots with his sleeve and stood up. His face was flushed and defiant.

  Tamas looked pleased. “Glad to see your time with the mercenaries has taught you some respect,” he said. “You may go.”

  Stefan came back to where Emil was standing. Emil put a hand on his arm.

  “Thank you,” he breathed.

  Stefan shrugged. “I owed her,” he said, low and soft. “And you’re my brother.”

  Emil squeezed Stefan’s arm, and shoulder to shoulder, they turned back to listen to Tamas.

  “We have to move up the schedule,” Tamas said. “People are going to come looking for Revathi as soon as they realize she’s missing. Send messengers to your men in the city, Rajo. We attack at Firstlight.”

  A rumble swept over the crowd of mercenaries.

  “That wasn’t in the plan,” Rajo said, folding his muscular arms. Tamas stepped up to him, matching the big mercenary glare for glare.

  “I’m changing the plan,” he said. “And I’m the one who pays you. If I say you fight now, then you fight now. Now give the girls to me and get out of here. Leave a few of your men, too. I’ll need them when I get into the palace.”

  Rajo’s mouth was a tight line. “Yes, sir,” he spit out. “Come on men, we have work to do.” He gestured to a small group of the men. “Except for you. Do what he says.” The unspoken within reason hung in the air. Then, without a backward glance at Tamas, Rajo stomped away toward the crypt entrance. The mercenaries trickled after him. With one last glance at Mara, Emil followed.