“We’re both going to bleed out before we make it home,” Victory said. The wound on her shoulder screamed. The silver bullet in her body prevented any healing, and she felt herself draining away by inches. And Asaron had too many bullet holes to count, despite the amount of Roman blood he’d taken once freed from imprisonment.
“Stop. Hear that?” Asaron peered down the road, and Victory followed his gaze with eyes that felt hard to keep open.
A truck appeared, chugging along the road as if it didn’t know a war was on. A truck with a Roman license plate on the front fender. Cursing this sudden bad luck, Victory pushed herself to her feet using her sword for balance. Not that she knew what she would do if the truck was full of soldiers bent on revenge.
The vehicle slowed, finally halting right next to where Victory stood. She raised her sword with hands that couldn’t quite tell whether they still had fingers attached to them.
The passenger-side window rolled down, and a head popped out. “Hey, Mama!” Toria said. “You and Grandpa need a ride home?”
EPILOGUE
Mikelos slipped his hand into Victory’s underneath the council table. While strange to have him by her side in this setting, it also felt reassuring after the whirlwind events of the past few days. But he helped to fill the room, disturbingly empty without Lorus and Fabbri, both in police custody. And Sethri, ready to be buried the next evening.
A speakerphone sat in the middle of the conference table. From it emanated the strong voice of the young Roman emperor, dimmed only by the distance of an ocean. The council had nominated Victory to be acting head, due to both her political experience and knowledge of how to deal with temperamental nobility from her days as a professional bodyguard.
“So now that you’ve ruined my plans to expand my territory on the New Continent,” Emperor Benedictus said, “and alerted the entire British Empire to be on guard against future attacks, how do you propose to amend this problem?”
“Need I remind you, sir,” Victory said, “that your use of a nuclear device breaks international treaties, never mind your attempts at expansion. So I don’t believe Limani owes you any sort of apology.”
The rest of the council gaped at her, though Mikelos sat back in his chair. He’d done his share of standing toe-to-toe with nobility.
“Well, the British ambassador here in Roma has been clamoring for apologies since the news broke yesterday of the attack on Limani,” Benedictus said. “And we’ve not even done anything directly to the British.”
And here the emperor began to show his true youth, at least in the political arena. The old emperor might have trained his nephew up a bit more before passing away and feeding him to the wolves.
“If you’ll take a piece of advice from an old mercenary who has dealt with the British,” Victory said, “they don’t really need an excuse to clamor for anything.”
“I’d hate to ask your opinion of the Empire, then.” A short chuckle emerged from the speaker.
He was lightening up. She could work with this. “While honorable to a fault, I feel your typical Roman citizen believes Might makes Right.”
From her other side, Max stifled a laugh. One of the human members of the council, on the other hand, looked ready to pass out from embarrassment.
“I thank you for that, my lady,” Benedictus said. “Your honesty is a refreshing change from my ministers here in Roma. I don’t suppose I could tempt you with the honor of a state visit? I realize I have much to learn yet about ruling.”
“It is quite tempting,” Victory said. “But right now, my place is here in Limani. However, I believe I could offer you a piece of advice?”
“Be my guest,” Benedictus said.
“Don’t apologize to the British,” she said. “They will be sated by a formal apology to Limani. Which can be made at a conclave between all three countries designed to revisit the old treaties. Since I’m the only person in any of our three governments still alive who was part of the original treaty discussions, I feel obligated to admit it is time for some changes to be made. Territorial negotiations can certainly be made part of the new meeting.”
Silence from the speaker. The emperor probably hit the mute button for a short discussion with his own advisors, surrounding him as the rest of Limani’s council surrounded her. Everyone in the room on her end of the line tensed, waiting for a response.
“My lady Victory? Are you still there?”
“Yes, sir,” Victory said. “I’m not pressuring you to make a decision now, of course. Just offering my opinion on the situation.”
“And a good opinion it was,” Benedictus said. “Let me first announce here the need for a conclave between the Roman Empire, the British Empire, the official city-state of Limani, and any other countries wishing to attend, in order to discuss global matters in this new era.”
“Thank you,” Victory said. “Limani will be glad to attend.”
Toria sat with Kane and Syri in the back of the baking trial room, ready to sneak out at the first opportunity. They’d come to support her mother, one of the prime witnesses in Lorus’ trial for treason against Limani.
It had been an arduous trial, stretching through the long days of summer. Treason was serious business in Limani, and this was the first trial for such in over seventy-five years. Lorus never claimed innocence, but evidence of his guilt had been carefully drawn over the space of the last two months.
Now the room was packed to the brim, while television cameras shared the scene throughout the rest of Limani.
“How are you feeling, Syri?” Kane narrowed his eyes at the elven girl. “Too much yet?” A woman in the row ahead of them turned her head to glare at his interruption of the proceedings.
Syri had been stuck in the hospital for two weeks after the final battle, due to aggravating internal injuries from her original attack. Even now she wasn’t quite a hundred percent. But what most amused Toria was Kane’s attentiveness to the girl, who’d been inseparable from them since her release from the hospital. She was even coming to Europa with them in the fall, to attend the conclave called by the Roman Emperor.
“I’m fine,” Syri said, waving Kane back. “Shush.”
The central tribunal officer stood from the long table at the far front. Every little movement in the room ceased and silence descended over the crowd. He cleared his throat, and Toria felt everyone draw closer.
“In the trial of the city-state of Limani versus Lorus Erikson,” he said, “Lorus has been proven guilty of state treason and has been sentenced to death by hanging. No appeals will be granted due to the defendant’s previous documented confession.”
He banged his gavel, and the room exploded. Toria lost sight of her mother in the front row when people around them bounded to their feet. Cheers, jeers, and even various expressions of dismay surrounded them.
“Let’s get out of here,” Syri said. “It’s done.”
“Finally,” Toria said.
Fabbri clasped Victory’s hand as they stood at the edge of the pier. She would board a Roman cargo ship bound for the British colonies as soon as the deliveries to Limani finished unloading. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”
“I am, too,” Victory said. “Such is life.”
Fabbri picked up one of the packs at her feet. “So it is. Though to be fair, banishment is preferable to death.”
“So it is,” Victory said.
Two dock workers approached, ready to bring Fabbri’s belongings on board the transport. “Guess this is it,” Fabbri said. “Take care of the city, Victory. And good luck in Roma.”
“I will,” she said. “Good luck yourself.” Victory moved away while Fabbri helped the men gather the rest of her bags. The encounter had been awkward, but she’d been the one to volunteer to see the woman out of Limani
territory, now that Lorus’ trial was over. Missing the man’s execution at noon hadn’t pained her in the slightest.
She returned one last wave as Fabbri boarded the ship, then turned back toward the customs house where Mikelos waited in the air conditioning. She sank into the chair next to him in the empty waiting room and let her head fall to the side to rest on his shoulder.
“She off?” Mikelos said. He looked up at her from his pages of musical notation.
“She’s gone,” she said. “The world can go back to normal now. At least until the fall.”
“You excited to go back to Europa?” Mikelos patted her knee before rising to his feet. “Visit the old stomping grounds?”
“I’m more excited for next week’s emergency elections, when I no longer have to act as interim council head.” Victory followed Mikelos out of the waiting room and out to the town-car. The horn from the cargo ship sounded, and they paused to watch it back away from the pier. “But yes. The trip will be good. The world needs it.”
The surreal situation did not hit Toria until mid-song on the Twilight Mists dance floor. She froze, staring at the other dancers and people lounging on couches or chatting at high-top tables. “What are we even doing here?”
Kane and Syri had been dancing rather inappropriately together next to her, but she assumed that had to do with the fact that Duncan, Kane’s ill-fated date from earlier in the summer, was staring at them from the bar. They broke away from each other.
“It’s Thursday night,” Kane said. “Thursday night is half-price drinks and industrial music. I’m here for the drinks and the boys. You’re here for the music and the drinks and the boys. Syri’s here because she’s been attached to us all summer. And possibly for the boys.”
“You’re the only man for me, darling,” Syri said.
Kane laughed. “Still not interested. What’s wrong, Tor?”
“This!” Toria waved her arms around. “These people! They’re acting like nothing happened this summer.”
Kane took her hands in his. “Come on, hon, it’s not that bad.” He must have seen the stress in her eyes, because he said, “Should we call Daliana for dinner tomorrow?”
Toria had occasionally seen Daliana in her official capacity since high school, and both she and Kane had visited her multiple times over the summer. The elven psychiatrist had been booked solid for weeks as the residents of the city absorbed the recent events, but she was willing to see them at her house over meals rather than during office hours.
“This isn’t some flare-up of my nonexistent posttraumatic stress disorder.” Toria shook her head. “This is dehydration. Let’s get beer.”
Once the three were ensconced on their own couch, beer acquired, Toria continued. “This isn’t over. This won’t be over until the conclave in Europa. Which we can’t attend. Despite the fact that we are the reason there is still a Limani to attend the conclave.”
“Is that what this is about?” Syri said. “Not being able to go next month?”
“Fall classes start in two weeks.” Kane reached across Toria to clink bottles with Syri before taking a swig of his beer. “I’m not taking a semester off and messing up our graduation date. Sorry, love.”
“I could go,” Syri said. “I graduated college last century.”
“No, you’re not going anywhere without us,” Kane said. “Not until we figure out just how much of your magic is entwined with ours after being in Toria’s head. Zerandan’s orders. And Victory’s.”
A knot began to loosen inside Toria, and a bit of tension drained out of her tightly wound soul. “So life can go on as normal, and we can go back to being treated like children.”
“So life can go on as normal,” Kane said, “and we can dance. After we finish our beer.”
Toria draped her arms over the top of the couch to either side of her, drawing Kane and Syri closer. “We really are stuck with you now, aren’t we?”
“You complaining?” Syri said.
Toria laughed. “Not complaining at all.”
Photo by Brian Roache
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
By day, J. L. Gribble is a professional medical editor. By night, she does freelance fiction editing in all genres, along with reading, playing video games, and occasionally even writing.
Previously, Gribble studied English at St. Mary’s College of Maryland. She received her Master’s degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, and Steel Victory was her thesis novel for the program. This is her debut novel.
She lives in Ellicott City, Maryland, with her husband and three vocal Siamese cats. Find her online (www.jlgribble.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/jlgribblewriter), and on Twitter and Instagram (@hannaedits). She is currently working on more tales set in the world of Limani.
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 29