The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “I never questioned that,” Gwynneth said softly.

  Natalya sighed heavily. “It’s just that whenever I see her, I’m reminded of the mistake I made, getting involved with the king.”

  “You truly see it as a mistake?” Sadness settled over Gwynneth like a fog. “When I first came here, you two looked so happy. I remember how much joy it gave me, seeing you like that.” She had to struggle to keep the tears from her eyes. For there was no doubt that Natalya was no longer happy.

  Natalya’s eyes flashed, and Gwynneth worried she’d offended her. It was too easy to do these days. Natalya huffed angrily and said, “One thing I’ve learned of a certainty, is that the gods do not care for our happiness. They care about how we honor them in the way we live.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you saying happiness is a sin?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Natalya folded her arms on the desk and looked straight at Gwynneth. “I don’t understand it perfectly myself, but I know this. Happiness in itself isn’t wrong, but it can lead us astray. Doing things that are wrong or bad for us can make us happy too. It’s no guarantee of righteousness.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Gwynneth said. “But how can you tell what’s bad and what isn’t?”

  “Oh come Gwynneth, that should be obvious,” Natalya said in such a patronizing tone that Gwynneth stared at her, startled.

  Now Gwynneth’s anger rose. She laid her quill down and said, “No, it isn’t obvious. My understanding has been that if we pray with good intentions, and try to keep the will of the gods in mind, they will guide our actions.”

  “That’s pleasantly vague, isn’t it?” Natalya snapped. “And makes it all too easy to justify all sorts of bad behavior.”

  “Bad behavior?” Gwynneth shook her head, remembering the king. “How can love be bad?”

  “It can be, if it distracts you from more important things. And that’s what happened with me and Gauvain. I became so concerned for his happiness, I neglected the work I was meant to do as Maxima.”

  “But you’ve always fulfilled your duties,” Gwynneth protested. “You’ve always served the Temple and Galladium perfectly.”

  Natalya gave a short laugh. “My work has been far from perfect. No, as difficult as this is, I’m convinced it’s right.”

  “Don’t you care about him at all?” Gwynneth whispered, not knowing if she should feel more sorry for the grim stranger Natalya had become, or for the king, who still loved her to distraction.

  “I do care,” Natalya said, though neither her tone nor her demeanor softened. “But that means I must do what’s best for him, and stay away from him. He must focus on Zofya Inferrara, who is to be his wife, and not on me. I don’t approve of his attachment to Joslyn, but I suppose I can allow it for now.”

  “Oh please do,” Gwynneth said. “If not for his sake, then for your little girl’s.”

  Natalya looked at Gwynneth for a while, clearly thinking. “I have an idea,” she said at last. “Wouldn’t it be nice if Joslyn came to live with you? She’s of an age with Stella. I’ll pay for her upkeep of course.”

  “I—” Gwynneth didn’t know what to say. “I ought to ask Kendryk.”

  Natalya made an impatient noise. “He’s far away, and it’ll take forever. I’m sure he won’t mind, since he loves children.”

  “Yes he does, but what about Gauvain? I cannot keep the king from seeing his own daughter.” Gwynneth wanted to refuse—every bone in her body vibrated with the wrongness of what Natalya was doing. And at that moment, she decided that no matter what Natalya said, she’d make sure Joslyn spent time with her father.

  “I’d never put you in that position.” Natalya offered a half-smile. “But if she’s not in the palace, it’ll be easier for him to detach himself. Because that is what he must do, sooner or later.”

  Elektra

  It seemed Livilla was very busy after being away from Atlona for so long, so it was several days before Elektra was able to have a private chat with her.

  “Come, my dear,” Livilla said, standing up from her desk. “We’ll have a walk in the garden, since it’s such a lovely day.” She turned to the young priest sitting at a table in the corner of her study, scribbling his way through a pile of papers. “Get something to eat. I’ll meet you here in an hour.”

  He looked like he wanted to protest, then nodded and put his writing things away.

  Livilla took Elektra’s arm, and led her through the tall glass door opening to the garden. Once they were away from the building, Livilla said, “One of your mother’s spies, I’m afraid.”

  Elektra stopped short. “She spies on you?”

  “Of course she does.” Livilla didn’t seem the least bit bothered, and kept walking. “Or at least she tries. And I have my spies around her.”

  “I—” Elektra didn’t know what to say to that. “But you love each other. I’m sure she sees you as a mother.”

  “We do love each other,” Livilla said. “But we don’t trust each other entirely. It’s better that way, don’t you agree?”

  “It’s dreadful.” Elektra yanked her arm away, and hurried ahead down the garden path. She couldn’t imagine ever spying on Luca or any of her friends, and she was certain they wouldn’t spy on her either. The idea upset her.

  She heard Livilla’s steps slow, then stop behind her. She sighed, and turned around. Livilla had taken a seat on a sun-warmed stone bench at the edge of an expanse of red flowers. Elektra walked back slowly, and sat down next to her. They were both silent for awhile, the only sounds the splashing of a nearby fountain, and the hum of bees in the flowers.

  “It’s hard to understand when you’re young,” Livilla said, laying a hand on Elektra’s knee. “I do not doubt that your mother loves me, but I know her well, and understand that her largest concern is the power of your family and that of the empire. She must always be certain that I’m acting in accord with her.”

  “But you always do,” Elektra said. “How can she doubt you after all these years?”

  “Your mother trusts no one, especially after what happened with General Barela. Can you blame her?”

  “I still don’t believe he tried to kill her,” Elektra muttered. “Though I can understand why he would.” The words were barely out before she wished she hadn’t said that. Maybe Livilla was right, and you really shouldn’t trust anyone.

  “The general was an attractive, charming man who at one point really loved your mother. It doesn’t change the fact he also conspired against her; that is beyond question.”

  “How could he love her, but then want to kill her? I would never want to hurt anyone I loved.” She tried to imagine doing to Aksel what her mother had done to Barela, and couldn’t. It was impossible.

  Livilla sighed. “Love can turn to hate quite easily. That’s something you have yet to learn, though I pray you will not have to experience it directly. For now, when it comes to your mother, it’s best to realize that she does not trust you, even though you’re her daughter.”

  “I would never hurt her,” Elektra said, though she’d been telling the truth when she assured Braeden she wanted her dead. “Even if I wanted to, I have no power.”

  “Not yet. But before long, you have the potential to become a great threat to her, even if you don’t see it that way. If she dies, you are first in line for the throne. And you’ll soon be of age, so you won’t be answerable to anyone when the time comes.”

  “I’d still want your advice,” Elektra said. “I’m sure I’d need it rather badly.”

  “I’d do my best to help,” Livilla said. “But please Vica, that day is still far away, and you have time to learn and enjoy your own life. And that brings me to another matter. Your mother hasn’t yet spoken of this, but as I said, I have a spy close to her.”

  “Why? I suppose I understand that she doesn’t trust you, but why must you spy on her?”

  Livilla chuckled. “For moments like this, I suppose. I like to
be aware of what she’s planning, so I can anticipate how best to advise her. Your mother can be impulsive; even unwise. It’s much easier for me to react if I know what she’s going to do.”

  “And what is she planning?”

  Livilla turned to her. “She wants you to marry Aksel Roussay. And she wants you to do it now, before summer is here.”

  A strange combination of feelings washed over Elektra. Joy was one of them; it was hard to imagine anything nicer than being married to Aksel. Panic came next. If she was married, her mother would want her to stay here, or ship her off to one of her country estates, where she’d rot until something happened to Teodora.

  “I-I can’t,” she choked out.

  “Don’t you like him? From what I saw when he joined us for dinner these past few evenings, he seems to like you too.”

  “I do like him.” Elektra had been trying to take deep, slow breaths, hoping to quiet her pounding heart. “I think he likes me too, though he’s nice to everyone. Zofya is convinced he’s as much in love with her as she is with him.” That was another thing; her little sister would be devastated, and that was unbearable too.

  “Yet you are unhappy at the idea.”

  “I’m only sixteen, and not ready to marry. If I do, I’m sure I’ll become useless again. I like Aksel, but if I marry him, it should be in a few years, after I’ve helped defeat Lennart and Mattila. I want to be part of that so badly I can hardly stand it.” She turned to Livilla and grabbed her hands. “You must help me, please.”

  “It’s hard to dissuade your mother once she’s put her mind to something,” Livilla said, “but perhaps we can delay it with a legal reason. Maybe I can discover an old law that requires King Arryk’s consent, which I doubt would be forthcoming.”

  Then Elektra remembered why she’d wanted to see Livilla. “There might be something. I didn’t realize Aksel was a heretic, and was hoping you could …”

  Livilla’s eyes lit up. “He follows the Quadrene creed? Interesting.”

  “It’s not interesting. It’s dreadful. I was hoping you might help me show him the true path.”

  “It can be done. I shall send a League priest to advise him. But in the meantime, I believe we’ve found a way to delay the marriage, since you cannot be married to a heretic.”

  “Mother wouldn’t force him to convert, would she?” That would be worse than anything.

  “She cannot.” Livilla smiled. “That is my jurisdiction, and she’ll defer to me. As long as she knows he’s being instructed by a League priest, she cannot protest. And that instruction will take time.” Livilla stood, pulling Elektra up with her. “Say nothing of this to you mother, and leave it to me.”

  Braeden

  They saw no sign of imperial troops for quite some time. Braeden wondered if they’d guessed wrong, and those troops were making another try for the castle. No matter; they had to get everyone to the other side of the gap. With the road so narrow, the infantry marched only three abreast, and it took a great deal of time. Still, they had nearly everyone through before word came of imperial infantry on the road ahead.

  Trystan turned toward Braeden. “I’ll go now, and try to make them hurry. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  Braeden snorted, and Trystan grinned at him. “I had to say it, with you being such a mother hen about young Andarosz.”

  Braeden had to smile at that, and waved at Trystan before he and his horse disappeared into the trees. If the worst should happen, and Ensden’s troops broke through, he’d hold them off until Kendryk got away, or Lennart arrived. But Braeden wouldn’t let that happen. He had picked two hundred of his best cavalry, and placed them at the mouth of the gap.

  Drums, and the tramp of thousands of marching feet sounded in the distance, but the enemy was not yet in sight. Braeden took Kazmir into the gap and yelled, “Hey, Karil.” The dense foliage swallowed the sound, but leaves rustled, and Karil peered over the edge of the rock. He’d smeared his face, and the rest of him, with mud. Trystan had hit on the idea as a way of making it easier for the musketeers to blend into the woods. Their clothes were already so ragged and dirty, they didn’t look all that much worse, and after the rain, mud was plentiful.

  “What is it?” Karil asked.

  “Just a reminder,” Braeden said, remembering his own youth. “Hold still, and not a word or a shot until we’ve drawn them in. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Karil said. “Please don’t kill them all before I get a chance.”

  Braeden shook his head and grinned. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just shoot at those you can see, try not to hit any of ours, reload fast, and for Ercos’ sake, stay out of sight. One way or another, I’ll get you back to your mother in one piece.”

  Karil nodded, then disappeared.

  Braeden rode back out into the clear, and, at last, the enemy came into view. He wouldn’t be able to fight them for long, but he could draw them in, and distract them from the ambush.

  “Lances ready!” he shouted. These troopers were not experienced lancers like the Sanova Hussars, but he’d trained them well enough for a short action like this one.

  The enemy moved into position quickly. Well-drilled troops then; probably had been Mattila’s.

  “Forward!” he called out, and urged Kazmir to a gallop. They would be upon the enemy in seconds. “Lances down.” Braeden dropped his into position, wincing at the strain on his injured shoulder, and gave Kazmir the spurs, though the old fellow was so eager he didn’t need them. He’d kept his visor up to keep an eye on the others, and was pleased his front line held steady. He’d put all the young nobles with tourney experience into it. Many had never been in this kind of fight, but at least they knew how to knock people over with a long stick.

  The pike held firm, but only until Braeden skewered one of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched others go down. Aside from the Sanova Hussars, lancers were so rare these days, most pike didn’t train to deal with them. Braeden ran down a few more rows, until the next ranks tripped over each other, trying to get away. Braeden wanted to keep going, but that wasn’t part of the plan. He dropped his lance on the ground, then peeled off to the right while drawing his saber. He cut down a few more enemy soldiers before heading toward the gap. The rest of his cavalry thundered after him.

  It would be a few minutes before the enemy got organized, but an experienced commander wouldn’t take long to send muskets forward while the pike sorted themselves out. Braeden waited near the entrance to the gap, letting his cavalry pass. He kept one eye in Karil’s direction, though the leaves remained motionless.

  He followed his troops in, until the light from the mouth of the gap nearly disappeared. The shouts of confusion and cries of the wounded faded as the silent woods closed around him. It wouldn’t be long now. He hoped they came before the light faded so much that Karil and his soldiers wouldn’t be able to see. But with the days so long now, the sunlight filtered through the dense trees, even as it slowly set.

  Braeden raised his pistols and licked his lips. He heard shouted orders, followed by marching as the first ranks entered the defile. They feared what was on those rocks, as they should have, so they were looking up, and didn’t spot Braeden until it was too late. He spurred Kazmir with a shout, and charged forward. As soon as he came in range, he fired one pistol, then the other. In the same instant, the musketeers up high began shooting. Their shots were steady; after one rank fired, they scrambled back to reload, while another rank moved forward. By the time a third row had fired, the first was ready again.

  Braeden and his cavalry retreated slowly, drawing in as many of the enemy as they could. Before long, he knew none would get through, and wondered how much punishment they would take before retreating. Those that survived the first few onslaughts tried to run away, but stumbled over bodies strewn all over the narrow road, and became even easier targets. None escaped.

  Teodora

  “That’s not good enough,” Teodora said. “I want the girl
married, and I want it done now.” She drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair while she glared at Livilla.

  Livilla as always, seemed unaffected by her anger. “Then you must find someone else for her. I spoke to the young man myself, and he’s unapologetic about his beliefs. They can be changed, but it will take time.”

  “I don’t have time,” Teodora snapped. “He’s entirely in my power; I’ll order him to embrace the true faith, and that will be the end of it.”

  Livilla shook her head. “I strongly advise against such a course. It’s one thing to force commoners to convert, but quite another to do it to a king’s brother. And consider this: if he marries Elektra while paying only lip service to the faith, you will have a resentful family member, who will undermine you when given the chance. Why not allow the time necessary, and have him friendly instead?”

  “I want Elektra married now.” Teodora wondered if she should confide all of her reasons. She had gotten the real story of Elektra’s escape from her source in the temple school, and knew the tale Elektra had fed her was largely untrue. Why would the girl lie? “She’s more than old enough.”

  “She’s barely old enough,” Livilla said with a gentle smile. “And while it would be a good match, she still has a great deal to learn about the world.”

  “Let her learn it as a married woman.” Teodora stood, and resumed her pacing. She understood, from personal experience, that Elektra was old enough to be a threat. Seeing her daughter at the head of her own army, poised and confident, had been a shock. Teodora had always considered her weak and frightened, but she clearly no longer was.

  Livilla sighed. “The fact remains, she cannot marry Prince Aksel in his current spiritual state.”

  Teodora turned to face her. “What do you plan to do about it?”

  “It’s already arranged. I’ve sent Father Marcus to assist him in his laboratory.”