“Yes,” Raeth agreed, “but there is something to be said for a Line whose members can nearly be killed one day, then be ready to fight again the next. Bestarin has always formed the core support of the military. You may not be as flashy as Amberite or Verdant, but we’ve seen what happens when that flash is removed.”
Taenen smiled slightly. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll pass your words onto the men. I think they’ll appreciate your praise.”
Raeth nodded as the Sending continued, the group of soldiers quickly disappearing. He would leave when they had all left—he didn’t care that the Forgotten never moved after night, he still didn’t trust them. “How are the statistics?” he asked.
Taenen bid the scribe away, then took a few steps closer, pulling his cloak tight. “Bad, my lord, but not as bad as some of our other battles. We held well, all things considered. The Forgotten forces moved barely half their normal daily march—that in itself is a small victory.”
“Casualties?” Raeth asked.
“Just over two thousand regular Aedin dead, about a thousand hundred non-Aedin, and just over two hundred High Aedin—all Amberite Bonds.”
All from the group I Sent to stop the Forgotten flanking force, Raeth thought. But if he hadn’t done so, the battle would certainly have fared much worse.
You did well today, the voice inside his mind whispered.
Raeth paused, growing stiff.
“My Lord?” Taenen asked.
“It’s all right, general,” Raeth said with a distracted nod. The general took the gesture as a dismissal and moved over to supervise the final Sending procedures.
You’ve been quiet for a while, Raeth thought to the voice.
I have been watching, the voice said. Watching and coming to understand. This world makes very little sense when all you have known is darkness and nothingness.
Raeth frowned, his coldness forgotten for the moment. The voice seemed almost… . You speak far better now, he thought, trying to articulate what he’d noticed.
I am learning.
Then perhaps you can finally tell me what you are, Raeth thought.
There was a momentary pause of silence. I don’t know yet, the voice finally said. But…I think I might be one of them.
Raeth turned his eyes from the Sending, looking to the north. The Forgotten army stood an uncomfortably short distance away, their ranks nearly indistinguishable from the darkness around them. Raeth felt a sinking feeling—it was as he had assumed.
One of them? Raeth clarified. A Forgotten.
Yes, the voice replied. Your people call them the Forgotten. That is how I feel. Forgotten.
Raeth paused, considering the voice’s words. It didn’t sound very certain of itself. If you don’t know what you are, perhaps you can help me decide what I am, Raeth thought back at it, remembering the day’s battle.
You are a man.
I meant in regards to my power, Raeth said. What I did to those Forgotten. They exploded before me.
You have power over the Chaos, the voice said. It is in you, part of you. You can command it.
Raeth frowned. Command it? What do you mean?
I must think, the voice replied.
You have to tell me more! Raeth thought with frustration, but he received no reply. Finally, Raeth just sighed and trudged down from the top of the hill to join the last group of soldiers being Sent home.
“My lord,” a soldier said, approaching with a purposeful step. He wore the fur-lined greatcloak of a scout, and his shoulder clasp proclaimed him to be of regular Aedin blood. Amberite, probably.
Raeth looked up questioningly.
“Do you have any special orders for us tonight, my lord?” the soldier asked.
Raeth frowned slightly. “Not that I can think of. Just keep an eye on our ‘friends.’”
“Yes, sir,” the man said with a sharp militaristic nod. He turned to leave.
“Soldier,” Raeth called after the man after a short pause.
The man turned questioningly.
“Why did you come to me?” Raeth asked. “Why not go to Taenen or one of the other generals for your orders?”
The man shrugged slightly. “You’re the Emperor, my lord. I don’t care what the Senate says, in the minds of most of us, you’re our commander.”
Raeth grimaced slightly. “Not much of a commander,” he mumbled. “Not after the way I lost us the border.”
“My lord?” the soldier asked.
“Nothing, soldier,” Raeth said with a wave of his hand.
The man, however, didn’t leave. He looked uncertain.
“What is it?” Raeth asked.
“May I say something, sir?” the soldier asked.
Raeth shrugged. They stood practically alone on the cold hillside. Those who hadn’t been Sent home were gathering around watchfires or inside thick tents.
“Sir,” the soldier said, taking a step forward. “I was on the wall three days ago, when border fell. Or, at least, I was on the wall until your order brought us all down. If we’d been atop it when those creatures jumped up, if we’d been surprised in that confined space… .well, sir, I doubt I’d be here right now. I don’t know how you figured out what they’d do, but I’m Ancestors-Blessed thankful for it. Most of us were hoping you’d stay in charge after that fight.”
Raeth frowned. “I may have anticipated the jumping, soldier,” he said. “But I still lost us the battle.”
The soldier shrugged. “We’ve lost every battle so far, sir. If you look at them all together, the border fight was actually our best so far.”
Raeth’s frown deepened. “I thought the border-fight was a disaster.”
“It was for the High Aedin, sir,” the soldier said. “But some of us aren’t High Aedin. The regular troops lost barely a couple hundred men that day.”
Barely a couple hundred men. Phenomenal numbers, all things considered. The soldier saluted as Raeth stood, pondering, and moved off toward one of the watchfires.
“Soldier,” Raeth called out, stopping the man again.
“My lord?” he said.
“I do have some special orders for you,” Raeth said. “But they might entail some danger.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll do it, sir,” the soldier said, standing up straight.
Raeth nodded into the darkness. “I want you to capture one of them for me.”
“Sir?” the soldier asked with surprise.
“Recent events have taught me we don’t know enough about the creatures,” Raeth said. “Capture one. You don’t have to do it tonight; just keep your eyes open for an opportunity.”
“Yes, sir!” the soldier said energetically. Then he waited until Raeth waved him off. This time, Raeth let the man join the warmth of the fires without interruption. Thoughtful about the day’s events, Raeth turned toward the last remaining Vo-Dari for Sending.
When he arrived in the palace a few moments later, Raeth finally admitted to himself just how tired he was. He almost toppled face-first onto the platform when he arrived, a mixture of the Sending’s normal disorientation—including the pain that had accompanied it since Saedin—with his own fatigue. A couple of Sending-attendants quickly rushed up to help him, and he straightened himself in their grip, then waved them away. His body was exhausted, but it was a satisfying exhaustion. It felt good to have actually done something, little though it was.
Tarrinon is going to kill me when he finds me, Raeth realized, moving lethargically toward the Corpate shaft and ordering its Nurturer to take him to the seventh floor. He’d left for the battlefield without telling anyone where he was going. Tarrinon had undoubtedly found out where Raeth was eventually, but he probably hadn’t enjoyed the search. Emperors were not supposed to disappear without notice.
Briefly, Raeth considered going to his brother’s quarters for some conversation, but decided against it. Darro had returned long before Raeth—the larger man would either be asleep or be gone to one of his taverns. Visiting the rooms would do l
ittle good in either case. Instead, Raeth walked to his rooms and past the saluting guards. He closed the door behind himself with a smile, anticipating his bed’s comfort.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t vine you right now,” a firm voice growled.
Raeth looked up with surprise. He could barely make out the slender, feminine form standing at the back of his rooms, dressed entirely in black. He sighed softly to himself, rubbing his forehead.
Well, he thought to himself, at least she isn’t naked.
Chapter Seventeen
“Well?” D’Naa demanded. She could feel her Aether wiggling in anticipation on her arm, and she was tempted to just let it go. In fact, she probably should have vined him the moment he entered the room. She had felt just how powerful his Aether was—now that she’d lost the advantage of surprise, she’d never be able to catch him.
At the moment, she didn’t really care about catching him, however. Such had been her intention when she’d first snuck into the room, over an hour before. She’d half-expected to find him in the company of Nahan or one of the other brides. When she’d found the rooms empty, she’d simply decided to sit and wait.
And that, in turn, had given her time to seethe. She clinched her teeth, raising her arm high, verdant writhing in the air around her open palm.
“I’m sorry,” Hern said with a sheepish shake of his head. “Lady D’Naa, I…I don’t know what to say.”
D’Naa snorted. “You have attendants and aids. Men of your importance don’t simply ‘disappear’ from appointments, Emperor.”
If anything, Hern grew more chagrined. “I…kind of left them all behind. Though, to be honest, they did remind me about our lunch. I just got a little distracted. I really am sorry.”
D’Naa lowered her arm slightly. She’d been prepared with arguments and rebuttals, but she didn’t quite know how to handle his frank honesty.
“So… .” Hern said slowly, “are you going to release that Verdant or not. Because I’m really tired, and if you’re not going to vine me, I’d kind of like to sit down.”
He did look tired. D’Naa had been so focused on her anger that she hadn’t noticed just how dirty and sodden his clothing looked. His blonde Aedin hair was mussed, his cloak wrinkled and dirtied, and his clothing was stained in several places with some dark liquid. Blood?
“I’m going to sit down,” Hern informed, walking over to one of the room’s plush chairs. “If you want to vine me, you can always just tie me to the chair, I suppose.”
D’Naa frowned, watching him go. Her sense of cleanliness—instilled by years of training by her grandmother—cringed when Hern seated his dirtied form in the beautiful chair. Wasteful Aedin, D’Naa thought out of rote. He’ll probably just throw that chair away and order a new one in the morning.
Hern sighed softly as he settled into the seat. “Actually, I’m kind of glad that you visited. There are some questions I’ve been meaning to ask you. Of course, the conversation won’t be very productive if you don’t say anything.”
D’Naa flushed slightly, then grew angry at herself for responding to his gibe.
I should vine him right now. He’s in no position to fight me—he looks too exhausted to even stand back up.
She raised her arm. But couldn’t do it. He just looked so pathetic. “Where have you been?” she demanded instead.
“The war,” Hern said. “Since I didn’t win Martial Autonomy—despite your intervention—I decided the best way to help would be to join the fighting.” He cringed slightly as he changed positions in his seat. “Of course, I’ll probably regret that decision when I wake up sore tomorrow.”
D’Naa slowly lowered her arm. Suddenly, Verdant looked ridiculously overdone—Hern was so exhausted that she could practically have walked over and taken a Bud without using her Aether. He appeared to have wounds in several places, though they were bandaged—probably by field healers. They couldn’t have been large wounds, otherwise he would still be in the company of a healer.
Her feelings form before returned, her satisfaction that the High Aedin had to suffer like her people had, and suddenly she was ashamed.
“You can sit, if you want,” Hern said, nodding toward a chair across from his own.
D’Naa eyed the chair, but remained standing.
Hern waited for a moment, then just shrugged. “I feel bad,” Hern admitted. “Ever since I saw you I’ve wanted to talk to you, to get to know you, but things keep getting in the way. We’ve really only had one conversation—that night, at the ball.”
“Yes,” D’Naa said. “As I remember, you spent that one apologizing as well.”
Hern paused. “I suppose I did,” he said, then turned to her with a slight smile. “Sorry about that.”
D’Naa frowned. There was something very wrong with his mannerisms. Underneath the fatigue, he looked nothing if not nervous. He kept looking at her and blushing slightly, as if he didn’t know what to do or say.
This was not the Hern she had been told to anticipate. Was it an act? But for what purpose? Ever since the first Forgotten attack, he had been acting strangely—the entire palace thought so. And, most of the changes were vast improvements. Could it be that the infamously childish Hern was actually starting to grow up?
“How did the battle go?” she asked slowly, watching him with curiosity.
“Poorly,” Hern said, shaking his head, his eyes lowering. “Even when we fight well, we lose. We don’t have enough men, and those we do have are surprisingly inexperienced. We’ve always just counted on the Aethers, and without them… . The creatures can bypass Amberite and Verdant somehow. I. …” he trailed off, looking up to meet her eyes with sharp sincerity. “I think the Imperium might be in serious trouble. The Aedin have failed you.”
Such honesty. “You’re not what I expected,” D’Naa said slowly.
Hern smiled wryly. “So I’ve been told before.”
“What of the arrogance?” D’Naa asked, feeling almost robbed, seating herself. “What of the haughtiness and the insults?”
“A façade,” Hern said quietly. “I didn’t want people to know who I really was—I was afraid they’d see what I really was. Incompetent. I’ve only recently begun to realize that acting that way made me seem like an even bigger fool.”
D’Naa sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide what to think. It seemed like too smooth an explanation. “What about this?” she pressed, holding up her hand and letting the Verdant wiggle. “What do you want from me to keep this quiet? What price must I pay for your cooperation?”
Hern shrugged. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to,” he said. “Though I am curious to know where the Kavir got a High Aedin Verdant Bud.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” D’Naa said firmly, waiting. Would he rise to the bait? Would he make demands now that she had refused him?
Hern just leaned back. “State secret, eh?” he asked. “Oh well. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Unless… .” he paused, glancing at her, his eyes twinkling. “You stole it off of someone. Like you’re supposed to do to me.”
D’Naa tried to hide her disappointment at the discovery, but she wasn’t really surprised. The logical jump wasn’t a great one.
“Well,” Hern said contemplatively. “That answers my other question as well. “I’ll admit I’m relieved—it isn’t good for a man’s ego to think that one of his potential brides is trying to assassinate him.”
D’Naa sat quietly, realizing she had to make a decision. Hern went against everything she had been told to expect from him. He could be playing with her…but the reports she had heard said nothing of such savvy in the man. It came down to one question—did she believe what she had been told, or did she believe what she’d seen?
She looked across at the emperor, who still looked a little nervous. She stared deeply into his eyes, trying to drag out the secret of his true self. Eventually, she nodded quietly to herself. Life had taught her to respect her eyes over
other people’s mouths. If Hern was playing with her, then he was a far better actor than she would ever be able to see through.
“I apologize, Emperor Hern,” she said slowly. “I seem to have done you a great injustice.”
He shrugged with a smile, relaxing slightly. “No, you were probably right to judge me. I’m learning to regret my actions of the past.”
“And our secret?” D’Naa pressed. “You’ll really keep it without demanding anything in return?”
Hern sat up slightly, his eyes confused. “Secret?” he asked.
“The truth that non-Aedin can Bond Aethers. The truth that you High Aedin have been keeping secret from the rest of the Imperium for centuries.”
Hern paused, cocking his head slightly. “Non-Aedin can Bond Aethers?” he asked.
“What do you think I am?” D’Naa said with exasperation.
Hern shrugged. “I just assumed that you had some High Aedin blood in you.”
D’Naa froze. Such a simple explanation. She sat stunned for a moment. She’d worried for months what would happen when her Aether was discovered, all to have it waved away. Still, it was only an explanation for her—not for the others who had Bonded Verdant.
“And if other Kavir could Bond Aethers?” D’Naa asked slowly.
Hern turned suspicious eyes toward her. “You’re not the only one?” he asked.
D’Naa didn’t respond, suddenly wishing she hadn’t pressed the issue. If she had judged Hern wrong, then this night could turn out to be a disaster.
It would be a disaster anyway, no matter what you say, D’Naa thought. All he would have to do is claim I tried to kill him, then show my Aether as proof. It’s too late to try and keep secrets—he knows too much already.
“Why would Kavir be building it’s own army of Aether Bonds?” Hern asked with a frown.
“Well,” D’Naa defended, “you refuse to protect us from the Harrmen. We have to find some way to defend ourselves. Our military is small, and the Kavir border is enormous. Without Aethers to scare the barbarians away, we’re helpless.”
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