by Jasmine Walt
“At the cost of how many men? This is not how an intelligent leader conquers hostile nations.”
His father waved his hand, brushing away Axel’s objections. “You say you want power. That you want to lead millions, but you worry about the lives of a few thousand vermin?”
Axel’s face hardened. “They are my men. Your men, too. They expect us to use them wisely. If they die in battle, so be it. As you say, our empire is not short of men, so there are plenty more who will replace them. But to be squandered . . . that is untenable. To them and to me. If I cannot protect them from that kind of abuse, then what good am I as a general? As an heir to the throne?”
His father sighed. “Axel, you have the makings of a great emperor—if you learn to control these base emotions. I can help with that.”
Axel grimaced. “I’m sure you can, but yours is not the kind of help I seek. I am quite capable of conniving my way to whatever I want. I learned at the knees of the master. You.”
“So, to repay me, you choose to defy me at every turn? This is ingratitude on a grand scale.”
“No, it’s me trying to have power and live with my conscience. I still have one, Father. It speaks to me occasionally. Does yours still chatter away to you?”
His father’s scornful expression was all the answer Axel needed.
“The day I become like you, please kill me.”
“You are your own worst enemy, Axel. Too often, you allow your heart to rule when your head should be in control.”
Axel had heard enough about his weakness and failings. “Treven. I lay the blame squarely at your feet that we are nowhere near conquering the ice crystal mines. Take a bow that we are still up to our arses in mud and toxic gas while Chad laughs at us.”
“Don’t you dare blame me for that mess,” his father hissed. “I’m not Lord of the Conquest. Treven is Raklus’s problem.” Despite the heat, his father clawed an olive-green cape tighter around his frail shoulders. “Anyway, how is this relevant to you interfering with Saskia’s duties yesterday or flirting with Lynx today?”
“It’s been an interesting week.” Axel leaned against the wall, staring straight past his father.
“Look at me!” A bony hand gripped Axel’s chin, but his father wasn’t strong enough to turn his head. His father dropped his fist. “If you care so deeply about the lives of our low-born, I suggest you spare a thought for Mother Saskia. Mott’s deporting her to the prison camps for letting Lynx appear at court in that outrageous dress.”
The news knifed Axel with guilt. Few people survived internment in a prison camp. Conscious of the double standard, he suppressed it.
Nothing could derail Operation Treven.
He turned lazily to face his father. “Mott’s agenda with Lynx . . . I understand he’s looking for a grandson, and last night, he let Lynx get away with that sexy little dress. He didn’t seem to mind her hot red number today, either. You’ve got to wonder about it all.”
“All emperors want grandsons to ensure depth in the succession.” His father’s eyes fixed warily on him.
“Pff!” Axel snorted. “You are full of jokes today. We both know emperors have such a healthy fear of the Dmitri Curse, they’d avoid procreation like the curse it is if they could get away with it. Just a shame Norin princesses are always so ravishing. I swear their pretty faces are the only thing that gives that treaty any teeth.” He paused, flashing a grin. “They must be pretty amazing in bed, too, if every emperor has risked keeping them alive, however temporarily, after the wedding.”
“Dragon’s arse, Axel!” Eyes wide, his father fumbled for his chair and then sank down into it. “The Dmitri Curse! How dare you speak of that heresy?”
“Oh, so you don’t want me talking about Dmitri?” Axel sat and even managed to get his feet back on the desk without his father seeming to notice.
“Axel, hold your tongue!”
“Then I suggest you give me something else to do to take my mind off that pesky curse.” Axel’s voice hardened. “Like agreeing to my posting to Treven.”
“So that is what this is about? No. And get your feet off my table.”
Axel ignored the command. “In that case, you leave me no choice but to amuse myself with Lynx. Someone has to, if Lukan insists on doing a disappearing act.”
His father stood and darted around the desk. He grabbed both of Axel’s arms and tried to shake him. When that didn’t work, his father snarled, “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yes. And I won’t stop until I win.”
“So Lynx—”
“Lynx is merely a weapon in my arsenal. I’ll do whatever it takes with her until you let me go and rescue the situation in Treven.” Not entirely true—in the short time he’d known her, Lynx had come to mean far more than that to him.
Face pressed to Axel’s, his father said, “I will not be blackmailed into sending you to certain death. I know you. You’ll take risks, putting yourself in harm’s way for your men.” He settled back in his chair. “Axel, you want power. I can give it to you. I intend to put you on the throne before I die.”
Axel closed his eyes and sighed. He’d heard this rant before. His father had been speaking about seizing the throne for years. Unfortunately for his father and thanks to his poor health, Mott—with the support of the Fifteen—had removed him from the line of succession and decreed that Axel would be next in line after Mott and his heirs. His father had never forgiven Mott.
Still, it was very plain to Axel that, were he ever to be crowned emperor, his father would want to pull the strings. Given his propensity to kill first and ask questions later, that was unacceptable.
“Father, you don’t understand. I don’t need your help to win the throne. Just send me to Treven, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“No, Axel. You don’t understand.” His father paused, his lips twitching, a sign Axel recognized as indecision. Finally, he leaned in so close Axel could feel his breath on his face. “Mott is restless.” He touched his head. “It’s the voices, I think. They’re troubling him.”
Axel sucked in a quick breath. His mention of Dmitri had certainly plunged their conversation into unknown territory. Still, he knew his father had insight into Mott’s inner workings that no one else in the palace did, thanks to a microphone hidden in Mott’s bedchamber. It seemed the sleeping emperor was positively verbose, often mumbling about conversations with Thurban.
“What’s Thurban telling him?”
Axel didn’t expect an answer, but after a moment’s hesitation, his father said, “He’s been rambling on about claims that Lukan plans to kill him. That Lukan is the crown prince prophesied about who will destroy his father and the empire.”
Axel’s face scrunched up with skepticism. “Lukan? Come on, Father. No one will believe that. Lukan doesn’t have the backbone. And even if he did, Mott would never let it happen.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself.” Cloak clutched around his shoulders, his father said, “Axel, this is one fight you do not want. Mott is not the only one with an agenda.” He walked to the door, slid it open, and gestured for Axel to leave. “Forget about Treven, and keep your hands off that Norin bitch.”
Any other time, Axel would have objected to the eviction—but not today. A hunt had been planned to celebrate Lynx and Lukan’s betrothal.
If Axel raced, he could probably catch her at the stables.
21
The mild autumn sun was high in the sky when Lynx and Kestrel were escorted to the stables. Compared to the thorn-ringed corral where the Norin safeguarded their horses, the home of the Chenayan mounts was positively palatial. Built from hewn stone, each stable was bigger than a Norin family tent. Seeing the magnificent horses, nothing like the hardy nags she rode, Lynx guessed the spoiled steeds thrived on the care. At least it was a sign that the Chenayans valued something.
Then a thought struck.
How was she supposed to ride in a dress? Especially a bright red silk one? Lynx shook her head in
wonder. If she’d been wearing her leathers . . . She sighed. Those belonged to another time, another world.
Her escort led her and Kestrel to a crowd of high-born gathered in a central courtyard in the middle of the stable precinct. The men were armed with crossbows, but the women were weaponless. It seemed hunting was a male pursuit in Chenaya, with women mere spectators. Yet another profound difference between their two cultures.
Lynx quickly scanned the crowd, and her heart sank.
Lukan wasn’t amongst them. Neither was Axel.
Tao broke away from the group to meet her and Kestrel. On his gauntleted wrist, he carried a falcon. He pulled the leather hood off its head. “Kestrel and Lynx, meet Bird.”
The falcon turned cruel black eyes, rimmed with yellow, on Lynx.
She smiled to cover her worry and disappointment at Lukan—and Axel’s—absence. “‘Bird’? That’s its name?”
Hunting with birds was not common in Norin, so Lynx knew little about the sport.
“Not exactly original,” Kestrel added, standing well back from Bird’s sharp beak. “I don’t like my name much, but least I was named after a specific species of falcon.”
“I like your name.” Tao smiled at Kestrel. When she didn’t react to his compliment, he added, “And as for Bird, only pets have names.” Bird lifted her tail, leaning into his hand as he caressed her creamy throat. “She hunts with me, but I don’t own her. And that’s the way I like it.” He looked at Kestrel, still smiling.
Lynx nodded her approval that Tao hadn’t given up trying to woo her sister, even if his mild flirting last evening—which she was convinced had been designed to make Kestrel jealous—had caused trouble between her and Kestrel.
A perplexed frown settled on her sister’s face. “If you don’t own her, what’s she doing on your wrist?”
“I found her orphaned in the forest.” Tao lifted his arm, bringing Bird to his mouth so he could brush his lips across the slate-gray feathers on her back. “I hand-reared her and spent months training her to hunt with me. We’ve been together ever since, but she stays with me because she chooses to, not because I demand it.” Tao fixed Kestrel with a beseeching look. “We find the relationship mutually beneficial.”
Guessing at the importance of this discussion to Tao, Lynx looked away, giving him some privacy, but she couldn’t help overhearing Kestrel.
“Huh. If I had put that much effort into something, I wouldn’t trust it enough to let it fly.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Tao asked.
“Of course not,” Kestrel said, as if that was obvious. “What if she never comes back?”
“I guess that’s better than trapping someone in a relationship they don’t want to be in.” Without waiting for Kestrel to answer, Tao walked over to the waiting high-born. “If your horses are ready, let’s get going.”
Lynx saw her sister frown at Tao’s back. With troubles of her own, she couldn’t stop to address it. She needed Tao’s help, so she trotted over and grabbed his arm. “What about Lukan? Should I be going on this hunt without him?”
Tao’s forehead creased in thought, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems all you’ve done today is ask about my brother.”
“I know. And I can’t say I’m ecstatic about it. It’s not like I was lining up to marry him.”
Tao grinned at her. “I think the line for arranged marriages was very short, actually.” He looked over at Kestrel with longing. “Let me get her onto her horse, and then I’ll give you a hand.”
Lynx suppressed a laugh. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own.” She took the reins of a bay mare a groom held out to her—and clicked her tongue in dismay.
A sidesaddle.
How the heck do these work? Not bothering to find out, she swung a leg over the horse’s back and climbed up. The fact that only one foot was supported didn’t matter; she was used to riding bare-backed.
A few of the high-born twittered. She noticed Kestrel rolling her eyes and was reminded of her sister saying everyone would think them low-born savages because she didn’t know how to use the bath oils. Had she done that again? Lynx closed her eyes, wishing life here wasn’t so complicated. What had Mad Mott been thinking when he chose her to be an empress?
Still, it was too late to do anything about it.
Pretending she wasn’t blushing scarlet, Lynx explained, “I’ve never ridden with one of these saddles. I don’t even know how. All I need is to fall flat on my face.” She smiled disparagingly. “Winds know, this magical moment is bad enough. I definitely couldn’t cope with that humiliation.”
A few of the women smiled, all sympathy, while a couple of the men grinned.
“I’ll be happy to catch you, Your Highness,” a man with a goatee beard and a sparkling emerald said. He bowed. “My name is Lev.” He gestured to his companions and rattled off a number of names.
Lynx studied each face, determined to commit them and their names to memory. To cover herself, she added, “If I get your names all mixed up, please don’t curse me.”
“Curse someone with your unusual dress sense? Unlikely,” one of the women—Katcha—said.
“Thank you.” Lynx smiled again, surprised by the warmth and admiration in Katcha’s voice. Didn’t they hate her the way she hated them? “Even though Norin are known for our individuality, I just happen to be even more individual than most.”
Tao’s voice rang out. “If everyone is ready, let’s go.”
He led Lynx and the rest of the party out onto a path next to an ornamental lake. It was surrounded by tended formal gardens filled with roses and a mass of other plants Lynx had never seen before. From the way Kestrel swooned, her sister knew all the names.
A team of gardeners trimmed topiaries of fantastical creatures she had only heard about in legends. They stopped what they were doing to bow as she and the riders went past.
Lynx frowned. It didn’t matter how deceptively pretty the gardens, at the end of the expansive lawn, she saw treetops poking just above ground level. They had reached the wolves.
“How does that work?” Kestrel asked, also studying the strange feature.
“The wolves I told you about,” Lynx replied, speaking Norin. “That’s their enclosure. The trees give you an idea of how deep and wide it is.”
Tao must have guessed what they were talking about because he paused. “It used to be the moat, but my grandfather didn’t fancy the smell, so he had it emptied and stocked it with wolves. The trees arrived on their own.” He pointed to a contingent of guardsmen working a large, steam-driven pulley. “You can only reach the palace at appointed drawbridges.”
Or leave it, Lynx thought darkly.
Amid a belch of smoke and steam, the guardsmen lowered a wooden platform across the wide expanse of the enclosure. Lynx looked down at the foliage as her horse clattered over the drawbridge. She didn’t see any wolves, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Once clear of the palace grounds, Tao kicked his horse into a canter and then into a gallop, leading them along a tree-lined avenue, curling up the lower slopes of the Serreti Mountains.
Lynx lost herself in the rhythm of the ride. It was so enjoyable she barely felt the tug of her dress as it rode up above her thighs.
The cobbled road finally ended at an impenetrable wall of scrub and deciduous trees. Autumn had started to turn some of the leaves, but few had yet vacated the branches. Being a girl from the steppes, the forest looked dark and claustrophobic. She sucked in a panicky breath, looking for a path into the gloom. There was nothing obvious.
Then, she spotted a narrow opening, just wide enough for a horse and rider to pass through single file. If this was the main track Chenayans used for their beloved hunting, then the forest growth was as aggressive as all the hunters combined. It seemed fitting.
Tao passed though the opening first, followed by Kestrel, who seemed unfazed by the oppressive atmosphere.
Payback for the train, Lynx thought. She smiled wryly at t
he memory of Kestrel throwing up in a sick bag. Maybe she should have been more sympathetic. Too late now. Making a show of adjusting her reins, she lingered at the back of the queue, hoping to delay plunging into the murk as long as possible.
A movement in the trees on the other side of the path caught her attention. Axel, mounted on a blue-gray stallion, broke cover from the deep shade. He pushed his horse through a tangle of creepers, stopping next to her.
“A hard ride brings out the best in you, Lynx. It’s even thawed your eyes. If I really try, I can even fool myself into believing that you don’t despise us all.”
Lynx cursed the pounding of her heart, nothing to do with either exercise or fear of the forest.
An appreciative grin spread across Axel’s face.
She followed his eyes as they swept the length of her leg, exposed by galloping in a silly dress. A quick tug, and she pulled her skirt down her thighs. As to be expected, she blushed. Trust her face to betray her. “You had your chance on the train. Now my legs are off-limits—to you at least.”
“Pity.”
“Speaking of people who are allowed to see my legs . . . do you know where Lukan is?”
“Sorry. He’s proving elusive. Even my father’s lost him, and that’s saying something, given his, shall we say, unique ways of tracking us all.”
That sounded ominous. Axel’s expression made Lynx wonder what he was hiding. Whatever it was, it made the hair on the back of her neck stand.
To cover up her treacherous thoughts, she said, “I didn’t know vanishing into the ether was a trait you Chenayans bred into your crown princes.” She stared pointedly at Axel’s ruby. “But then, who knows what you’re capable of?”
“I’d very much like to demonstrate my capabilities, if you’d let me, Princess.”
“At breakfast, you said I smelled bad,” Lynx said, refusing to engage in sexual innuendos with him. “And how am I supposed to hunt without a weapon?”