“I do see that.” Elektra stared straight into Teodora’s eyes.
For the first time, Teodora noticed her daughter’s hazel eyes had flecks of gray and long dark lashes. Quite pretty, in fact.
“I know it will be many years before I can hope to be empress,” Elektra continued. “But like you, I want to learn how to rule, want responsibilities. Surely you can understand that as well.”
“I can.” Teodora smiled. “I’m just not sure I can trust you.”
Elektra lifted her chin. “I’m not sure I can trust you either. But why don’t we work on that? We can start by giving each other valuable information. I’ll go first.”
Braeden
Braeden had been enjoying the warmth of Princess Galena’s pleasant study, but jumped to his feet at the sounds of a great crowd of people entering the corridor. Once he saw who they were and that the princess had matters well in hand, firing off orders to servants running off in all directions, Braeden looked for Destler himself.
“What happened?” Both Braeden and Colonel Destler said it at the same time upon seeing each other. Then Braeden noticed how awful Destler looked, and hurried to help him back to the study and a chair in front of the fire.
“Teodora happened,” Braeden said, once they both sat down. “It was the empress herself attacking the rebellion’s headquarters, capturing Prince Devyn and killing the rebel leader.”
Destler turned even paler than before. “She got Prince Devyn?” He made to get out of the chair, but his legs wobbled and he fell back into the seat.
“We got him back,” Braeden said, “but it was close. What happened to you?”
Destler shook his head. “Those Moraltans were unstoppable, the way they came on. Once I saw the peasants wouldn’t stand and fight, I realized we couldn’t hold them. So we retreated into the woods, thinking we’d pick them off as they moved forward. But their cavalry ran right over us. I’m ashamed to say it, but we fled. At least we headed in the direction we’d agreed; toward Lieutenant Torresia’s position at the ruined castle.”
Braeden took a deep breath. “Is Torresia all right?”
Destler frowned. “I don’t know. Teodora’s troops had found her and were attacking her. We created a distraction so at least some of the defenders could escape, but it was such confusion, I'm not sure who made it. I haven’t had time to count, but I’m guessing my numbers are severely diminished.”
“Might be,” Braeden said, wishing it weren’t true. He still felt weary, but needed to search for Trisa, if she hadn’t come with this group. First though, something had to be done for Destler, who looked more dead than alive. “We’ll get it sorted out in the next few days. There’s news from Terragand too, but before I bother you with that, I'll find you a doctor.”
Destler looked like he wanted to protest, but Braeden gave him a look, and he closed his mouth.
Braeden stood. “I’ll find the doctor and you stay put. If I come across a servant, I’ll have them bring you a bite to eat.” He made for the corridor, which had cleared out a little, though Princess Galena stood at the foot of the main staircase, looking rather frazzled.
“Is there room for all of them?” Braeden asked.
“Certainly.” The princess smoothed her dress. “There are only a few hundred.”
“That’s a shame.” Braeden shook his head, thinking of Destler’s original regiment, even as he marveled at the size of the palace. “Say, is your doctor about? The colonel is in your study, looking pretty sick. He was wounded a while back, but I doubt he ever had it treated.”
“I’ll send for the doctor,” the princess said. “Though I don’t know where he is right now.”
Braeden thanked her, then decided to look for himself. Once he found the doctor, he’d head toward the stable and see if Kazmir was ready for another expedition. He’d only taken a few steps back into the corridor when a side door opened, and Princess Gwynneth barged in, looking muddy and alarmed.
“Thank the gods, you’re here.” She grabbed Braeden by the hand, pulling him toward the door. “You must come quickly.”
“What’s wrong?” He could tell from her expression it was bad.
“Trisa Torresia.” Gwynneth’s eyes were wide and anxious. “She’s still in the courtyard. The doctor is with her, but it doesn’t look good.”
Braeden broke into a run, dragging Gwynneth along.
The courtyard was empty by now, except for a groom leading Trisa’s horse to the stable, and a small group near the center. Braeden hurried toward it, then dropped to his knees in the mud beside Trisa.
She was pale, her eyes closed.
“Is she ...?” Braeden couldn’t bring himself to say it, though he forced himself to meet the doctor’s eyes.
“She’s alive.” The doctor sat back on his heels. “But I’m worried. There’s a musketball lodged in her side, and I don’t know if it’s hit anything vital. I must get her someplace dry and clean so I can inspect more carefully and gods willing, remove it.”
“Then let’s move her.” Braeden gave Devyn, kneeling in the mud on Trisa’s other side, what he hoped was an encouraging look.
The doctor licked his lips. “It’s risky. If we aren’t careful, the ball might shift and cause more damage.”
“We’ll be careful,” Braeden said. “Let’s get a stretcher.” Trisa was so light that normally he’d just throw her over his shoulder, but that wasn’t the right thing now.
Behind him, Gwynneth was moving. “I’ll send for one.”
After that, things went quickly. A stretcher came, borne by the doctor’s assistant, then Braeden, Devyn and the doctor slid Trisa onto it. She moaned, but didn’t open her eyes.
“Hold on,” Braeden murmured. This was his fault. He should have sent her to her parents in Atlona long ago. Not that she would have gone. But she might have gotten herself into trouble somewhere else so this wouldn’t be on his head.
He and Devyn carried the stretcher across the courtyard and into the palace, following the doctor to his surgery.
“She’s going to make it,” Devyn said from behind him. “She has to.”
“She will,” Braeden said, even though he didn’t really believe it. He’d seen wounds like this before, and even with a skilled doctor, the odds of survival were slim. But it was better for Devyn to have some hope, at least for now.
“Best to clear the room while I perform surgery,” the doctor said, as he helped them place her on a large table. “It will be a delicate matter and I must have absolute quiet.”
“Sure,” Braeden said, and pulled Devyn from the room. He saw from the look in the doctor’s eyes he’d give them a chance to say goodbye if the surgery didn’t go well.
Elektra
Elektra hoped she knew at least a few things her mother didn’t. She told herself she wasn’t betraying any confidences. Surely most of what she was about to say was common knowledge. “Lennart doesn’t want to be emperor,” she said.
“Pfft.” Teodora rolled her eyes. “How can you be sure of that?”
“He told me.”
“And you believed him? You are still terribly naive, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t believe him, at least not at first. But the deal he made with me confirmed it.”
“He made a deal with you?” Teodora raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Elektra shrugged, hoping her face didn’t show how awful she felt. “I suppose I’ve broken it by going back to you.”
“I doubt he’ll look kindly on that,” Teodora said with a smirk.
Braeden will tell him the truth. I hope. Elektra swallowed and tried to smile. “No, he won’t. But I’m guessing you want to know what his offer was.” She wasn’t quite yet willing to accept it would never happen. Maybe if Braeden attempted a rescue, she’d go along. Maybe.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Teodora looked bored, but Elektra detected the curiosity lurking beneath the surface.
“Lennart doesn’t want to be emperor. What he wants is
to overthrow you and the old faith.”
“That’s all? No conditions? Surely even you didn’t swallow that.”
“Of course not. But yes, he wants the Quadrene religion everywhere and you gone. Dead, preferably. Before meeting me, he wanted to get rid of the Inferraras altogether. But once we’d talked, he decided it might go easier to replace you with another, better Inferrara.”
“I’m sure you enjoyed saying that last bit.” Teodora shook her head, an amused smile on her lips. “I don’t blame you for thinking you’re better. I felt the same way about the old emperor. But you know nothing about what it means to rule an empire. Neither did I. But I learned, and you might too. You must understand by now that Lennart would not put you on the throne and let you be.”
“He claimed he’d do that, but I didn’t believe it. I realized there would be a price, but I was willing to pay it.”
“Conversion to the Quadrene heresy was no doubt the first installment, and you wasted no time accomplishing that.”
“I didn’t do it right away. You might consider me weak-willed, but I didn’t convert easily. In fact, I expected to give up my ambitions because of my faith. But you changed my mind.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I got a letter from Aksel Roussay. He told me how you’d forced him to convert and to expect a false message from him. I was so angry about that, I realized that you and the old faith were utterly corrupt and evil, just like Lennart said. After that it was easy. Queen Raysa helped me, since she’d recently converted.”
Teodora had drawn her brows together at the slur, but smiled at the mention of Raysa.
Elektra cursed herself for mentioning her.
“My niece, Raysa Sikora?”
“My cousin.” Elektra lifted her chin. “She’s very nice. It’s hard to believe she has any Inferrara blood at all.”
“Well, it always did run weak in my brother’s veins. So Queen Raysa was with you in Heidenhof. Is she still there?”
“I have no idea.” That was true, and Elektra prayed Raysa and Kataryna had returned to Estenor at some point, well out of her mother’s reach.
“I’ll find out.” Teodora scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “Still, what you’ve told me is interesting. Lennart plans to install a puppet in Atlona rather than rule himself. And he’d like that puppet to be you. Though perhaps not anymore.”
Elektra tried not to think about that. She cleared her throat. “All right, I’ve shared interesting information. Now I want some from you.”
“Maybe.”
Elektra stared at Teodora hard. “What happened to you? Why are you suddenly young and healthy? It’s not natural and you clearly did something. Why don’t you tell me what it was?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’ll find out anyway.” Elektra wasn't sure how it would be possible, but she had to figure out a way to get leverage over her mother.
“Unlikely.” Still, Teodora looked uneasy. “You said earlier it seemed like a miracle. Can’t you accept that?”
“I do believe it’s a miracle, but I also realize the gods work through their servants. I’m certain you had help.”
“Interesting theory. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you enough to share that with you. Someday. perhaps. It’s not like you can do anything with the information anyway. Nothing good at least.”
“All right.” Elektra shrugged, hoping it wasn’t obvious she was still dying of curiosity. “But surely you can at least tell me what you have in mind for Isenwald, and Terragand too.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure what to do about Isenwald. Princess Viviane is barely competent, though I’ve intimidated her enough to make her docile.”
“She didn’t seem very docile when I came in.”
“She puts on a good show, but you saw how we pushed her around. I can’t leave you in charge either, since I want to keep a close eye on you for the near future. But I want to deal with Terragand. Until Devyn Bernotas and his siblings are all dead, I must get control there somehow.”
“Why don’t you put me in charge?”
“Of Terragand? So you can spend time with that heretic Edric? I think not.”
“I doubt I’d be spending time with him if he’s dead.”
“True.” Teodora leaned back in her chair, staring at Elektra so intently she wanted to look away. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind? Perhaps we can find a way to please us both.”
Gwynneth
Gwynneth had joined Braeden and Devyn in the study while they waited for the outcome of Trisa’s surgery. She could tell by the look on Braeden’s face he wasn’t optimistic, but she said nothing, not wanting to upset Devyn any more than he already was.
Princess Galena had sent food and drink, but no one had any appetite. While they picked at their food, Gwynneth tried to think of some other subject to discuss. She couldn't find a pleasant topic, so she filled Devyn in on what had happened in Terragand.
His noisy indignation helped distract her, and she caught an amused glint in Braeden’s eye.
“We’ll likely need to wait for Lennart before barging in there,” Braeden said. “Though we ought to consider that not all of the aristocracy will support Balduin. I imagine a fair number will remain loyal to Edric Maximus.”
“You might be right.” Gwynneth crumbled a hunk of cheese onto her plate. “But how will we find out who’s on our side?”
“Start with the ones we're sure of,” Braeden said, “like Duke Orland.”
Gwynneth struggled to keep her face impassive when she heard the name. “Why are you sure of him?”
"His troops were meant to protect Kendryk in Isenwald after his own guards had been attacked. Duke Orland helped him regroup and offered him a large number of troops. In fact, he insisted on it when Kendryk decided to visit Princess Viviane.”
Gwynneth frowned. “How did you learn this? It never occurred to me that Kendryk brought anyone but his own guards.” She’d spent countless hours ruminating, wondering what any of them might have done differently to prevent Kendryk’s death. It was the only way to stop blaming herself, since she’d been the one to encourage him to start the war in the first place. By concentrating on superficial matters, she hoped to keep the weight of her guilt from crushing her.
“He told me,” Braeden said. “I wandered into a huge camp on Princess Viviane’s parade ground and found it strange that the Orland standard flew all around Kendryk’s.”
“I wonder what happened to all of those guards?” Gwynneth didn’t like the idea of throwing herself on the mercy of any Orland, but she had to at least consider it.
“Dead, probably.” Braeden reached for a slice of bread, then spread a thick layer of butter on it. “We’d brought thirty guards along into the palace, and I heard all of them being killed, right after ...” He trailed off when he met Devyn’s wide, shocked eyes.
Gwynneth hadn’t told him all the details of his father’s murder, finding it nearly impossible to speak about.
Braeden looked down. “I imagine those troops on the parade ground met the same fate.”
“You’re probably right.” Gwynneth took a deep breath, avoiding Devyn’s gaze. “Trisa herself told me everyone who’d come with you was hunted down after. She and her little squadron barely escaped.”
“I was so relieved when I saw she’d made it,” Braeden said, his eyes soft. “She’s a scrappy little thing; knows how to get herself out of a tight spot.” He stopped speaking rather abruptly.
Gwynneth didn’t want to think that the girl’s story might end here, after all she’d already survived. “How old is she?” she asked gently.
“Seventeen.” Braeden’s voice roughened. “She lied about her age so the Lanturan army would hire her. That’s where I found her after I’d changed sides. I remember the day she was born.”
“You know her parents?” Gwynneth didn’t want to have this conversation, but sensed Braeden wanted to talk about it right now.
“Her father was one of my best friends.” Braeden paused, and swallowed before managing a small chuckle. “He was mad because they’d already had two girls and he'd hoped for a boy, since the older two didn’t seem inclined to become fighters. But there was never any doubt as to what Trisa would be.”
“She’s certainly a fighter.” Gwynneth decided she wouldn’t give up hope just yet. “I’m sure that will help her now.”
Across the table, Devyn sniffled and dashed a hand at his eye.
Gwynneth met Braeden’s eyes. Awful as losing Trisa might be for Braeden, Devyn would take it harder. Though he’d lost his father and Florian, he wasn’t as accustomed to death. But he would have to become accustomed sooner or later.
In silence, they pretended to eat until the door opened. It was the doctor, looking gray and haggard.
Gwynneth jumped out of her chair. “Should we come?”
“Not yet.” The doctor gasped, mopping at the sweat on his face with a large handkerchief.
He looked rather wobbly, and Braeden hurried to pull out another chair for him.
After sitting down the doctor said. “She’s survived the surgery at least. I got the ball out, cleaned the wound and stitched it back up. It wasn’t deep, but it’s hard to say how much damage was done. We’ll know in the next few days.”
“I must see her,” Devyn said.
The doctor shook his head, then paused when he saw Devyn’s determined expression. “She must rest and have quiet. My assistant is looking after her.”
“I’ll be quiet,” Devyn said, “I swear it.”
The doctor shrugged and looked at Gwynneth. “Will he be quiet? I will not have the young lady disturbed in any way.”
“He’ll be quiet,” Gwynneth said, giving Devyn a stern look. “You may sit by her bed, but you must not speak. At all. Can you do that?”
“I can,” Devyn said, then added, “I don’t talk all the time, you know.”
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 3