by Kyle Prue
“Who else can we find?” Rhys asked.
“I don’t care who we team up with,” Jennifer said stonily. “I don’t care who we have to convince or what we have to do. Tomorrow I’m starting a revolution. Saewulf and the emperor are going to die.”
Neil and Rhys exchanged a glance. “I know we talked about leaving, but …” Rhys trailed off and gestured at their sister.
Neil pushed a hand through his hair and said. “I know, we can’t.” He stood up and walked backstage, searching for bottles of alcohol. He grabbed a large one and threw it to Jennifer. “To Victoria Vapros,” he said as she popped open the top and took a long drink. She passed it back and he followed suit. “It’s in her name that we start this revolution.”
Rhys had already begun strategizing. “They had those canisters specially filled with hazardous gas,” he said thoughtfully. “They could only have gotten that kind of weapon from an arms dealer. There aren’t too many dealers around here. I could track him down. We know it wasn’t the Celerius.”
“And you already know the man who sold them the gas masks,” Neil reminded him. “You said you helped him out.”
Jennifer traced the rim of the bottle with her finger. “I say we start from the bottom and work our way up until the empire is in ashes.” She reached up to tighten her ponytail, the familiar determined gleam back in her eye. “We ravage until the emperor is entirely alone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CELERIUS ESTATE
CARLIN FILUS
Carlin stood at the top of the hill overlooking the Celerius estate. Across the city, he knew Saewulf had already begun the siege on the Vapros bunker. “Virgil, get the men in formation,” he commanded. “And then I’d like to talk to you.” He examined the estate, taking note of all of the exits. Not a single Celerius would escape him tonight.
“We are prepared, sir,” Virgil said a few minutes later. “Rifles loaded, men in position.”
Carlin grinned. “Just think, tonight every single Celerius in Altryon will be dead or a prisoner. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Virgil didn’t budge. “You wanted to talk to me, sir?”
Carlin turned from the house. “Will you look at me, please?” Virgil made eye contact with the new general. “Look,” Carlin said, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “I know you were close to Anthony. I’m sorry I had to kill him. I had my orders. There was nothing I could do.”
Virgil didn’t say anything.
“I’m in charge now,” he continued, as he straightened his red cloak proudly. “And as my second in command, I hope you will put aside your emotions and act with professionalism.”
Virgil finally spoke up. “My allegiance lies with this army and whoever leads it. That was the oath I took when I enlisted. I tried to save Anthony because it was my duty. Now my duty is to protect you. I don’t blame you for being the soldier that the emperor instructed you to be. Emotions have nothing to do with it, sir. If you’ll allow me, I’ll cut down the Celerius myself.”
Carlin smiled and patted Virgil’s shoulder. “Good, excellent,” he said gruffly as he turned his sights back to the house and raised his sword. “Time to interrupt a funeral!” he cried and led his army down the hill with Virgil at his heels.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CELERIUS ESTATE
LILLY CELERIUS
Lilly was on her fourth glass of wine and showed no sign of stopping. Jonathan, who was on glass number three, was having trouble staying awake. “I’m too small to drink as much as you, Miss,” he slurred. He’d taken off his military coat and attempted to drape it across the back of his chair, but it had fallen onto his lap an hour ago and he’d accidentally kicked it onto the floor. It lay in a heap at his feet.
Lilly tilted her glass and sent a river of wine down her throat. “I don’t care how much you drink,” she muttered. She wished she could feel as intoxicated as he looked, but grief kept finding her through the alcohol. “I should stop. It’s not even helping.”
Jonathan tried to sit up. “It would be rude to keep drinking alone,” he said as formally as he could manage. “I should stop, too.” He let out a small burp and then turned bright red. “Forgive me. I . . . excuse me.”
Lilly cracked a smile. “You look terrible,” she said, polishing off her glass.
Jonathan rubbed his eyes. “I feel terrible.”
“Don’t we all.”
They heard footsteps coming down the hall in their direction. Jonathan jumped out of the chair and then toppled over, his feet tangling in the jacket he’d left on the ground. “Allow me to hide your glass,” he panted, trying to stand.
Lilly waved her hand. “Don’t bother. This is the least of my worries.”
“It’s just . . . drinking with one’s servants—it’s not—”
“Proper?” Lilly interjected with a humorless laugh. “Anthony is dead. Being proper is not important any more.”
The door swung open. Jonathan began to bow and then let out a cry of surprise. An Imperial soldier burst into the room and struck the servant across the face with the butt of his rifle. With a cry, Jonathan hit the floor. Lilly jumped up, reaching for her sword. She grabbed the hilt clumsily, finally feeling the effects of the wine and rolled behind one of the cabinets for cover. She held her sword up from behind it as steadily as she could. “Lilly Celerius,” the soldier boomed, “we have orders to capture you. If you come quietly, you will not be harmed.”
More soldiers gathered in the doorway. Lilly redoubled her grip on the sword and tried not to sway into range. Why was the alcohol kicking in now? “Who gave you your orders?” she asked, fixing her eyes on the leader. “The same person who told you to stand by and let Carlin murder my brother?” Tears stung her eyes but she willed them away.
“Put down your sword,” the soldier ordered, but Lilly didn’t move. Jonathan lay unconscious at her feet. For a terrifying second she thought he was dead, but then she heard him snoring faintly.
“I will die before I go anywhere with you,” she spat.
The soldier reached down to draw his weapon, and Lilly noted with dismay that they were all equipped with powerful rifles. Her heart sank. She couldn’t outrun a gun or dodge a bullet.
“I’m hard to kill,” she said quickly. “People have tried before. I can heal from any wound. Think about that before you waste your ammunition.”
The soldier smiled ruthlessly. “I know how to kill you. All I have to do is hit your heart or your head. You can’t recover from that. And I’m more than capable.”
Lilly took a deep breath. “Shall we test that theory?” she asked and before any of them could respond, she rolled out of her cover and was upon them. She swung her sword wildly at the leader, slicing cleanly through his neck. His body hit the ground almost a full second after his head. None of the soldiers were prepared to face someone so fast. One of the soldiers behind him panicked and shot his rifle. The shot went wide, and the bullet buried itself in her shoulder, but a bullet was nothing compared to losing Anthony, and by the time she’d killed the shooter, her arm had already expelled the bullet and healed over into a scab. The other guards had clearly not expected this much resistance. As they began to fumble to load their guns, Lilly cut them down like weeds.
Gasping, Lilly sank to the ground and began to sob. “Anthony,” she whispered, sword slipping from her hand, “help me….”
A low chuckle came from the doorway. One of the soldiers, in spite of a large gash across his chest, had failed to die. “You’ll be with him soon,” the man gurgled, lifting his rifle as best he could from his position on the floor, and Lilly was almost glad that it was about to be over.
As the soldier put his finger against the trigger, a large vase sailed through the air and connected with the side of his head. His body went limp. Lilly looked around in confusion and saw Jonathan, grim-faced, struggling back into his military coat. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her to her feet.
Lilly wanted desperately to h
ug him, to sob into his shoulder and let him tell her she would be okay, but she refrained and declared, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“It’s just my duty, Miss,” he said humbly, bowing and stumbling a little.
A group of Celerius guards entered. “We heard a shot,” one of them said. “Are you all right?”
Lilly nodded. “Are there any more of them in the house?” she asked.
“We’ve been fighting them off in the courtyard,” a guard answered. “It’s nearly the entire Imperial army. We can’t keep up with their guns. I’m sorry, Miss Celerius, they've captured your mother. She's unharmed, but I'm afraid your brother Thomas is dead.”
Lilly’s heart stopped beating. “Thomas?” she whispered. “How?”
The guard bowed his head. “Your brother fought hard,” he said, “but swords are no match for rifles.”
Lilly couldn’t breathe. “Who killed him?”
“I didn’t see. None of us did. We just found the body in the main hallway.”
“Maybe he wasn’t dead,” she insisted. “Maybe he was still recovering.”
The guard said quietly, “His heart was gone.”
She blinked. “His heart was….”
“Someone cut it out of him. It looked like a wide blade, maybe a broadsword.”
She was going to be sick. “They cut out his heart?”
“Probably to make sure he was really dead,” a guard supplied.
Lilly closed her eyes. “Carlin,” she growled. “He’s behind it; I know he is. With Anthony gone, he’s the leader of this army.” She opened her eyes. They were blazing. “He will bleed for what he’s done.”
“Do you think he’s here?” Jonathan asked.
She hadn’t thought of that. “I’m going after him,” she said, retrieving her sword. “He won’t be on the front lines. He’s probably inside somewhere … looking for the real challenges. I’ll destroy anyone who stands in my way of killing that bastard.” Her brain no longer felt fuzzy. Anger destroyed the dull calm she’d tried to weave earlier. “You prepare the horses,” she commanded, addressing the guards. They began to file away. “Wait!” They paused. “Half of you get to the treasury. Empty it. We will not be returning.” The guards obeyed.
“Me, Miss?” Jonathan asked.
She barely looked at him. “Go with them.”
He looked disappointed, but he ran to catch up with the guards, nearly tripping on his coat.
Lilly strode down the hallway as fast as she could without running, throwing open every door she passed. The first room was empty. The second had an overturned dresser partially blocking the door but nobody inside. The third room: Lilly clamped both hands over her mouth to hold in a scream upon seeing the bodies of two servants stabbed through their hearts. She nearly retched when she recognized them—Jonathan’s parents. Don’t think about it, she told herself. Not now. Not yet. She closed the door and moved on to the next one, her father’s bedroom. Inside was a troop of four men, headed by Carlin himself. They were rooting through drawers and overturning furniture, laughing cruelly. Lilly kicked in the door. “Carlin,” she roared, swinging her sword.
He jumped at her voice and turned to her. His face cracked into a dangerous smile. “Oh my,” he laughed, “you came right to me.”
She let out a wordless snarl. “I am going to kill you for what you did to my family.”
Carlin unsheathed his broadsword. Against her will, her eyes strayed to the blade. It was caked with the dried blood that she knew belonged to her brother. “You sound so upset,” he said delightedly. “It’s adorable.”
“There is nothing adorable about this,” she said coldly. “No more politics. No more deception. This is pure unadulterated revenge.”
His men looked uneasy and shifted uncomfortably. Carlin chuckled. “I bested your brothers,” he reminded her. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep from screaming at him. “They weren’t quite … fast enough. So what is it that makes you think you can escape my blade?”
Lilly’s face stretched into a savage grin. “Trust me,” she said viciously. “I’m fast enough.” With a blur of movement, she lunged at one of his men and sliced through him. Carlin jumped forward and tried to cut her legs out from under her, but she whirled out of the way and stabbed his remaining companions before he could suck in a breath to gasp.
“So you’re fast enough to defeat these pathetic fools,” Carlin spat as he kicked a half-alive body to the floor at her feet. “Have a go at me.”
She laughed without humor. There were tears in her eyes. “My pleasure.”
She swung, ready to cut his arrogant throat, but her sword collided with steel, and with a shock she realized he’d blocked her blow. That had never happened to her before. He lashed out at her, and it took everything she had to twist out of the way in time. He swung his sword like a maniac, and she let out a cry as she realized she wasn’t strong enough to block him every time. His weapon nicked her side, making her bleed, and she stared up at him in fear. “You’re...”
“Faster?” he supplied. He knocked the sword from her hand. “Stronger?” He missed her neck by a fraction of an inch. “Better?”
She dropped to the ground and dove for her sword. He kicked her hard and trapped her neck beneath his boot. Flipping her onto her back, he positioned his broadsword against her heart which pounded so fast she could barely breathe. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”
An arrow came flying out of nowhere and embedded itself in Carlin’s hand. He howled in shock and let the sword fall; it left a shallow scratch just over Lilly’s heart, which healed over before she even felt the pain. Carlin hit the floor as an arrow whizzed past, embedding itself in the wall. Gasping hard, Lilly jumped to her feet and fled.
As she raced down the hallway, thankfully deserted, she allowed herself to glance over her shoulder to see if Carlin had begun to pursue her. The corridor behind was empty, but Lilly put on a burst of speed just in case, threw herself around the corner and ran directly into a tall Imperial foot-soldier holding a bow and arrow. She gasped in surprise as she collided with his armor and started to fall backwards, but he caught her and held her arm firmly until she regained balance. She couldn’t see his face through his helmet, but she felt his eyes on her. With a grunt, she twisted out of his grip and reached for her sword before realizing she’d left it back in her father’s room.
Lilly backed away down the hall, eyes on the bow in the guard’s hand, waiting for him to fit an arrow into it and shoot her. He remained motionless. When she was halfway down the corridor, she turned and bolted. The soldier didn’t chase her.
Lilly was puzzled. Other than Carlin, that soldier was the only one on this floor and he was definitely the only person she’d seen all night carrying a bow and arrow. He must have been the one to shoot the arrow into the room. No doubt he was aiming for her and had only hit his leader by mistake. But that was quite a mistake. She’d been on the ground at Carlin’s mercy. There was no need to shoot an arrow at her if she was already about to die. And why hadn’t he finished her off just now, when she was clearly weaponless and vulnerable?
She reached the back door of the house and stumbled out into the night. The Celerius guards had loaded the horses with bags of the family treasure. Lilly mounted one of the steeds hastily and urged it to turn around so she could face the men. “Carlin is still alive,” she admitted. “He’s strong. I need to get stronger before I can face him again.” She took a deep breath. “Too many people have died. It cannot be ignored. I am fighting for the memory of my brothers and for the guards and servants who fell tonight.” She fought back tears, exhausted. This was too much. She needed sleep, or at the very least more wine. “I, Lilly Celerius, will lead this rebellion against Carlin and the emperor and every one of the Imperial bastards who attacked my family. Who will ride with me?”
Jonathan urged his horse to the front of the group. His cheek bore a large black bruise, but if he was in pain he hid it well. “I will, Miss,” he promised.
>
The Celerius guards echoed his vow, and Lilly nodded gratefully. “Follow me,” she cried, turning her horse and nudging him into a gallop. “The Emperor of Altryon will fall.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE TAURLUM MANSION
MICHAEL TAURLUM
Michael sat in his bed, groaning and rubbing his temples. Was it possible to be hung-over during the middle of the night? Apparently, it was. Waking up had been a mistake. He crawled out of bed and walked over to his side table with a groan that was almost a roar. He heard a few family members singing a drinking song downstairs, but he didn’t care to join them. He grabbed a bottle of gin and poured a glass. “Are you my best friend or worst enemy?” he asked the bottle with a small grin. “Bit of both,” he decided with a sip.
He drained the glass and had it refilled within a minute. It was funny how alcohol was the only thing that ever made him feel any sort of pain. At the same time it was the only thing that granted him a bit of peace. It was as if every time he held the cup he was holding a loved one’s hand. In recent months, his drinking schedule had changed. Formerly, he would drink in the Taurlum dining room with his father. Things were different since the night he barged into his father’s office and told him he was leaving to marry his fiancée. He’d known picking his own wife, and a poor one at that, would never be tolerated. Michael had stupidly thought the girl had been worth it. Despite the fact it all blew up when he discovered her cheating, his father refused to forgive him. Michael no longer felt welcome. The glass exploded in Michael’s hand and he realized that he had been clutching it a little too tightly. That wasn’t a problem. He had others.