Daughter of Ashes (Rise of Aiqasal Book 1)

by Moira Katson

  But whoever he was, whatever he was, Jarin was also a courtier. He recovered smoothly, his face warm and concerned. “That is why you are here?” His voice was soft, so soft she wanted desperately to trust it. “You wish to uncover a plot against Darion? Come, tell me of it. I will help you.”

  The magic released her and she dropped to her knees, shivering even more violently at the sudden return of warmth.

  Jarin crouched beside her, offered her his hand. “You are brave, and loyal to the throne. Let me set your mind at ease—Melisande, is it? I promise you, I would be party to no such plot. Tell me what you know, and I will make sure the Emperor knows the risk you took to confront his enemies.”

  It was a masterful performance, and on any other contender for the throne, it might have worked. Lured by the promise of Darion’s thanks, comforted by Jarin’s easy assurances and kindness, another woman might have spoken. His smile radiated comfort.

  But she knew all about smiles. She knew what it was to be hunted down by those who had once smiled at her, who would have stood her dearest friend—until the Emperor asked for her death. She knew the truth, too, about Jarin: that he was a traitor, that she had seen his robes and heard his voice.

  She stared him down. “That is not what I want from you.”

  His face closed off. “Is your price so much higher than that?” There was mockery in his tone now. “What is it you want? Do you want me to whisper in his ear that all the others are unfit, that I see their dreams and have found them to be liars thieves and whores? Do you want me to tell him you are Sele reborn? Or shall I make up a prophecy and tell him you fulfill it?”

  She ignored the acid in his tone. “I want you to put an end to the plot. I want to know Aiqasal is safe from those who would bleed it dry with taxes and send its children to war. If you do …” She swallowed her dislike and lied through her teeth. “If you do, I may forget to mention your part in it.”

  “You are wrong.” He lifted his shoulders elegantly. “I love Darion. I would be party to no plot against him, or Aiqasal.”

  “The first part’s true, the second is a lie.” Her voice was flat. “You lie well, but not well enough. Anyone can see it’s tearing you apart.” This was his weakest point, and she twisted the knife as well as she could. “You don’t believe in the conquest, and you do love him, that much is truth—so what could possibly be worth the betrayal of your friend and the march of two armies? You must know what it would cost Aiqasal, the horrors it would bring.”

  And the excitement, of course.

  “There is a great kindness in people, Alleyne,” her mother used to say. “But a great appetite for war, as well.”

  “Why, Maman? How?”

  “I do not know. I have never understood it.”

  Her father had picked Alleyne up then. His face was serious. “Someday,” he told her, “the war horns will sound and you will feel your heart answer. You will know what it is to wish for the march of armies, and you will want to march with them under a banner and a blue sky. Remember then that it is a fool’s dream—war is blood and pain and death, and rarely worth the cost. Promise me you’ll remember it.”

  “I will, Papa.”

  Jarin’s eyes had closed, and his face was awash in pain. He drew himself up for another performance, but exhaustion claimed him. When he spoke, the words were flat. “I have nothing to admit.” He looked at her and she saw the war in him—and saw him make his choice. His voice dropped, bitterness lit in his eyes. “And nothing you say will make the court believe you. They may hate me, yes—I know you were going to say that—but they hate you more. They hate what you are and what you stand for, and the first time you point a finger, you will prove their fears correct. They will tell each other that you have come to tear down the nobility and they will rally to my cause. They will destroy you. Think carefully before you earn their spite.”

  Again, he had misjudged his mark. “The people of Aiqasal are worth more to me than that.” They were not just hollow words that she spoke, she realized now. She would halt her own plans for this. The nobles might not realize there was anything of worth beyond the walls of the palace, but to her, the city was the beating heart of the empire. What was it Darion had said? The city outside is more vibrant, more alive than …

  Best not to think of him. She lifted a shoulder and smiled Jarin’s cynical smile back at him. “In any case, their love isn’t worth so very much.”

  She heard the ring of truth in her words and so did he—and it was too late to recall them. In a flash, the lines of light that had fallen to the floor jumped up once more, this time to snake around her wrists.

  Jarin, to her disquiet, did not immediately attack her. He stood to pace once more.

  “You are a woman of resources,” he said, not looking at her. “You are a woman with allies, not some back-alley upstart. I’d be willing to believe you really didn’t come here to blackmail me into giving you the crown. So the question is, what is it you do want?”

  “I told you that.” Her teeth were chattering again.

  “Mmm. A different question, then: who are you?” His voice boomed on the last words, coming from the heavens and the earth, echoing inside her head.

  I am Alleyne, daughter of—

  She clamped her lips shut. She wanted to tell him from fear alone, but he would not trap her so easily.

  “I can take every secret from your mind with ease.” She saw his lips move as he watched her, but she could swear she heard his voice like a breath by her ear. He was everywhere, he was inside her head, and panic gripped her. “You could tell me. It would be so easy, so much easier for you, than me cracking your mind open and taking what I wish. Who are you?”

  No one, no one, no one. She screamed the thought in his direction. If he could listen to thoughts, then let him be deafened by them.

  “Oh, there’s no need for that. And, really, there’s no need for you to suffer. I don’t delight in cruelty. I need only know the answer to my question, and you will be free.”

  “I am no one.”

  “That’s not true at all.”

  “I am a girl who loves Aiqasal, who came here to confront you, no more.” She bit back the urge to tell him that she knew more than he could imagine of divided loyalties and plots against the throne. If he wanted her thoughts—and she was increasingly terrified that he could have them if he wanted them—he would work for it, she would not give him the satisfaction of telling him the truth out of fear. She would not betray herself.

  Or Almeric.

  “You are, willing or not, someone very important.” He clasped his hands behind his back and studied her. “You are a symbol of the change that is coming for us. Empires rise and fall—they may, if they survive long enough, become unrecognizable to those who founded them. A storm now shakes Aiqasal to its foundations, and you … you are at its center.”

  She was lulled by his words, and that was what he wished. Quick as a snake, his thoughts seized on hers. Fingers raked through her mind, sifting memories. There, Almeric’s face; there, running; there, the first winter. She saw sunrise on the river, the cloth spread out on the roof with their supper, the day Baradun found her. And then, to her horror, he found the very center of her: “We have to go away for very long time, Alleyne.” She cried out in anguish as it was dragged forth. She had relived that moment time and again, but never like this. She was there once more, she was seven years old and she was frightened and her mother was crying, the icy fingers on her cheeks and—

  The memory vanished, and Jarin staggered back. When the spell released her this time, she did not think it was his doing. He was staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.

  “Get out.” His chest was heaving.

  “I …” What had he seen? Could he possibly understand it? He was only a little older than she, surely.

  “Get out,” he repeated hoarsely.

  “But you—”

  “Leave me!” It was a cry as anguished as her own. “Go, and never
speak of this.”

  She hesitated.

  “I will call for the Palace Guard.” His face was panicked. “I will—”

  She didn’t wait to hear the rest. She pushed herself up and ran, bursting out into the hall to startle Margery. “Run!”

  “What—”

  “Run!”

  Margery didn’t question her again. She pulled Alleyne into the servants’ corridors and down, deep below the palace. They ran through the passageways, slowed to a walk only to slip through the kitchens unnoticed before they ran again, and Alleyne was well and truly lost, feeling the memories still settling into place in her mind. She clung to Margery’s hand and prayed that the other woman knew where she was going. When they emerged into the corridors outside Baradun’s rooms, she could have sobbed with relief.

  That was, until Almeric stepped out of the shadows to block their path.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alleyne stopped dead. She had seen this look in Almeric’s eyes before, but only when they fought: he was stone and iron. He was her enemy. The thought flitted through her head and she cast it aside impatiently. Almeric had never been her enemy. He was her one true ally, had always been her one true ally. He was her only friend, the only one left of her family. Her father’s relatives had scattered, deprived of their place in the family’s lands when her parents were executed. Almeric was all she had left; she could not bear to have him for an enemy.

  Margery stepped in front of her and curtsied. “Guardsman.”

  “Stand aside, madam.” Almeric’s voice was cold. “I have been instructed to ask some questions of Melisande.” There was the faintest emphasis on the name, a curl to his lip.

  “I don’t know what ye—”

  “It’s all right, Margery.” Where had that come from? Her voice was harsh from running, but it was calm and composed as well. She inclined her head. “Guardsman, what questions do you have for me?”

  Margery’s eyes widened in horror. She shook her head fiercely. “Ye’re mistaken,” she said desperately to Almeric. “This is—”

  “I know very well who she is, believe me.” Almeric glanced at her disinterestedly. “Does your lord know where you are? Does he know that his candidate for Empress Consort of Aiqasal is running about the hallways in borrowed priest’s robes?” The threat was clear.

  Alleyne saw the tension running through Margery’s body; she reached out hastily to stay the maidservant’s hand. In Margery’s frightened look, she saw the promise to fight, to stand with Alleyne now.

  She blinked back tears at that kindness. “I promise you, it’s all right,” she whispered. This was Almeric; she need have no fear. She would come up with some way to explain this to Margery later. “You go wait. I’ll be in.”

  Margery looked between Almeric and Alleyne for a long moment. When she disappeared, it was with a glare that would have withered most men.

  “Is that the maid?” Almeric asked when she was gone. His voice dripped with contempt, he was not frightened at all by her look.

  “Leave her out of this.” Alleyne’s voice surprised her, unexpectedly calm. For a moment, it almost sounded as if she was giving an order. As if she were … No. She was not the Empress Consort. “Why are you here?”

  He had stiffened at the tone in her voice; now his hand shot out to close around her arm and he dragged her into the shadows to whisper in her ear. “I saw you with him. In the garden.”

  Alleyne wrenched her arm out of his grasp to glare up at him. She was beginning to be annoyed. “And?”

  “What d’you mean, and?” His face twisted. “I saw you laugh with him. I saw you comfort him. I saw the way you looked at him!”

  She went hot and cold all at once. “You saw what you asked me to do, no more. You were the one who said it didn’t matter what we did as long as the plan worked. I was the one who said I didn’t want to smile and laugh, I was the one who said this was dishonest. You were the one who put me here—and told me to wait until I got him alone.”

  He jerked back, swallowed. “So it was …” He frowned, clearly sifting through his memories. “It was all an act?”

  “Yes.” There could be no other answer.

  The tension in his shoulders eased.

  She could not let it be, however. “Did you truly think I could enjoy the company of the man who murdered our parents? Who tried to murder us?”

  “The way you looked at him …” His voice trailed away and he shook his head. “It was like you didn’t remember any of that. It was like none of it existed.”

  “That’s how it has to be.” She found strength in her conviction and stood taller, straighter. “That is how I must treat him if I am to earn his trust—is it not? I only did what I had to do.” Relief swept through her at the words. Of course. She had been guided by her instinct, and her instinct had led her to delight the Emperor—challenge him, make him laugh, offer sympathy when he spoke of his father. In the dizzying world of the court, the mask she wore had felt for a moment like her true face.

  But it was not. How could she enjoy the company of a man who had tried to kill her?

  It had been an act, nothing more. Her tears alone in her bedchamber after that had been nothing but foolishness. She was believing the very lies she told to gain access to the palace. It was embarrassing, but better than such things being true. Far better.

  “There is something else, though.” She laid her hand on his arm. “We have to wait a while longer. I need your help.”

  “Wait?” He was on his guard again, instantly.

  She had been about to tell him everything, and yet something in his sudden alertness made her bite her tongue.

  “Yes.” She looked around herself as she tried to think of what to say. Long ago, she had mastered the art of listening for footfalls as she spoke. She had heard none, but the palace made her nervous. She drew closer to breathe the words in his ear. “There’s another plot to kill him. They want to use his death to start a war with Rasteghai. I overheard people discussing it, a noble and … another. Two nobles.”

  His brows shot up; he had not noticed the stumble. She could see him thinking furiously. “If we want to get to him first, we’ll need to be quick. Did they have a timeline?”

  “We don’t want to move first!” Alleyne shook her head. “We need to flush them out.”

  “Flush—are you mad?” Almeric shook his head at her. “They’re nobles, Alleyne. They’ll have resources we can’t match, can’t even dream of. We need to move now.”

  “No.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All their life, Almeric had been the one who made the plans, found a way for them through the constant danger of their lives. She had assumed he would make their new plan here, too. She had simply never questioned that he would agree with her about what must happen, and she struggled to find the words. “Almeric, this is more important than anything.”

  “Why?” The word was absolutely flat.

  That wasn’t a promising start. Alleyne swallowed. Perhaps he hadn’t understood. “Because they want to start a war, Almeric. A war.” The cold look on his face did not waver and she clasped it in both hands, desperately, drawing him down until his face was level with hers. She leaned her forehead against his, meeting his gaze, her voice hardly a breath as she whispered the secrets that could see them both dead. “Listen to me. Maman and Papa went to Rasteghai to make peace. They believed in it. Now someone wants to march the people of the city to war. You know what a war will cost, you swore to Papa you’d remember that it was a fool’s dream.” Her voice shook. “I want to kill Darion as much you do.” Her fingers clenched and she repeated the words like a prayer: “I want to kill Darion as much as you do. But we want to kill him because he is a bad leader for Aiqasal, because he is not fit for the throne. It will hurt everyone if we let his death spark this war.”

  He was rigid for a long moment, as if he wanted to pull away from her touch, and she wished desperately that she could know what was happening in his head. S
he was filled with a strange panic after putting forth this idea. But you know best. Some part of her wanted to say those words, take it all back. Almeric decided—because it was Almeric who knew how to keep them safe.

  But Almeric couldn’t seem to understand, and no matter how she turned it over in her head, she couldn’t find anything more important than stopping this war. So she waited, trembling, until his shoulders sagged in defeat. He looked at her as if he desperately wanted to believe her.

  “You swear this is true?”

  “Almeric!”

  “Swear to me.”

  She pulled herself back. “Why? What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll get lost here,” he told her bluntly. It was only when he swallowed that she saw the fear in him. “Every time I see you, you’re farther from the sister I remember. You don’t look like you anymore—you’re perfumed, you’re wearing fancy gowns.”

  “Almeric, that’s nothing to do with—”

  “There’s the way you talk now, like you know better than me. And … and the way you looked at him,” Almeric finished hollowly. “Alleyne, I swear, I was terrified when I saw you. You made him laugh, he made you laugh. And all I could think was, ‘he took my mother and father, and now he’s going to take my sister, too.’”

  Her anger melted away. She caught up his hand and wrapped her fingers around his. His terror sparked her own. She could not, in truth, remember a life before their flight to the city. It had always been the two of them, no one else to trust, no one else to rely on. That was her lifeline, and she clung to it. “Never. I promise. He will never take me from you.”

  He pulled her into a fierce hug, arms wrapped around her, fists bunching the rough cloth of the priest’s robes.

  “We will make Aiqasal safe,” she told him, her words muffled against his neck. “And when it is, Almeric—then we’ll kill him. I promise. Will you stay here with me, as long as it takes?”

  He nodded jerkily. “Forever, if I need to. I would not leave you here alone.”

  “Good.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I need you, Almeric. Don’t desert me now.”