Song laughed indulgently. “Because I want them.”
Conor stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the Greencloaks didn’t murder the emperor. We’re innocent. Those people who rushed the Citadel were impostors!”
“Fakecloaks killed your father!” Rollan chimed in.
Empress Song nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. “Of course they did.” She popped another grape into her mouth, then smiled. “I hired them to kill him.”
MEILIN STARED AT SONG. HAD SHE HEARD HER correctly?
Song had ordered her own father’s death?
“That … that can’t be,” she said. Song was a sweet-natured, quiet girl. She’d been devastated by the emperor’s death. No, Song couldn’t do anything like that. She was a sensible, obedient daughter, even in the face of the emperor’s sternness.
Wasn’t she?
Yet as Meilin watched Song, there was a hardness to her expression, a ruthlessness even. Meilin recognized it easily; she saw the same rebellious light in her own eyes whenever she gazed into a mirror.
Meilin had also been brought up to be a sensible, obedient daughter, and look where she was now. Look at the friends she had. The shepherd, the huntress, and the scoundrel. Hardly the right sort of company for a noble lady of Zhong.
The Oathbound gathered around Song. Kana whispered while Song looked curiously toward Cordelia, who still dripped with seaweed.
So these were the people Song had put her trust in.
Meilin stepped forward. “You planned this from the very beginning?”
Song patted Kana’s shoulder. “Longer than you imagine. Kana and I have been friends since childhood. She understands me.” The empress paused as she looked back at Meilin. “Just as you and I understand each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re the same, Meilin. My father was cruel and uncompromising. He held me back, just because I was a girl. Can you honestly say it was different for you?”
“I … I don’t know what you mean.”
Song glowered. “Don’t lie, Meilin. Not to me. We’re so alike. We’ve both had to tread strange, sometimes painful paths to reach our goals. I didn’t have the Greencloaks to carry me away from all this, to train and encourage me. I had only Kana … and my father.”
Meilin blushed with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Song nodded. “I was good at hiding my true self. We both were. Remember the day your father brought you to the palace when we were younger? We were both so stiff and demure, weren’t we? Who could have guessed at the ferocity concealed by our makeup and silks? We hid even from each other.”
There was a scuffle behind them. For a moment Meilin worried Conor had gotten into another fight with Cordelia, but he was beside her, looking just as stunned.
Instead, Oathbound soldiers dragged in three more prisoners.
The three elder Greencloaks.
Kofe shook off one of the guards as Lady Cranston and Salaman were pushed forward. Even in chains, even after the days of rough travel and rougher treatment, they stood tall and unafraid, dominating the room.
But where was the crazy old man? Last time she’d looked he’d been on Kofe’s back.
Pride swelled in Meilin’s chest, and she raised her head. She hardly knew the three, but their defiance filled her with hope.
“I am sorry that the Greencloaks are casualties in all this,” Song said. “Your order has done much good. But perhaps for Zhong to move forward, it’s best that we escape your shadow.”
“Is that why you framed us?” Abeke asked. “You could have just spoken against us at the Citadel.”
The empress shook her head sadly. She turned, drifting back to the end of the hall. “It’s nothing so grand or complicated. You just had something I wanted. Something your order would never part with peacefully. Thanks to you, Meilin, and your friends, I now have three of the Greencloaks’ relics.” Song settled back onto her throne. “But what I’ve always sought is the Dragon’s Eye.”
“To do what?” Meilin asked.
Song glanced to the open window overlooking the beach. Then she turned back toward the others. Slowly, she pulled back on the collar of her dress. A pale tattoo was curled at the base of her shoulder. There was a flash of brilliance, and then a long, green shape stretched out before the throne, wearing a simple leather collar. “I believe you’ve met my water dragon, Seaspray.”
Meilin and the others gaped.
“You—you have a spirit animal!” Meilin stammered. “How was this kept secret? And why?”
Song frowned down at the creature. “Father insisted. Ambassador Ying, the Greencloak who administered my Nectar, was sworn to secrecy on pain of death. Perhaps Father worried I’d be tempted to join the order. You must know the stories of the ancient water dragon. It’s second only to Jhi in our legends. I think Father wanted to announce such an auspicious pairing on his own terms: to claim I was the nameless hero reborn. Until, that is, he discovered the truth about my animal partner.”
Song scowled. The water dragon at her feet slowly lifted his head, blinked, and then drooped again, curling lazily into a ball. “Pathetic, isn’t he?”
“No spirit animal is pathetic,” Meilin replied hotly. “You’re lucky to have one and should remember that.”
Song wasn’t listening. “No matter what I did, our bond never produced the power or majesty of the ancient hero’s. Father always told me the daughter of an emperor should have a greater creature. Something worthy of her status. Not an overgrown lizard who cares about nothing but basking in the sun.”
Song took a deep breath, only just maintaining her composure. “But with the Dragon’s Eye, I can make Seaspray better. The ancient water dragon could command the sea. Now that would be power worthy of an empress, don’t you think?”
Rollan spoke. “Control the sea? Why? To catch bigger fish?”
Song’s eyes sparkled. “Of a sort.”
Meilin racked her memory for legends of the mythic warrior and his water dragon. They were little more than fairy tales, but she’d been told them all when she was little. There were great adventures, the warrior riding on the back of his beast. They dined under the sea and towed ships through storms and …
… raised tsunamis to destroy their enemies.
One had wiped out an army of evil giants, covering the battlefield with waves over a hundred feet tall. Meilin’s nanny had laughed at such a ridiculous tale—there were no such things as giants. Yet all legends grew from a kernel of truth.
But creating a tsunami? Was that even possible?
Was the Dragon’s Eye that powerful?
“I must thank you for getting me three of the relics,” said Song, bringing her attention back to them. “The crown, the jewel, and the sword will all help consolidate my rule. And once I have the Dragon’s Eye, my position as empress will be unassailable.”
Rollan folded his arms. “If you think we’re going to help you get it, then you’re insane.”
“Not you.” Song pointed at the three other prisoners. “They’ll get it for me. Won’t you?”
Kofe grunted. “We don’t make deals with usurpers.”
Song flinched. Then she forced a crooked smile onto her lips. She gestured to one of her Oathbound soldiers. “Throw the scrawny one out the window.”
“Hey!” yelled Rollan as the soldier grabbed him around the waist.
Meilin tried to jump forward, but her legs were knocked from under her by another Oathbound. He stood over her, a spear pointed over her heart.
Rollan fought hard. He kicked and bit and pulled at his captor, but the soldier shrugged off his attacks with little effort. The window was full height, and wide open. They were a hundred feet above the sea and the jagged rocks that lay at the foot of the cliffs.
The soldier lifted Rollan high over his head.
“Your spirit animal is Essix, isn’t she?” Song said. “It’s a shame she never taught you to fly.”
She nodded at the Oathbound.
&n
bsp; “We’ll do it!” shouted Kofe. “Put the boy down.”
Meilin held her breath. She’d never imagine Song could be so evil. This girl before her was a stranger, nothing like the princess Meilin thought she’d know.
The soldier still had Rollan overhead. A draft pulled hungrily from the window, as if trying to tempt the guard.
Song gestured to the floor. “Put the boy down.”
The Oathbound dropped Rollan heavily to the marble floor.
Meilin was beside him in an instant. She took hold of him and brought him to his feet.
He gave her that smirk that she knew too well. His dark brown hair had grown long the last few weeks and hung over the side of one eye. She brushed it aside. “Are you all right?”
His eyes glistened as they met hers. “I am now.”
Song gave a mocking snort. “How very touching. The noble and the peasant. Honestly, Meilin, I thought you had taste.”
Face pale, Rollan gazed at Song with pure hatred. Meilin feared he would attack her, despite the plentiful guards. But then he looked over at Kofe. “I’m sorry.”
The big man merely shrugged. “Greencloaks look after one another. No need to be sorry about that.”
Meilin frowned at Song. “If the Dragon’s Eye is here, why don’t you send the Oathbound to get it? They’re your allies, after all.”
Meilin saw Sid go pale. Even Cordelia looked hesitant. Kana and Song exchanged a look that seemed to communicate something, though Meilin couldn’t interpret what it was. Kana gave a small shake of her head.
It dawned on Meilin then. The princess knew the whereabouts of the Eye, so why didn’t she already have it?
Meilin snorted with contempt. “I see. Your allies are afraid. That’s what happens when you have to buy loyalty, Song, rather than earn it.”
Song rolled her eyes. “Let me stop you there, before you embarrass yourself by prattling on about things you don’t understand. The Oathbound may be mercenaries, but Kana and I have been friends since we were young children. We dreamed and planned for this day together. Why waste any more of my own forces on this? Especially when victory is so close.”
Song’s expression was smug, but by the way she’d said “any more,” Meilin suspected the empress wasn’t being truthful.
Then it struck her. Song had tried the Oathbound, but they’d failed.
That was why she was using the Greencloaks. Kofe, Lady Cranston, and Salaman were exceptional. After all, they were senior Greencloaks. If anyone could retrieve the Dragon’s Eye—hidden by the very first Greencloak himself—it would be them.
Meilin just hoped the three could buy enough time doing it. Every moment the Eye remained out of Song’s hands was another moment for Essix to summon aid. It seemed to be the only hope they had.
Fly fast, Essix.
“It seems you’ve planned everything,” said Abeke. “Yet you won’t succeed.”
Song laughed. “Oh, and tell me why. Please, I’m fascinated.”
Abeke looked to the three Oathbound. “One is measured by the company she keeps. And you, Song, keep very poor company.”
Song’s jaw tensed. Meilin wondered if Abeke’s words had pushed the usurper too far.
But the empress forced herself to relax. “Yet here I sit upon the throne. And there you are.”
The Oathbound gathered around Meilin and her friends. She took hold of Rollan’s hand.
Song nodded to Kana. “Lock them up somewhere deep and dark.”
“BRING ME MY ROBE,” SONG ORDERED. “THEN TELL THE Niloan delegation to enter.”
Two servants helped her put on the yellow imperial cloak. They draped the long sleeves to hang down to the floor and carefully fastened its golden clasps up to her neck.
The collar choked her, but Song couldn’t, wouldn’t alter it. This was what the ruler of Zhong wore.
The robe was heavy, cumbersome, and hot. How had her father been able to wear it all day long? She felt as if it would crush her.
“The crown. Quickly.”
The servants lowered it very carefully onto her brow. Song made sure she kept her head still and her neck straight. The first time she’d put the crown on, it had fallen off with a spectacular clamor. The looks of horror on the nobles who’d been present had been crushing.
An ill-omened start to her rule.
Song settled herself onto the throne.
Her father’s throne.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable. This didn’t suit her, either.
He’d made it look so easy.
Her heart fluttered. It wasn’t pain, not quite, but it hurt. Her father had been so accomplished at everything, it seemed to her. But she’d struggled at it all. At all the courtly arts. She’d seen the looks of disappointment, brief at first, but longer as she grew older, the shakes of his head when she’d not measured up to his impossible ideal. She’d hid her tears from him, knowing they’d only confirm his belief that she was a failure. Only Kana had witnessed those.
She’d wanted him to be proud of her, just once.
Song pressed her hand upon the carved armrest of the throne. Her throne.
“Are you proud now, Father?”
Kana turned to her. “Did you say something?”
Song didn’t dare shake her head; the crown would fall off. Instead she smiled at her friend. Her only friend. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Kana.”
Kana touched her hand. “We’re in this together, Song. As always.”
The Niloan delegation was unexpected. Their ship had arrived last night. Song had tried to delay seeing them until she could get her hands on the Dragon’s Eye, but the delegation was growing impatient.
Once she had the Eye, Song would have it added to the front of the crown. Then everyone would immediately see how powerful a ruler she was.
Greater than her father.
Brunhild the Merry, Song’s Oathbound attendant, leaned close to her side. The woman was as dour as her ironically chipper title might suggest, but Kana had assigned her especially before enacting their plan to frame the Greencloaks. Whatever Brunhild lacked in personality, she was watchful and competent. “Chief Ugo is a cousin to the High Chieftain,” Brunhild whispered. “He is here to demand—”
“Demand? No one demands anything of me,” snapped Song. “I am the Empress of Zhong.”
“Of course you are.” Brunhild cleared her throat. “He’s here to request leniency for the Greencloaks. It appears he and Olvan were friends in their youth. Old loyalties are hardest to break.”
“Impossible. The Greencloaks are criminals. Olvan the worst of all.”
Song met the Oathbound woman’s gaze unflinchingly. Brunhild had played her part in the lie regarding the emperor’s death, and had even worked behind the scenes to create Kana’s false history, transforming her into “Anka” and allowing her to infiltrate the Greencloaks.
If the true story of their plotting ever emerged, it wouldn’t just be Song whose life was destroyed. The Oathbound would go down with her.
The doors opened and the Niloan diplomats entered.
Chief Ugo was a giant. He stood a head taller than even Brunhild. He wore flowing robes of blue and yellow, and his massive arms were encircled with gold bands. A necklace of lapis lazuli wrapped his immensely thick neck.
Song could see how he’d been friends with Olvan. They had the same presence, a mixture of physical power and charisma.
She sat a little straighter.
Behind the chief were three others, his advisers. One she recognized: a trade minister who’d regularly visited her father. The other two—a tall man and an elegantly dressed woman—she knew nothing about.
None looked happy.
Chief Ugo stopped a few feet in front of the throne and gave a curt, shallow nod. Hardly the bow that was customary when greeting the empress of a major nation.
Song bit her tongue, even as she glanced at Brunhild. She could order Ugo to his knees, if she wanted.
“We ar
e not used to being kept waiting,” snapped Ugo.
“Kingdoms do not run themselves,” replied Song. “I was busy. What do you want, Chief Ugo?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he cast his gaze across the assembled throng of Oathbound guards, a mild sneer of contempt on his lips. “I see you keep a very different court than your father’s.”
“My father’s court was old and useless. Zhong needs new ideas.”
“Perhaps …” His eyes locked on Kana, watching blankly from the far corner of the space. “But the Oathbound were never meant to serve as a government. Nilo is grateful for their help in protecting the High Chieftain, but they’re soldiers. We are now in peacetime.”
“These are my most loyal allies,” said Song.
“These mercenaries?” said Ugo. “I see you have Cordelia the Kind among your court.”
Cordelia bowed with a mocking smile. “I’m honored you know of me.”
“Don’t be. I’ve heard much of your kindness as you tracked the Heroes of Erdas across Eura. Villages burned. Lives ruined.”
Song gritted her teeth. “You traveled a long way just to deliver insults, Chief Ugo.”
“I did not expect to have to address murderers when I arrived at the palace.”
Cordelia unsheathed Wildcat’s Claw in a flash. “What did you say?”
Ugo’s gaze went cold. “You heard me.”
He pulled back his sleeve, and a beast thundered into existence with a crack of light. A rhinoceros snorted, standing between him and the deadly Oathbound warrior.
Song’s heart hammered as she clutched the throne’s armrest.
The beast beat its hoof on the marble floor and the room shook. Its horn was over two feet in length, and the tip appeared as sharp as any dagger. Song imagined the horrific injuries it could inflict.
Sid shuffled away from Cordelia, as did Wikam the Just, giving a little whimper. Beside Song, Brunhild placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.
Song took a deep breath and stood. “Please, my friends. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Ugo is right. We are finally a world at peace. We’re all allies here. Cordelia, put the sword away.”
Cordelia’s eyes blazed as fiercely as the flames on her blade, but she sheathed it.
The Dragon's Eye Page 3