Ruined Kingdom

by Michelle Marquis

  Gavin looked down at Missy. Tears had already begun their descent down her cheeks as she met his gaze. “Listen, dear. Go with your brother, Desmond. You need not worry. I will get this all straightened out and come home, alright?”

  Missy nodded sadly while glaring at the guards. Desmond held his free hand out to her and she reluctantly released her grip on Gavin. Taking his hand, more tears fell from her crystal blue eyes. The bursts of gold surrounding her pupils were as dark as he'd ever seen them.

  “No, daddy,” she whispered.

  Gavin looked at Desmond. “I’m sorry about this, my boy. Tell Harlan what’s happened.”

  Still holding his sword at the ready, Desmond nodded miserably. “I will.”

  Gavin turned his attention to the guard. “Shall we go see what is vexing his Royal Highness so fucking much?”

  * * * *

  Gavin was brought into the Imperial throne room and told to kneel, as if he were unfamiliar with protocol. He wasn't surprised when Megolyth took his time. The Emperor had recently been hounding him off and on to come see him. There was no reason to expect that his Royal Highness was going to make his General's life easier. Gavin didn’t care. Fuck Megolyth.

  As he waited with his head bowed he noticed the floors. They were being redone. That was odd because there was nothing wrong with the original floors. Gavin lifted his eyes and noticed that half the throne room was roped off and a portion of the flooring had been removed and replaced with blue onyx. Gavin could care less about such things except he happened to know the onyx was five times the cost of native stone. It was an off-world import that even the most flamboyant of nobles didn't indulge in.

  During his manacled walk through the palace he had observed that there were less Imperial troops stationed throughout the sprawling structure and more Royal Guards. Unfortunately, the prior disagreement with his sovereign had forced Grand Duke Molitov von Goth to reveal Gavin's secret.

  Ah, that tricky loyalty issue.

  Megolyth was taken aback when he learned that the soldiers in his army swore loyalty to their General and their General alone. It was Gavin who took the loyalty oath to Megolyth for the army. It was a convenient technicality to keep soldiers in line with their vows when things went bad. That fealty from his soldiers had helped Gavin depose of more than a few monarchs over the centuries. He thought he was done stripping crowns from unworthy heads, but he had misjudged Megolyth's sensibility to put the needs of the realm first. To Gavin it was a simple equation: Keep the people in a position where they can feed, clothe and house their families while having the ability to pay their taxes, and the kingdom maintains its army, thus its stability. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way as an impetuous young General.

  Megolyth was not completely to blame for his recklessness. His youth and upbringing played a large part. The Emperor had pure noble blood flowing through his veins but no throne or kingdom to call his own. Because of mistakes made by his elder kin, he had been remanded to roaming as a nomad with a large following, continuously in search of realm to claim.

  The previous monarch had been murdered by his wife and stepson, who themselves had succumbed to their own treachery. Gavin had helped Megolyth secure a challenge to the throne. It hadn't really occurred to him that Megolyth was not seasoned enough to handle the position.

  The first fifteen years of Megolyth's reign had gone well, however Gavin suspected that it was due to Molitov's influence. Gavin felt that the Grand Duke would have made an outstanding sovereign, but unfortunately he had no desire to hold the problematic post. He had other hobbies that enthralled him far more than political power. Interestingly, Gavin and the high noble had been at odds during his early military career. The Grand Duke had even opposed his appointment to General long ago. Somewhere during their many oppositions and interactions in the last thirty years, he and Molitov had become friends.

  When he allowed his thoughts to meander back over the last five years of Megolyth's reign, Gavin had noticed the unmistakable descent into an inferior style of governance. First, it was the slave woman. Just short of two years ago the Emperor had forced him to secure a human slave for his pleasure. Gavin had volunteered for the task because he was trying to help his son keep Scarlet out of Megolyth's clutches.

  The Emperor had cast a lustful eye on the young human doctor and decided she would make a nice addition to his harem. Gavin had intervened, assuring the Emperor that his son had plans to marry Scarlet and wished to win her back. Desmond had bested the Emperor in a friendly arena challenge, but as punishment for his unwillingness to give up Scarlet, he was required to become Megolyth's new sparring partner.

  The human slave Gavin and Desmond acquired for Megolyth had turned out to be a murderous psychopath who had almost killed Harlan, Missy, and Scarlet. The whole thing twisted into a hopeless disaster and the slave ended up being killed.

  Initially, Gavin thought the slave had served her purpose, buying his son enough time to marry Scarlet. But as time progressed, he realized that it was his wife, Harlan, who Megolyth really wanted.

  If Gavin was honest with himself, he had to admit he knew. He had known for years but ignored it. The Emperor had succumbed to the most dangerous failings of any monarch: mindless greed and paranoia.

  Now, Gavin himself had never been a shining star of integrity. During his career he had led coups, rebellions and even named himself regent a few times. Although he had never had any desire to rule a kingdom, he was determined to ensure his own comfort and survival. Those days were done. All he wanted was safety for his family. No one from my youth would ever believe it to see me now. Getting older made it easier to admit that his priorities had shifted over the past twenty-five years.

  As it stood, the Empire was struggling to rebuild its infrastructure after the Serillian Fever epidemic last year. Whole towns and communities had been wiped out in days. Tax revenues for the crown had diminished. But the Emperor didn’t care. He felt that he could spend money like a drunken soldier and plunder it out of the citizenry, lest he appear weak. As long as he could have his onyx floors and pretty whores, who cared what happened to his people? He believed the extravagance would make him appear strong and in control.

  Yanked from his brooding when a side door slammed open, Megolyth casually strolled in as though his General were a peasant requesting mercy. The Emperor was dressed in a long, white, fur-lined robe fastened at his waist. Spending a few moments to nestle into his throne, he finally settled and stared at Gavin for a long time before speaking.

  “You may stand.”

  Gavin ignored the pain in his knees as he stood. He was not such a young man anymore. The arrogance emanating off his old friend was almost enough to incite him to violence. Even with restraints he could kill this obnoxious fuck before the guards could draw their weapons. The downside was that he would be killed quickly. They would cut him down without even realizing that they owed no loyalty to a dead monarch. There was a time when he may have risked it. But now he had a wonderful wife, brilliant daughter, and a young child who would be devastated at his loss.

  As Gavin aged, he became more appreciative of the necessity for courtesy. Molitov was forever trying to force him into more of a diplomatic role rather than a warrior one. Now that he had things that he couldn't bear to lose, he accepted more of his friend's counsel. So rather than speak his mind, he decided to attempt the high road.

  “Thank you, Highness. Please allow me to apologize for the delay in my response to your previous inquiries.”

  “Do I look like a simpleton to you, Gavin?”

  This is already going poorly. Gavin looked over at the tile work. “Redecorating?”

  “Answer my question!”

  “I am far too old to play this childish game with you, Highness. You know the answer to your question.”

  This was getting Megolyth nowhere, so he cut right to the point. “You let the Colonel go when you knew he was going to be executed. Why?”

  “I did it b
ecause you’re not worthy to execute a battle hardened warrior like Caraculla.”

  A dark, tempestuous rage came over Gavin. Black poison filled his mind with uncontrollable hate. Who did this ungrateful fucker think he was? The furious rampage ran through him like a feverous infection. All desire for diplomacy was gone. Sorry, Molitov, you tried your best with me. He should have stopped after his first sentence, but he couldn't.

  “You’ve got a lot of balls dragging me in here. You were nothing when I met you; nothing but a boy. The snot-nosed leader of a rag-tag bunch of nomads whose dick was bigger than his brain. And now look at you, ruler over an Empire that bores you. So what do you do to amuse yourself and secure your throne? Do you hone your battle skills in the arena? Do you come with us on campaigns and get to know the men who fight and die for you? No! You fuck your captive whores, lust after my wife, and buy pretty things for your sycophants and throne room. I am in awe of your majesty.”

  Gavin lowered his head, casting his gaze at Megolyth's feet in a mocking bow. It was the last thing he should have done, but he was a Theron, confrontation was in his blood.

  Megolyth’s face twisted into a savage snarl. “This from the great General Gavin Theron, who is so pussy-whipped by his wife he does everything she commands. This from a man who is far more famous for his drunken fornicating than he ever was for his military conquests. This from a man who couldn’t stop killing his progeny long enough to have a male successor, so he resorted to corrupting his daughter!”

  “Is that so?” Gavin sneered. “Well, my daughter is more of a champion as a young woman than you ever were as a warlord. As for my wife, she knows who and what I am and accepts me for both. Can you say that about any of the women who come to your bed? Has anyone ever screwed you for love? Or has it only been for fear, duty, or the vacant promise of a better life?”

  “Fuck you, Gavin!”

  “Fuck you right back, your most gracious Highness. I certainly wouldn't want to offer offense by having you face the truth of your absurdities. Why don't you tell me why you really brought me here?”

  “Why, General, is there another reason I should have you in here despoiling my throne room with your blatant disrespect? Perhaps we should discuss new friends, alliances, and treason?”

  Gavin spat at his feet. “You dare drag me here in chains, speaking of treason, a mere half-year after I won the war that kept your useless ass a-perch on your blue cushion. If I had given it enough thought I would have realized it was a mistake securing your throne and allowed the Triumvirate to hand you your ass and take the realm. I'm willing to bet they would have done a better job ruling than you. You are a miserable excuse for an Emperor and I can't wait to see who unseats you.”

  Megolyth's eyes blazed with hatred. “You won't live long enough to ever see that happen, and you’re going to regret every word you have said to me tonight. I promise you.”

  The guards were moving in, but Gavin wasn’t finished yet. He glared at Megolyth and took a few bold steps forward. “You could threaten to cut me into a million pieces and feed my bones to the swamp serpents and I would never take back a word. Not one word.”

  Megolyth bolted up out of his seat, the depth of his anger causing him to shake. Without breaking his glare from Gavin, he addressed the guards. “Take him down to the palace cells and be sure you impart some hospitality befitting a traitor. Compliments of the crown.”

  Chapter 10

  Gypsy was up way too early this morning. A sense of unease had been disturbing her sleep all night, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She should have been exhausted after her match, but no. Bizarre thoughts kept rattling around in her head, waking her up every time sleep took her. Blankets were strewn across the floor with one twisted up as tight as a rope. Even the large mattress was slightly askew. I hate sleeping in here when Kharon's gone. At least I have a few weeks off duty.

  Finally, she rolled herself out of bed and rummaged through the pile of clothes on the wing chair next to the bed. Every movement caused her muscles to ache. But nothing hurt as much as breathing. A large dark purple bruise colored the center of her chest where Wynter's fist had sent her flying across the arena. Finding a plush black robe she had commandeered from her husband a few months back, she slipped it on and tied it loosely at the waist. A shiver ran through her as her bare feet padded down the cold stone steps and into the kitchen. One of these days she would buy some more skin rugs. Until then she'd have to suffer with cold feet in the morning. Opening the cooling unit, she was grateful to see Kharon had stocked it with food in his absence. He was very thoughtful that way. Foraging around she found some sliced strips of elk meat already plated. Nice.

  Tentatively she stretched her emotions out to him, ready for a block or rebuke. It was risky, but she had to know if he had meant what he said last night. Unexpectedly, a wash of heated love crashed over her like a bursting dam. It was so powerful her breakfast was forgotten as she stepped back, bracing herself against the wall. Sliding down the smooth wood, her butt hit the floor before she collapsed. Her watering eyes closed as she reveled in their connection. After a few minutes, she rubbed her sleeve across her face, wiping the tears away. Then she pushed further into his mind with no resistance. Show me.

  Through his eyes she recognized the edge of the Moreg Forest. It was familiar to her because it was an intensely boring patrol. Most soldiers would trade it off if they could. But that was always an expensive venture. Once she had naively traded the duty with her fellow academy graduate, Makkai, so she could spend some time with Kharon. First she'd had to suffer through two weeks of Master Sergeant Rakon's bitch work. Then at the last minute Makkai had upped the deal by grabbing several hours of her arena time. By the time she realized it was a screw job, it was too late. Makai just knew the system better and had taken advantage of her ignorance. She should have thanked him for the lesson.

  As she watched through his mind, she saw that Kharon was riding off-trail through a scattering of trees. Gypsy estimated he was several miles outside the Imperial City. In his view she could see the Quarent road but knew he hadn't yet passed the four-way buffer zone crossing. Once a traveler came upon it they could select which direction they wanted to go, thus choosing which border they would cross. Some called it four corners. It was neutral ground; neither held nor policed by any of the bordering crowns.

  When he reached it he would turn north toward The Leviathan kingdom, which made her head swim in despair. Even though her mother had surgically deprived Caraculla of his ability to spit venom, it didn't make him any less deadly. They would be evenly matched, which sent chills though her soul.

  In the periphery of his vision something peculiar on the road caught her attention. So preoccupied with the trail ahead, he didn't realize her focus had shifted far to his left. I want to see the Quarent road. Turn your head or show me what you have seen.

  Gypsy wasn't as good at controlling their connection as her husband, so she wasn't sure if she was seeing through his eyes or his memory. It really didn't matter as long as she could see.

  Sporadic clusters of civilians were heading down the road, away from the Empire. Many were mounted, with beasts tethered to carts filled with women and children. Some folks even walked. There were solitary men and women, but mostly families. Some appeared to be merchants. Others were farmers, laborers or hunters. It was hard to tell, but they all seemed to be afraid. It was as though they had packed whatever they could and left.

  Where are they going? she questioned.

  I don't know. Talk among them is that the Emperor has raised their taxes, deprived them of their wages, and in some cases, stolen their land.

  Why would he do that? I don’t understand.

  Neither do I. These are dark times. One traveler even spoke of civil war.

  Civil war? That's crazy. My father would know if there was such a worry...right?

  Before she caught Kharon's answer, a knock on the villa's front door broke her concentration. Gypsy c
limbed to her feet, approaching cautiously. Grabbing her scabbard off the hook in the foyer, she freed her blade then tied her robe tighter. She listened for a few breaths. When she heard nothing but her heartbeat, she stood on her toes to look out the small diamond-shaped window. It was Falken, wearing a rare smile.

  You son of a bitch.

  Opening the door, she stepped back to let him in. “May I help you, Lieutenant?”

  Falken stepped in and pushed the door closed then leaned against it. “Is Commander Kharon home?”

  “No, he’s out of town. Why do you ask?” she smirked mischievously.

  Reaching down, he easily plucked the sword from her fist, keeping his grin. He let the weapon drop to the floor, where it bounced with a few loud clanks.

  A silky lock of brown hair fell across his left eye. Lust steamed off of his whole body. Falken searched her face as if he was trying to memorize it. His gaze fell to her lips while his body purred with sensual energy.

  She could feel how much he wanted her. His passion was infectious, but she remained still. Is he going to mention his betrothal?

  “There’s an Imperial ball tonight. I was thinking I would like you to accompany me.”

  Gypsy blinked. Did he just ask me out? Was Kharon hearing this?

  “Then we’d be seen together outside of training,” she said with uncertainty. “That’s pretty bold considering my marital status, your high born obligations, and my less than stellar lineage.”

  “I didn't think those things bothered you.”

  “They don't. But they should bother you. Aren’t you getting married soon?”

  Falken seemed surprised she knew about his pending marriage arrangement. “I haven’t made an official announcement.”

  “But you will.”

  “Yes.” He was silent for a few moments. “Yes. Eventually I will.” His gaze fell down to the floor.

  In that moment she saw something in him she thought she would never see: his vulnerability. Like most young noblemen, he would do what was expected of him. But tonight she would be his act of defiance.