by John Donlan
Shuvani raised her brow curiously. “Oh, you do? And what might that be?”
“Proof of your treason,” Muvesh said. “The empress will want to hear what I have to say as soon as possible, and so, I will leave once my retinue has everything prepared. I admit, it will be good to return home again. I miss my own bed, and I miss the life of the capital. And I have you to thank, dear sister. It was you who told me that without proof, I should not go back.”
Shuvani turned her head, regarding her sister with interest. She was not worried. Nothing she had told her sister could be proven, even if the empress believed it all. Muvesh was playing another game, hoping that Shuvani would let something slip, she was sure of it.
“Ah, then do not let me stop you. It is a shame you have to leave so soon. I was rather enjoying having the company of my sister again. But please, give the empress my regards.”
Muvesh smiled once more, her lips spreading back almost into a grimace. “Yes, I am sure you did. I suppose you missed mocking me, belittling me, treating me like a child. You always seemed to find such amusement in those things when we were young.”
“If you had chosen to act as something other than a child, I would not have been able to treat you like one,” Shuvani returned, settling back into the water. “Even now, you still seem obsessed with petty games. But before you go, why not indulge my curiosity? What is it you think you have that the empress will be so interested in hearing?”
“I know about your pet roc, sister.”
Shuvani felt as though a knife had been jabbed into her heart. Her breath caught in her throat and her gaze shot to her sister’s happy, joyfully smug expression. “What?”
“I followed you,” Muvesh said, taking a moment to straighten the flimsy gown she was wearing. “This evening, when you thought everyone was distracted by your foul diversion. But you did not fool me, dear sister. I know you well enough that I can tell when you are plotting. Your glee is almost… erotic in nature. I could tell you had other motives for hosting the gathering. And so I watched as you crept from the house like a thief, and I followed you down to that secret place where the monster was kept. I saw what you did with the priestess. You murdered her!”
Shuvani narrowed her eyes. The fear that had slithered into her chest was a palpable thing, creeping along her spine and up the back of her neck, making her heart beat almost fast enough that she felt sure it would burst from her breast at any moment. She had believed herself so careful, never once imagining her sister had the sense and guile enough to follow her and learn her last, and most dreadful secret. But she had, and now, the damage had been done.
“It does not matter,” she said suddenly, hardly able to keep the sneer from her voice. “Go to the empress. Tell her what you think you saw. By the time she can act upon the news, the roc will be gone, and there will be no trace that it was ever there. And you, sister, will be left disgraced and branded a liar.”
Muvesh laughed. “Ah, Shuvani, you never change. Do you imagine that I have not already thought of this? Of course you will try to cover your tracks. But this time, for once, I am ahead of you. That man you took with you, the one who brought the priestess and pushed her into the maw of the beast on your command… I have him. While you bathed and revelled in your wicked act, I had my men take him, bind him, and send him south, back to the empress. Already he will be well out of your reach. It does not matter how loyal you believe him to be. When the empress’ questioners are done with him, he will confirm every word I say.”
Shuvani felt the fear return, and with it, a white hot anger that flared like a furnace inside her. It burst into her chest and flooded her mind with rage. She screamed in a fury and before she knew what she was doing, she had lurched naked from the water, drops flying from her body, and grabbed her sister by the throat.
Muvesh screeched in surprise and her hands fluttered to Shuvani’s fists where they had closed around her throat. Her small hands battered against Shuvani’s, but to no avail.
“You treacherous whore!” Shuvani hissed as she stumbled up out of the bath. Muvesh staggered backwards as Shuvani pushed her, and hit the sandstone wall of the room hard. “I should have strangled you in the crib when you were still a baby. I thought of it you, know? I wanted to put the pillow over your face and end your miserable, screeching life. Even then, I knew that you would bring nothing but misery to my life. I was the light of mother’s eye until you came along to steal it all!”
Muvesh shook her head and raised her hands as she began inching along the wall. “Stay back,” she whispered. “You are insane, Shuvani. A blight on our family. The empress will see that stain washed away though, when you are beheaded and...”
Shuvani raised her hand and slapped her sister hard across the face. “You really think I will allow you to do that now? Do you believe, even for one moment, that I will let you destroy everything I have worked so tirelessly to achieve?” She shook her head, feeling the burning, white hot rage focus into something else, something truly monstrous. It burned in the centre of her forehead, a dagger of anger that was aimed directly at her sister.
Shuvani drove forward and grabbed her sister by the hair. Muvesh screamed in pain as Shuvani pulled her viciously forward, almost pulling the hairs out by the root. She yanked down and forward, and the weight of Muvesh carried them both forward and into the hot waters of the bath.
“Die, you worthless, traitorous wretch!” Shuvani growled, the anger making everything else fade. Nothing else mattered now except the fragile shell of flesh and blood below her. Nothing but the destruction of the woman who was threatening not only her plans, but her very existence. “Die! Die, as you should have done years ago!”
She pushed Muvesh’s head into the water face first, and then placed all of her weight down, keeping her sister below the water. She felt her sister thrash and struggle, felt the hands whip into a frenzy beneath the surface. But Muvesh had always been the weaker of the two of them. When they had fought, she had always been the one to end up on the bottom. It was no different now. Muvesh had lived a life of idle pleasure, and it showed. Shuvani clamped both hands on the back of her sister’s neck, twitching against the struggling form.
Shuvani felt the blood pumping in her temples as the rage consumed her. The water thrashed again as Muvesh tried to find purchase and some kind of leverage. But her struggles were starting to fade as the life leached from her and her strength dwindled away.
When her sister was finally still beneath her, Shuvani did not move. She kept the head beneath the water for long minutes until at last she felt the anger start to seep out of her. Muvesh was still and unmoving, her body limp. Shuvani let go and watched as the body floated up to the surface and lay there, hair spread out around her head and her arms drifting gently on the heated water.
She stepped back, panting, exhausted from the struggle. She looked down at her dead sister, and then smiled. She had won again. Another obstacle had been removed, another thorn in her side plucked out. Her sister had brought this on herself. She had gone against Shuvani, and she had paid the price for her betrayal. The outcome had been preordained from the beginning. There was no guilt, no remorse, only an overriding sense of utter satisfaction.
She got out of the water, ignoring the shaking of her body, and wrapped a silk robe around her shoulders. There was no more time to waste, now. If her sister had been telling the truth, then it would not be long before the empress learned of Shuvani’s plans. Now was the time to act.
She swept from the bath and summoned one of her slaves. The man appeared, bare chested, bowing at the waist.
“Rouse the Dovus and my generals,” she told him quickly. “Have them come to the training grounds.”
“Yes, my Jagir,” the slave said, keeping his eyes averted as he straightened. When he was gone, Shuvani poured herself a glass of wine to steady her nerves.
There was only one thing she could do now. Her plans would need to be accelerated. She would assemble her army, and she wo
uld lead them north, across the border into Losarn. Once the war had begun, the empress would have to abandon her plans of peace and rally to Shuvani’s side or risk losing the empire entirely. Any suspected treason would be brushed aside in the struggle to destroy their mutual enemy. When the Losarn had been crushed, Shuvani would have the power to overthrow the empress once and for all and take the throne.
She smiled to herself. Perhaps Muvesh had done her a favour after all. If it had not been for her betrayal, Shuvani would still be waiting. Now that her hand had been forced, she felt the blood rushing through her veins again like fire. She would sweep into the northern lands like a flood and wash her enemies away.
She would be empress!
Thirty-Six
Wendrill Harrow sat on the throne, and to Luscard’s discerning eye, it seemed as if the man belonged there. He sat it with ease and confidence, and he radiated calm power. Even the crown atop his head appeared to have been made to fit the former duke’s head. It seemed natural, and proper, as though this man was truly the king they all needed. Wendrill was stroking his chin slowly, lost in thought for the moment, and listening to the distant sounds of battle as though he found them appealing.
The fighting had mostly died down. The knights and soldiers who had been loyal to Tomar were almost all dead now, or had fled south like cowards. Others had been captured and locked beneath the royal palace in cells to await their fates. The king’s daughter was one of those captives. She had not been mistreated, though; Harrow was wise, and knew that the people would never stand for anything untoward happening to their princess.
There had not been as much resistance as Luscard might have expected. Those who might have put up a real fight had been caught mostly unawares and slaughtered before they truly knew what was happening. It was only due to Captain Stairn’s escape from the throne room that any news of what had taken place ever reached the king’s knights at all. The man had fled, leaving his lord to die, and had spread the news like wildfire. Even so, Harrow had acted quickly, sending troops out into the city under the command of his son to contain the trouble. The knights had been isolated, surrounded, and cut down wherever they put up a fight. Some had escaped with Stairn and had ridden south alongside Gadmar’s loyal men. Luscard supposed they would continue south as fast as they dared push the horses and return to Southmarsh. They might cause problems for the new king, but Luscard felt confident that Harrow would have a plan in place to deal with them.
Thinking of home, Luscard felt a pang of loss. He would not be welcomed back there now, not after what he had done. He knew his brother well enough to understand that he would seek vengeance for the death of their father. If he didn’t already know what had happened, he soon would. It was the only regret that Luscard still harboured. The loss of his father weighed heavy on his heart, and the knowledge that he had done the deed pained him greatly. But he believed he had done the right thing. His father would have never joined the cause and supported Harrow. He was loyal to the end, even when it had cost him his title and lands.
And yet, Luscard could not shake the memory of his blade sliding home into the body of his father. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that moment. He wondered when it would finally fade and he would be free of it.
Harrow shifted in his seat and leaned forward, elbows on the rests to either side. “Tomorrow, I will be crowned king” he said suddenly. “It needs to be done quickly, so that the people know they have strong leadership, and to calm the chaos in the city. After that, we must move quickly to secure the kingdom and prepare for the war that is to come.”
Luscard nodded slowly. They were alone for the moment, the throne room empty. Most of the lords loyal to Harrow were commanding their men in taking controlling the city, and those who had been allied with the king had been imprisoned or killed.
“What do you plan to do?” he asked.
“We must strike before the Tho’reen do,” Harrow said. “But to do that, we need an advantage, something that will ensure our dominance in the war. We must take Arrenissia.”
Luscard frowned. His father had always said that taking the small, neighbouring kingdom would be a mistake. Arrenissia was weak and would be taken easily, but its people were peaceful and no threat to the kingdom. Gadmar, and the old king, had both believed that the Arrenissians should be left in peace. Or made into allies, if possible.
But the peace and prosperity of Losarn came first, and if gaining that peace and defeating the Tho’reen meant the conquest of Arrenissia, then Luscard was prepared for it.
“And what would you have me do? I can fight… I can lead. Make me a general, and I will take Arrenissia for you.”
Harrow seemed to consider the offer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, you are needed elsewhere. You and I both know that your brother and those traitorous southern lords and dukes will not stand for me being on the throne. They do not care about the well being of the kingdom, and they will take action to ensure my downfall. You must ensure that does not happen.”
“How?” Luscard was troubled by the notion of heading south, and not just because his life would likely be forfeit. In truth, he was in no hurry to face his brother and sister after what he had done. The very thought of Darius’ grief-ravaged, angry face filled him with a dread and sorrow that he found hard to push away.
“Take as many soldiers as you need and head south,” Harrow said. “If you can, you must talk your brother into seeing things our way, if you cannot, then he must be defeated. Southmarsh must be ours if we are to have any chance of holding our borders against the Tho’reen. The fortresses and keeps of your homeland are vital to my plans.”
Luscard took a deep breath and then nodded swiftly. “I will do as you ask, but… I cannot kill my brother and sister. Let me take them prisoner, if it comes to it. Once they are bereft of support, they will listen to me. Eventually they will come to terms with the way things must be.”
Harrow stared at him intently for a moment, and Luscard felt as if the new king was boring deep into his soul to see the twisted conflict that was raging there. Luscard kept his face passive, hiding his inner thoughts as best he could.
“I know how difficult it must have been to be the one who killed your father,” Harrow said after a moment. “Destroying your enemies is an easy thing - necessary, encouraged and anticipated, even - but killing your own flesh and blood is the most difficult of all tasks, even when it is a necessity, as it was with you. But know this, I am proud of you, and if it is any consolation, I consider you my second son. When the war is over, when our enemies are defeated or cowed, when the future of the kingdom is restored, I will adopt you into my family, and you will be my son in truth. And you will be given Southmarsh to rule. It is only right and proper that a Crow remain as the lord of the region.”
Luscard felt a shiver run through him. For a moment, he thought about the family he would be leaving behind, the friends and comrades of his old home. Then his mind conjured up images of himself riding to battle with the banner of the Harrow lineage fluttering behind him, bringing glory to the king, his own father.
Luscard squared his shoulders proudly and took a deep breath. “I thank you, my king, and I will do all I can to earn your trust and to become worthy of your generous offer.”
Harrow smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Good. And I will grant your wish. If it is possible, take your brother prisoner. Make him understand the necessity of what we have done here. He would make a far better ally than an enemy, even a dead enemy.”
Would that ever be possible? Luscard wondered. Darius and Torelle were much like Gadmar, stubbornly noble, loyal, and narrow-sighted. They would never accept the truth, never turn from their misguided beliefs. He would try to show them though, try to make them accept the new reality. He did not want to kill any more of his own flesh and blood.
“My brother will not be an easy opponent,” Luscard said. “He is a skilled fighter and tactician, and he is a charismatic and much loved leader. Gad
mar taught him well, and he knows the land and its people. He will have allies, too. Hedick Thorne, of the Arnsmoor will stand with him, as will others.”
“That is why I am sending you,” Harrow replied. “You know the land as well as he, and I saw your skill in battle as you led the charge into the city with my son. I have faith that you can handle that rebellious rabble. I know Hedick Thorne; he is an old, tired warhorse, well past his prime. As for the rest who will take your brother’s side… they are beneath our concern. Let them join with the Southmarsh if they wish. It will only hasten their fall, and when they are defeated, their lands and titles will be forfeit. My offer does not extend to them, Luscard. If they defy you and raise arms against us, kill them.”
Harrow smiled and clasped his hands together tightly. “We will forge a new kingdom,” he said. “A strong, powerful nation that will last an eternity. All lands under one banner. Can you imagine a more glorious thing?”
Luscard could not. In his minds eye, he could already picture it. The flags of the kingdom fluttering above every castle, every keep, every city and hamlet and town. The entire world, united, secure, safe. It was breathtaking.
“When do you wish me to leave?”
“As soon as I am crowned and the city is placated. You will stay for my coronation, and for my marriage to the old king’s daughter. That will ensure the people’s acceptance of their new ruler. But you must be ready to leave no more than a week from now. We cannot afford to sit idly by and wait for disaster. The Tho’reen certainly will not, once they learn of everything that has transpired. Choose your men carefully. Your fight will be just as important as mine in the east. Perhaps even more so. Arrenissia will fall easily, but Southmarsh is vital, so have a care.”
Luscard nodded and gripped the handle of his sword as he dropped to his knee before the throne, head bowed. “I will not fail you,” he said. “Southmarsh will fall, and then, when we are ready, so too, will the Tho’reen.”