“I feel honored at your visit,” Shateen continued. “Usually, our meetings involve shackles and a dozen guards. This is far more agreeable, don’t you think?”
Raeth still did not respond. He studied the creature, noting its dark skin, yet human features. Except for the skin, it looked completely human. Too human. It all made sense.
Shateen was an Aether Bond. Will I look like this some day?
“I suppose my month is up,” Shateen said. “Though by my estimate, I still had two days left. I guess scratches on the wall aren’t exactly an accurate measure of time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Raeth said quietly. “I know your secret.”
Shateen raised a dark eyebrow, his skepticism showing through.
“You lied to me,” Raeth said. “The children aren’t dead. You made them like you. Into Shentis.”
Shateen’s eyes widened slightly. But then he smiled. “Your tales of us being demons are well-publicized, your imperial majesty, even where I come from. Everyone knows we steal children and replace them with foul creations of Mahallen myth.”
Raeth took a step forward, refusing to be diverted. “It’s an Aether,” he said quietly. “You Bond them to an Aether and make them like yourself. You aren’t demons at all. You’re human.”
Shateen opened his mouth, obviously to spout off some more diversionary rhetoric, but then his eyes met Raeth’s, and he stopped. He must have seen something therein, Raeth’s confidence, or perhaps his anger. Either way, Shateen’s next words were far more subdued than before.
“I was an orphan in this very city, you know,” he said quietly. “Do you know what it’s like to be an Aedin with no Line? Duty is everything, so you say, but what of those of us with no duty? With no heritage? Do our Ancestors still watch over us, even though we’re not connected to the Line? Do they even recognize us?”
Raeth paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“No one did,” Shateen continued. “With all the talk of family and Lines, what of those of us with no fathers to choose our Place? According to common wisdom, the lowest level of Imperium society belongs to the Shorriken farmers, yet even their lives are easy. With the Verdant Bonds producing food, the farmer’s goods are luxuries, and they are paid well for producing them. No, the worst thing to be in this society, my lord, is an orphan. That is why I did what I did. Those children will lead far better lives with us.”
Raeth frowned. “Is that why you want to destroy us?” he asked.
Shateen paused. “Destroy you?” he asked with confusion.
“How do you control them?” Raeth demanded, stepping forward, standing only a few inches from the dark iron bars.
“Control what?”
“Do not play with me,” Raeth snapped, anger rising within him. “Thousands of good men have fallen to your swords, while you wait happily in your cell. Tell me how you do it. How do you control that many?”
Shateen shook his head, pretending ignorance. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Emperor.”
Raeth’s Aethers sensed his emotions, and they began to grow. Amberite crackled around his clenched fist, and he unconsciously sought out pools of Night crouching in the corners of the cell. The shadows began to bulge, pressing in at Shateen. The Shentis man pulled away from them, his composure breaking, his face pulling back in fear.
Mock fear, Raeth told himself. He’s pretending.
Shateen’s wild eyes turned toward him. “What are you?” he whispered in horror.
Raeth paused, straining as the Night pushed against the terrified Shentis man. He didn’t fight back, pulling out his own Night. He didn’t create a dark warrior to fight for him. He simply cringed in fear. Real fear—Raeth could see it in his eyes.
“You really don’t know, do you?” Raeth asked quietly. The Night popped back into its wells, retreating from the light.
Raeth sighed, his rage abating. “Where do you find your Aether?”
“We don’t find it anywhere,” Shateen said, regarding the shadows nervously. “It’s in our blood. When we inject it into someone else, their skin turns dark, and they become one of us. Really, we’d like to leave you alone—we mean no harm. It’s just that, we can’t reproduce once it’s in our blood. You have children you don’t want, we want offspring. Lines of our own. Surely you can understand that.”
Raeth whipped his brow, the exertion of moving the Aether leaving him weakened again. “How long does it take?” he asked. “How long before the skin changes colors.”
“It happens immediately,” Shateen said.
Immediately. “You can’t control the Night?” Raeth pressed. “You don’t use the Pool of the Forgotten?”
“No, my lord,” Shateen answered honestly. “I…by the Ancestors, what is going on?”
Raeth shook his head, his quick answer to the Forgotten problem evaporating before him. Raeth turned to leave. Whatever Shateen was, he wasn’t a Night Bond.
“Um, my lord,” Shateen said behind him. “You know my secret. I promise you, those children are being treated well. Am…I still going to be executed?”
“We’ll see,” Raeth said, walking from the room. “I’m still not sure about you.”
#
The ride back up to the seventh floor was a long one, filled with conflicting thoughts. If the Shentis weren’t controlling the Forgotten, who was? He was left with only one conclusion. The Dari were right—the creatures were Forgotten, after a fashion. Like D’Naa had said, they had to be the souls of those thrown into the pool. That much unBonded Aether must have done strange things to them, overcoming their bodies and making them into creatures composed of the Aether itself.
He was still left with one problem. Had they really thrown that many people into the pool? The Imperium had existed for centuries, but even still, such numbers from the Forgotten would require the Aedin to have thrown in hundreds of people every year. Raeth knew that wasn’t true—at least, not in recent history.
Maybe there’s more we don’t know about, Raeth thought. The histories barely go back a thousand years. Where did our tradition of throwing criminals into the pool come from? Perhaps we inherited it from the Aedin tribes of old. Maybe this has been going on long enough to build up those kinds of numbers.
Raeth shook his head as the Corpate climber stopped on his floor. He just didn’t know enough. There could be dozens of explanations. Perhaps the Harrmen had something to do with the pool—the Aedin only visited it once a year. What if the barbarians threw their dead into the pool after battles? Two hundred thousand Forgotten was a lot, but who knew how old the pool was.
He crossed the mosaic floor, his feet falling on the faces of Emperors past. The Ancestors. They didn’t seem to be protecting their progeny much in the face of danger. Of course, we can’t really blame them, Raeth thought, pushing open the door to his rooms. It’s our fault. If we’d realized out weakness and started using our Aethers properly from the beginning, maybe we’d have had the numbers to repel the attack.
Raeth looked up, frowning as he shut the door behind him. Where was D’Naa? The room was empty, the remnants of their meal sitting half-eaten on the table.
“Looks like dinner for two,” a voice said.
Raeth turned with surprise, jumping slightly as he saw a feminine figure standing in the doorway to his bedroom. A blonde figure. Alean.
Raeth opened his mouth, uncertain how to respond. Anger flashed in him—why had the guards… ?
He’d dismissed the guards, so they wouldn’t hear him talking to D’Naa.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Raeth said. “It’s improper.”
Alean raised an eyebrow. “Is that so, Prince Raeth?”
Chapter Twenty
D’Naa carefully peeked over the side of the balcony. She hung in the cold air, dark cloak flapping. Hern had returned, and he looked surprised to see Alean.
That’s good, D’Naa thought. Maybe she just came on her own. Of course, he might have forgotten that he’d invited h
er.
She shook her head. She had gotten beyond being suspicious of him, hadn’t she? It’s a coincidence, nothing else, D’Naa told herself firmly. Alean used to be the most likely choice, but now it appears that Tae and Nahan are edging her out. She was bound to make some effort to take him back.
It was a good thing D’Naa had stepped out on the balcony for a moment while Hern was out. Otherwise, Alean would have caught her. As it was, the dinner looked suspicious enough.
D’Naa briefly considered climbing back down to her rooms and leaving for the night—hanging off the side of the balcony, even with her vines, wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position. However, she couldn’t make herself move. She couldn’t hear what they said, but she could watch. She knew she had little right, but she felt she had staked a claim on Hern. She had a right to know what he did with other women, didn’t she?
#
“You seem to have mistaken me for my brother, Alean,” Raeth said firmly, turning on his best Hern imitation, complete with arrogant posture and a condescending edge to his voice.
“Is that so?” Alean said, strolling toward the desk laden with dirty dishes. She wore a rich green gown that sparkled slightly in the lanternlight. Her hair was lose and slightly disarrayed, however—an odd state for a High Aedin woman.
Alean selected one of the glazed kivirn and popped it into her mouth. Though she was of the Verdant Line, no Aether marred her skin. Raeth found it ironic that D’Naa, a non-Aedin, would have Bonded an Aether while this woman—first daughter of the Verdant Line—had not.
Perhaps we do ourselves a disservice by not letting our women Bond, Raeth thought. Our army could certainly benefit from the added Aethers in a time of need, especially if any of them are half as strong as D’Naa.
Alean looked up at him, drawing his attention again. Despite her obvious attempts to look seductive, her overdone curves and blatant sexuality was nothing compared to D’Naa’s simple beauty.
But, why does she think that I’m not Hern?
“I’ve been speaking with your brother, Raeth,” Alean informed, licking the glaze off her fingers.
Raeth paused. She couldn’t mean…Hern?
“He’s a good man,” Alean continued, “but he grows quite talkative once you get enough liquor in him.”
Raeth froze. Oh, no… .
Alean took a step toward him. “Once you get him into bed,” she continued. “You can’t keep him quiet.”
Raeth felt a sense of dread. Darro, what have you done?
Alean’s face suddenly turned hard, all guises of seduction gone. “You’ve been lying to the entire Imperium, Dari,” she snapped.
“I’m not Raeth, woman. I am—”
“When did we first meet?” Alean demanded.
Raeth paused. “I don’t have to—”
“When did we first make love?” she said.
Raeth had no answer.
Alean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I knew it,” she hissed. “I knew it from that first day, dancing. Your surprise betrays you, priest. Our deal will be a simple one. Hern and I had an understanding. I was going to be his wife—I am the only one of the brides worthy of the station. You want to pretend to be him? Fine. Then you will do as he would have. Choose me as your bride, and I will keep your secret. Otherwise, I will destroy you.”
Raeth gritted his teeth. “You would destroy the Imperium then, foolish woman. I didn’t want this Place, but our people need an Emperor right now.”
“If you hadn’t stepped into a cloak that wasn’t yours,” Alean snapped, “my father would be Emperor right now, and my husband would become Heir. You’ve stolen the throne from me in more ways than one, idiot priest. You will choose me. Do you know the penalty for breaking Place? Execution? You’ve made fools of the entire Senate, who ratified an imposter as their Emperor. Every responsibility they give you, every ounce of respect, is not yours to but Hern’s. You fail in your most basic duty as High Aedin. That of honesty.”
“Get out,” Raeth hissed.
Alean turned, walking toward the door. She paused, turning hard eyes toward him. “You know what your choice has to be. Think of…the good of the Imperium.”
Raeth stood, fuming but feeling impotent as she closed the door behind her.
#
That went well, D’Naa decided. She left in a huff. Did he rebuke her for coming to him alone. . .or did she get angry at him for discovering he’d been dining with someone else?
D’Naa pushed down her suspicions, giving him the benefit of the doubt. She moved to climb back onto the balcony, but then she saw his face, and something about it made her pause. She saw a latent, burning anger inside them, barely contained.
Suddenly, he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door so hard that she felt it.
Going after her? D’Naa wondered despite herself. Then, she just shook her head and began climbing back toward her rooms. She’d know his mind soon enough. By her calculations, his month was nearly up. Soon he’d have to make his decision.
#
Raeth stood over his sleeping brother. Darro lay innocently in his oversized bed, naked save for the sheet covering him. He snored with the delirium of drunkenness. On the pillow beside him, beside a mussed blanket that still showed the place where a second person had slept, lay a woman’s glove. A green glove.
She knew I’d come and check, Raeth realized. She was crafty, he’d give her that. Of course, she’d been raised in the court, and by one of the best politicians of their time.
Raeth sat quietly on a chair, still looking at his brother’s sleeping form. Dear, gentle Darro. What an idiot you can be.
What could he do? Alean’s bid for his choice was the most powerful yet. Raeth had lost track of the days—he wasn’t even certain how long he had left before his Ynaa prayer would be finished—but the Senate would probably force his hand before too long. If it came before the end of the war, he’d have to choose Alean. She had all the proof she needed in her head—if she challenged him in front of the Senate, asking questions Hern should have known, his façade would easily come to an end. The people’s loss of confidence in him could easily destroy the Imperium. If the Forgotten hadn’t done so already.
He would have to choose her. Unfortunately, Raeth knew it wouldn’t stop there. Alean was far to savvy to let a good bargaining tool go to waste. If he did choose her, she would use his secret against him, twisting his opinions and forcing him to rule as she desired.
However, she didn’t know one thing. She assumed Raeth cared for his own life more than he did for duty. She was wrong. As soon as the Forgotten problem was eliminated, Raeth would expose the truth to the Senate. Alean was right, they would likely order him executed for the embarrassment he had caused and the entire Aedinor government. Even if he managed to win the war for them, the Senate would have no choice. The sanctity of the government was more important than any individual.
But, despite the consequences, Raeth knew he would have no choice but to reveal himself. Alean’s blackmail ensured that. Better death then a life being her pawn.
#
The Senate building did not reflect the city’s dwindling population. People crowded the lower tier, showing an interest in political discussion irregular even for Vae Annitor. Of course, they had reason to be concerned.
Two days had passed since the infamous battle where Raeth had held the Forgotten forces, and the Imperium had yet to lose the Bells. Though they had been forced to retreat across much of the hilly terrain, General Gaedin and his War Counsel held tenaciously to their ground, fighting extended bouts against the Forgotten. Raeth had to admit, as much as the man could put him on edge, Gaedin did know how to keep a promise.
The turn in the war effort was reflected in the faces of the Senators. Raeth watched them carefully from his seat on the second tier, studying the thirty men. Though they were worried, many were a lot more relaxed than they had been just three days before. The might of the Imperium’s forces had reassert
ed itself. All was well in the world.
Raeth shook his head. We’re still naive, he realized. The threat is sitting just a couple day’s march from our capitol, and already we’ve dismissed it. Just because we’ve managed to stall it doesn’t mean it will go away.
However, the climate would work to Raeth’s favor. The last two times he had stood before the Senate he had asked for a favorable vote. This time was the opposite—he had come to try and buy himself more time. He would ask them to vote against retreat.
Raeth sought out friendly faces in the crowd, drawing strength from them. There were some notable admissions, however, Darro at their forefront. His brother had disappeared two days before, the morning after his tryst with Alean. No one had seen him since.
Darro, where are you? Raeth thought with frustration. I need you—these next few days are going to be difficult ones.
So, instead of Darro, Raeth sought out D’Naa. She was there, sitting on the top tier, and she had a smile for him. While the day’s battles had been difficult, his night’s conversations had been wonderful. D’Naa’s visits were an expected occurrence now, and Raeth was finding himself increasingly attached to her as the day’s progressed.
Raeth looked down from the aristocrat’s tier, looking instead at the middle one, where the Senators sat. Most telling of the faces was that of Rall Hannin, the Mahallen King. He sat with the other four Mahallen Senators. Unlike many of his Aedin colleagues, Rall Hannin’s eyes were deeply troubled. He knew the truth. Over the last month, he had been asked for increasing numbers of troops. Tarrinon’s sources told Raeth that the Mahallen military was severely undermanned—they had given nearly all they had to the war effort. If Seaborn raiders fell upon the southern shores, as was common in the spring, then En Mahall wouldn’t be able to defend itself.
He knows, Raeth thought quietly. He realizes that I’ve only delayed the Forgotten. They’re still coming. And, once they take Aedinor, the next richest gem in the Imperium is En Mahall.
There were others as well. A scattered few amongst the wisest of the Senators bore looks that mimicked that of the Mahallen King. They were the ones who kept the petition for evacuation from being cast aside, and they had powerful friends who trusted their advice. Unless Raeth convinced them, the evacuation would go forward.
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