Her words were for Nikos, but her gaze was fixed on the second man in the room. In defiance of custom he made no obeisance. Instead he gave a slight bow, then lifted his hands and drew back his hood.
Her breath froze as his blue eyes stared directly into hers.
“Empress,” he said.
“What is the meaning of this? You swore to me he was dead!”
Nikos dipped his head low, in a gesture of contrition. “It seems we were both deceived.”
This was more than a simple mistake. Nikos had assured her that Prince Lucius was dead, that he had personally witnessed the prince’s death and subsequent hasty burial.
She opened her mouth to summon the guards, but Lucius spoke swiftly, recognizing her intent.
“Don’t you wish to hear what I have to say?”
“You will tell me all I wish to know, once Nizam is done with you.”
He swallowed once, but that was the only outward sign of his fear. And indeed, he must be feeling terror, though his face was still, betraying no hint of his emotions. She studied him for a long moment, noting the changes the years had wrought. Memory recalled a man whose features still held the roundness of youth and who wore petulance as if it were a cloak, while this man held himself with dignity, his level gaze and sharp features conveying the impression of intelligence and resolution.
“How long has Nikos been your ally, conspiring behind my back?”
Prince Lucius shook his head. “The learned brother agreed to bring me here this morning, nothing more. I persuaded him that you and I needed to talk.”
“And what do we have to discuss? All was said between us years ago, when you raised yourself in opposition to me.”
“I have come to beg for your help.”
“My help?” She laughed. So much for thinking that he had grown wits over the years. “The only help you may expect from me is a swift death.”
And that would be more mercy than she was inclined to grant. Lucius had earned himself the slow death of a traitor for his actions years ago, and the latest violence had done nothing to soften her temper toward him.
“I come to you as one who loved Lady Zenia and is sickened by the violence being done in my name. I have come to ask for your help in ending this, before anyone else is killed.”
She remembered the summer he had taken to following Zenia around the court and how Zenia had been endlessly patient with the youngest of her admirers. But that had been over fifteen years ago, and calf-love was hardly a motive for him to seek out the one person who had most cause to wish him dead.
Especially here, in the stronghold of her power. She had but to raise her voice and he would be captured, bound over for torture. It made no sense and she was not a woman who liked puzzles.
“Was Flavian one of yours?” she asked.
He grimaced. “Flavian was one of those who conspire against your rule, but he was not acting under my orders.”
“I persuaded Prince Lucius to come here, to tell you the names of the conspirators in return for your mercy,” Brother Nikos said.
Perhaps Lucius had been foolish enough to believe that she would be merciful though surely Nikos knew better. And by placing Lucius within her grasp, the monk had done much to redeem himself for his earlier mistake.
“I can tell you what I know freely, or you can summon Nizam and have him drag the information from me along with my lifeblood. But that alone will not break the conspiracy; nor will it end the violence.”
“Maybe not. But seeing your body hanging from the palace walls will certainly dissuade your followers,” she said, wanting to see his reaction.
To his credit Lucius did not flinch, and she felt a flicker of admiration for his poise. “Do not make the mistakes of six years ago, when your enemies were allowed to disappear back into the shadows, brooding and waiting until they could strike again.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I can only tell you the names of those whom I have met, but there are others behind the scenes who guide their actions. I will summon them to a meeting, then your men will swoop down and arrest us. There will be no chance for any to escape.”
“And you expect me to let you leave here? To walk free?” Such presumption was absurd, though the prospect of being able to crush the conspiracy with a single blow was indeed tempting.
“Send one of your own with me. A bodyguard, to ensure my behavior. The others can follow, discreetly, and await his signal.”
“And what do you gain from this?”
“The rebellion is doomed to failure. The only question is how many people will die on both sides before you are triumphant. I choose to stop the killings now.”
“A noble motive, but hardly in keeping with your character. You forget that I have known you since you were a babe at your mother’s breast.”
“Men change,” he said.
He waited patiently as she pondered her course of action. He did not beg or plead, and she was struck by the truth of his words. Lucius had indeed changed. His mannerisms, even the cadence of his speech had altered, perhaps a sign that he had spent at least some of the past years among foreigners. If it were not for his features, she would not have recognized him.
The spoiled prince she had known would never have risked his own skin to save someone else, not even someone he loved. This man, if he was to be believed, was prepared to sacrifice himself to save his enemies. And, in so doing, he would condemn to their own deaths those friends who had supported him.
It was a noble sacrifice or an act of utter desperation, or possibly both. But in the end his motives did not matter. She would use him as she saw fit; and then, when he could be of no further use to her, she would mete out the justice that had been delayed for too long.
“You swear that you will do as you have said?”
“I swear that I will do my best to bring the conspirators together, to face your justice. And as for myself, I will trust in your mercy.”
The last was said with an ironic glance in the direction of Brother Nikos, and in that instant she knew that he clearly understood that the mercy the monk had promised him was a mere illusion. If he did indeed hand over the conspirators to her, then her mercy might stretch to a painless death versus the protracted agonies dictated by the law for traitors; but that was the most he could hope for, and it was clear that he knew it as well as she did.
She felt herself warming to him. She had detested the young man he had been, but under different circumstances she might have liked the man he had grown to become.
“Agreed,” she said.
Lucius nodded. “I will give you this in token of my good faith. Benedict, of the city watch, is not to be trusted. He is one of the inner circle, so make certain that he knows nothing of your plans.”
She hoped her face showed nothing of the shock that she felt. Could it be true that Benedict was a traitor? Was that why his investigations had yielded no proof of conspiracy, because he himself had destroyed any evidence before it could fall into her hands?
“Is there anyone else I should be wary of?”
“Trust no one. Remember, I do not know all their names, and some have hair as dark and skin as pale as your own. Select only those guards whose loyalty is absolutely certain for the arrests, and once you have them in hand you can question the traitors at your leisure.”
“I do not need you to lecture me on how to run my empire,” she snapped.
“Of course,” Lucius said, and he bowed his head in a sign of respect.
It took some time, and a few suggestions from Brother Nikos, to smooth the way, but at last they were agreed upon the arrangements. Prince Lucius had the span of the next day and night to complete his task—when dawn rose on the following morning her guards would arrest him, whether or not he had been able to keep his promise of handing over the rest of the rebels. The prospect of breaking the back of the rebellion with a single blow was tempting, but she would not let him slip through her fingers again. Prince Lucius had e
scaped justice once, but this time she would see that he paid for his crimes. His death would be a lesson to all who had flouted her authority.
When she was finished there would be no doubt who ruled in Ikaria—and none left alive who would dare challenge her in the future.
Chapter 19
Nerissa had assigned a single guard as his escort, though he did not doubt that others were following, preparing to keep the magistrate’s residence under close watch until Lucius fulfilled his promises. Josan rode in a litter, alone with his thoughts, as the guard Farris walked alongside, his imposing presence ensuring that none drew too close. The fears that had plagued Josan during these past weeks were gone, because there was nothing left to fear. The time for anxiety had been when his fate was unknown. Now his path was laid out before him, and there was no turning back. He did not know whether to be angry or relieved that Prince Lucius had forced his hand in this way.
Left to his own inclinations, Josan would never have dared approach Nerissa directly. That had taken courage, and even if the prince’s will had failed at the end, he had gone further than Josan would have dared on his own. With no choice, Josan had found the strength within himself to face Nerissa with seeming confidence and complete the bargain that Lucius had planned. On their own, neither he nor the prince were strong enough to end the madness, but by working together there was a chance.
The time for secrecy was past, so instead of leaving him in the nearby square, the litter bearers had been instructed to take him to Renato’s residence. When the litter came to a halt, Farris drew back the curtains, and offered his hand to help Josan alight. Josan waited while Farris paid the litter bearers their fee and dismissed them. The sweat that prickled on his skin had less to do with the heat of the late afternoon sun than it did with what he must do next.
“Remember, you are to follow my lead. Do nothing to rouse their suspicions,” Josan said.
“I will obey my mistress’s orders,” Farris replied. Tall and solidly built, his muscled bulk brought to mind one of the massive pillars of the imperial palace. Some might take his placid features as a sign of dullness, but Josan knew that was a false impression. Nerissa would not have chosen a stupid man for this assignment.
Farris’s gaze swept the street. Josan looked as well, but did not see anything out of the ordinary. If Nerissa’s men were already there, they were well hidden.
Inside he found both Magistrate Renato and Myles anxiously waiting for his return. When he entered the study they appeared relieved to see him, then shocked when Farris followed him, one step behind and to his right, as befit a personal guard.
“Where have you been? And who is this?” Renato asked.
Josan paused to strip off his cloak, tossing it on the floor in the manner of a man who has grown up surrounded by servants.
“This is Farris. Brother Nikos did not want me walking the streets unescorted, and Benedict agreed.” This last was a gamble, though Nerissa had assured him that Benedict would have been too busy to meet with the other conspirators.
“Now you have returned, dismiss him. We have much to talk about,” Renato said. “You owe me an explanation of why you saw fit to involve the Learned Brethren.”
“Farris stays.”
“He’s one of Nerissa’s own guards. Do you truly want him to hear what we have to say?” Myles asked.
He knew he had but to say the word and Myles would attack Farris, giving his own life to buy his prince time to escape. But such a sacrifice would be pointless when Nerissa’s men had no doubt already surrounded the house. So instead he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“We have allies in unexpected places,” Josan said.
He sat down on one of the couches, and after a moment’s indecision, Renato and Myles did the same. Farris moved to stand behind him, looming over the gathering in quiet menace.
“At first I thought Flavian’s recklessness would destroy us all. But then I realized that the uproar has created a unique opportunity—one we must seize before it is too late,” Josan explained.
“And what has Brother Nikos to do with this? The empress is his patron. He is not likely to betray her,” said Renato.
“On the contrary; Nikos is the key to everything.” Which was the truth, though not in the way that his listeners imagined.
It was difficult to force himself to exude confidence when he was all too conscious of the man standing directly behind him—a man who had orders to kill him the moment it seemed that the prince intended to betray his oath to Nerissa. He searched within himself for the remnants of Lucius’s arrogance, reminding himself that the prince did not explain. He commanded, and he expected his followers to obey.
“What reason have you for trusting him? Or indeed any of the brethren?” Myles asked.
“Nikos is the reason I am alive today.” Josan directed his next words to Renato. “Nikos has already proven his loyalty, but I have my doubts about the rest of my so-called followers.”
“My prince, surely you do not doubt my faithfulness,” Renato protested.
“You will prove your loyalty by summoning the others here, for a council tomorrow night. Nikos has given me the key to defeating Nerissa, and I will not wait any longer while my supporters temporize or run reckless in the streets.”
“You cannot expect us—”
“I expect you to do as I command,” Josan said. “Victory is within our grasp. Those who gather here will be remembered when I come to power. Those who are not here will be remembered as well.”
“And what plan have you for destroying Nerissa? Assassination, perhaps?” Renato’s gaze strayed to Farris, whose presence seemed to show that not all of Nerissa’s guards were loyal.
“You will learn of it at the same time as the others,” Josan said.
“But if you have already told Benedict and Nikos—”
“Enough. I owe you no explanations. Be grateful that I still have use for you, though if you continue to question me, I may reconsider your usefulness.”
“Of course, my prince. It will be as you say.” Renato bowed his head in a show of meekness, but Josan knew it was just that, a show.
Renato must realize that the prince was no longer solely dependent upon his good graces. Lucius could go to Benedict, or Dame Akantha, or any of the others that he had met, and ask for their help in arranging the meeting that he had requested. Renato would not want to lose his position of privilege to another, particularly if success was indeed within their grasp. He could count on Renato to do as he was told, in order to preserve his status as one of the inner circle of Lucius’s advisors.
Josan had but to play the part of the soon-to-be-triumphant prince for a little longer.
After the meeting, Renato’s ambitions would no longer matter.
Lady Ysobel had not reached her position by taking foolish chances. She knew when to take calculated risks and when to exercise restraint. Unfortunately, it seemed her instincts were not shared by the rebels. The murder of Lady Zenia and her family had inflamed tensions in Ikaria, bringing the city closer to open warfare in the streets. Now was the time for action, but instead Prince Lucius and his self-appointed advisors had decided it was a time for talking and had summoned the key members of the conspiracy to a meeting at Magistrate Renato’s residence.
When the summons came, she gave serious consideration to refusing, as her earlier doubts about Prince Lucius rose to the fore. Bringing the leaders together in a single place was a tremendous risk, especially when it was likely that the prince would do no more than scold his followers for their wanton violence.
Unless, of course, recent events had forced his hand. If he were to declare himself openly and call for an uprising, then she needed to be there, to encourage him and his followers in their doomed endeavor. She had invested too much time in grooming these rebels to falter at the last moment. The larger the uprising, the more damage would be done to the empire, and the more damage done, the more praise Ysobel would receive when she fin
ally returned to Seddon.
She took precautions, of course, reviewing the escape routes from the district where Renato lived, ensuring that they were still viable. Then she sent a coded message to Ambassador Hardouin suggesting that he might wish to forgo his usual nightly entertainments and remain in the embassy. If there were trouble, the guards would think twice before venturing into the sovereign territory of the embassy to arrest Hardouin. Though it was unlikely that they would seek him out; he had done his best to put distance between them, spreading rumors about Ysobel that had caused some merchants to cancel their contracts with her. At social gatherings her presence now inspired malicious whispers—and only those who needed to take advantage of her bounty sent invitations or called at her town house.
She dressed with care, selecting a silk gown whose daringly split sides offered glimpses of her slender legs—and would enable her to move swiftly if the time came. A dagger was strapped to the inside of her right thigh, and the belt that encircled her waist was made out of gold disks that could be easily broken apart and used as currency. Her hair was piled on her head, the elaborate arrangement held together by two sticks of ivory that were tipped with sharpened steel. Over one arm she carried a light linen cloak, in case the evening grew chill.
The sun was setting as she emerged from her town house, and she wondered why they had chosen such an unfashionable hour. Only peasants and slaves ate with the sun. Even the rawest of newcomers to Ikaria knew that one did not dine before the third hour after sunset. If the magistrate’s residence was being watched, such an untimely gathering was bound to raise suspicion.
Gino, the most senior of her male servants, was waiting outside beside the litter she had ordered. Normally unflappable, he had demonstrated remarkable poise in dealing with the occasional drunken noble or ejecting interlopers who arrived unannounced. But now he shifted his weight from one foot to another with uncharacteristic impatience, and as she approached he looked up at her once, then hastily dropped his eyes.
The First Betrayal Page 28