Empire Asunder BoxSet

by Michael Jason Brandt

  He was finding Leti to be a wealth of useful information. Too bad he had not befriended her sooner. “What can you tell me of Gornada?” he asked.

  The admiration in her eyes was immediately apparent. “He’s served in my father’s guard since I was a babe. I remember he used to give me oranges from his family’s groves, and whenever father was too busy for us, Gornada always took time to make sure Toby and I were well. Very much like an uncle. He may not show it often, but there’s a sensitive soul there. I’ve never known an officer more devoted to the recruits in his command.” Her smile diminished perceptibly. “I’ll bet he mourns their losses terribly.”

  Then I have something in common with him.

  “He and I shared a drink.”

  “Maybe he’s infatuated with you, too.” She giggled again. “He was also Toby’s first hero…before you came along.” She was grinning at Nico again, clearly amused by his discomfort. He regretted admitting to his dislike of attention.

  There was another knock, leading Nico to roll his eyes. “This is certainly the servant. It will only take a second.”

  He opened the door with his half-full plate in one hand and a guilty expression on his face, intending to apologize for wasting a delicious meal.

  The man facing him looked vaguely familiar. He also looked extremely weary, dirty, and upset. Some of that made sense, considering that he was wearing blue and white insignia but was not a member of the Threeshields. This man must have ridden from Akenberg—hard and fast, judging by the look of it. “Prince Nicolas,” he said immediately, a note of strain in his voice. “I must speak with you.”

  Nico nodded. “One moment.” He set down the plate in the corridor, stepped back into the room and closed the door. He looked at Leti. “A messenger from home. I need to receive this.”

  She stood up, looking excitedly conspiratorial. She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be here. Can I hide?”

  He hesitated. Duty compelled him to send her away. But he also did not wish to get her in trouble—or himself. If word got back to the king or Jacinto, whatever difficulties he already faced might escalate. “Okay. But I’m trusting your discretion, Leti.”

  She nodded, then stepped behind a heavy curtain. Nico reopened the door. “Come in, Private…?”

  “Rinnick, My Prince. Thank you.”

  Nico bade him sit on the couch, but the man shook his head. Of course, Nico thought. He sat on a horse the entire way here. “Please take a moment to catch your breath, Rinnick. Here, have a sip of water. You’ve ridden all the way from Akenberg. Whatever news you have to report can wait another moment.”

  A sip was followed by a satisfied nod, then the eyes closed for a second. But only a second—all the time Rinnick allowed himself before destroying Nico’s world.

  “My Prince, the king requires your immediate return to Neublusten, with your entire company.”

  “He what? What of my mission here, Private?”

  “There is more, My Prince. I have dire tidings from the war with Lorester. We met the enemy under a flag of truce, and were negotiating an end to the dispute, but it was only a ploy by the traitors. The parlay had barely begun when we received news of a surprise attack by neighboring Daphina. Their army marched east into Akenberg unexpectedly and lay siege to Allstatte, burning the outer villages on the way. Prince Markolas immediately broke off negotiations with the Loresters in order to confront the Dauphi. But they were conspiring with the Loresters—”

  The pace of the narration was increasing rapidly. “Slow down, Private. One step at a time.”

  “Your pardon, My Prince. When the prince—that is, Prince Markolas—marched west, he was pursued by the Lorester army. He was caught between them and the Dauphi. Battle was unavoidable, and we fought most heroically, My Prince, but Akenberg was defeated. Our army routed, and Prince Markolas was killed. The bastards hung his body from—”

  “My brother is dead?” This seemed like a point that deserved greater emphasis than the private had given.

  Rinnick nodded grimly. “I’m afraid so, My Prince. That is why I was dispatched to reach you as quickly as possible. I have ridden day and night to report this. You must return to Neublusten and aid our remaining forces. Allstatte is near falling, and already the Loresters are marching toward the capital, looting everything on their way. They must be turned back—”

  “Marko is dead?”

  Rinnick stopped speaking. He swallowed deeply, then stared down into the cup of water Nico had handed him. “Aye, My Prince.”

  Nico did not wish to continue this conversation. It was desperately important, he knew, yet the shock of the news was very upsetting. His mind needed to be able to think clearly—something of which it was currently incapable.

  “Rinnick, I must request that you stop there for now,” he said calmly. “I will send for you when I am ready. I must…process this news.”

  “Of course, My Prince. I will wait in the barracks.” He stepped back and bowed. Then he left the room, as Nico watched without seeing.

  This could not have happened. Not for a single moment had he ever considered the possibility.

  “Nico.”

  Her voice was quiet, her hand soft on his shoulder. “I heard. I’m sorry.”

  He had cried for Renard, and for the other eleven under his command, but was not crying now. This was much too complicated for simple grief. He wanted to mourn Marko the way he had those companions lost in the battle, but there were far greater implications to what he had just learned.

  “Nico, please say something.”

  “My father is…unwell.”

  “You’ll be king. Our kingdoms can be allies. The marriage—”

  “I don’t want to be king. I’ve never wanted to be king. The idea terrifies me.”

  “You don’t get a choice.”

  He looked at her. She stared back, her face displaying a confidence he lacked. There was a strength here that could be relied upon. He needed that, just now, but did not know how to ask for it.

  For days, he had been losing one piece of himself after another. Renard, then Captain Bayard, then Mip. And now Marko. The void inside kept getting bigger. But here, staring into those soft brown eyes, he wondered if he could reverse the ebbing tide.

  A hush had fallen over them, disturbed only by the distant sounds of the city coming through the windows. A certain tranquility filled the suite.

  “Do you want me to go?” she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she were unwilling to disturb the peace.

  “Like you did last night?” he asked. Not an accusation; merely a question.

  “Last night I thought I was marrying your brother,” she replied. “I was afraid of falling in love. Tonight…I know it’s okay.”

  He bowed his head, feeling the tears coming at last. He was sorry that Marko was gone, without ever getting to know this young woman. So many things about the loss of his brother saddened him profoundly. But in one small way, the blow was softened. At least he could make one good thing come of it.

  He would always remember her as being braver than he, for starting the embrace. One of the few parts of the night he could later recall, but enough to keep him going through the hard trials that awaited.

  At some point during the night, however, she left him. He did not want her to, but she insisted that they emerge from separate chambers come morn. It was the practical choice, of course, but as soon as she left the bed he felt the void returning, so powerful the emptiness threatened to swallow him entirely. Impulsively, he worried that he would never see her again.

  Nico was awakened at dawn by Lima, just as he had commanded. He knew upon seeing her that something was amiss, for her belt held no sword. The weapon was as good as useless in her current condition, but no trooper would go without unless dictated by unusual circumstances.

  “They would not let me leave the barracks with it,” she explained, following his gaze. “Something is definitely wrong.”

  He nodded. “Y
ou heard the news from Rinnick, I presume?”

  “Aye. I…am sorry for your loss. And I think you will be a fine king.”

  He closed his eyes. It already begins. Rumors and events moved quickly, unstoppable, regardless of his wishes. You don’t get a choice, Leti had said. She was right about that, but Nico was still getting tired of fate deciding his life for him. “Return to the barracks. Make sure Rinnick is with you. Do we have anyone remaining in the hospital? No? Good. Tell Manus, Ezra, and Mickens to prepare the horses. All squadrons make arrangements to ride on a moment’s notice.”

  “Are we leaving?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I hope not. I need to see her again. “But we must be ready in case.”

  “What if they stop us?”

  “They won’t, not yet. If something happens, it will start with me. Having the heir to the throne as a hostage is worth more than all the Threeshields. No offense.”

  Lima laughed. “None taken. We’ll be ready, then. But I worry about you.”

  Nico shrugged. “I’m sure this matter can be resolved peaceably. The precautions are just that—precautions.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Do you really believe that, Commander? Come with me. There is nothing here worth the risk.”

  Yes, there is. “Dismissed, Private. I’ll see you this eve.”

  She saluted and left.

  Hoping to catch Toby a little early, Nico went to the sparring chamber first. The room had several occupants, but they did not include the young prince.

  He went to the throne room next, hoping to be granted an impromptu meeting with the king. The doors were closed, and a guard stoically informed him that a special session was in progress.

  Nico wandered the castle halls for a period, hoping to give the appearance of aimlessness, before finding himself at last outside the royal quarters. First he inquired if the prince was in chamber, then the princess. Neither was, according to the servants.

  He returned to his suite, deeply disturbed. A new mood had settled over the castle, or at least over him, less morbid than that before the battle, but no less ominous and just as inevitable. He could not begin to explain why, but things—his status with the Asturians, their expressions, his belonging—had changed, and were coming to an end. He could no longer pretend the feeling was just the fantasy of a nervous mind. He had done nothing to warrant their suspicion—had, in fact, done everything to earn their trust. It was impossible to believe that they could treat him as anything less than a friend, but the proof was behind every suspicious stare.

  Lima did not come at dusk. He knew then that he needed to leave, but could not bring himself to. She will come back. All he could do was wait, and hope. The hours never seemed so long.

  Long after sunset, there was a knock on the door. By this point his heart was emptied of emotion. Even when he opened the door and saw her, even as he let her in, he knew it was over.

  She did not sit, nor did he offer, instead simply waiting for her to speak.

  Leti was clearly upset and confused—conditions for which he was in complete sympathy.

  “They intend to arrest you in the morn,” she warned him, speaking in a lowered voice, aware of her treason. “I argued in your defense, said you were ignorant, but Jacinto has the king’s ear. My father’s hate for yours runs strong.”

  Nico nodded. Almost disinterestedly, he asked why.

  She studied his face for a moment. “You don’t know, do you? I was right, wasn’t I?” Her eyes sparkled, as if knowing this truth lifted a burden from her heart. “There are Akenberg markings on the arms found with Iago. And many prisoners confirmed it—your kingdom paid for this rebellion.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” What game was father playing? Did he not realize how risky that was, with me here? “Are you certain, or could this all be Jacinto’s doing?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this.” She put her hands on her hips, trying to look determined. “I do know I’ll keep pressing the issue, though. Father will listen eventually, after his anger subsides. You saved his life, after all—”

  “Leti, you know I can’t stay. Not now. I have to leave.”

  Her entire body seemed to slump, all that determination melting away in an instant. “You mustn’t.”

  “It’s time for me to think of Akenberg first. I can’t risk staying here, hoping your father comes to his senses.” He went to the armor stand, examining the heavy mail. He decided to leave that behind, as well as the shield. The sword he would take.

  “If you go, they will think that proof of your guilt.”

  “So be it.” He considered his clothing. There was nothing irreplaceable. If it came down to a hasty flight, he would be better served going light. And if they tried to stop him with anything less than a full squad, the sword would be enough.

  “There will be war between our lands. Between us. We’ll be enemies.”

  She was right, he knew. Eberhart’s abdication had quickly led to civil war within the empire, and Nico’s own kingdom was right at the center. That war was spreading quickly, already encompassing four kingdoms. He had little hope the fighting would stop there.

  Nico turned to her, took her by the arms and looked directly into her face, wishing to convey the depth of his conviction. “Do you love me, Leti?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then you and I will never be enemies. No matter what else happens.”

  She tried one more time. “Stay, Nico. This is what your father wants, not you. He’s playing some game, and we’re the pieces. Don’t choose your father over me.”

  She was right again, of course. He smiled at her, his fingers loosening their grip. She smiled back, relief spreading across her face. He stepped in and kissed her lips, briefly. Taking a moment to study her features, intending to quickly memorize every line and curve. As if he hadn’t already.

  “I don’t get a choice, remember?” He let her go, grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders. He was pretty sure he had everything he needed.

  He was thankful she did not cry. He might not have made it out the door.

  11

  Vilnia

  It was hard for Yohan to contain the excitement that had been welling inside all morn, knowing that even at their current modest pace they would reach the small fort of Westsky by eve. Although he had said nothing to her about their progress, he knew Jena was also aware. There was a renewed spring in her steps—still wobbly, but less so than the day before—and an uncharacteristic frivolity in her speech.

  Westsky was not much more than another disheveled watchtower, slightly larger and better preserved than the half-ruined one he and Karlo had scaled so many days earlier. But it represented salvation to the struggling pair. The post meant food, blankets, and fresh clothing. And perhaps most importantly of all, people.

  Captain Marek had detached an entire squad—ten soldiers—to the fort. Those ten were more than comrades at this point, they were a lifeline to civilization itself. In Westsky there would be news of the goings-on elsewhere in Vilnia and the empire at large. Trivialities of which Yohan normally did not concern himself, but now looked forward to hearing about with irrational anticipation.

  He was aware of the irony that he, Yohan the Oster, quiet and reclusive as he was known to be, was so eager to be with people again. The mood would not last, of course, but he would enjoy it while he could.

  There would be joking. And gambling. And drinking. He did not expect to participate, but looked forward to watching. And then, after a day or two of rest and recuperation, he and Jena could continue down the road toward Halfsummit, and absolute safety. Temporary safety, he reminded himself.

  Perhaps several of the Westskies would join them. Yohan was not without mixed feelings about that, and did not intend to suggest the idea, but neither would he oppose it. He would not blame Jena at all if she wished for better company than he the rest of the way.

  By late afternoon, they
could see the tip of the apogee peeking over the next mountain. Yohan wondered if the fort was sending out patrols. If so, he and Jena were close enough to encounter one any moment.

  An hour later, however, the tip was obscured by heavy snowflakes. Another storm was setting in, and Yohan knew that winter was finally upon them. The weather—like the animals—had briefly turned sympathetic to their needs. But now that support was hastily withdrawn, and the sky would soon become the enemy again.

  “Where are they?” she asked irritably, all trace of frivolity gone. “Regulations are to send patrols two miles out, twice per day. They should have found us by now.”

  Yohan thought about explaining the difference between regulation and reality. Soldiers tended to become lax over time, especially at a remote outpost like this. One squad had been stationed here, led by only a corporal, drawn from the ranks of recruits and less inclined to authority than an officer. Patrols would be intermittent at best, especially during inclement weather.

  But never knowing when her tongue would turn sharp, Yohan had no desire for it to lash at him. He selfishly decided to let those in the fort suffer its wrath instead, and merely shrugged.

  She clicked her cheek a few times—one of the many signs of annoyance he had learned to recognize in recent days—and pulled her tattered cloak tighter around her torso. The wetness of the flakes seeped through their clothes, exacerbating their cold discomfort and certainly not helping her mood. He felt sorry for the soldiers ahead.

  Soon the shrouded sun was setting behind the high-rising peaks, rapidly turning day into night and deepening the chill. Yohan and Jena had barely exchanged a word for an hour.

  Not helping matters, once the structure came back into view, signs of revelry inside became obvious. The light of flame—a large fire in its pit—shone through an open window like a beacon through the darkness. The sounds of laughter carried on a current of wind to the two of them, landing on frozen ears, and Yohan saw her shapely jaw clench.