by J. C. Owens
Isnay felt a swell of admiration and the ever-present attraction grew another degree. “And your sister does not agree with you?”
“My sister wishes she was firstborn. She was always my father’s favorite. She chafes under my rule, and she seeks to undermine me in a hundred ways. She’s even brought in her own group of advisors as part of her retinue. They tell her the things she wishes to hear. That my plan to build forts provoked the empire into attacking us. It seems as if they are all conspiring to keep us weak and vulnerable.”
For the first time, there was no suspicion of Isnay in Dransin’s manner, no bite in his words. Perhaps working together had softened his view. Isnay was grateful for the concession. Hour by hour, he liked this man more and more. He had never encountered anyone quite like him before, and he had to admit to a fascination that was not ebbing in the least. He had never met a noble with this degree of involvement with his people, much less a king. It was strange yet inspiring. So different from the land of his birth and his place within the court.
“You will be able to lead your people and heal these wounds again soon,” Isnay assured him. “My words were true. The Imperial Prince Zaran is on the trail of these Odenar rebels. When the prince catches them, there will be no mercy.”
Dransin snorted. “Like their deaths will heal this? Make everything the way it was? It should never have happened, and Bhantan will bear the scars for generations to come. Revenge will change nothing.”
Isnay shook his head ruefully. “I wish I had your strength of mind. I have never wished ill on another person, yet I find myself unable to find mercy for them in my heart.”
“I hold no mercy for them. Don’t mistake my thoughts on this. It’s just that their deaths will not set things right. That is where my mind must go—to all the things that can bring about healing, bring about rebuilding. There needs to be support in place for those without homes, for children without parents.” He looked down at the precious bundles he held so gently. “I don’t want them growing up with hatred in their hearts. That path only leads to trouble in the future and a loss of the values that are the foundation of Bhantan.”
“The peace that your people believe in is admirable,” Isnay offered.
“Admirable, perhaps. Foolish if it is not backed by protection against those who don’t even know the meaning of peace. We cannot expect the rest of the world to have our beliefs, our values. What my sister and my father and all their advisors can’t see is that the rest of the world will use those values against us. Therefore, we have to protect our own, even if that makes me and perhaps those I choose to oversee the borders something perilously close to warmongers.”
Isnay shook his head, biting back a tiny smile. “You are hardly a warmonger. I have met too many of the real thing to even consider you that.”
Dransin sighed, stretching his neck muscles, the ever-present weariness marking his expression. “In Bhantan, such talk of anything negative is considered ‘warmongering.’ I have held that title since I was fifteen and began to see the foolishness of the system.”
“I believe you have a deep sense of responsibility and a need for practicality. I agree with you that the system needed to be changed in the worst way. The only surprise in this whole affair is that an invasion did not happen sooner. It is pure chance that it happened during your reign and not your father’s.”
“I’m glad you see it so clearly,” Dransin’s words dripped bitterness. “How wonderful if my own people could be so clear-sighted.”
“You and the emperor would get along beautifully. He values efficient use of resources and time.”
“I hardly think that the Emperor of Anrodnes and the king of a little backwater country can have much in common,” Dransin scoffed, keeping his voice soft to avoid waking the children in his arms.
“Taldan would have been happier never being the emperor. If he were here, he would be discussing the ways in which you could retain your peace-loving culture and yet discourage any other country from seeing you as prey.”
“He has an army at his back,” the king sighed. “If I had such a thing, I could ride after the bastards myself, be seen as the hero that freed us. Maybe then my people would listen instead of criticizing everything I attempt to change.” The bleakness in his eyes tore at Isnay.
“The survivors here don’t care for a hero. They just see that their king is personally helping them. Not a distant figure of strength and violence, but a man who came, who cares.”
There was silence for some time, and Isnay kept his peace, letting Dransin lead as he wished. He could see the king realizing that he was essentially trapped until someone came to carry the children away.
“So,” King Dransin said gruffly. “You are the head diplomat for Anrodnes.”
As an opening, it could use some work. It seemed Bhantan’s king was no more comfortable with small talk than the Emperor of Anrodnes was.
“I am.” Isnay waited for the direction this conversation would take.
“Aren’t you a little young for the role?”
Isnay’s lips quirked wryly. And he had thought Naral was tactless? “No more young for the role than you becoming king before twenty-five.”
Dransin inclined his head briefly as though giving points for the comeback. “Were your parents diplomats?”
Isnay laughed softly. “No, they aren’t. So you can’t use favoritism to explain me. I rose through the ranks the old-fashioned way. Damn hard work.”
Dransin nodded, the hardness in his eyes softening just a little. “Have you had to do this before? Go into a war-torn country and plead Anrodnes’s case?”
Isnay snorted inelegantly. “I cannot truly imagine Anrodnes needing anyone to plead its case. In the past, there would be an invasion and no diplomacy at all. No doubt that’s what your people believe with Odenar rampaging over your lands. But Emperor Taldan intends to do whatever he can to set things right.”
Dransin eyed him for a long moment, before he sighed, a hint of defeat in the sound.
“So the empire didn’t invade to take the mines. You’ve been telling the truth all along, haven’t you?”
The surly question made Isnay chuckle.
“Yes. I have. Though I wasn’t surprised that you reacted as you did. Most people see Anrodnes as a threat. Certainly it has been in the past, but I truly believe that, with the new emperor, things will change for the better. Anrodnes will become an example for other countries to aspire to, not curse against.”
“He must be quite a man for you to champion him so thoroughly.”
Isnay couldn’t tell if there was sarcasm within the statement, so he took it for what it was.
“He is. I think the changes he will bring will change the world, not just Anrodnes itself.”
“Are you his lover?”
The abrupt question made Isnay sit up straighter and turn to stare at the king in disbelief. The child in his lap stirred and whimpered in protest, and he gently stroked over tangled curls until the boy subsided. Then he turned a glare upon Dransin, who already had an uneasy look, as though he realized that his blunt manner had landed him in hot water.
“If I was, I would hardly discuss it with a relative stranger. A stranger who has made it more than clear what he thinks of Anrodnes and her emperor. You cannot have it both ways, Your Majesty. I respect your suspicions and your dislike of us. After all, one of our territories has wreaked havoc upon your people. But I will not listen to a request for salacious gossip about my emperor. He is a good man, and I will never betray him in such a fashion.”
He had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from saying much, much more.
There was a taut silence, then a deep sigh from Dransin. “I apologize. That was uncalled for and anything but worthy of a king.”
Isnay waited a few heartbeats before responding. “I accept.”
He turned his head to meet Dransin’s eyes, astonished at the lack of protocol between them. It was like they were equals, when in reality, t
hey were anything but. His manners seemed to have deserted him somewhere within this stressful trip.
One of the healers came over and whispered softly to Dransin, who then rose gracefully. The big man displayed a remarkable amount of strength as he continued to cradle the three children with an effortless ease that Isnay resented ever so slightly. Especially when he had to try to gain his own feet, child in hand. He certainly displayed none of the grace that the king had. Large Dransin might be, but he held an ease of movement that reminded him of Taldan and Zaran, who had trained with the Shadows. Or Hredeen, who was more graceful than them all.
The child was limp in Isnay’s arms, the little face soft in sleep, the death grip upon his shirt finally released, small hands curled gently against his chest.
A wagon was waiting with hay piled up as a mattress in the back. Blankets were laid out, and the children tucked in together, close and warm, light outer blankets tucked around them to ward off the chill of shock. Other survivors climbed in, silent and pale. One of the healers would travel back with them. More would come in his place from the capital.
It was difficult to let go of his small burden. He laid the boy down carefully, snuggling him against the little girl, to whom he seemed to have a link, whether by blood or simply friendship. He stroked the soft hair one last time, then went to step down from the wagon, surprised when Dransin held his arms up, offering aid.
It was no hardship to accept. For a moment he felt the strength of the man, the ease with which he swung Isnay to the ground.
The king did not release his grip immediately, his hands on Isnay’s waist. They were face to face, and this close, Isnay could see the beauty of Dransin’s green eyes, the tiny flecks of gold near the pupil.
With an impulse that he could not deny, Isnay raised a hand, touched a lean cheekbone.
There were so many reasons this was a bad idea.
It didn’t seem to make a difference for either of them.
Dransin leaned in, confusion in his expression, as though he couldn’t believe what he was doing, and kissed Isnay. The touch was as soft as butterfly wings, barely there. For a moment, they breathed each other’s air, then both pulled back abruptly.
This was neither the time nor place for this, whatever this was.
They stared at each other, shock on both sides, before they moved apart, stiffly, with a reluctance that tore at Isnay. He had never felt this amount of attraction before.
The gods must be laughing that he was feeling it at a time like this.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Raine
Raine rewrote a passage, making notes in the margins of the paper afterward. In between his other duties, he still found time to compile information about earthquake resistance and the building methods that had been found to work the best.
He heard familiar footsteps behind, and was about to rise respectfully to his feet when a large, long-fingered hand settled on his shoulder and kept him in the chair.
“Sit. I heard you up half the night. You must be exhausted.” The emperor’s tone was gentle. Taldan passed by him and returned to his post by the window, staring out.
Raine tamped down a faint surge of irritation. It was not up to him to point out that the man had brought Hredeen’s absence on himself. One did not treat someone you loved in such a way and expect them to fly back to your arms.
He rubbed his brow, chasing away the dark thoughts. Taldan had had his reasons for sending Hredeen away, even if Raine didn’t understand them.
A glass of wine appeared at his elbow. He looked up, blinking at the brightness from the now open window.
“My thanks,” he said, his voice husky. He realized that his throat was terribly dry. By the position of the sun, the day was more than half over. Was that why Taldan was here? Had Raine missed something important?
He drained the wine in a full gulp. The glass disappeared to come back filled with water this time. He felt a frisson of annoyance, then shook his head, wondering where his foul mood was coming from.
“What is wrong?”
Raine started, before looking up. He watched, eyes wide, as Taldan slid into a chair across the table from him. The emperor was watching him with those eerie pale blue eyes, and it was clear he expected an answer.
Certainly telling him Raine was in a mood was not going to be acceptable.
“It is difficult for me to watch your grief and pain.” The words burst out of him, and he raised a hand to his lips in shock.
Taldan’s eyebrow rose high and higher until it disappeared into his hairline.
“How would such a thing affect you?” The confusion in Taldan’s expression was real, and Raine was already aware that the emperor was not exactly stellar at deciphering emotional nuances.
He sat up straighter, the newfound aggravation driving him onward into dangerous waters.
“I know that I was not your first choice for Chosen. I also know that having me in this position is not going to go over well with your people once they discover what my family has done in Odenar. However, I have accepted this is where my future lies. I have always admired you, more so once I came here and managed to find out the entirety of your accomplishments and your plans for the future.”
Taldan leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, his hands resting along the arms of the chair in the very picture of relaxation.
Raine was not fooled. The man was a predator, born and bred from generations of emperors who had warrior blood in their veins.
Raine pushed back against a sudden burst of fear. He might be the Chosen, but from everything he had read, that position was a risky thing at best. There were gaps in the literature. Many Chosen had been forgotten with time, not even their name coming down to the present age. He could not help but wonder what had happened to those men. Sequestered away from the world, were there those who had taken their own lives in the only form of escape possible? Or had their emperors turned against them, a stain of murder severing the bond?
He refused to be one of those Chosen who slid into obscurity. He had been silent, compliant for too long under the control of his cruel brothers. Now he had to forge a place for himself with Taldan, and that meant he needed to speak the truth, to share his fears, his concerns. To confront the emperor when needed.
All he knew was that he would not be the submissive that his brothers had tried to beat into him. It was time to talk about Hredeen. He would not let the wound fester for any longer. He needed answers.
“Why did you not choose Hredeen as your Chosen?” Raine demanded. “He was already part of your life. You could have brought in the candidates to appease tradition and then chosen him. It was completely evident, even to me that hardly knew the two of you, how much you felt for each other.”
Taldan blinked, clearly shocked at the direct confrontation. “He signed a contract to remain within the harem for ten years. He had only been here eight when my father announced he was stepping down.”
Raine folded his arms upon the table top and leaned forward, nodding. “Yes. I had heard this.”
Taldan frowned. “That is why. It was not possible until the end of the contract period.”
Raine rolled his eyes before staring at Taldan in disbelief. “Has it occurred to you that you are now emperor? The emperor makes the rules. You can change anything you wanted. You could—”
“Take a second Chosen.” Taldan’s eyes grew intense, a fire in their depths. “The people would not object to that.”
Raine blinked, a cold feeling rising in his chest. “I was thinking more along the line of exchanging the two of us. Hredeen could step into my place.”
Taldan shook his head, rising to his feet and beginning to pace as he often did when he was thinking quickly. Raine had often heard him late at night, the sound of his boots on the flagstones of the office floor.
“No. The Illumitae was passed to you. You were approved by the gods, and that cannot be taken back. You will stay at my side.”
Raine swallo
wed hard. The thought of being the third wheel in a relationship was anything but pleasant. Was he not pushed to the background enough as it was? “I was not raised with your views on multiple partners. I know a harem is part of your culture, but it is not part of mine.”
Taldan waved a dismissive hand as though Raine’s opinion was of little import, as perhaps it was in his view.
“You would have had to get used to these things anyway. I have a harem, and I use it.”
Raine licked dry lips and tried to hold his opinions back, but it was little use.
“I was well aware you had a harem. That is known through all the territories. It is part of your culture and has been for at least a thousand years. I respect that. I would never think to question your access to them. But it is not my way. I ask you to respect that at least. I will be by your side, follow your guidance, work in whatever way serves both you and the empire, but this I cannot do.”
Taldan eyed him, at last seeming to pick up that Raine was very serious.
His look turned icy, and he rose to his feet, coming to loom over Raine. With one smooth motion, he pulled off the golden mask and tossed it upon the table with a metallic clatter.
Raine met him look for look, helplessly feeling the determination welling within him. Things did not go well whenever that occurred. He always suffered for the foolishness of speaking his mind. Yet he would not stop. He would not take his words back.
Taldan took his arm in a firm but not brutal grasp and drew him to his feet. He pulled him through the room, his jaw clenched tight, and Raine did not resist. To fight back was worse than useless, he knew that well enough.
When he realized they were entering Taldan’s bedroom, his heart sank, and his breath stuttered in his chest. The emperor reached the bedside, picked Raine up with swift and terrifying strength, and threw him down upon the bed.