Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

Issa drew in a deep breath. “I have already been honored with everything I desire. I am chosen by the Long Keeper to serve him, you, and the city of Shalandra. When I am Anointed, my grandparents will be elevated to the Dhukari and given the better life they deserve. I serve the Lady of Blades and my Pharus. What more could I want?”

  The Pharus’ face revealed nothing, but the intensity of his gaze set Issa’s insides quailing. Had she said the wrong thing? Had she offended him by not requesting a reward?

  To Issa’s surprise, the Lady of Blades broke the silence. “See, my Pharus?” Her stiff guard posture relaxed for a moment as she turned toward the ruler. “She is as I told you.”

  “Indeed.” A broad smile wreathed Amhoset’s handsome face and he leaned back in his golden throne. “For once, you do not disappoint me, Lady Callista.”

  Callista Vinaus’ face hardened and her spine went rigid as she returned to her guard stance.

  “Many in your position would have asked for wealth, power, even a place in my court.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and stared at her with that same curious smile. “Yet the fact that you do not shows an innate nobility that not even the thugs in the Keeper’s Blades could hammer out of you. A person like that is a person that can be trusted to serve me.”

  Issa bowed. “I am honored to serve in whatever capacity my Pharus requires.”

  The Pharus snapped his fingers. “Clear the room.”

  The two servants that stood at attention behind the throne scurried out of a side door. Issa struggled to conceal her surprise as not only Tannard turned and marched out of the room, but Lady Callista as well. The door closed behind the black-armored Lady of Blades, leaving her alone with the Pharus.

  “What I am about to say, few outside this room know.” Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres spoke in a grave voice, his face a solemn mask. “With your deeds and words, you prove yourself one I can trust as I seek to root out the true threat behind tonight’s attack.”

  Issa remained silent, but nervous anxiety hummed within her.

  “The Lady of Blades has questioned every one of the Blades and Indomitables on duty tonight and found them innocent of treachery.” The Pharus’ brows pressed together into a frown. “Which means someone else, someone within my own household, played a role in tonight’s attack.”

  He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “The assassins belong to an offshoot of the Necroseti, a cult that calls themselves ‘the Gatherers’. As of yet, we have not ascertained if they serve the Necroseti directly or operate on their own. For now, we are operating on the assumption that they answer to Councilor Madani and the others of the Keeper’s Priests.”

  Issa sucked in a breath. What?

  The Pharus nodded. “The Gatherers did not enter the palace through any of the side or rear gates, and the guards all swear that no one got past them. Which means the assassins had help from the inside. The Palace of Golden Eternity has many hidden ways, vulnerabilities that not even Lady Callista and I know the full extent of. Right now, there are only three people in the world I do not suspect. You, myself, of course, and Arch-Guardian Suroth.”

  Issa’s gut tightened at the memory of the silent, brown-robed form lying among the assassins. Arch-Guardian Suroth had been kind to her during the trial of stone.

  “Suroth was one of the few people in the city I fully trusted,” the Pharus explained. “He sacrificed himself fighting off the Gatherers to give me and the rest of the Keeper’s Council time to flee to safety. He killed nearly a dozen before the accursed Gatherers brought him down.” Sorrow filled his eyes. “His death is truly a great loss to all of Shalandra.”

  The sight of the Pharus’ sorrow struck Issa as terribly odd. The Pharus was revered by all in Shalandra as the Long Keeper’s servant on Einan, yet the man before her seemed so...human.

  The Pharus bowed his head. “He died protecting me,” he said in a quiet voice. A long moment of silence passed before he looked up. “It is only fitting that we honor his sacrifice by protecting the thing he cared about most in the world: his daughter. A job I entrust to you.”

  Issa barely managed to stifle her protest. Dhukari were bred to arrogance—Kellas served as a prime example of their haughty disdain for the lower castes. And he wants me to babysit one? That was the last thing she wanted. Issa ached to continue her training and help hunt down the Gatherers, not take care of an entitled girl.

  Yet she managed to school her expression and conceal her true thoughts. “It will be an honor, my Pharus.”

  The Pharus’ lips quirked in to a wry smile. “I’m certain.” Evidently, she hadn’t done as good of a job of concealing her thoughts as she’d believed.

  “I have received word that Lady Briana was also the target of an attack by the Gatherers tonight,” Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres told her. “And, I have it on good authority that the Gatherers were the ones behind the young lady’s mysterious disappearance in the first place.”

  Issa frowned. The only reason she could think of for abducting the Arch-Guardian’s daughter would be to use her as leverage against him. His position on the Keeper’s Council and guardian of the Vault of Ancients made him a prime target, especially if the Necroseti was the hand behind the Gatherers.

  “The Arch-Guardian may be dead,” the Pharus told her, “but until I am certain his daughter is safe, I must have someone I can trust watching out for her.”

  “Of course, my Pharus.” This time, Issa meant it.

  “When the time comes, you will be summoned once more,” the Pharus told her. “When I am ready to move against those who sought my death, I would have you leading the charge.”

  “My Pharus honors me,” Issa said with a bow.

  The Pharus nodded and sat back in his chair. “Go, young Blade. Carry out this duty with the eternal gratitude of your Pharus.” With a wave, he dismissed her. “As a Blade I once knew used to say, ‘Strike first, strike true’.”

  Issa froze halfway into her ceremonial bow. The words sent a chill down Issa’s spine. A…Blade?

  She recovered quickly, turned, and marched out of the room. Yet her mind raced as she strode through the double doors. The words had been the last thing her grandfather said to her as she departed.

  Suddenly, the way Saba had reacted when she told him she’d been accepted into the Blades took on a new meaning. Was my father or mother a Blade? Both of them? Her grandfather had always refused to tell her about them.

  The thought set her head whirling, adding to the chaos in her mind. She’d walked into the Pharus’ Chambers expecting punishment, only to find herself drawn into something far larger than anything she’d imagined as an Earaqi girl training to fight in the Crucible. And possibly someone who knew her parents—the Pharus himself!

  What the fiery hell have I gotten myself into?

  The huge double doors boomed shut behind her, driving home Issa’s confusion. She stared in numb silence at the two Blades that stood waiting for her.

  Lady Callista fixed her with a gaze as piercingly sharp as the Pharus’. Yet there was something strange written in her eyes. She was searching Issa’s face for…what? Issa couldn’t decipher the meaning of the tight expression on Lady Callista’s face. She could only hold her head high and try to conceal the turmoil raging within her.

  “We will speak again soon, Prototopoi. Count on it.” The words, so sudden, spoken in a sharp voice, were the last thing Lady Callista said before turning on her heel and marching into the Pharus’ Chambers.

  This only added to the knots forming in Issa’s stomach. The words held a depth of meaning, one Issa failed to understand. Too many things were flying at her from all sides. The revelation of the Gatherers. The Pharus’ gratitude. Her grandfather’s words from the Pharus’ lips. And now something strange from Lady Callista.

  What the hell is going on?

  “The Pharus honors you.” Tannard spoke in a hard voice, edged with a sneer that made the word “honor” sound like he was spitting in her face.

&
nbsp; At least this was one thing that hadn’t changed. She knew how to face up to Tannard’s contempt.

  She turned toward him, her jaw clenched. “I swore to serve him, just as you did.”

  Tannard loomed over her, his face the same icy mask as always. “Do not for one second think that this new duty absolves you of your duty to the Keeper’s Blades.”

  Issa’s gut clenched. “I would never—”

  “You will continue your training as befits a prototopoi,” Tannard snarled. For an instant, anger cracked his expressionless façade. “I will see to it that you make time for your lessons and practice, no matter what.”

  He jabbed a finger in her chest. “This reward does not give you a way to escape me. We’re not done, not by a long shot, little Earaqi.” He spat the word like a curse and lowered his voice to a growl. “We’re just getting started!”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Ice slithered down Evren’s spine and he sucked in a sharp breath. Hailen!

  Snarth pressed the edge of his dagger harder against the boy’s throat. “Do anything stupid and he’ll have to breathe through a hole in his neck.” His eyes darted to the twin jambiyas in Evren’s hands. “Drop those, now.”

  Evren’s gaze locked with Hailen’s. He saw no fear written in Hailen’s violet eyes, only the sort of wary hesitance one experienced with a blade a heartbeat from severing their throat. Hailen’s eyes indicated his hand, his lips pressed into a resolute line.

  “So be it.” Evren didn’t drop the daggers, but crouched and placed them on the floor.

  “Kick them over to me,” Snarth ordered.

  Evren shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Snarth’s eyes widened a fraction, and he seemed taken aback. “I’m the one holding the knife to your brother’s throat, here. You do what I tell you.”

  “You are the one with the knife,” Evren said, “but think about what that means.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Right now, you’re threatening the personal servant of Lady Briana, daughter of one of the highest-ranking men in Shalandra. One word from me brings the guards running. What do you think they’ll do when they find you here?”

  Snarth scowled. “It’ll be too late for your brother! He’ll be bleeding out onto the floor and beyond a physicker’s help.”

  “Yes, he will.” Evren snarled, his face hardening. “But right now he’s the only thing that’s stopping me from pounding the shite out of you.” He bared his teeth in a growl. “And if you harm him, I won’t just stop at a bruised jaw. I’ll break every traitorous bone in your Keeper-damned body, then I’ll drag you through the streets to Killian’s—”

  “Shut up!” Snarth growled, but a hint of desperate fear cracked his anger. “Killian can never know that you saw me meeting with the Ybrazhe. I’d rather die here than let him find out I’m working with the Syndicate.” His lip twisted into a snarl. “But, by the Keeper, I’ll be damned if I die alone!”

  Evren’s gut clenched as Snarth’s dagger arm tensed. “Or,” he said before the Mumbler could drag the blade along Hailen’s throat, “you could take the third option.”

  “Third option?” Snarth sneered. “What’s that?”

  “You run.” Evren shrugged. “You leave Shalandra before Killian finds out you’ve betrayed him to the Syndicate.” He didn’t know who the Syndicate was, but Snarth’s fear of discovery made it clear they were at odds with Killian. “Go to Praamis, Voramis, hell, even go across the Frozen Sea. Run and never look back.”

  The doubt that flickered in Snarth’s eyes brought a surge of hope to Evren’s chest.

  “If you leave right now,” he pressed, “I swear on my brother’s life that I won’t say anything to Killian. You can start a new life somewhere far from here.” He dropped his voice to a low growl. “But only if you run now.”

  For a moment, Snarth almost gave in. Evren could see it in his eyes; he wanted to flee, wanted to escape his life as a Shalandran street rat.

  Then the moment passed and Snarth’s sneer returned. “Think you can trick me with your clever words?” He pressed the dagger harder against Hailen’s neck. “It won’t work on me!”

  Evren’s eyes followed the crimson droplet that slid down Hailen’s pale skin. He’d heard the Hunter’s stories of what the boy’s blood could do—his heritage as a Melechha, descendant of the Serenii, gave him extraordinary abilities when his blood came in contact with Serenii artifacts.

  But none of that mattered. He cared nothing for the blood or the power it promised. All that mattered was Hailen, the boy that had become his younger brother. Snarth was threatening Hailen’s life and Evren wouldn’t let that stand.

  His eyes darted around the coat room in search of anything he could use to distract the Mumbler. Snarth had fast reflexes, but Evren was faster. He just needed to get that dagger away from Hailen’s throat!

  “It’s no trick,” he told Snarth. “I’m offering you a chance to get out of here before Suroth’s guards find you. That’s a better offer than you’ll get from Killian when he finds out that you’re working for the Syndicate.”

  “Which is why you’re not going to tell him!” Snarth shouted.

  “Think about that for a moment.” Evren cocked an eyebrow. “Play this out. You cut Hailen’s throat, I beat you senseless then either call Suroth’s guards or haul you to Killian myself. You try to drag Hailen out of here, someone sees you and the end result is the same. Even if you somehow get out of the mansion the same way you came in—” Evren guessed Snarth had used the distraction of the kidnapping attempt to slip through the open back gate. “—you’re not going to get far threatening a Dhukari’s servant. One look at your headbands and the Indomitables are going to be all over you.”

  Snarth’s face fell and dismay twisted his expression as he came to the same conclusion.

  “The only way out of here is without bloodshed.” Evren took a step toward Snarth, then another. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”

  “Back!” Snarth shouted. “Stay back, or I’ll—”

  The Mumbler made the mistake of removing the blade from Hailen’s throat and pointing it at Evren. With surprising speed, Hailen spun in Snarth’s grip, his right hand driving straight at the older boy’s torso. The dagger he’d concealed in the folds of his robe punched into Snarth’s stomach.

  Snarth fell back with a cry, and Hailen leapt backward and ducked to avoid the desperate swipe of the Mumbler’s dagger. At the same moment, Evren snatched Hailen’s collar and dragged him farther backwards, well out of Snarth’s dagger range.

  Snarth stumbled against a rack of coats, a hand clasped to the wound in his gut. Blood trickled down the front of his tunic and stained his trousers. Pain pinched his face and turned his skin pale. He stared wide-eyed at the crimson-stained dagger in Hailen’s hand.

  “Go!” Evren shouted and thrust a finger toward the narrow door. “Get out of here, Snarth, and pray to the Long Keeper that you get to a physicker in time.”

  With a half-groan, half-cry of terror, Snarth stumbled out of the little room and into the mansion’s main corridor.

  Evren didn’t need to pursue—if Snarth lived long enough to get out of the mansion and to a physicker, he’d be confined to a bed for days, maybe weeks, as the torn muscles in his gut healed. By then, Killian would know of his treachery.

  Instead, he turned, tore a linen dress from a metal hanger, and pressed it against Hailen’s neck.

  “Evren!” Hailen tried to shove his hands away. “It’s just a scratch!”

  Evren’s heart hammered in his ribs as he removed the linen and studied the wound. To his relief, it really was just a scratch.

  He pulled Hailen into a tight hug. “Keeper’s teeth! You know the Hunter and Kiara would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m not a child anymore,” Hailen protested and squirmed out of Evren’s embrace. “I don’t need everyone always looking out for me. I’m here to help you find the Blade of Hallar. If I wanted to be
babied, I would have stayed in the House of Need in Voramis.”

  Evren wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny that Hailen had grown a lot since they first met. The naïve child he’d met on the road to Enarium had grown. As he’d proven today, he could take care of himself. He was more than just Evren’s burden—he was his brother and, like it or not, they were on this mission together.

  “You’re right,” Evren said with a nod. “You’re not a child. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry. I’ve got to have your back, just like you’ve got mine. Like the Hunter and Kiara, we’ve got to watch out for each other.”

  “Always.” Hailen grinned. “But don’t think for a minute that you’re getting your dagger back!” He used the bloody linen to wipe his blade clean.

  “No, I think it’s better that you have it.”

  Hailen’s eyes went wide. “Really? You mean it?”

  Evren nodded. “You need to be able to protect yourself.”

  “So I can have a sword, too?” Hailen’s violet eyes sparkled. “Like the Hunter has?”

  Evren expression went flat. “Let’s just start with a dagger.” He had no intention of letting Hailen anywhere near a proper weapon if he could help it. The boy had proven far more adept at letters than swordplay.

  Evren’s mind raced as he tried to figure out his next move. He hadn’t gotten anywhere near close enough to the Blade of Hallar, but over the last couple of days he’d made progress on his mission. He knew of the secret way into the Palace of Golden Eternity, the way Samall and his traitors had gotten in. By aiding in the defense of the mansion, he’d earned the Arch-Guardian’s goodwill—perhaps enough that he could use it to get inside the palace to start scoping it out for a safe route to the Vault of Ancients.

  But first, he had to get to Killian with news of Snarth and the Syndicate—the Mumbler had called them the Ybrazhe, whatever that meant. That, and the information on the people that had attacked Suroth’s mansion, would more than satisfy the blacksmith that Evren was holding up his side of the bargain. And, if Evren was lucky, he might be able to talk Killian into giving him more information to aid him in his mission to get into the vault.