Rebel's Honor: Book One in Crown of Blood Series

by Gwynn White

  Lukan shook his head. Crazy, all of it. If anyone knew he was having this discussion, they would have him committed. He looked at Dmitri with a mix of contempt and disbelief. “Now that I know this, do you really think I would be stupid enough to consummate my marriage?”

  “Aye. Lust will do that for you.”

  Lukan didn’t want to acknowledge his raging need for Lynx. “You keep saying we knew each other before I was born. Apart from that being crazy, why don’t I remember it?”

  Dmitri held up the book. “If you want to know more about your past and your destiny, destroy your empire.” He leaned in close. “I know you can do this, Lukan. Don’t fail us all.”

  Lukan wished he shared Dmitri’s confidence, but even if he believed, there was more required here than raw courage. For years, his archives had been his refuge when living with his father and Axel became unbearable. It was his prize—for all he had endured. He knew every book, had caressed every cover, had memorized swaths of text that spoke to his heart. How could he give it up? It would be easier to let Axel have Lynx than to lose possession of that treasure.

  He stood, towering over Dmitri. “I haven’t lived with my father’s brutality and in Axel’s shadow for all these years only to throw away my inheritance now.”

  “I understand the lures that come with mortality.” Another rueful smile flitted across Dmitri’s face. “I was mortal once, too, and had to make hard choices. My brother offered me the world if I would follow him in conquest. But at what cost? Keeping mankind in ignorance? Destroying my soul? It was too high a price. Thurban flayed me for my betrayal.” Dmitri reached out a gleaming hand and clasped Lukan’s arm with a firm grip.

  Lukan could feel warmth radiating from the dead seer’s skin as if he were alive.

  “But what of it? It was a moment in eternity. And, as you see, I live on.” Dmitri flipped the book open to a gruesome image of a man with half the skin ripped from his body.

  Even though the face was disfigured beyond recognition, Lukan guessed it was Dmitri. So graphic was the illustration, he could almost see Dmitri’s exposed muscles quivering with agony. Lukan grimaced in horror.

  Seemingly undeterred, Dmitri said, “I went willingly to my execution. Days before it happened, I saw a vision of my death. I knew the pain would be unbearable, but still, I allowed my brother to capture me so others could escape to write this record. By dying a martyr, I kept the memory of my curse alive.” He tapped the book, and his smile reminded Lukan of a salesman selling snake oil. “You can read about it here.”

  Lukan locked his eyes on Dmitri in challenge. “Only if you hand it over.”

  “Aye. But now it’s your turn to make the tough choice. Will you give up your archives, your privileges, your dreams of ruling the world, for the sake of your people? Or will you be like your forebears, tightening the screws on the empire as more wondrous scientific discoveries come to light?”

  Lukan shook his head. It was late, and he was hungry and far too tired to be making this decision. “Right now, all I want is to sleep.”

  Dmitri snapped the book closed. “Then I congratulate you on your decision to marry Lynx. I wish I could pronounce a blessing of happiness on your head, but that is not possible. Lynx will not only torment you all the days of your life with her disdain, her eroticism, and her unquenchable love for your cousin, but she will give you a son who will destroy you.”

  “What?” Lukan rasped, hating to hear that Lynx loved Axel. “How can my need of a good night’s sleep lead to my marriage with Lynx?”

  “Doing nothing is not a choice, Lukan. It’s a prevarication that will lead you to the altar.” Dmitri rose. His body shimmered, making Lukan think he was about to vanish.

  “Wait!” Lukan clawed across the space dividing them, rapacious eyes glued to the book. “We haven’t finished speaking. I—I have other questions before I can make up my mind.”

  The light radiating from Dmitri’s body softened.

  “What will happen to that book?” Lukan asked.

  “Two choices face you,” Dmitri said in clipped tones. “Announce to the high-born that their gemstones are a fraud, or marry Lynx. Choose the first option, and the book, together with my support, will be yours. The second option will result in me giving my support, and the book, to your opponents. It will tell them all they need to know to destroy you and your empire.”

  Lukan blew out a slow breath, ran his hands over his face, and rubbed his burning eyes. Regardless of what Dmitri said, he was in no state to make these decisions now. Or perhaps ever.

  Could he give up his empire for millions of nameless people he cared nothing about? And then what would he do? Hand over rule to the people, the uneducated masses who, apart from the high-born, lived in nothing more than hovels, caves, and tents?

  And Lynx? What about her? Despite all logic, he longed for her with a lust that burned in every cell in his body. And was he really accepting that all this was true?

  He was. It all seemed irrefutable.

  “You manipulative bastard,” Lukan murmured under his breath.

  Dmitri showed no sign of offense.

  Lukan sighed and looked at his watch. It was long past three in the morning. “My marriage takes place tomorrow. Please, give me until then to decide what to do about you.”

  “If you like making things harder for yourself, then yes, I suppose you can wait. But it is not the wisest course, Crown Prince. It is no accident Lynx is beautiful. She is your personal temptress. Like your precious archives, she, too, has been designed to drive you crazy with lust. Being with her, knowing you could bed her, will only cloud your judgment.”

  “From the moment I saw her, I’ve wanted her,” Lukan admitted, more to himself than to Dmitri. “Even if she is a Norin rebel.”

  “Choose badly, and your Norin rebel will become a symbol of hope to all the conquered,” Dmitri warned. “People everywhere will look to her as an example of what can be achieved if one never gives up the fight.”

  Lukan shook his head in bemusement. “And she’s here to marry me. When my father dies, she’ll be empress. It’s crazy.”

  “Aye.” Dmitri drilled Lukan with a stern look. “But it’s in your power to undo that craziness. Make your announcement to the high-born, and Lynx will turn from an enemy into an ally. She will help you dismantle the empire. In time, you will accept that she can never be yours, and you will become friends.”

  “Friends?” Lukan asked bitterly. “She’s supposed to belong to me.”

  Dmitri exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve already told you, her heart belongs to Axel. It always has, long before any of you were even born. She will never be yours.”

  “Then why am I supposed to marry her?” Lukan shouted. It wasn’t his fault Thurban had invaded Norin and murdered Dmitri. Why was he being made to pay for it?

  “You saw in my book. She’s a test to see if you can overcome your lust. By letting her choose Axel over you, you will prove that you are not just a learned man but an intelligent one, too. A man worthy to change the world.” Dmitri paused. “Fail, and Lynx will herald your destruction.”

  Lukan rubbed bloodshot eyes. “There’s something I don’t get. What stops me from murdering her son? That will stop the curse.”

  The light gleaming around Dmitri surged. “Your conscience, I would hope, Lukan. But if that fails you, then know this: the success of your rule would depend on the talents of your cousin, General Axel Avanov. Marry Lynx, and you lose Axel. Your rule will be weak. That weakness will drive you to cruelties you cannot now even begin to envisage.” Dmitri held open the page depicting the execution. “But, if in your bloodlust, you murder your son, born or unborn, Axel will flay you as Thurban flayed me. Remember, your cousin has loved Lynx for as long as she has loved him.” Dmitri pursed his lips and then added, “And before you think to murder your cousin, realize that Axel’s role in my curse makes his life inviolate, too.”

  With gruesome fixation, Lukan studied the painting.
Then he blanched. Heaped next to the skinned man lay a pile of familiar black and silver clothing.

  How had he not noticed it before? He was seeing his own death. His stomach churned. Was everything else true, too? Moments from throwing up, he had to get rid of Dmitri. With as much firmness as he could muster, he said. “I—I will think on your words.”

  The light glowing around Dmitri constricted, drawing into his core. The moment the glow extinguished, the seer disappeared, leaving nothing but a rustle of air in his wake.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lord Felix Avanov was not a trusting man. Especially not when words like challenge and blackmail were bandied about. Even more so when they came from Axel’s lips. Felix might no longer be an official heir to the throne—thanks to that bastard Mott—but he was the most feared Lord of the Household in the history of the empire. That accolade hadn’t been won by allowing himself to be bettered by a twenty-four-year-old. If Axel wanted to sing the blackmail tune, he would find a worthy partner in his father—one always a few steps ahead in the dance.

  Felix ignored the phlegmy rattle in his chest and picked up his pace as he reached the stairs to Axel’s wing of the palace. He needed to confront his son before he left his apartment to join the trickle of high-born heading for a post-ball breakfast.

  Felix sighed, a perfect blend of exasperation and pride.

  Axel was everything he wished for in a son—except for one critical flaw. His son had somehow managed to reach maturity without growing a single malevolent bone in his body. He was willful and arrogant, definitely, but vicious? No.

  And that was a problem.

  Too often, his son allowed that great human weakness, his conscience, to dull the killing edge that should govern Avanov relationships with their subjects. Now that conscience seemed to cover the crimes of seditious ones, too, like Princess Lynx of Norin. It was why Felix always kept Axel under scrutiny, so he could guide his boy.

  Axel didn’t take guidance well.

  After learning of Axel’s visit to Lynx’s bedchamber, things would be different. Felix pursed his lips to stop them quivering with anger. Today, his son would both listen and obey.

  He reached Axel’s apartment and, without knocking, threw open the door. It crashed against the wall and bounced back, almost hitting him in the face. He sidestepped and glared at Axel. After all that, he needn’t have bothered hurrying because Axel was still in bed.

  Felix strode across the room and ripped the covers off Axel. “Get up!”

  Axel rolled over, ignoring him.

  It further incensed Felix. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re awake.”

  “It’s not even day,” Axel grunted, pulling the covers back over his head.

  “If you’re so tired, then perhaps you should have gone to bed when the ball ended instead of sitting up all night in Lynx’s apartment.”

  Felix smiled as Axel jerked upright.

  But all self-satisfaction vanished when Axel drawled, “It wasn’t all night—it was half the night. I spent the rest of the time with Malika.” Unconcerned, Axel folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the headboard.

  “You dare quote the same line to me you used on Lynx!”

  “You must be worried about our Norin princess if you’ve added more cameras to her bedchamber, apart from the one I disconnected.” Axel paused. “Or do you like getting off watching her dress?”

  The blood rushed from Felix’s face. Axel certainly knew how to try his patience. “That doesn’t warrant an answer.”

  Axel stretched his right arm until his shoulder clicked. Then, he did the left. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. She is magnificent.” He swung his legs out of bed, moving with catlike grace Felix could only dream of.

  Felix gripped Axel’s arms. “No. You will listen.”

  Axel stopped, eyebrows raised.

  “How could you show that bitch our secrets? And then tell her about the curse? You’ve made her into a Dmitri sympathizer!”

  “‘Sympathizer’? Don’t you mean she could be the mother of the man who destroys the empire? Why don’t you say what you really think, Father?”

  Despite Felix’s gasp of disapproval, Axel stepped around him and continued across the room. Felix lumbered forward to stop him as his son’s hand reached the wardrobe door.

  Axel turned to face him. “I warned you. Allow me to go to Treven, or I will play havoc with Lynx. When I’m finished with her, you won’t have a secret left.”

  Felix always prized himself on his self-control, but rage made him vibrate like a tuning fork. Fighting for calm, he said, “So you knew I would be listening?”

  Axel gave one of his infuriating shrugs. “No, but in retrospect, I should have anticipated it. Who planted the new devices?”

  “Morass. Who else?”

  Axel’s scoff didn’t surprise Felix. Morass was not one of Axel’s favorite guardsmen for all the reasons Felix found the obsequious, greedy man useful. Last night, after watching Lynx and Axel dance, Felix had sent Morass scuttling to her room to hide the cameras.

  Just as well, given what Felix had seen on waking this morning.

  If someone told him Axel—Axel!—would be guilty of disengaging palace cameras, he would never have believed it. Felix always considered his son too ambitious to risk the security of the empire. He opened his mouth to renew his attack and then closed it again in disbelief.

  Axel stood in front of his narrow closet. The rest of the Avanov family had dressing rooms—but Axel owned only a small closet of clothes he had worn for years. He flicked through his trousers as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Not the reaction Felix expected.

  The images of Axel cajoling Lynx into a kiss last night had been convincing. After decades of interrogating people, Felix recognized truth when he saw it. Also, if Axel cared for her, then it made sense that he edited out the damning train footage after it had been translated. And damning it was: From Axel’s own lips, Felix heard that Bear had told the bitch he’d help her spy.

  Not that it had helped the emissary.

  Guardsmen had already called on Bear’s house this morning to arrest him. Right now, Bear faced his executioner.

  But none of this explained why Axel took the news of this additional monitoring so casually.

  Felix shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I don’t understand you, Axel. If you hadn’t told her about the ice crystal, you could have sullied her. Instead you soured her with tales of cruelty. Care to explain?”

  Axel’s smile reminded Felix of a sharpened blade. “Funny, you can scrutinize every aspect of our lives, but you can’t read our thoughts. That must be very frustrating for you, Father.”

  “Wrong, Axel. My latest generation of ice crystals can read minds. I call it the Final Word in Human Surveillance.” In fact, some months ago, Felix had visited Lukan’s and Mott’s bed chambers, injecting the tiny chips into their necks as they slept. His devices gave him unparalleled insight into his adversaries. “Don’t force me to use one on you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Axel’s eyes betrayed his concern, but he looked away, focusing on his clothes instead.

  “Don’t try me.” Not that he would ever invade his son, but it didn’t hurt for Axel to think he might, especially now that Axel was being so trying. The boy was going through a phase, one that would pass if Felix just kept his head and didn’t lose his temper.

  Axel’s face was as hard as any ice crystal. “I wonder how Lukan and Mott would react if someone told them it was your manipulation creating Thurban’s voice in their heads?”

  Felix sucked in a breath. “I told you that in the strictest of confidence. Don’t even think of trying to blackmail me with that information.”

  “Why not, when you threaten me with your invasive inventions?”

  “You, of all people, should like to see Mott punished.”

  Too often, when his son had been a lad, his hateful brother had exploited his rank
and Felix’s physical weakness to beat Axel senseless. Felix had never forgiven his brother for that. If he could have murdered Mott, he would have. But with his hatred of Mott, the Fifteen would consider him a prime suspect. Not even he could evade their justice.

  “Mad Mott is a paranoid megalomaniac, as you well know,” Felix said, “and the only way to get him to do what serves me—us—is to manipulate him with the voices. Lukan, too. It’s Thurban’s voice in their heads, driving them crazy, that will ultimately put you on the throne.”

  “And Tao? You better not have invaded him.” Axel’s voice wavered, a rare sign of weakness.

  Felix knew at once that he had been right to exclude Tao from this experiment. Axel would never have forgiven him for bugging his precious cousin.

  “Tao, patron of the low-born, is no threat to us. You know that as well as I do. He has no desire to rule and will gladly step down for you.” It was a matter of much mirth amongst the Fifteen that Tao used his resources to fund a dozen or more low-born soup kitchens in Cian.

  Some of the tension drained from Axel’s eyes.

  Felix pulled a pair of military leathers off a hanger and thrust them at Axel. “Now, if you don’t want me prying in your head, explain to me why you are intent on destroying all my plans for you.”

  “I’m off-duty until the wedding.” Axel pushed the offering away and extracted a pair of faded black trousers. He pulled them on with annoying slowness.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “My motivations are clear. Send me to Treven, and I’ll be a good boy and never meddle with your cameras again.”

  If those were Axel’s motives, they weren’t worth hearing.

  “Have you considered what will happen to you if Mott finds out you were in Lynx’s room? He’s already panicking about you and Lynx.”

  His son picked out a soft blue cotton shirt, also faded from too many washes, and pulled it over his head.