Ladon was dead. The pain of abrupt separation caught him by surprise. He’d never tried such a link before. The fact that he felt the separation so acutely indicated that Ladon was close. Not close enough for Myac to have sensed him, but close enough that the abrupt severing of the link had a potent backlash.
What might have happened if Ladon had been closer in the moment of his death? He shuddered at the thought. He would be more circumspect with such applications in the future.
Myac pushed away from the wall and continued to Rylan’s private chambers.
The emperor sent out a call for troops the day after Myac returned from Yiloch’s stronghold. Too little effort, too late in the game. Rylan had long known his son was building an army, but he refused to take the threat seriously. Yiloch, on the other hand, took the matter quite seriously. If Myac’s sources were accurate, the prince had stolen the loyalty of many of Rylan’s lords and persuaded several others to a neutral stance until things resolved.
It made little sense. Rylan accepted the false immortality Myac offered him. Yet, despite that apparent desire to live forever, he undermined his own position at every turn as if he didn’t care to keep his throne. Did the emperor want his son to defeat him? Perhaps to satisfy some twisted need to have the strength of his bloodline confirmed. Did he think the prince would let him live? He couldn’t be that foolish.
Myac stopped outside tall arched double doors leading into the emperor’s chambers. Carved from pale wood and inlaid with silver in a delicate branching pattern that extended from the floor to the peak of the arch, they were as refined and elegant as the men and women who had lived behind them.
One guard stepped forward to open a door for him, inclining his head as Myac passed through. He stopped inside and the door clicked shut behind him. The smells of roses, wine, and sex met his nose. The emperor was alone, but he hadn’t been so for long.
Created crystal windows that made up most of one wall let soft evening light shine in through sheer silver curtains. Lounging upon a chaise in that silvery light, Rylan looked like a marble statue.
Myac took a seat near where emperor lounged and set his booted feet on a created crystal and silver table.
When Rylan didn’t speak, Myac closed his eyes and leaned back, losing himself in the flow of ascard as he swept it through the emperor. With meticulous detail, he invaded Rylan’s body, using power to refresh flesh and bone. The process wasn’t without a certain degree of pain, he knew, for he’d used it on himself a few times, but Rylan didn’t twitch. The only indication of discomfort was a small exhale when Myac stopped. Silence reigned a while longer. The sun sank and an attendant entered to light candles around the chamber.
Myac watched the candlelight reflect off the crystal windows and play across the emperor’s delicate chiseled features. “I believe Yiloch may be within a few days of the city.”
“I would like to stop this battle before it starts, Myac,” Rylan said as if commenting on the color of the sky.
Myac considered his response carefully. It didn’t matter a great deal to him whether Yiloch or his father died in the coming conflict. He played this game with a mind to try any of several outcomes. He almost wanted Yiloch to win because it would be the more complicated end and therefore more interesting. If Rylan won, however, there were fewer unknowns, so there was some sense to striking Yiloch down fast.
“You know this land as well as he does, my lord. Where would you camp if you planned to lay siege to the city?”
A wistful smile touched the emperor’s lips. Perhaps he recalled better days spent hunting with his family in the lands around the city, days cut short with the murder of his wife.
“By the river near Sendac or further west near Calif, depending on where he’s moving supplies from,” Rylan answered after a time.
“I can narrow it from there with a few carefully placed adepts.”
“What are you thinking, Myac?” Rylan glanced at him for the first time since he entered the chambers.
“I think you know.”
“Destroy my son and it ends.”
“Yes. Send a host against him. Seed it with strong creators and adepts and target him specifically. If he falls, his army will crumble.”
“It must be a swift attack. Under cover of night or while they’re setting up camp.” Rylan tapped his fingers on his knee. “I need a mounted force that can move quickly and enough adepts to facilitate the isolation and destruction of my son.”
Myac nodded. “I can send linked adepts out to sense for their approach. There should be enough range in a link to give us adequate warning.” He shuddered with the memory of pain from Ladon’s death. The links had their risk, but they were too useful to avoid.
“Do so, and have Commander Nyak attend me in the War Room at dawn.”
It pleased him to see Rylan taking an interest in finishing things. It was hard to stomach serving a doomed man, but maybe the emperor hadn’t truly given up yet. If so, Yiloch would have a little surprise coming to his camp.
*
Yilochs’s sleep was restless that night. Indigo’s display of power impressed and concerned him. Now more than ever he understood that her ability could be a great asset, but he got the uncomfortable feeling from the panic in her ascard touch earlier that not even Lord Caplin knew what she could do. Trusting his instincts, he remained discreet when discussing the event with Caplin and those of his own host who weren’t already aware of her strength.
He needed her. The fact that Ladon went undetected so long and that someone had been tracking the man remotely made that obvious. He needed to speak with her alone and soon.
He went out to greet the host that arrived shortly after midnight before the sentry could notify him of their arrival. Eris rode in with Lord Vyram’s host of 150 heavy cavalry, 513 mounted archers, and another 698 foot soldiers. Vyram also brought two personal creators and an adept of notable strength. His reputation as a successful campaigner gave him strong pull when he needed to recruit. His arrival and the size of his force quieted some of Yiloch’s frustration. Now they only waited for Paulin with Lord Wallard’s host.
Eris, in typical restless fashion, rode back out after a few hours’ sleep to meet up with Paulin and Lord Wallard. Once Vyram’s host settled, Yiloch slept for a time, but he rose again before dawn and walked out into crisp morning air to ponder the problem of Indigo.
Walking around Vyram’s newly erected tent, he started toward the low hill that rose behind the valley were his army gathered. He wasn’t the first to seek that vantage point. Indigo stood there staring at the army. Delighted with his luck, he walked over to join her, stepping up by her shoulder. When she didn’t react, he wondered if it was her intent to remind him of the night of the feast. Recalling how she had welcomed his touch inflamed desire, but he battled it down.
“What do you think of Lyra?”
She scanned the army in the pale gray light of predawn. “It’s depressing.”
“You’re looking at it wrong.” He took her arm. “Come with me.”
She stood her ground a second and he thought she might refuse, but he kept a light hold and met her eyes. She searched his face as she had that first night in the prison then nodded, allowing him to lead her to the top of the grassy hill.
“Wait.”
She waited, standing silent while the rising sun broke over magnificent rugged peaks of the Leras Mountains. It cast its brilliant light on the valley, illuminating the hill they stood upon and moving down the other side, gradually lighting colorful wildflowers and golden grasses that blanketed the land. Her breath caught when the golden light washed over the landscape and a flock of songbirds took flight. The whisper of thousands of wings through the air created the rushing sound of a light wind as they flew over.
It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as her, standing there travel worn, her bronze skin tinted gold in the light and blue eyes bright with wonder. He placed a hand on her far shoulder so she wouldn’t move away and le
aned close to her ear.
“Look there.” He pointed toward the far end of the meadow near the tree line.
Several small spotted deer emerged from the trees there, peering around as they stepped into the clearing on long, delicate legs. For a brief moment, facing the awesome granite peaks rising above the fragile nature of the meadow, the reality of the army behind them fell away. Standing on the hill, there was only the stunning landscape before him and her beside him. He became aware of his hand on her shoulder and the delicious scent of her.
“You’re right,” she murmured. “I was looking at it wrong. Lyra is beautiful.”
She looked at him with her vivid eyes and smiled ever so softly. He wanted to kiss her then, but he reminded himself where they were and how many people were there with them. Glancing back toward camp he spotted Adran and Caplin standing near Vyram’s tent now, watching them. Caplin looked ready to kill something. Adran looked resigned.
She followed his gaze. “I think we’re drawing attention.” Her attention drifted back out over the meadow to the deer.
He swept his arm out to encompass the scene. “This is all part of where I grew up. It’s my home. I used to hunt these lands with Adran and his sister, Eris, when we were all much younger. I love it here.”
“Thank you for helping me see it.”
He removed his hand from her shoulder, but she made no move to leave, perhaps sensing that he had more to say.
“I need your help, Indigo,” he murmured. “Your ability surpasses that of anyone else in this army.”
“They don’t know what I can do and they aren’t supposed to.” She began to pick at the nails of one hand with those of the other and he grinned at the familiar nervous habit. He touched her hand and she stopped, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them still as she had in the prison.
“Why can’t they know?”
She bit at her lower lip and gave him a pleading look. “It’s complicated. Please understand. I’m not supposed to use my ability for anything other than healing while I’m here.”
“I’m trying to understand. All I need is for you to be attentive to threats from other ascard users. Any creators or adepts catching us unaware could devastate our ranks. Can you find a way to let me know if you sense anything, something similar to how you let me know you arrived yesterday, but perhaps a little less…sensual?”
She smiled, her cheeks flushing. “I could do that.”
“You’ll help me then?”
A storm of torment filled her deep blue eyes when she looked at him. “How could I do otherwise?” She didn’t let him respond to the curious question. “If you want me near when we’re marching, ask Master Siddael to ride with you. I’m partnered with him, so I go where he goes.”
“Thank you.” He hoped the depth of his gratitude came through in his tone.
She nodded and they turned in unison back to the camp.
“I think they’re jealous,” he commented as they started down the hill.
“Adran loves you, doesn’t he?” A touch of startled revelation sharpened her tone.
“Yes, and Caplin loves you.” She gave him a sour look and he shrugged it off. “You must have noticed.”
“I hoped I was wrong. My relationships are confused enough without adding that complication. But if you’ve noticed it, I suppose it must be true. Cadmar told me you see things more clearly than most.”
“Did he?” He was somewhat surprised to hear praise from the big warrior.
“He thinks highly of you.”
“Did you two spend a lot of time chatting about me?”
“Yes.” She gave him a coy glance. “Jealous?”
“And flattered,” he said under his breath now that they had almost reached the others. “Good morning Lord Caplin. Captain Adran. I hope the arrival of Lord Vyram’s contingent didn’t interrupt your sleep.”
“Not at all.” Tension put an edge in Caplin’s voice. His eyes locked on Indigo.
Adran gave Yiloch a warning look. He didn’t need to ask what it meant. He’d built up a decent camaraderie with the Caithin lord and indulging his relationship with Indigo jeopardized that.
“Please excuse me, my lords. I must speak with Master Siddael.” Indigo gave each of them a polite nod.
He admired her outward composure as she strode away. Already she’d proven herself an exceptional woman and he got the disturbing sense that he’d only scratched the surface.
A rider came charging out of the trees then. A fond smile curved Adran’s lips as his sister catapulted towards them. Caplin watched her approach with widening eyes. True to form, she pulled up at the last moment, her mount barely skidding to stop before colliding with the tent. Yiloch struggled not to smile when Caplin hopped out of the way.
“Yiloch.” He scowled and she rolled her eyes. “Prince Yiloch, Captain Paulin’s a few miles out with Lord Wallard’s host. Another 617 soldiers.” As she spoke, her pale amber eyes sauntered over to Caplin, appraising him with open interest. Her tone acquired a hint of sultry softness. “No ascard users, but he has a gorgeous heavy cavalry of 134 riders.”
Caplin turned to Yiloch as though attentive for his reply, his rattled expression speaking volumes.
“Excellent. We’ll move out first thing tomorrow. Captain Eris, this is Lord Caplin, commander of the Caithin host. Captain Eris is Captain Adran’s sister and one of my most vivacious officers,” he added with a smirk.
“A pleasure, Lord Caplin.” She raked the Caithin lord over with her steamy gaze.
Caplin’s stern look faltered. “Ah, the pleasure’s mine, Captain Eris.”
Eris looked from him to Adran with a suggestive wink. “He’s rather handsome, don’t you think, brother.”
The hint of embarrassment on Adran’s face confirmed Eris’s judgment before he looked away and tried to mask a chuckle by coughing into his hand. Caplin shifted uncomfortably and stared hard ahead.
Yiloch gave her a chastising look. “Could you not tease our allies?”
She gave him an indignant look, but before she could speak in her defense, Caplin spoke up. “It’s fine. Military women are one of the things I need to get used to over here.”
Eris grinned, apparently amused, and tapped her horse above the shoulder, cuing it with the opposite toe. It stretched one foreleg, bending the other back and lowering its head in a bow. “My lords.” She inclined her head.
Yiloch lifted a hand to get her attention as the animal rose. “As nice as that exit would have been, I need to speak to you in private. You can tend your mount first if you wish.”
She inclined her head. “I’ll be right there.”
As she rode away, Adran, a touch of flush still in his cheeks, smiled an apology at Caplin. “She’s got a flair for drama.”
Caplin shrugged. “It was refreshing. You surround yourself with interesting people, Prince Yiloch. Perhaps I shouldn’t find it surprising that some of my own companions are drawn to you.”
Yiloch ignored the indirect inquiry. “Interesting is a good word for them.”
Caplin pressed. “Might I ask what you and Lady Indigo were discussing?”
“I merely pointed out some of Lyra’s beauty.” Yiloch met his eyes, daring him to call it a lie. “I assure you she was in no danger unless the deer have recently become predators.”
“There are many kinds of predators, Prince Yiloch.”
Anger flared in him and Caplin took a step back. Yiloch looked away, forcing calm. “We’ll be riding out at dawn. I would like you and Master Siddael to ride with me so we can discuss how the healers will be utilized. It’s important that we agree on that before they’re needed.”
“Agreed. We must be clear on that. We’ll ride with you. I need to prepare my men. If you’ll excuse me…”
Yiloch inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Caplin.” He nodded dismissal to Adran and returned to his tent.
Eris was already there, standing in the center of the main section flipping a dagger in the
air and neatly catching it by the hilt. He watched for several seconds to pick up her timing then stepped in and snatched it from the air.
“You haven’t lost your touch.” Her tone held approval. “Have I done something wrong to earn this exclusive audience?”
He flipped the weapon, catching the blade, and handed it back to her. “When are you not doing something wrong? You push every limit you can.”
She sheathed the dagger and jutted out her lip in an exaggerated pout. “Have I ever gotten anyone hurt?”
“There was that adept…” he teased as he dug through his packs.
“I was seven. She was fifteen. She should’ve known better.”
He grinned and turned to her. “I thought you might like to have this.” He held up the pendant Myac had left with Dalce’s sword.
She reached for it slowly, her eyes brightening with the shine of tears. “Delsan’s?”
He nodded. She threw her arms around his neck in an unexpected fierce embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she clung to him. Then she kissed his cheek and disengaged, wiping at her eyes.
“Thank you. You’re not half the bastard I tell people you are.”
He responded with wry smirk. “Be ready to leave tomorrow. And…”
“Yes?”
“Lord Caplin enjoys a good sparing match. Perhaps you would show him what it’s like to fight a woman?” Distract him. Give him something else to think about. It was underhanded, but he’d seen the instant attraction when she and Caplin met.
“With pleasure, my lord.” She hung the pendant around her neck, gave him a wink and skipped from the tent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Caplin stopped and watched Yiloch disappear into his tent. He resisted the urge to follow Indigo and ask her what she and the prince were talking about, why they looked so comfortable together. Yiloch was a powerful man with strong ambition and plenty of blood would be shed along the road to his goals. As much as he liked and admired the prince, he didn’t trust him with her.
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 27
