She squeezed his hand hoping the gesture offered some comfort. Then she walked to Ian, nodding once to Ferin who returned the gesture with a polite smile. The adept’s pale gold eyes shone with approval, making her wish she’d had the time to talk to him.
“Creator Ian, about the link…”
He grinned. “Emperor Yiloch already told me. Besides, I expected it would be permanent when you did it.”
“You aren’t angry?”
He stepped forward and gave her a quick hug, then stepped back and smiled shyly, a blush coloring his pale features. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, my lady.”
“Likewise, Creator Ian.”
“You’re welcome here, always.”
“Thank you.”
When she turned from Ian, already fighting the sting of tears, she found Yiloch and Caplin watching her. Caplin shook his head, looking mystified, and Yiloch’s smile was rife with sorrow. Under his gaze, she felt her heartbeat quicken, the ache inside building.
“Excuse me, my lords.” She offered a curtsy directed at neither one of them specifically.
“You’re ready, Lady Indigo?” Caplin looked at her gown and the cloak draped over one arm, his eyes brimming with unasked questions.
“Yes, Lord Caplin.” Did he hear the tremor in her voice?
“Very well. Good luck, Emperor Yiloch.”
“Thank you, Lord Caplin. Have a safe journey home.”
When Caplin turned to leave, she followed, but a hand caught her arm, turning her back. Her heart felt like it might explode when she stepped into Yiloch’s embrace, all need for secrecy crushed by the need to touch him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him with all the passion in her being. She could feel Caplin’s eyes on them and felt a pang of sorrow for him, but it paled next to the suffocating pain of leaving. She tasted her tears when their lips parted and he brushed them away with one hand, his other holding round her waist to keep her close.
“Stay,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
She hesitated, savoring the warmth of his touch. How she wanted to do as he asked. “I can’t.”
His jaw tightened. “You won’t.”
“You’ve done what you had to do,” she said. “Now it’s my turn.”
He closed his eyes a moment, clenching his teeth. Was his pain as great as hers? Part of her hoped it was.
His pale eyes opened again, drawing her in. “Be careful, Indigo.”
He kissed her, slow and sweet as if no one watched. She returned the kiss with a touch of desperation. They parted a little and his smile warmed her through, bringing a matching smile to her lips despite the tears.
“You can always return.”
She kissed him again, once more, before stepping back and he caught one of her hands.
“Remember those words,” she said. “They may come back to haunt you.”
She started to turn away and he released her hand, little by little, reluctantly.
“I hope so.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself and walked away, their hands slipping apart. Each step drove the blade of sorrow deeper in her heart. Caplin watched, waiting, and she avoided his eyes, not ready for whatever anger or hurt might lurk in them. She made a point of not looking back. Yiloch wouldn’t linger. He had an empire to bring to heel, and he would move on to that without dwelling on regret or sorrow. It was his way. She would do the same and never regret the time they shared or any of the things she had done for him.
Caplin kept silent for the short ride to the docks. The last ship waited for them and she donned the gray cloak before walking to the bow to gaze out to sea. Tears ran down her cheeks. She held the rail as the ship left dock and Caplin joined her. He glanced at her once then stared out over the waves. She knew then that she still had an ally regardless of what hurt she might have caused him.
“You love him.” A hint of bitterness sharpened his voice.
She nodded.
He placed a hand over hers on the railing and squeezed it, trying to support her despite the jealousy in his eyes. “You seem to have trouble picking relationships.”
She breathed a small laugh, though the grief in his eyes stung. “I do. I’m sorry, Caplin.”
“Don’t be. Some things can’t be. I’ll help you move into a new residence. I already know a place. I don’t think you should give Jayce the chance to retaliate. I want to protect you, Indigo. I can’t seem to help that.”
“Help moving would be welcome.”
She let him keep her hand, taking comfort in the contact.
“Do you intend to come back here?”
“I can’t be a part of his world the way I want to be,” she answered deliberately. “Still, I might come back, when I’ve finished my schooling. There’s much I could learn from the Lyran adepts.”
Caplin looked torn. He shook his head, not putting voice to misgivings in his eyes. “You’re right. There’s much you could learn.”
Afternoon sun lit the water, creating brilliant reflections of light on the waves that reminded her of the faceted crystal ceiling in the Lyran palace. She almost looked back, almost sought out Yiloch through the link that would fade with distance, if only to know where he was in the palace, but she didn’t. Perhaps a time would come when she would return. Only then would she indulge the link, if only to feel him again for just a moment.
THE END
PREVIEW
the next book in the series
FORBIDDEN THINGS: BOOK TWO
EXILE
CHAPTER ONE
Yiloch sat in his newly won throne, patient and wary, watching the black-skinned man’s approach up the length of the magnificent room. Guards, adepts and creators stood alert along both sides of the room, and even the eyes of the men and women in the subtle etchings along the blue marble walls behind them seemed more attentive than usual. Two lines of three warriors flanked the man, each carrying an ornate spear topped with a slender curved blade. Elaborate etchings down the length of the shafts made them appear more ceremonial than functional, but he knew better than to doubt the effectiveness of those weapons or that of the men bearing them. Kudaness warriors were skilled fighters. In their practiced hands, those delicate looking blades could decapitate a horse with a single strike. Allowing the visitors into the room armed at all was a simple statement of his confidence in the many ascard users present.
Thin sand colored straps across the lead man’s chest exposed a broad, muscular build. A warrior at a glance, but firsthand experience with the Kudaness, coupled with years of political education, gave Yiloch the knowledge to translate the messages written on the man’s skin. An elaborate tattoo on his right cheek marked him as part of the Ithik Ani, the Kudaness priesthood. The black swirling tattoos over his arms, shoulders, and legs declared that he was a suac, a high priest. Another tattoo consisting of three black lines running parallel to the line of his jaw on his left cheek and two black dots beside his left eye declared that he was of the Murak tribe. Long black hair, braided back into countless strands, several woven through with patterns of beads, swung heavy down to his lower back. He wore intimidation like armor, and his copper eyes, discolored by the potion the Ithik Ani used to initiate communion with their gods, gleamed with feral intensity.
Only a month into his reign and Yiloch was hosting a most unusual visitor. The presence of a suac in his halls was either a gesture of respect or a warning. Perhaps both.
“Emperor Yiloch,” the Lyran usher, his pale skin stark white beside the dark Kudaness, offered a deep bow to Yiloch then inclined his head toward the visitors. “I am honored to present Suac Chozai Galal un Murak un Ani.”
The usher’s introduction confirmed everything Yiloch read from the tattoos. This man was very important among his people. Kudaness high priests held more power than their tribal chieftains did. Even among other tribes, this man’s rank made him second only to that tribe’s suac.
Before the throne, the high priest lowered his chin in the slightest in
timation of a bow, his odd metallic eyes never leaving Yiloch’s pale silver-blue ones.
This is a man whose power is never challenged.
Such a man would be aggravating to deal with. Yiloch needed to proceed with caution though, especially given the unexpected nature of the visit. Whatever the reason for his unannounced arrival, the suac had the political advantage for the moment.
Yiloch nodded to the suac, offering reserved respect. “Suac Chozai, your visit honors us.”
The suac’s answering smile curled his lips into a predatory snarl and his eyes shimmered as if with some inner amusement.
The irrepressible twitch of a muscle in Yiloch’s jaw was the only visible indication that the response annoyed him. A heightened sense of alert rose in him in reaction to the veiled dislike lurking behind those eerie eyes, but he kept his expression neutral. Kudaness priests had a notorious lack of respect for rank outside of their own culture and, at least in his limited experience. They treated most everyone with a degree of disdain. It made them difficult to deal with in general, but the Kudaness were a powerful people and the border they shared with Lyra boasted a long trade history that was beneficial to both countries. His father’s madness had nearly destroyed that trade and Yiloch wasn’t going to risk its revitalization over such a small measure of insult.
“The Murak have seen that the new Emperor of Lyra makes an effort to respect the trade relationship with Kudan,” the priest began, his accent thick enough that Yiloch had to listen close to understand him. It might be easier if he’d chosen to speak his native tongue, but using the Lyran trade dialect was appropriate here and showed some deference to Yiloch’s rank in this setting. “The Murak, the greatest tribe in Kudan, wish to extend our gratitude for your efforts.”
He resisted a smirk. How many of the tribes would lay claim to that status?
“It has long been a beneficial arrangement. Emperor Rylan insulted both of our peoples by disrespecting that relationship. It will not happen under my rule. However, while I appreciate your gratitude, I do not believe you traveled all this way to convey a simple thank you. Why have you come here?”
Tension rippled out from the high priest. His copper eyes glinted in the sunlight shining down through the faceted crystal ceiling. He returned Yiloch’s measuring regard for a long moment, perhaps trying to determine whether the new emperor intended some insult with his abrupt manner.
Perhaps he could have been more tactful, wasting time on niceties, but the mere rarity of a visit from a Kudaness suac was enough to incite interest and unease. He itched to know the reason.
“I am suac to the Murak tribe, chosen by the Gods to bear the burden of their gifts for the benefit of my people.” Suac Chozai’s somber expression and weighted tone communicated the significance of his status. “One of those gifts is the ability to foresee the possible future. The Gods have shown me that our lands and people will soon face a terrible danger. Not only the people of Kudan, but all our people,” he swept a hand out to imply a wider area, “are under threat from a tribe not of Kudan. This tribe is strong. They come in great numbers and control power that none here have ever faced. They ride on the backs of sturdy horses and will decimate all in their path if not dealt with in quick and decisive action. We require the aid of the Blood Prince in defeating this threat.”
Yiloch narrowed his eyes, making no effort to hide his disapproval of the old hated title. He itched to move his hand closer to his sword. Whether use of that title was a mere slip from long habit or an intentional insult, the suac was trying his patience. A careless approach given that he was requesting military assistance.
He waited a moment to see if the suac would apologize for his error. When he didn’t, Yiloch spoke, biting off his words with the effort of keeping them civil. “I would be a fool to extend my resources so soon after taking the throne. My empire is still recovering from its own upheaval. I still have many soldiers and adepts out hunting for the adept Myac, who remains a substantial threat. What benefit is there to Lyra in sending aid to the Murak against an enemy who is, as of yet, mostly unknown even to you?”
The suac’s smile broadened, giving a glimpse of incisors tapered to a subtle point. It enhanced the predatory appearance, but he wasn’t going to intimidate Yiloch with tribal gimmicks. The confidence in that smile, however, was a trifle unsettling.
“You need us, Blood Prince,” Chozai stated, making it clear that the use of the title hadn’t been a slip.
Yiloch scowled, losing the struggle to hide his irritation. Kudan and Lyra held an uneasy peace balanced on benefits they could offer one another and a shaky mutual respect for the extreme differences in their cultures. That balance felt even more precarious at the moment.
This one man is not worth the destruction of that peace, he reminded himself.
“You insult me in my own palace, then expect me to accept on your word that I should extend you aid at a time when I have need of my soldiers here. You had best be able to offer more concrete proof of how this is of benefit to Lyra.” He infused his tone with an edge of warning. He would not continue to suffer disrespect in his own palace.
Like a man struck dead, the suac’s face lost all expression. His eyes clouded over, a translucent whiteness masking the brilliant copper, and his voice took on a deep, rhythmic cadence. “The emperor of Lyra will be thrice betrayed; by ally, by family, and by love. To escape the dark fate of that betrayal, he must send forth his army to the aid of those favored by the gods his people will not see. In return, salvation will come from beyond his borders to mend the rifts created by those betrayals. If such aid is not given, salvation will not come and his empire will fall in a storm of fire and blood to a savage power from beyond the Rhuakine.”
Yiloch glanced at Ian, the strongest—and youngest—creator in his army. The young man shook his head. If the suac was drawing on ascard to effect the changes in his eyes and voice Ian couldn’t detect it.
A chill passed through Yiloch and he noticed his cousin, Lord Terral, shifting his feet near the foot of the dais. Was that from the same unease they all felt at the suac’s dark foretelling, or something more insidious?
Betrayed by ally, by family, and by love.
The Rhuakine was a canyon-scarred desert to the east of Kudan, implying that the savage force the suac spoke of was the same one that threatened the Murak. If so, his words suggested that his own people would fall before this new power first if Lyra didn’t send soldiers to their aid. Under those circumstances, he would have expected a more respectful approach from the man. Was the disdain of foreign royalty so ingrained that he couldn’t overcome it even for the sake of diplomacy?
Yiloch stood. His sword riding comfortable at his hip, he descended the steps until he stood no more than a foot from the high priest. Suac Chozai was taller by several inches, but his eyes, which had regained their normal abnormal color, took on a hint of wariness at the approach. One of Yiloch’s captains and longtime friend, Adran, placed a hand on his sword hilt when the hands of the Murak warriors tightened on their weapons. His bold approach appeared to inspire a touch of respect in the arrogant high priest and his guards after all.
He met those deep copper eyes with a steady gaze. “You’ve intrigued me, Suac Chozai. I do not give much credit to fortunetelling as a rule, but if I discounted all such things completely out of hand, I would not be where I am now. Perhaps we could discuss this in a more casual setting.”
Chozai nodded, agreeing with the unspoken need for more privacy, and two of his warriors moved up closer behind him. Adran and Ian came forward from either side of the dais to flank Yiloch. It was a given that they would attend him, as it was apparently a given for the two lead warriors of Chozai’s retinue to accompany him. Suac Chozai stepped aside to let Yiloch walk ahead of him, more out of a lack of trust, he suspected, than any show of deference to his rank within the realm. The suacs of Kudan were, among their own people, considered above the rule of men. Knowing that, Chozai’s curt manner wasn�
�t surprising, but it still galled.
Yiloch led them to a door off the side of the main room. The usher hurried ahead of them, opening the doors into a room covered in maps. Maps hung on the walls and covered the surface of every table. Old maps, new maps, maps of places he knew as well as he knew his own bedroom, and maps of places he wasn’t certain even existed. There were few chairs in the room, pushed against walls to give the option of comfort if so desired, but the room served primarily as a place to peruse maps and plan strategies.
Adran and Ian flanked him as he walked around the back of one table with a map of Kudan stretched across it, then they moved off to the side where they could keep watch over him and his visitors and still be close enough to intercept an attack.
The map they stood over was a rare, beautifully detailed piece. Yiloch’s father, the late Emperor Rylan, obtained it from a Kudaness sea captain before Yiloch was born. The tribal borders within Kudan had changed since its creation, as they often did, but it still gave a reasonable approximation of reality and he appreciated the artistry of it.
Suac Chozai approached the opposite side of the table while the usher shut them into the room. He glanced once at the map, his gaze impassive.
Yiloch considered the situation for a long moment. He had noticed Lord Terral’s unease when the suac mentioned betrayal. It might merely be a show of discomfort with the suac’s strange display, but Terral was one of very few left in his empire who could claim to be family. If there were any truth to the suac’s prophecy, Terral would be a prime suspect, a possibility that prompted the move to a more private setting. If there were guilt behind Terral’s unease, then perhaps the desire to know what occurred behind these doors would drive him to carelessness.
“From your words, Suac Chozai, I gather you believe the Murak may fall before this savage power if I refuse to send aid.” Yiloch kept his eyes upon the map to avoid showing too much interest in the answer. The suac expected no more courtesy than he gave when dealing with heathens from outside his lands. Yiloch was inclined to meet his expectations.
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 35
