by M. Dalto
Beginning’s End
Book Three - The Empire Saga
M. Dalto
Copyright © 2019 by M. Dalto
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Jennia Herold, Erica Farner, and Alyssa Barber
Designed by Shayne Leighton
The Parliament House
www.parliamenthousepress.com
To Samantha–
Be strong. Be creative. Believe. Achieve.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Be Part of the Prophecy!
The Parliament House
Also by M. Dalto
Chapter One
The palace grounds near the crypts and tombs filled with the Empire’s departed were almost immaculate compared to the destruction that surrounded them. Even after the Empress’ return, rebuilding the palace had been slow—so many of the Empire’s artisans and workers had fled to the outlying villages and away from the palace. With the Empire’s ruling foothold at the center of the conflict with the Borderlands, the Empireborn had evacuated towards the outskirts of the Empire’s boundary lines out of fear of an attack from the opposing territory and the banished Lord Steward.
The same Lord Steward who inhabited the Empire’s palace once again.
Asking for their return had been a struggle, but slowly they had agreed, nevertheless not without first garnering promises of protection and compensation for the potential danger to them and their families.
Alexstrayna carefully walked between the maze of graves until she came upon one of the more recent markers that was closest to the garden wall, surrounded by rose bushes from a Queen Empress long gone.
This was the first time she was able to find enough courage to visit, and even still she was not able to do it alone.
She glanced over her shoulder to where Reylor stood, not at this grave but at another, and nearly as recent, that had captured his attention. His head was lowered as if in silent prayer, but they both knew there were no gods listening to them anymore.
Alex returned her gaze to the marker in front of her, her hand gently brushing away unseen debris from the immaculately engraved wording.
“Crown Prince Treyan, the First of his Line,” she whispered over the grave, and immediately felt tears well in her eyes as she knelt upon the damp ground that covered her husband’s remains.
Swallowing, she folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. She had wanted to do this. Needed to do this. Since they had buried Treyan and Sarayna had left for the Otherrealm, Alex was unable to set foot near his grave, but she had avoided the inevitable for far too long. She felt there were so many things that were left unsaid, too much that needed to be considered, especially since...
Shaking her head, she returned her mind to the present moment. There would be time to ponder everything else later.
“You would be proud, Treyan,” she whispered over the grave so that only she and the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves in the trees overhead heard her words. “The Empire is rebuilding, and its people are attempting to return to normal life. Even the lords are congregating and we’re restoring the Council.”
Alex let out a shuddering sigh as she once again glanced towards Reylor where he stood above the nearby grave. No longer in his silent prayer, he watched the marker contemplatively. Much smaller than the Crown Prince’s, no more than a heavy stone, really, but Reylor respected it as if it were as a sacred monument. Alex noticed a small bouquet of wildflowers at its side that she knew were not there when they arrived.
“Reylor has resumed his position as Lord Steward,” she continued in her hushed voice. “It was difficult, convincing the new Council to reinstate his title…but with everything that happened, and the circumstances surrounding it...” She took a breath. “I granted him a pardon...and it may have been the hardest thing I’ve had to do since we buried you.”
She looked at her hands, at the wedding ring she still wore—the ring she would always wear. “We sent Sarayna to the Otherrealm. We know her Emperor is there, and it will be safer for her to stay away from the Empire until she can find him. Your mother—” Alex paused as she took another breath. “Saratanya was more than willing to take her in, to keep her safe until the time is right. That was over a month ago, and we haven’t heard anything from her since.”
Alex felt her lip tremble as she prepared to vocalize her next confession, and the tears that welled in her eyes began to escape down her cheeks.
“I lost the baby, Treyan,” she sniffled, her voice barely a whisper. “When the Councillor—Razen—” She swallowed hard at the memory. “When he killed you, I lost control. The rage and emotions swelled inside of me and there was a magic—this golden power that just burst from me, as if what happened to you was enough to awaken whatever this Mark is and...”
She shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. “All I wanted to do was protect those I loved from any more harm, and that whatever I did was enough to get us out of the Borderlands without any other casualties. I still don’t know exactly what happened afterwards. Reylor and Sara told me it was a week before I regained consciousness.”
Alex’s hands were clenched tight, her nails digging into her palms. She rubbed them against the thighs of her leggings as if wiping away the blood she felt still stained her hands from the memory of holding her dying husband in her arms, begging him to return to life.
“Razen remains in the Borderlands with Lexan and Crystal,” Alex continued, her tone dropping. “She’s pregnant with Lexan’s heir, whatever that means, and now that they have the Annals, we don’t know what they’re planning, leaving us blind to an attack, or worse. Reylor wants to retrieve the book, believing its return to the Empire will give us the answers we need to whatever it is they’re concocting against the Empire, but the Council is against it, as am I. As much as he wants to go against their wishes, I don’t think he’s ready to risk another chance at banishment.”
Alex chanced another glance behind her, only to startle as she realized Reylor was standing right by her side.
“Gods, don’t you ever make any noise?” she cursed him as she slowly stood.
“I wasn’t going t
o interrupt you,” he replied, his deep red eyes—the haunting mark of his banishment—falling upon his brother’s grave.
“How long were you standing there?” Alex asked, genuinely curious as to how much he had heard.
“Long enough,” he muttered as he turned to her. “You’re right. I’m not willing to risk another banishment, especially when the Queen Empress so graciously reinstated me against her Council’s wishes.”
“I couldn’t exactly allow you to remain an enemy of the Empire, especially when you helped us in the Borderlands, even after everything...” She trailed off. It was still hard to forget what happened between the two of them. The impact it had on her, and the Empire, resounded well beyond Treyan’s death. The mere insistence of Reylor residing within the Empire as a member of its Council rather than a prisoner of war—she knew why it was difficult to convince the Council members they needed his insight. Sometimes she wondered why she was so willing to trust him.
It wasn’t until she held her dying husband in her arms that Alex realized everything they once thought was worth dying for was no more than a game, and they were only pawns in a chess match that started before they were written into the Annals. With Treyan’s death, all was lost. No longer was it Crown Prince versus Lord Steward, Empire versus Borderlands. It was now mother against child, friend against friend, mentees fighting against their trusted mentor. Nothing remained as it once was. What Alex was once led to believe through the Annals and the Prophecy leading her there, now without either to guide them she had to think about their purpose and the means to continue on her own.
It was during that time, once she awoke, when she realized that all she loved had been taken from her or would be soon enough. For that alone she considered forgiving Reylor for all he had done to her, to the Empire.
Forgiveness was one of Treyan’s final requests—that she forgive his brother, to honor his memory. She felt it was the least she could.
It did not make it any easier, but for Treyan, she would do it.
Now, with the assistance of the new Council, it was the two of them maintaining the Empire as they awaited Sarayna’s return with her Emperor. Once they arrived, Alex would finally be able to pass on the legacy that had been so reluctantly bestowed upon her, and perhaps finally figure out what it was she was supposed to do with herself without Treyan to hold her hand and show her the way.
She felt the weight of his gaze upon her and raised her own to meet the eyes of the Lord Steward. “What?” she asked sharply.
Reylor’s countenance was unreadable as he met her stare. It still unnerved her, the way he watched her. She caught him doing so often enough, and he never once faltered when caught. It was as though he expected her to catch his glance, a silent begging for attention he so desperately wanted, and she refused to give.
It was always a game with him, which was why she merely shook her head when he declined to answer her. She started her walk back towards the palace as the suns began their descent over the horizon without another word to the Lord Steward.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
Alex paused at the inquiry, refusing to turn as she felt him stop a step behind her.
“We’ve talked about this, Reylor.”
“I know,” he conceded, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask again.”
She dared a glance over her shoulder, with Reylor just on the outer edge of her peripheral vision. “Just because I granted you your title back doesn’t mean—”
“You also forgave me.”
Her voice honed its edge. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with dinner. I forgave you because Treyan asked it of me. Otherwise—”
“Otherwise, what?” He dared a step, closing the distance between them, and Alex could feel his breath warm on the back of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the proximity of his physical presence or the presence of the shared memory of their history.
She may have forgiven him for their past, but it didn’t change what had transpired between them.
She turned to her Lord Steward, straightening her posture and meeting his gaze with the composed face of the Queen Empress who hadn’t lost her husband but who remained strong for her Empire. “I am not having this conversation with you in front of my husband’s grave.”
His attention lingered on her, steadfast, before he nodded once. “Of course, Empress.”
She glared at him, debating whether she should continue to remind him of what her forgiveness allowed him but decided she no longer had the energy to maintain the carefully constructed front she needed to maintain whenever she was around him.
“Goodnight, Reylor,” she muttered as she finally turned and marched towards the palace.
She didn’t hear his steps following her this time.
Chapter Two
The Council meetings always made Alex nervous.
Not because she was ever expected to do anything; in fact, ever since their return to the Empire and the reformation of the Council, she continued on as more of a silent party to the exchanges than anything else. Not that she didn’t want to be a contributing member, but the memories she had of the Council’s chambers within the lowest level of the palace—memories of what had happened since the last meeting she attended with Treyan, the memories of the Emperor’s birth, of her own children breathing their first breaths, and everything that had happened thereafter—she needed to steel her nerves and mentally ready herself prior to every meeting.
The Empress sat in the seat that had been assigned to her, as it had been assigned to every other Queen Empress since the Annals were first inscribed. Even after insisting she didn’t want a place at the Council’s table, the other members relied on tradition, insisting it was needed to return to a sense of normalcy, and so she stayed with them until it would be time for Sarayna to take over. Perhaps, even then, Alex would stay along the sidelines, available to help should her expertise be needed, whatever that would be worth...
“Empress?”
Alex was jostled from her silent musings as Reylor called her. She looked up at the Lord Steward only to realize he was not the only one seeking her attention. The other Council members had taken their respective seats and she alone continued standing at the head of the table. Once, she may have been embarrassed. Now, she didn’t care much what they thought of her.
With a shrug, she casually took her own seat, crossing her legs and straightening out her tunic to avoid their sympathetic stares. It seemed everyone around her looked at her in the same way lately, and she was growing extremely tired of it. The Council members were no better than anyone else.
There were six members total—three new members, handpicked by Alex and Reylor, in addition to Jamison, Treyan’s closest friend and Captain of the Guard, Reylor and herself. Though it bored her and she hated being there, Alex insisted on attending as many meetings as she could. She convinced herself she needed something to occupy her time while she waited for her daughter’s return, so it was either Council meetings or...
No, it was only the Council meetings.
Reylor, however, viewed the Council meetings much differently, seeing them as a necessity to rebuilding and establishing their foothold in the Empire. The first meeting occurred not long after Sarayna had left for the Otherrealm and Alex needed a distraction from her losses. They had decided on the Council’s new members and created an agenda for their true purpose, and the Empress remained silent and withdrawn throughout the proceedings.
“You don’t need to be here,” Reylor had scolded after witnessing her sour countenance throughout the entire meeting. “We want the Council to think we care about what happened to the Empire, not have it appear as if we’re bored by them.”
“I do care,” she lied. Truthfully, she hadn’t cared about anything.
“Care more then. Or come back only when there’s something to care about.”
Alex knew better. If she heeded his advice she wouldn’t come back. Even
when her heart pounded in her chest and her head screamed at her to turn away from involving herself in anything that had to do with the Empire or the Borderlands that had taken everything she loved away from her, she knew she needed to stay.
“She’s the Queen Empress,” Jamison interjected, once again coming to her defense unasked. “She can come and go as she pleases, whether that’s to attend the Council meetings or otherwise.”
Though she was grateful for Jamison’s support, it wasn’t needed, but Alex knew Jamison would never miss an opportunity to stand against Reylor. Of all the Council members, it was Jamison who had most opposed Reylor’s reinstatement. Vehemently.
Alex couldn’t blame him—wouldn’t blame him. It was under Reylor’s influence that Jamison’s wife, Mallia, was murdered on the same day Treyan and Alex were married. She could still remember the ligature marks around her neck, her bleeding eyes, the crack in her skull...
A shudder ran through her as she looked down to the mahogany table. Mallia, in addition to being her closest friend in the Empire, was one of the three Mistresses assigned to her the day she became Queen Empress. Bria was another, and it was she who had betrayed them to Reylor, she who had murdered Mallia, and eventually, who had the means to bring them back to the Empire.
