Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  “Lady Joslyn.” Trystan kept his voice as soft as he could. The sounds of fighting drew nearer, and were unlikely to make the little girl feel better. “I’m a friend to both your parents. I’d like to take you to them.”

  “My mama is dead.” Joslyn’s voice was muffled, and as Trystan approached, he saw her hands pressed against her mouth. Tears filled her large green eyes, but she wasn’t crying.

  “She’s not dead.” Trystan came a few steps closer, crouching down so he was at eye level. “I brought her back to Allaux a few days ago. She was a prisoner for a long time, but I helped free her.”

  Joslyn dropped her hands and leaned back, her tangled red-brown hair brilliant against the yellow wall. “I was a prisoner too,” she said. “Mostly it was all right, except for when they hurt me.” She raised her bandaged hand.

  Trystan’s heart clenched unexpectedly. “They won’t hurt you anymore,” he said. “Count Michel and Duchess Monique are dead, and I expect the duke will soon be too.”

  “You killed her?” Joslyn got up and took a hesitant step toward Trystan.

  “I did.” He smiled encouragingly, though he didn’t move.

  “Can I see?” She stepped out from behind the tree, her eyes wide and curious. Though they weren’t the same shape as Natalya’s, they were nearly as striking.

  “I don’t think you want to,” Trystan said, wrinkling his nose. “It looks awful.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Now Joslyn stood before him, so he held his hand out to her. She took it.

  “Take me to see her,” the little girl said.

  Trystan shook his head, but led her to the carriage. Fortunately, Monique had fallen on her back, so the exit wound was concealed. Close as Trystan had been, it had to be large.

  Joslyn stood over the body, staring at Monique’s face. The bright blue eyes were wide open, and so was the mouth, as though in shock. To be fair, the large hole in her forehead must have been a surprise.

  “She’s dead. Good.” Joslyn kicked at the body. “I hate her. She was so mean. Thank you for shooting her.”

  “You’re welcome.” Trystan took a deep breath and listened. The sounds of fighting had quieted, or perhaps just gone in another direction. “You don’t need to worry about her anymore. I want to take you to your parents now, is that all right?”

  Joslyn looked up at him, then turned toward Storm. “Can I ride that horse?”

  “Sure. His name is Storm and he’ll take us to the palace.” Trystan picked Joslyn up to put her in the saddle and jumped up behind her. He’d have to remember this house to let the king know where the duchess’s body was. Although he was certain he’d had an audience all along, somewhere behind the tall blank windows of the house.

  As they entered the street, Trystan turned away from the bodies strewn at one end of it. Even at a distance he saw that most wore the de la Tour tabard, though the hawk of Brevard was visible on some of them. He wondered if the battle was over and what had happened to the duke.

  Taking the long way around to the palace he ran into a royal patrol. “I must get to the king,” Trystan said. “He’s expecting me and the young lady.”

  “We’ll take you,” the leader said, Trystan’s bloody, tattered blue sash apparently enough to verify his identity.

  “Is the fighting over?” Trystan asked, a little sorry he’d missed the main battle, but relieved he’d rescued Joslyn.

  “Mostly,” the patrol leader said. “We have the duke and his sister in custody. Now we’re just rounding up the rest of his soldiers. Somehow they got scattered all over the city.”

  Trystan had to chuckle at that, pleased that his scheme had worked.

  It was near evening by the time they reached the front of the palace. Trystan had never seen it like this before, fortified as if prepared for an invasion. A row of artillery still guarded the entrance, and dozens of soldiers milled about. If Gauvain hadn’t had warning, it might have gone badly for him.

  Trystan rode into the courtyard, then handed a sleepy, subdued Joslyn down to Gauvain, who’d been waiting for them rather frantically, judging by the relief in his bloodshot eyes.

  “Oh my darling child,”Gauvain said, hugging her close, tears falling into her hair.

  Joslyn flung her arms around his neck, and Trystan had to look away and swallow hard. Then he looked around for Natalya. She was on her way, a smile on her face.

  Trystan dismounted, handing Storm off to a groom and went to her. To his surprise, Natalya threw her arms around him and drew him close.

  “I can’t ever repay you for this,” she said, as she pulled away to look up at him.

  “Oh, I think you can,” Trystan said with a smile.

  Elektra

  Mattila served the same strong wine at the wedding feast, and Elektra made sure she drank plenty. She wasn’t sure how she would survive the night. It didn’t help that Aksel sat in his usual spot, nearly in her line of sight, and she had to avoid looking at him.

  He helped a little by staring down at his plate most of the time, but Mattila insisted on engaging him in conversation.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, seeing two of your closest friends so happy?” Mattila’s tone was friendly, but her eyes held an angry spark.

  Elektra wondered if the general was being unintentionally cruel, or if she knew Elektra would have preferred Aksel.

  “It is.” Aksel’s voice was calm, though he said no more, in spite of Mattila clearly expecting it. She was probably hoping he’d propose a toast.

  It looked like no one else at the table was getting drunk; Mattila must not have shared the strongest wine with them. She likely wanted her officers sober, since they were marching out in the morning. Elektra held out her glass for a refill.

  “Slow down,” Jozef murmured in her ear. “You’ll feel awful in the morning.”

  “I don’t care,” Elektra whispered, refusing to look at him. It didn’t matter to her in the least if everyone saw she wasn’t happy about this.

  “I’m sorry,” Jozef whispered back, squeezing her knee. For being Mattila’s spoiled child, he was rather nice, but that didn’t make him any more appealing to Elektra.

  The feast ended early, everyone else at the table sent off to oversee packing and getting some sleep before the morning’s march.

  Mattila turned to Elektra and Jozef. “Off to bed with the two of you.” She stared at Jozef in a nearly threatening way. “And don’t worry about a thing. Everything will be packed for you in the morning, and you can ride in my carriage if you're not up to going on horseback.”

  Someone nearby snickered, and Elektra stared at Mattila, hoping she saw the hate in her eyes.

  “Let’s go.” Jozef took her by the hand, then grabbed a torch standing nearby.

  They walked silently through the camp, Elektra worried she wasn’t drunk enough. When they reached the tent, Kyra had been dozing in a chair.

  “You can leave,” Jozef said.

  When Kyra was gone—Elektra still didn’t know where she slept—Jozef said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I've learned how to undo fancy dresses.”

  “I’ll bet you have,” Elektra muttered, doing her best to keep from looking at the double bed. In hindsight, this tent with its beautiful furnishings made sense. Mattila had clearly hatched this plan the moment Elektra appeared in camp.

  Jozef sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he said, patting the spot beside him. “Let’s talk for a bit.”

  Elektra hesitated, then sat down beside him.

  He turned sideways to look at her, tucking one leg under the other. “I’m not an idiot,” he said, “even though I know you think I am. I might not be as smart as you or Aksel, but I can see you don’t want to be married to me.” His dark eyes looked sad. To have a girl not falling all over him for once was probably a terrible blow to his pride.

  Elektra felt a little bad. “It’s not personal,” she said, surprised to find the fogginess from the alcohol clearing rapidly.
“You seem very nice, and you’re good-looking. Under other circumstances, I might like being married to you very much.”

  That brought the sparkle back to his eyes. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, at least.”

  “Not at all. Your mother on the other hand ...”

  “She’s tough, isn’t she? I had even less say in the matter than you did.” He shook his head dramatically. “You have no idea how hard it is, having such a powerful woman for a mother.”

  Elektra had to laugh. “I understand that even better than you do. Have you forgotten who my mother is?”

  Jozef chuckled. “You’re right. You’re so unlike the empress, I’d forgotten. I had a rather unpleasant run-in with her.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Elektra said, suddenly interested. “Can you tell me?”

  “Sure. But let’s get more comfortable first.”

  Jozef crawled to the head of the bed, settling against the cushions and arranging a spot for Elektra. Then he told her the story of his captivity and being used as a hostage to keep his mother fighting for Teodora. He’d made friends with Aksel, who’d helped him escape.

  “I’m sorry.” Elektra shook her head. “She’s horrible.”

  “Ah well, neither one of us has to deal with her anymore.”

  “I hope not.”

  Suddenly both of them became conscious of where they were and what was expected of them.

  After a long, awkward silence, Jozef said, “I don’t want to be pushy at all, but my mother insisted this marriage be consummated immediately.”

  Elektra took a deep breath, gulping down a sudden twinge of worry. She felt inexperienced and supposed she was. “How old are you, Jozef?” she asked, realizing that was the first time she’d used his name.

  “Twenty-three,” he said, looking puzzled.

  “So you’re an adult, and no longer dependent on your mother.” Elektra looked directly into his eyes.

  “Well, I’m an adult, but I’m still dependent on her because she pays for everything.” He looked embarrassed.

  “Not anymore,” Elektra said. “I’ll pay from now on.”

  “Even for my hunting stable?”

  “Yes, though we might have to talk about its size.” Seeing alarm in his eyes, she added, “but not right away. It’s something we can discuss later.” She paused, wondering how much more she could say. “It might also be a good idea if you found some kind of work you like. Making money of your own would help us, and you’d be more independent.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was something he cared about at all, though she did. She didn’t want to spend her life with someone like her father, who became more useless than ever after his marriage to her mother.

  “I’m not much good at anything, except hunting and chasing girls.” Jozef smiled wryly. “I suppose I’ll have to stop. The chasing girls bit at least.”

  “Yes, you will.” Elektra fixed a look of mock sternness on him, hoping he didn’t consider her a tyrant. “But hopefully, you’ll be too busy to care about that.” She’d have to think of an occupation for him. “From now on though, we’re together in this, all right?”

  She looked at him more seriously now. “You’re mother might be my employer, but she has no say in what happens between the two of us and how we arrange our lives.”

  A smile spread across Jozef’s face. “I like that idea.” Then he grew serious. “I want us to be friends.” He looked away for a moment, “and I want us to have a real marriage. But I’ve never been with a girl who was unwilling, and I won’t start now. I’m not afraid of my mother.” He appeared resolute until he said, “at least not very.”

  Elektra smiled back. “Good. I’d like to be friends too. And the rest will come in time, I’m sure.”

  “It will.” Jozef lifted an eyebrow. “You won’t be able to resist me for long.” He slid down against the cushions and pulled a coverlet over the two of them.

  Elektra rolled onto her side facing him, fleetingly worried about crushing the dress. “We’ll see about that. You’re annoyingly confident, which I’ve never found attractive.”

  Jozef kept grinning. “I’ll change your mind, don’t worry.”

  Elektra smiled back, and blew out the candle. “Some other time, maybe.”

  Teodora

  Teodora decided she might fool some of her escort by pretending to be docile. Not Sibyla; she wouldn’t believe for a second that Teodora was accepting her fate. But perhaps she might persuade others. So she behaved herself, mostly.

  As a result, Sibyla stopped drugging her so much, and let her sit up as the wagon bounced down the road. The journey itself was boring, since Teodora saw nothing but the canvas of the wagon, the front flap tied down at all times. Her pallet filled the whole wagonbed.

  Her hands remained bound, too, so Teodora spent the empty hours picking at the ropes in vain. Some days she made a little progress, but a soldier came every night and morning to tighten them again.

  “You’re wasting your time, Your Highness,” he said, shaking his head. “The only way to unfasten those knots is to cut them.”

  “Then cut them,” Teodora snapped. “You realize I will have you killed for this, don’t you?”

  The man looked unconcerned, giving one end of the rope a painful yank. “Have to do my duty, anyway.”

  “Your duty is to obey your empress,” Teodora screamed, forgetting the docility plan.

  The man rolled his eyes and left without another word. A servant came later with food, and Teodora said, “Give me the name of that soldier, the one who was here.”

  The servant widened his eyes, shrugged, and left without a word.

  Sibyla arrived to feed her.

  “You can untie my hands,” Teodora said with a sweet smile. “I promise not to escape.”

  Sibyla chuckled as she shook her head, and scooped up a spoonful of porridge, which she deposited into Teodora’s open mouth, like a mother bird feeding her hatchling.

  “Of course you’ll try to escape, Your Highness,” Sibyla said once the food was gone. “It’s in your nature to never accept anything you don’t like. It’s one of the things I love about you. But this is different and you must realize that you need help.”

  “I do not.” Teodora turned her back and slid back under the covers. She’d been working on controlling the monsters, but was never able to hold her breath long enough to get them to do anything. And after several tries, she’d get another terrible headache.

  If only she could get one little flicker of smoke to attack Sibyla right now. It wouldn’t have far to go. But Sibyla left, Teodora unable to touch her.

  Teodora hadn’t seen Daciana in her dreams for some time, though that was likely because of the potion being forced upon her. She prayed that Vica would send her friend to her. “I need help,” she whispered into the dark, appalled at a tear that slipped out of her eye and ran into the corner of her mouth. “Please, Holy Vica, send someone to rescue me.”

  Someone came, but no one Teodora hoped for. She was unsure of their route, but guessed they’d traveled into Isenwald or Podoska, to avoid any armies who might travel north. Still, it seemed there were others about.

  Teodora had fallen asleep one night while it was still early. Once Sibyla forced the potion down her throat there wasn’t much to be done about it. She jerked awake to a scream right by her ear.

  They must be just outside her wagon. Teodora’s eyes flew open, expecting darkness but instead seeing flickering light in the cracks around the wagon’s canvas door. Someone was attacking her camp. She opened her mouth to scream, then thought better of it. Whoever had caused the screaming right outside might come for her next.

  Teodora closed her eyes again, and held her breath. The flickers were weak right now; she was still drugged. A battle roared outside, the pop of musketfire and the clang of swords. Horses neighed and people shouted and screamed.

  She breathed out and tried again, but it was no good. She couldn’t summon a monster right now when she nee
ded one most. Not for the first time, she wondered if the gods existed. What was the point if they wouldn’t do a few simple things to help one of their most faithful servants?

  The sounds of battle diminished and Teodora hoped the attackers had been chased off. Or did she? Soldiers of another army might not know who she was. She might take advantage of that.

  Teodora struggled to sit, then breathed in deeply, forcing herself to relax. She’d wait for someone to come, and depending on who it turned out to be, adjust her story accordingly.

  It seemed the fighting had ended, but there was still considerable commotion outside. A soldier shoved his head into the wagon, thrusting a torch into her face.

  Teodora said, “Careful with that thing. You’ll set the canvas on fire.”

  “Then light a lamp,” the soldier said, peering at her.

  “I can’t.” Teodora smiled, raising her bound hands. “Who’re you fighting for?” It was vital to learn this before revealing her identity.

  “Her Grace Princess Edyta of Podoska,” the man said. “Clearing the kingdom of imperials, who keep wandering over the border, the fools.”

  “Thank the gods,” Teodora said, flinging her head against the pillow. She meant it. Princess Edyta had never laid eyes on her before, so with any luck she could pass herself off as a captured Kronland officer. “I was so worried they’d take me to Brynhild Mattila. I don’t want to think what that horrid witch might do to me,” she added for good measure.

  “Hm,” the man said. “Why don’t you give me your name and I’ll let an officer know you’re here. Might be someone will know who you are.”

  “I’m Major Willa Leckner,” Teodora said, pulling a name from the air.

  “Who were you fighting under?” the man still looked far too suspicious.

  “General Dolf Kalstrom at Heidenhof.” Teodora smiled. “You must have heard of the battle there.”

  “Sure did,” the soldier said. “Come along then.” He offered Teodora a gloved hand.

  She took it, stumbling as she crawled out of the wagon. She hadn’t walked in some time. “Where are we going?”