by Kyle Prue
He opened and closed his mouth, helplessly trying to choke out a few words. After a few seconds, he was able to manage, “It’s Anthony.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
VAPROS BUNKER
NEIL VAPROS
“Who the hell is Carlin Filus?” Sir Vapros shouted. They were all crammed in his office, describing the events that transpired with Lilly Celerius and the carriage. Sir Vapros stood behind his massive desk drumming his fingers, his piercing green eyes staring pointedly at his children. His sleeves were rolled up, and it was possible to see more of his tattoos. Neil couldn’t help but think about how many lives they represented. There was one in the shape of a broken sword on his forearm and Neil was willing to bet it had come from a Celerius.
Neil shifted uncomfortably in his seat and finally said, “He’s the second in command in the Imperial Army. Or, he was, until the general was murdered. Now he’s number one.” The Vapros network of informants worked swiftly and efficiently.
“He has power,” Jennifer said. “He can get around certain laws.”
Sir Vapros sat down in his black leather chair, rubbing his hand thoughtfully over his black and grey stubbled chin. “So what does this mean?”
Neil seized his opportunity. “The Celerius servant gave me this,” he said, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and passing it across the table. “It’s a document Carlin wrote up. It authorizes all crimes committed by the Brotherhood of the Slums.”
“Only crimes against the families,” Rhys corrected.
“So their attack on the Celerius house that night was legal,” Neil finished hurriedly.
Sir Vapros was quiet. He held the document in both hands and scanned the lines several times. “Crimes against the families,” he repeated slowly. “All the families?”
Rhys nodded. Sir Vapros let out a snarl of fury and turned his hands to smoke, consuming the paper and turning it to ash.
“We’re going to be next,” Jennifer drawled, looking at her fingernails. “The Celerius were robbed and there’s a Taurlum in the dungeons. We’re the only ones who haven’t been touched yet.”
“We have been touched,” Sir Vapros said. “Our records keeper was murdered. They found his body this morning.”
“Records,” Neil said thoughtfully. “That was what was in the Celerius carriage: boxes of their records. That’s what the Brotherhood tried to take.”
Sir Vapros looked at Neil for the first time. He really looked at him and seemed to truly appreciate his son’s contribution to the conversation. “It’s a legitimate connection,” he said. “What would this Carlin want with family records?”
Rhys frowned slightly and joined in. “I have a theory. What if Carlin wants to study us? Track our habits, find out about our businesses and discover how we go about our daily lives. But he hasn’t actually attacked us. What if he isn’t the main threat? What if he’s a spy for someone more important?” He turned to Neil. “You said the emperor was acting strangely.”
Jennifer interrupted. “There’s no motive,” she said flatly. “The emperor is already the most powerful man in Altryon. What can he gain by starting a war with us?”
Rhys said. “Maybe he’s afraid we’ll try to take over again, like the old days.”
Sir Vapros turned to Neil. “You talked to him. Did anything seem out of the ordinary?”
Neil ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, he was incredibly creepy,” he admitted. “He acted cold, but that’s not unusual for him. He played games and clearly had been beating that poor servant. He tried to make me uncomfortable.” Suddenly, a memory tugged at his brain. “But his wife acted distant, too, and that’s unusual for her. He did say he was going to retaliate against the Taurlum; it’s not unreasonable to assume we could be next.”
“Rhys,” Sir Vapros said suddenly, “I want you to look into the Taurlum records. See if anything’s happened to them.”
Now that missions were being assigned, Jennifer, who was much more interested in the discussion, asked, “Why don’t we have someone gather information on the Brotherhood? I can find out how Carlin got them in his pocket.”
“He probably offered them food,” Neil said. “Things are so bad in the slums now—”
“Neil,” Sir Vapros snapped. “Enough.” Neil closed his mouth. “I care about my family, not the poor. If the emperor decides to make an enemy out of the Vapros family, then we will strike him down and leave his throne in ashes. I hope he’s not that stupid.” Sir Vapros left the room. Jennifer followed.
Neil leaned over and whispered to Rhys, “Do you actually think we have a chance of defeating the emperor?”
Rhys thought for a moment, and then said. “Not alone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IMPERIAL PALACE
CARLIN FILUS
Carlin watched the Emperor and his servant nonchalantly playing chess. He was sweating. They’d done a very bold thing today in sending Anthony Celerius’s ashes to his family home. The Emperor, however, seemed unfazed by the possible danger they could face at the hands of the Celerius family.
Anthony had told Carlin a lot about his father over their years as friends and rivals. According to Anthony, Sir Celerius had always been one for following procedure. He tried his utmost to do everything as correctly and politely as possible, without breaking rules or endangering his honor. Reputation was, for a Celerius, the most important thing for a man to protect. Bodies died, but reputations lived forever.
Today, all formalities were abandoned. No one had ever barged in on the emperor before; Sir Celerius made himself the first.
“You bastard!” he screamed, charging into the throne room without even so much as a knock.
The emperor didn’t even look up from his chessboard. “Check, Saewulf.”
Carlin stood and drew his sword but the Emperor waved him away. Carlin stepped back but kept his sword at the ready. “You had my son murdered!” Sir Celerius shouted. The emperor raised a hand for silence, but his enraged visitor ignored it and continued ranting. “You invaded my home and put my daughter’s life in danger. Are you trying to destroy my family? After we have been nothing but loyal to you for all these years? I heard the rumors, but I never thought you could be this ruthless.”
The man called Saewulf moved his queen diagonally a few spaces. The emperor pondered a moment, hovering his hand over a few different pieces as he tried to decide on a move. “Have you met Saewulf?” he asked calmly.
Celerius knocked the chessboard across the room. “You killed my son!” he roared. “You had his ashes sent to my house in a box!”
Sighing, the emperor finally looked up at the furious man. “Saewulf is my humble servant,” he explained. “He looks different, doesn’t he? We’ve realized how special he is. We’ve gotten him all cleaned up, and I’m starting to look at him in a new light. I used to play chess with myself, you know.”
Celerius, breathing hard, looked at Saewulf. His body was unmarked by the bruises that usually covered servants around here. He had orange hair that had been pulled back away from his face. His skin looked rough and tan as if from constant work in the sun. Celerius snarled, “I don’t care about your servant.” He drew his sword. “I’ll kill you all! I’ll kill you myself! You’re unarmed and this poor excuse for a general, couldn’t stop me if he tried!” he yelled gesturing dismissively at Carlin. “It will be easy. It will be a pleasure.”
The emperor gazed at him with an expression that almost looked like boredom. Carlin approached Sir Celerius from behind but he lashed out in a wide arc and Carlin backtracked a few steps. “Is this a genuine threat?” the Emperor asked.
Sir Celerius made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob and lunged with his sword.
Suddenly, he was in the air, suspended as if from unnoticeable wires. He struggled to break free, but the most he could do was swing his sword harmlessly three feet from the emperor’s head. “What’s happening?” he screamed.
“What the
…” Carlin trailed off. This was something he’d never seen before.
The emperor nodded toward Saewulf. The servant had his arms raised, palms facing Celerius, holding him immobile with some invisible force. “What’s happening?” the emperor echoed vaguely as Saewulf silently held Celerius in place. “What’s happening indeed, my dear Celerius? I’ve been wondering exactly that. What’s happening behind the closed doors of the families? Are they planning to overthrow me and climb back to the top? Are they plotting ways to kill my Captain of the Guard? Who will they hurt next with their ambition? Me?” He looked pointedly at the sword still dangling from his prisoner’s hand. “That would be a shame.”
Sir Celerius dropped his sword with a clatter. There were tears in his eyes.
“A shame, indeed,” the emperor said. Saewulf’s eyes had turned frighteningly black. “I’ll take care of your family once you’re gone,” the emperor promised. "Don't you worry.”
Saewulf punched straight through Sir Celerius’s chest, destroying his heart so thoroughly that even his ability to heal was not quick enough to save him.
The emperor rose and walked over to the body, which Saewulf had let fall to the floor. “What a pity,” he said softly, nudging the corpse with his toe. “Saewulf, gather the chess pieces.”
His servant obeyed. “I was about to beat you, too,” Saewulf complained in a raspy voice as he set up the pawns with bloodied hands.
Carlin stared at the servant in awe. “How long… how long has he been able to do that?”
The emperor ignored Carlin as he smiled and gestured to Saewulf to make the first move. “We should try to get through this game before the siege,” he said methodically. “There won’t be much time afterwards.”
The servant moved a pawn forward two spaces. “We’ll have to finish quickly,” he said. “It all begins tonight, after all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
VAPROS BUNKER
NEIL VAPROS
Neil lay on his back in the bunk bed he shared with his brother, staring up at the mattress over his head. He’d been lying here for hours, unable to fall asleep. “You still awake?” he whispered to the darkness.
“Yeah.” The mattress shifted, and Rhys’s head appeared over the side of the top bunk. “Do you really think the emperor is coming after us?”
“I hope not.”
“But do you think it’s likely?” Rhys’s eyes were wide with something close to fear. It was an expression Neil hadn’t seen since he was five years old, when Rhys had still been afraid of the dark. Neil had always let him crawl into bed with him, acting like a tough older brother, but secretly a little scared himself.
“I think it’s likely,” Neil said, wishing he had a different answer.
“Do you think he’d kill us?”
Neil wanted so badly to say no, but chose, “I don’t know. He never seemed all that evil before, but people wear masks.” The man made of marble wasn’t ruthless or tough the way the Taurlum were, but he had a cold, inhuman kind of mercilessness according to his enemies. If his plans were to destroy the families, he would not hesitate to murder everyone in his path. “If he attacks us, will you stay and fight?”
Rhys didn’t answer.
“I think I would run,” Neil said to break the silence. “I don’t stand a chance against the emperor’s forces.”
“What you’re describing is desertion,” Rhys said quietly.
“Is it, though?” Neil sat up and whispered, “We were born into this. We never took an oath. We never made any promises. Everything we’ve done so far was out of loyalty, hatred, or revenge.”
“I’d leave, too,” Rhys whispered. “Going up against the emperor is suicide. I’d go with you.” He gave a little, disbelieving laugh. “We’re talking about abandoning our family, Neil.”
Neil’s thoughts flashed to Darius Taurlum, who got to drink with his family every night, and then to Bianca, who didn’t have any family left to abandon. “To be honest, we aren’t exactly the closest knit family around,” Neil said.
Rhys looked at him. “You think?”
“I’ve gathered a few clues over the years.” Neil fiddled with the edge of his comforter. “So it’s decided? If this turns into a war, we run?”
“We run,” Rhys confirmed. “And then we’d live in the slums, I guess.”
Neil closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them as wide as he could to stave off sleepiness. “What about . . . beyond the wall?”
Rhys scrunched up his eyebrows and recited:
“There is no story sadder than that of little Billy.
He thought he’d have adventures if he could leave the city.
He made it through the wall and quickly lost his head-
For the savages were waiting and they cut him up instead.”
“Don’t quote the emperor’s nursery rhymes at me,” Neil said.
“You know what’s beyond the wall … desert, desert, and savages. Why do you think people who are exiled are forced to leave the wall? Because it’s certain death, Neil, certain death.”
“But where did the savages come from?” Neil pressed. “They have to be from villages. They have to have families. Otherwise, they would’ve died out. We can’t be the only city out there.”
“Even if there are other cities, we’d die of hunger—or stab wounds—before we made it anywhere. Altryon is in the middle of a wasteland. It’s a fact. I’ve read about it. It’s essentially suicide.”
“Staying here is just as much of a suicide, if this turns to war. At least out there, we’d have a chance—”
“No, Neil, there is no chance.”
“But if there was, just think about it for a second. What if there are other civilizations? And what if there are civilizations where they’ve never heard of the Man with the Golden Light, or the families, or the feud, or any of it?”
Rhys said, “It’s a nice thought. I’d love to leave behind the feud. I get the feeling Dad sort of likes keeping it alive. He adds fuel to the fire sometimes. Like when he sent you out to kill a Taurlum. It wasn’t necessary. It was just to rile them up.” He yawned. “It’s all part of his hatred. I’d like that to go away, I think. No more assassinations. No more strategizing. No more plotting.”
“I thought you loved to plot, Rhys.”
“I do. But sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to.” There was a long pause, before Rhys spoke again. “We should bring Victoria.”
“Yeah, of course,” Neil said as he buried his face in his pillow. “She’d love a world like that.”
Rhys let out a yawn. “So it’s decided. If a war starts, we get the hell out of here.”
“We get the hell out of here,” Neil confirmed quietly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CELERIUS ESTATE
LILLY CELERIUS
Lilly felt like this horrible day would never end. Those meddling Vapros had attacked her carriage, and then she had returned home to the horror of seeing her brother’s ashes hand-delivered in a box. Her father had raced out to heaven knows where in a blind rage.
Lilly made a habit of refusing to drink. She hated alcohol, hated its taste and its side effects and the headache it caused the next day, but tonight was an exception to the rule. Her brother was dead. Anthony, who had long ago promised to protect her no matter what, was gone, just like the rumors had said he would be.
It didn’t even feel real yet, maybe because they only saw each other on special occasions. If she tried, she could almost convince herself that he was still alive and well at the military base. But the truth always settled back in like dust over her skin, and never again would she see that big, toothy grin he reserved just for her, or hear his belly laugh, or feel his strong embrace. She was already forgetting the color of his eyes.
She poured herself another glass of wine. She was being silly. Death was just a part of life. She’d lost people before. Before today, the one that had hit her the hardest was her brother, Edward, victim of an assassination a few yea
rs ago. He had been found dead in his bed; they never did find out who was behind the murder. His death had crushed her. But time had eased that pain; this loss was fresh, new, agonizing. And this time, she knew exactly who had taken the victim away from her.
“Miss,” Jonathan said quietly. “I think you’ve had enough.”
She looked right at him and drained the glass, daring him to speak again. “They sent my brother’s ashes in a box,” she said hoarsely, refilling the goblet and wishing her house had something stronger than wine. “Killing him wasn’t good enough. They had to burn him and scoop him into a box and send him home.” She was out of tears. She gripped her glass and whispered, “I can’t believe I have lost another brother.”
“No more wine,” Jonathan said quietly as he reached for the bottle.
She said something under her breath.
“Pardon?”
She made eye contact and said with steely resolve, “He dies.”
Jonathan touched the buttons on his coat nervously and asked, “Who?”
Lilly threw her full glass against the fireplace. It shattered. “Carlin, and I’m going to cut out his black heart and burn it to ash, same as he did to Anthony.”
Jonathan was quiet for a moment. “Good,” he finally replied.
If Lilly had been able to feel anything but fury and numbness, she would have been surprised. Jonathan was not the vengeful type. “He will regret the day he betrayed my family.”
Jonathan went to fetch another glass from the cabinet. He filled it halfway with water and offered it to her. “I’d love to be there when it happens,” he said.
She ignored the water and took a gulp of wine, straight from the bottle. She glanced at Jonathan. It was improper to create a bond with a servant and she’d always been told to avoid treating Jonathan like a part of the family. However, the constant dedication and support that he showed her made that a difficult task. “I want everyone there,” she said finally.
