by Terah Edun
Thanar frowned. “I don’t think you understand.”
“Understand what?” Ciardis said with a hitch in her voice.
“The rules of the ley line traps for the other nexus points are the same for the fifth one keyed to the blood imperial,” Thanar said in a practical voice. “The person must have died to serve as a focus.”
Ciardis dropped her glass. The liquor splattered all over the floor and she didn’t even look down.
“You cannot be serious,” she said. “You want to kill Sebastian?”
“Of course not,” Thanar said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Your precious prince heir is safe.”
“I’m right here,” Sebastian snapped. “Well, if you don’t intend to kill me, Thanar, then what exactly do you plan to do?”
Thanar looked them both over with wide, innocent eyes. “Why, resurrect the dead Emperor, of course.”
21
Ciardis replayed Thanar’s last seven words over and over again in her head. As if she studied them long enough, they would change shape and reform into something that made sense. Something that wasn’t what the daemoni prince had said without a trace of humor in his voice. Something that didn’t end with them resurrecting the man who made all their lives a living hell for the past two years, a man who had abandoned his empire time and again without a shred of morality, a man who had killed more than one of his blood relatives, a man who had sentenced Ciardis’s friends and family to imprisonment and then death with a snap of his brusque fingers.
What felt like hours in her head as the lies and the anguish flowed through her mind were only seconds in real time.
By the time her eyes refocused and she had some control over her facial expressions again, Thanar had focused his gaze onto the prince heir.
He’s waiting for Sebastian to explode, Ciardis thought.
She took a quick look at Thanar, but she was about half certain he hadn’t suggested all of this for his own amusement. He was serious in his insistence that this needs to be done, she thought wearily.
That seriousness quieted her automatic protest. What could she say, after all? Besides, this was about more than her personal feelings toward the Emperor; it was about Sebastian’s bloodline.
So she, too, looked over at the prince heir. He seemed to be making his best effort to not rise out of his seat and launch himself across the table at Thanar.
A minute of silence passed in the tense room. Ciardis watched Sebastian carefully as they waited for his response. His hands were splayed against the dark polished wood at the head of the table.
But instead of panic, his voice held barely controlled fury.
“No,” the prince heir said flatly. “Not happening.”
Thanar said in a persuasive voice, “It’s the only way.”
“The only way for what?” scoffed the prince heir. “For us to be thrown back into the hell that was this entire year?”
Thanar gave him an irritated look. “The only way to be beat back a goddess’s army. Look, I know your hatred of him. It is second only to my own. The meddling imperial was a thorn in all our sides and took far too much happiness in setting out long-game plans that thwarted our efforts at every turn.”
“You almost sound like you admire him,” Ciardis interjected bitterly.
“I do,” admitted Thanar while sparing her a glance. “I admire him the way I admire a venomous black adder. Beautiful in its execution, deadly in its grace. He had to die; there was no other choice at the time. He was a wild card.”
Ciardis drummed her fingers on the table and said sarcastically, “May I remind you that the man you’re discussing died less than seventy-two hours ago?”
Thanar didn’t rise to anger at the bite in her voice. Instead he just waved his fingers and admitted, “So I was angry. We all were. That was then. This is now.”
“By the seven gods,” Ciardis said as she pinched her brow in annoyance. “It’s not as simple as that.”
“It’s as simple as I make it,” Thanar said. “He was just a man in need of a lesson. A not so permanent one now that we need him, might I add.”
“He was the sitting Emperor and a maniac,” Sebastian shouted. “We were lucky enough that the conclave backed our actions as a necessary tactic against a madman and didn’t try to string us up alongside him.”
“We were also lucky to kill him in the first place,” Ciardis said. “We were only able to because he likes to toy with his food before eating it and he let his guard down.”
“I know all that,” Thanar said slowly through thin lips. “Considering it was I that dealt the death blow.”
“Then you should remember the torturous hours that preceded it just fine,” said Sebastian.
“Oh, I do,” said Thanar. “I do. But bringing someone back from the dead is different from just holding him prisoner. We will have the upper hand.”
“How?” Ciardis asked in a disbelieving voice. “He will still be the Emperor for all intents and purposes as well as in control of the empire.”
“You’re wrong,” said Thanar.
“She is?” asked Sebastian.
“Just as succession from Emperor to prince heir is very specific,” said Thanar in a careful voice, “it also cannot be undone. He died. He doesn’t just retake his place on the throne.”
Ciardis gulped. “And his mage gifts?”
Thanar smiled. “Hampered. Even better than that, under my control—as long as certain conditions are met.”
“And what would those be?” asked Sebastian slowly.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Thanar loftily.
Sebastian slammed a hand down on the table. “It does. You will tell us everything now, because I did not just spend two entire days enclosed in a room hammering out fine details with angry conclave members for you to undo them with your follies.”
Ciardis spared Sebastian a look of admiration for the strength in his voice.
The boy prince heir was more and more growing into the man who would have the strength to run an empire.
Thanar paused and then apparently decided any objection he had wasn’t worth the extended fight.
For the next twenty minutes, she and Sebastian listened with rapt attention as he first explained how he would “wake” each individual but pay special attention to the Emperor, wrapping him in mage chains forged by past occultists and specially inscribed to cut off a mage’s gift; how Maradian would be hungry for power to feed his soul and therefore weakened after being revived; and how Thanar would not only shield him from outside contact but occlude his mind—which he had to do because unlike the rest, Maradian wouldn’t be a sleepwalker.
It was a lot of preparation.
In Ciardis’s eyes, it may be just enough to stave off a madman.
“So we’re agreed, then,” she finally said reluctantly.
Sebastian spoke up. “There needs to be stipulations.”
Thanar raised an eyebrow. “There will be.”
Sebastian looked him directly in the eye. “I wasn’t talking about Maradian.”
Thanar sat silent. Still. Waiting.
Slowly Sebastian continued with a pained grimace, “Thanar, can I ask you a question?”
The daemoni prince shrugged. “You’re going to anyway.” His tone was reserved, polite even.
Ciardis was relieved. At least they were still being civil.
“Why did you kill him if you knew he needed to be resurrected?” Sebastian slowly swirled the drink in his hand.
They all heard the question—it was direct and unforgiving. But to Ciardis it wasn’t just a query. Emotions were layered under it. Anger, resentment, even envy.
She wasn’t sure if Sebastian was looking for an answer or just insight into Thanar’s mindset.
Maybe both, she decided with a shiver. This could decide if Sebastian is ready to trust Thanar’s plan. Even more than that…it will tell us who Thanar is, what his motivations in this resurrection really are. Because make no mistake—you
don’t reanimate an Emperor for jollies.
“Because,” said the daemoni prince carefully, “it was fun at the time. He needed to be shown a lesson. Shown that he was not omnipotent and that he could be killed. Back when my people were more…numerous, we used to do this with prisoners all the time. Bring them to the brink of death, carve into them until their throats were too raw from screaming to utter more than a moan, kill them, and reanimate them.”
Even as she shuddered Ciardis couldn’t help but ask, “And then what?”
A chill filled the air as Thanar smiled at her. “Start all over again, of course.”
Sebastian said slowly, “And do you plan to do the same to Maradian?”
Thanar gave him a raised eyebrow and tilted his head. “Do you plan to stop me?”
Sebastian replied quietly, “I was hoping to join in.”
A light bloomed in Thanar’s eyes, and a small smile graced his face. “Well, well, Prince Heir, I didn’t know you had it in you,” he said gleefully.
Sebastian took a long drink and looked him directly in the eyes as he said, “After the mess he’s left me to pick up in this empire, he deserves a lifetime of torture and reanimation.”
Thanar’s smile broadened and he toasted Sebastian congenially. “I’ll drink to that.”
Ciardis dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “You two are unbelievable.”
The slightly drunk prince heir exclaimed, “What? You wanted us to get along.”
Ciardis’s barely audible voice answered him from amidst her hands. “Not over this. Go fishing, by the seven gods. Go enjoy a long hunt. Don’t bond over torture.”
“Apologies, Golden Eyes,” Thanar said with too much cheer. “You don’t get to dictate the terms of friendship among the bondmates.”
Ciardis raised her eyes and gave him an evil glare.
He just grinned and Sebastian sat back in his chair with a satisfied thump.
A plaintive voice sounded through the closed doors leading to the antechambers. “My lords and ladies, perhaps we can finish our meeting so that your members can retire for the evening.”
Before Ciardis could say a word, Sebastian barked back through the door, “We’re at war, man. No one goes home!”
Ciardis looked over at him in surprise.
Sebastian looked back at her with displeasure.
Thanar said, “Well, someone’s grumpy.”
Sebastian leveled a glare at him. “I’d mind your tongue, you bat-winged idiot. I’ve half a mind to throw you in the dungeon and be done with this.”
They raised their glasses at each other.
“To the empire,” said Thanar sardonically.
“To the empire,” said Sebastian.
Then they laughed together.
“We’re doomed if you two are friends now,” Ciardis muttered a few minutes later. She contemplated letting the poor conclave members in, but their discussion wasn’t over.
And it’s not just the discussion, Ciardis thought somberly as she looked at the two males. Something fundamental had changed in the room tonight. It was the beginning of something more. Ciardis wasn’t sure if that newness was a good or bad thing, but it beat always being at each other’s throats.
It was something she couldn’t really linger on, because they still had more work to do, regardless of the restless individuals waiting outside their door.
“There’s more to discuss,” Thanar finally said when he spoke again.
Ciardis sat back in her chair and stared into the distance resolutely. She was listening, hearing, gathering her thoughts as the plans unfolded in the room that felt far too small for such a humongous set of affairs.
Affairs that were guaranteed to rock the entire empire.
When they finished talking it through, she was rubbing her eyes from the strain. “Is that all?” she asked wearily.
“Well,” Thanar said dubiously, “that takes care of the goddess’s army, but we still must take care of the deity herself.”
Sebastian’s lips twitched in mirth. “Of course we must.”
“That was only half the battle plan?” Ciardis questioned as her eye twitched, and she felt like she was going to split in two.
Thanar nodded solemnly. “But I suggest we let the conclave back in to take care of the rest.”
“Naturally,” said Sebastian in a dry tone.
Before either could move to open the doors, Ciardis said, “Wait!”
Both princes eyed her askance.
“What?” blurted Sebastian.
“We’re supposed to be furious with each other still,” said Ciardis.
“Why?” asked Thanar, miffed.
She looked at him pointedly. “Because that’s how this discussion got started. Besides, it’s not like it’ll be all that hard to fake anger. I feel like stabbing you in the eye for this ludicrous plan myself.”
Thanar’s lips twitched, but he gracefully held back the mocking laughter she just knew he wanted to unleash.
“Fine, but you know we’re going to have to make this argument look good for the conclave, right?” said Sebastian slowly while looking at them.
Thanar smiled and tipped his glass at him.
“Do you need us to say anything in particular?” Sebastian asked while smoothing his expression over as much as he could.
Ciardis snapped, “No, just be your usual annoying selves.”
Thanar gave a half bow. “As my mistress commands.”
Ciardis rolled her eyes and muttered, “You wish.”
When they both started laughing after sharing a completely male-only look, she almost lost her temper at them. They weren’t allowed to bond in their shared mockery of her—that went against the rules.
Thanar blithely asked, “What rules?”
“My rules,” Ciardis snapped.
Sebastian let out muffled laughter and she shook her head in irritation. She knew, however, that sometimes laughter was the one thing that could ease the tension in the room, and recognizing that kept her head high and she only glared at them for good measure. Right now she was just glad the room was warded against outside spies. Only someone specifically invited over for conversation, or addressed directly as Sebastian had, should be able to hear through the antechamber doors.
With a muttered “men,” Ciardis stood from the table with a slightly unsteady pitch.
Sebastian reached out to her from across the table with a concerned “Are you all right?”
She waved him away and went to the glass cart to procure another bottle. Waving it triumphantly with a grin, she turned around. “Nothing a detoxification mix won’t cure.”
Thanar snorted. “Humans, such lightweights.”
But he didn’t turn down the glass she handed him silently as he made his way to the outer doors to let the others back in.
Just as Thanar rested his hand on the latch and Sebastian made his way back to the head of the table, the daemoni prince looked over at her and asked in a low voice, “Are you ready for what is coming?”
She looked over at him somberly. “I don’t think any of us are.”
He said nothing more as he opened the doors and the sounds of more tired voices swept over them.
22
When the conclave members started to file into the room, no small majority looked relieved. Ciardis briefly wondered if they had thought the triumvirate would kill each other if locked in the room too long.
Or perhaps they’re just as exhausted as we all look, she thought.
The powerful group of nobles, merchants, and kith took their seats. Some with resentful looks at being kept out in the anteroom like petitioners, but none of them had left; the headcount when they had all exited the room was the exact same number as the individuals who reentered now.
They got back down to work. With internal agreement from Sebastian and Ciardis, Thanar laid out his plan. Leaving out certain key and concerning details, but giving the conclave a broad idea of what was necessary to accomplish the
battle plan.
When Sebastian asked for opinions, one of the first voices to speak up was his majordomo.
“I-I have to agree with the daemoni prince, Sire,” he said.
There was a chorus of ayes and surprisingly, at least to Ciardis, no dissents. When she looked around the room, all she saw was grim determination.
They are finally ready to do what needs to be done, she thought.
Minutes passed into an hour, and faces were waning as they all inched toward utter exhaustion. But there was also a crackle of anticipation in the air. Even impatience.
There’s strength in planning. In resistance. It gives them purpose, she realized.
More than purpose. It makes them feel like they’re in charge. As if they’re powerful, Sebastian said in a tired whisper. It was almost an afterthought; she had the feeling he didn’t even realize he was entering her mind unbidden.
More powerful than a goddess? she thought back at him with slight trepidation.
She wanted reassurance just as much as the individuals who had surrounded the conclave table did. The difference was that she, as the future Empress-to-be and the coleader of the empire, couldn’t show it publicly.
Sebastian, like no other person could, understood that. He was a calming presence in this storm…for them all, not just herself, she was coming to realize. There was a smile in the prince heir’s mental awareness as he replied softly, That’s the beauty of man. We think we can defeat anything. Mortal or immortal.
She didn’t have a concrete reply to that, whether to call their compatriots foolish or resourceful. As she looked around the room and stretched slightly, she had the inclination to call them a bit of both.
Regardless, neither fools nor clever men could implement a plan like this without rest and readiness. It felt about time to call this conclave meeting to a close. They had done all they could do for the time being. Hashed out plans as hastily as they could, shared resources on old magic and new, and found bonds between classes and races that until now, most would have said were natural-born enemies.
