by Devin Madson
‘You would mark your own brother?’
‘How sentimental you sound, yes?’ His hand did not waver. ‘There is no point in fighting me, Endymion. Avarice is just outside. Whether you give it to me or not, I will take what is mine. Your hand.’
For a wild moment I thought to scream, to call for Katashi, but it was too late. I had kept my secret and chosen my fate.
I looked at Darius, still motionless upon the divan. Now I knew how it felt to be hunted as he had been, dragged back into the family fold. Gods knew what he would do when he woke. If he woke. I could still feel his strength tingling on my fingers. Had he known? Had he known that I could have so easily killed him? Perhaps it was what he had wanted.
Malice was still waiting. ‘Do not make me do this by force,’ he said. ‘It is so very unpleasant, yes?’
‘For me or for you?’
‘What do you think?’
There was nowhere to go. Darius would not wake. Katashi would not help me, would perhaps condemn to me to my fate if he knew the truth.
Malice lifted one eyebrow. ‘Well? What is it to be, Endymion?’
Regret like I had never felt before sunk my heart. I had been a fool. I had trusted the wrong brother.
I took his hand.
‘Only because I have no choice,’ I said. ‘If you had told me the truth, told me who I really was, then none of this would have been necessary. I told you your word meant piss.’
‘You would have trusted Darius instead? Oh poor, Endymion. There is no one you can trust. Least of all Darius Laroth.’
The connection flared. It was not of my making, its touch aggressive, alien, a painful pulse shooting up my arm. My lips parted in a gasp and I tried to pull away, but Malice’s fingers clamped tight. ‘Don’t fight me, Endymion,’ he said. ‘Or I will make it hurt.’
I could not fight. I had no shield as Darius had, no control over the Empathy that leached from my body. There was nothing I could do but scream as Malice’s heart rammed into mine with all the violence of a monster in the night.
You’re mine now, Endymion, the whisper said. Gods will rule this empire. The Whisperers have returned.
He let go.
My hand slid from his, every breath coming hard and fast as I backed away across the room. I touched my chest. He was still there, inside me, his fist clenched around my heart. I wanted to claw it out, to dig my fingers into my ribs and tear every trace of him from my body, but there was nothing tangible, nothing real.
From the other side of the room, Malice watched me, a little smile curling his lips. ‘Well, brother, shall we go?’
* * *
Sun shone through the crimson windows, turning everything the colour of blood. It touched faces and turned pale robes red.
Upon the throne Katashi sat like a returning god, dressed in a crimson robe that pooled about his feet. From a distance it could have been Kin himself, but for the black sash and the tall, graceful curve of Hatsukoi rising behind him. Hundreds held their breath. They had come for one emperor only to see another, neither the rightful heir.
It was my throne. I was Takehiko Otako. Even Kimiko had called me the true heir, though she had spoken without knowing the whole truth. Laroth and Otako in one skin and a world of whispers in my head. And now Malice, with his taint upon my heart.
The high priest lowered the Hian Crown onto Katashi’s head. The old man’s hands were shaking. Only Katashi looked calm, his hands resting easily on the lacquered arms of the throne. Across the room I could see Hana, a pale form in subdued silk. My sister. There was something familiar about her face, about those golden curls and that faraway expression. She looked so alone. I wished I could go to her, but my feet stayed rooted to the floor at Malice’s side.
Katashi began to speak, and from north to south, from mountain to fen, the whole empire held its breath.
‘Here before witnesses, I take the Imperial Oath,’ he said, his voice carrying with ease. ‘To Kisia I give my strength. To Kisia I give my heart. In service to the empire I am nothing. I have no coin. I have no blood. I will protect her from foes, from famine and from plague. Here and now before the divinity of the gods, I give myself to her. In duty, I am Kisia.’
Applause. It rose to the rafters, though there was uncertainty in the watching faces. Katashi had given them no body. Kin was alive, and even in the north he had supporters.
Armed Pikes watched the crowd. Every man and woman present would be asked to take the oath, and what would happen to those who refused? There had been no remorse for Kin’s guards, no mercy for the courtiers whose heads now decorated the gallery.
Beside me, Malice watched, his fingers clenched around the tail of his hair. We were the gods. The empire belonged to us.
When Darius woke, Kisia would bleed.
The story continues…
Book 2 of The Vengeance Trilogy
The Gods of Vice
Two emperors. One empire.
The war for the Crimson Throne has split Kisia. In the north, Otako supporters rally around their champion, but Katashi Otako wants only vengeance. Caught in the middle, Hana must decide between her family and her heart. Is the true emperor the man the people want? Or the one they need?
As the true heir to the throne, Endymion remains hidden in plain sight, but the Vices know his secret. Malice, scheming to restore the empire to the rule of gods, plans a coup that will tear Kisia apart if Endymion does not find a way to escape. But he is running out of time. His Empathy is consuming him. It grows stronger with every use, spreading him so thin there will soon be nothing left – nothing but the monster he fears to become. When gods fight, empires fall.
The storm is coming.
December 2013
Acknowledgements
The initial inspiration for The Blood of Whisperers came from two sayings. The first was the Confucian saying:
‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.’
And the other a Chinese proverb:
‘When two tigers fight one walks away terribly wounded, the other is dead.’
I wanted to write something with this honesty in mind, and so The Vengeance Trilogy was born. It has been a long and very difficult journey, but we made it, no little thanks to the people who have shared the adventure with me. Writing the first draft of a novel is a very solitary experience, but taking that draft through beta reads and edits and producing a finished product involves a lot of amazing people, all dedicated to the same goal.
So first and foremost, I would like to thank my parents, Louise and Andrew, for their constant love and support, and for not minding when I call at midnight just for the company because I’m up late working – again.
To my husband for all the hours he is left to man the fort without me, and for all the times he thinks he is talking to me, but my mind is someone else entirely. He never gets tired of hearing about my worlds and my characters and listening to me read aloud, and if he does, he doesn’t let me know it.
To my two little girls, for being the light of my life. I never tire of hearing your views on the world, so simple and yet so true, and you never fail to make me smile even on the blackest of days.
Amanda! You are the prince of editors (princess doesn’t suit you…). Never could I have dreamed of a better partnership than what we have, a friendship I now could not imagine being without. You are equally crazy and amazing, and I hope you will put up with me for many many more books to come.
In regards to the book production, I would like to say a humongous thank you to the art/design team behind The Vengeance Trilogy. To Viktor, for producing the most beautiful depiction of Katashi Otako for the cover that I could ever imagine. To Isabelle for all the hours of design work it took to get it all right. And to Dave for bringing my vision to life on the inside pages, you are a true gem!
Thank you to my team of am
azing beta readers – Natasha, Carl, Chris, Dave, Kath and Louise. And an extra special thanks to Chris and Dave for all the times ‘a minute of your time’ became an hour. Your knowledge and patience have been truly inspirational.
A huge thankyou to Lauren Mitchell, and to Dan Allan (book arsonist and vampire bat). And to Jess and Stef Cola at the View Point Handmade Gallery in Bendigo, for being awesome supporters of all things artsy and all things Bendigo.
An extra amazing thank you to Jessica and Julian Avelsgaard, David Hosking, Kim Bartels and Riyadh Bawa.
And the most important part of all, for helping me raise the funds to see these books produced to a professional standard, I would like to thank all of these amazing people:
Chris Themelco
Jason Maricchiolo
Geoff Brown
Christopher Phillips
Peter Farnaby
Janet Farnaby
Jaana Sauso
David Young
A.C. Flory
Boyce Yates
Matthew Santilli
Col Hoad
Dana Lee
Jessica Cola
Maarja Valdmann
David Stott
Fiona Wright
Dan Allan
Jack Heath
Rebecca Dominguez
Keiko Maber
Stefania Cola
Emma Knights
Lauren O’Brien
David Hosking
Anja Sauso
Jullian Sauso-Bawa
Louise and Andrew Stott
Judy Gersch
Foz Shanahan
Jarryd Fell
Grant Adam
Luke Smith
Tamara Bond
Shari Bird
Marie Berry
Gisela Guillian
Lara Whitehead
Riyadh Bawa
Kim Bartels
Phil Randall
Brendan Hill
Tom and Caryn Avelsgaard
Jessica and Julian Avelsgaard
Kath and Don Macqueen
Jos Roder
Kristin Stefanoff
Cecil and Lynette Stott
Amanda J Spedding
Carl and Natasha Weibgen
Genevieve Callaghan
Lisa Lawrence
Andrew Bunnell
Rachael Gunn
