“For the love of what?” Keiran asked, leaning onto the table.
Kayla took a long breath. While Keiran had seen into her mind, she hadn’t seen into his in return. She didn’t know how much, if anything, he knew about his mother. Surely, Turis Lee wouldn’t have volunteered anything. Besides, there were things Turis Lee never knew about Ilana.
“I don’t mean to shock you,” she said gently, “but you’re not Ilana’s only son.”
Keiran blinked, one corner of his mouth creeping up. “Indeed I’m not. My brother Garhan was born first.”
Kayla’s hands splayed onto the table, and she leaned forward. “What? You know of him? How? She never told anyone in the castle about him but me!”
“I went to Aleria last spring,” Keiran said, his smile not fading. “I learned of him quite by accident.”
She gave a slow blink, straightening up. “How?”
Keiran recounted the entire event to her. Kayla listened in rapt silence to all of it, only nodding at key points in the story.
When Keiran had finished, she shook her head and ran her hands over the surface of the table. “So, he lives here now?”
“Aye, with the courier,” he said.
“Ilana would be happy to know her sons are together, and that you saved him.” Kayla smiled, sincerely pleased to learn Garhan had been brought into the fold, despite what he’d endured. “Everything she went through was for Garhan. She believed the only way to make the world a better place for him was to end Athan’s torment of our family once and for all. He was her inspiration.”
He met her gaze. “I have every intention of completing her mission. I don’t know how I will, yet, but I know in my heart it’s what I’m meant to do.”
“Stopping Athan is at the heart of why I’m here.” Kayla’s expression faltered, a frown appearing. “I’m afraid the time to act is on the horizon.”
“I didn’t imagine this was a purely social visit,” Keiran said, folding his arms in front of him on the table.
“I’m afraid not.” She closed her eyes. “You know I’ve been with the Nahli. When I fled Athan’s fortress, it was into almost certain death in the wilderness. It was simple luck that I was found by a Nahli man, and my life spared. I’ve been happy with them ever since.”
“I’d wondered how you got there,” Keiran said. “We all thought you were long dead before learning otherwise.”
“I owe the Nahli for everything I have now. They gave me a home and a reason to go on living.” Her eyes opened again. “There is such a sense of peace with them, I really can’t explain it. Their energy is unique. It has sustained me for the last ten years. Previous humans who have ended up with them have lived extraordinarily long lives. I dare say I feel no older than the day I arrived amongst them.”
Keiran nodded, able to appreciate how young she appeared for her age. “You seem to be doing quite well.”
“I am, however, threats to their survival have begun to manifest, and I knew I couldn’t stand idly by.” She shook her head and knit her brow. “I’ve told them of all the horrors Athan has committed in the world, but they’ve been safe, or, they thought they were. Athan quietly began preparing to expand his territory again. The Nahli never wanted to interfere with the happenings of the human countries, but they had no choice.”
“This relates to the storm Athan saw on the border with Minar?” Keiran asked.
“Aye,” Kayla nodded. “A storm summoned by my husband, Sytir, to stop Athan’s build up of men along the border with Minar. Talaus has had a peace treaty with them for ages, but his pattern was clear enough. Though the Minari government has allowed Athan to use their nation as a passageway to reach the southern countries by land, the rate of travel was increasing. Athan was actually leaving some of his men in Minar on what seemed to be a permanent basis.”
“He was preparing an invasion,” Keiran said.
“So we believed. Sadly, the Minar are the only humans the Nahli have any relationship with. While they are relatively self-sufficient, the fact is, the Northern Wastes are a hard place to survive. The Nahli trade with some of the Minari tribes, and it is vital to their survival. If Athan were to take over Minar, that lifeline would be in jeopardy.”
“I’d been puzzled over their move against Athan, honestly,” Keiran admitted. “They’ve been so reclusive that most people think they are merely legend.”
“Isolation has served them well, but it couldn’t last forever. The Nahli need the Minar to survive.” Kayla shook her head. “My husband had recently become Chieftain of the Mage Caste. He traveled to stop Athan, though we realized it would only be a temporary measure. So far, it has worked, but it’s only a matter of time before Athan comes after the Nahli for their infraction.”
“…and for harboring you,” Keiran added.
“It doesn’t help their situation, but whether they face an extinction level event because I’m with them, or because they may lose their only trade partners doesn’t really matter. The fact is, Athan is going to destroy their world.” Kayla frowned again. “It may take years, but Athan will find a way to get to them.”
“The storm Athan saw, though, your husband created it? If the Nahli are so powerful, what could they possibly have to fear?” Keiran asked.
“My husband is exceptionally powerful. It’s the only reason he’s become Chieftain at such a relatively young age.” She smiled and shook her head. “The storm he created and held onto for a few weeks took enough out of him that when he returned home, he fell gravely ill. It took quite some time for him to begin to recover. He is but one man, and though he has such power, he can’t hold it forever. Time and persistence, however, are things Athan has no shortage of. The Nahli number only in the thousands. Athan’s military is over a million strong.”
“He’ll simply grind the Nahli down,” Keiran said.
“I’m afraid so.”
“All right, so we both have a vested interest in seeing Athan finished, then.” Keiran got up from the table and started to pace around it. “How do we do so? I know you haven’t been to Tordania in quite some time, but our father left it a dismal wreck. I’m trying to rebuild the economy and military, but it’s slow going. Most of my generation was wiped out by the Mother’s Plague. Soldiers in their prime age to bring into service are a scarce commodity.”
“It will take more than just the Nahli and Tordanians,” she said. “Multiple countries will have to be united to get this to work. I have no illusion it won’t take years to set into play.”
“I wish I had relationships with other countries that would be of use, but I don’t, yet. Our father damaged Tordania’s reputation in the world. It became nothing more than a Talausian plaything.” Keiran stopped behind her and sighed. “Why didn’t this husband of yours simply kill Athan when they met? It would have saved much trouble.”
“Sytir never thought Athan would show up in person, or go into the storm to confront him.” She turned in her seat to look at him. “Killing Athan, however, wouldn’t have solved things. At this point, the Talausian dragon has many heads. If he was removed from power, another would simply take his place. No, the entire regime must be purged at once. Athan, for all of his ills, is at least somewhat predictable. There are patterns to his behavior that have become clear over the past centuries. Who’s to say what his minions would do without him? Many of his generals are vampires, they wouldn’t give up control of the country just because Athan died.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I don’t know how to put the amount of help we’ll need together.”
“You’ll need ships to get there, to begin with,” Kayla said. “I won’t hold out any false hope that Tordania even has a navy.”
“A correct assumption. Aleria is the only one with that sort of power.” Keiran circled the rest of the way around the table and landed back in his seat. “…and they aren’t fond of me right now.”
“Over the ordeal with Garhan?” she asked.
Keiran reached up and
scratched the back of his head, shrugging. “Not… entirely. Adira was assassinated a short while later. Her daughter, now queen, thought I had done it.”
“You didn’t tell me that part of the story!” Her eyes went wide. “You didn’t do it, of course.”
“You’ll be terribly shocked to hear it was Athan, I’m sure.” Keiran huffed. “Still, I’d say diplomatic tensions are a little high between us, for now. Perhaps I can fix it in the spring. Kayla, I have no idea how to go about this. I’ve not even been king for quite a year.”
“If you can prove to her it was Athan, perhaps this new queen will be willing to throw in with us.” Kayla narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s part of this family, too, and if there ever was a country with a reason to see Athan taken down, it would be Aleria.”
“All true, but we have to convince Theryn, first.” He shrugged. “I’ll have to think over this whole ordeal. Something is bound to work out.”
“I can stay for a short while,” she said. “Perhaps we can have a few more meetings before I need to leave. I can’t stay too long, however. If the Northern Sea freezes over before I get home, I’ll run into some trouble.”
“All right. I can have you put up somewhere in town.” Keiran motioned back toward the door. “Kanan can arrange for guards.”
“I appreciate the offer, Keiran, but I’ll find my own lodging.” Kayla smiled and got up from the table. “If none of you know where I’m staying, then no one can pry that information out of you.”
She was right, of course. He nodded and got up from his seat, too. “I’d still like to provide security for you.”
Kayla gave him a wry grin and shook her head. “I’ve survived this long, little brother.”
* * *
It had taken months for Danier to travel from where he’d washed up in Tordania to the vast, palm-filled southern coast of his beloved homeland. Much of his life had been spent traveling around the Sador Empire, and while one had to make preparations to transverse the desert safely, it had never been too great a feat.
He’d longed for those days during his struggle to get home. When he’d awoken after Keiran had presumably killed him, the tatters of his shirt had frozen into the mud of the river bank. There was nothing else on him or in his possession.
How he’d gotten there had never solidified in his mind. He remembered scant little of his last, frenetic days after the loss of his hand. His memories were broken with only a few moments of clarity.
All he could remember was Keiran, but that was enough.
It was all secondary to him, though. The thirst plaguing him since he’d washed up left him with little patience to dwell on the past. Over the previous months he’d killed without remorse, doing whatever it took to sate his desires. The Tordanians he’d encountered had been easy prey, and he’d fed while traveling through that nation at will.
It had become far more complicated when he’d entered his homeland, however. Though people were abundant throughout the empire in their scattered villages, few of them had been worth taking. The garlic-drenched diet he’d enjoyed all of his life was now an affront, that same diet turning most of the Sadori population’s blood into poison.
Occasional opportunities presented themselves, however. Two segments of the population were free of the offending bulb’s toxins; the newly born, and those too sick to eat. None of them had been members of his own tribe, so their deaths were of little consequence.
Danier stooped down to drink from a familiar stream, running clear over the sandy ground. To him, there was no water anywhere like it. Clean, pure, and lacking any of the mineral contaminates his palate had been assaulted with since leaving this place long ago.
He washed his face and hands, too, before standing to inspect his clothing. He’d managed to take the drying laundry from a careless household the night before. While the clothes weren’t up to the standards he’d enjoyed before his exile, they were modestly presentable. They would simply have to do.
He walked until he crested a hill, the white clay walls of his palace glaring in the sun not far off. A smile came to his lips, though it faded quickly. He had no way of knowing who he’d find there. Would his tribe have kept his property intact? Did they even know of his exile?
There was only one way to find out, and he started walking.
The former general wondered if he’d be recognized after his absence. His hair, meticulously kept before, hung in long-unmanaged tendrils. During his journey, he’d never shaved, either, his thick beard hanging several inches from his chin. Dealing with it in the heat of the desert had made him miserable, and he longed to finally be rid of it.
With his missing hand concealed in a makeshift sling he’d fashioned from an old shirt, Danier approached the gates.
The guard present squinted into the bright afternoon light, trying to identify the man coming up the road toward him. “Who approaches?”
Danier waited until he was close enough not to have to shout his response. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’ve returned, Edrein. Alert the others.”
The guard’s stance straightened and he took several steps forward. “General Danier? Is it truly you? It has been ages!”
“A fact I’m well aware of.” Danier didn’t smile upon seeing a familiar face. Though he was pleased to see his own guard there, too many questions still lingered. “Is everything as I left it, or did Betram’s lying dogs tell you I was gone forever?”
Edrein blinked. “Things here have been run as you appointed them to. Your wealth accommodated this past year, easily.”
Danier waited, feeling there was more to it. “And? Have you heard anything of me over this year?”
He didn’t want to be the one to break any bad news, but lying would be worse. “Some of your men have trickled back home. There have been tales about you leaving them in the Tordanian Mountains and some rumors of later exile.”
“I’d feared as much.” Danier forced aside his anger and brought up a half-hearted smile. “They had no idea what I was trying to do, there simply wasn’t time to tell them of my plan. I split from the group, trying to lure the Tordanians away, but it was all for naught. Our emperor is in collusion with the Tordanian king. Betram set all of it up, so I would be killed and taken out of the running for emperor. When I survived, he solved his problem by simply exiling me. The Onawa will stop at nothing to keep the Quitam from ruling again.”
Edrein’s brow furrowed. While there was open hostility between the Quitam and Emperor Betram’s regime, he was surprised to hear it had gone to that extreme. “We’ve heard rumblings of Betram opening up trade with the Tordanians.”
“Indeed he has. He’s paying that vampire for the coal we rightfully own.” He shook his head, feeling no guilt for openly lying. Restoring his honor was worth any tactic he needed to employ. “It was all being planned out before I made the bold move to reclaim our territory across the river.”
“The old fool doesn’t realize how weak he has made us,” Edrein said in protest. “The Quitam no longer even have an asashi on his council! We are without any power or voice.”
Though he knew the truth, Danier had to ask. “What? We have no asashi? What happened to her?”
“The official report to us was she fled around the time of your disappearance, but if she did, she never returned here. Enough of our elders feared she’d been killed as to refrain from sending a new woman to take her place,” he replied.
“I think the fact Betram tried to exile me at the same time our beloved asashi disappeared speaks for itself.” Danier moved forward and placed his remaining hand on his guard’s shoulder. “Our people will not be so easily pushed aside, though, will we?”
Edrein shook his head.
“We are too strong. We made this empire what it is, and we will stop the Onawa from tearing it apart.” Danier gave a wide smile. “Take me inside, Edrein. I must rest and prepare for what is to come.”
Chapter 3
Vinson’s head hung lo
w. His long, black hair obscured his view as he was shoved along by his father’s guards. Being taken to face Athan was never a pleasant occasion, and there was a particular urgency in the way he was being escorted. A gut-twisting dread coursed through him, wondering if this would be the encounter with Athan that led to his death.
With a door clicking behind him, he finally lifted his head to inspect his surroundings. He’d been taken to his father’s war room. The stark light thrown by the lamps hanging from the ceiling were brutal to his dark-adjusted eyes. Their faint hissing, white flames were far brighter than the conventional lanterns and candles found elsewhere in the fortress. Maps of Talaus and of the rest of the Known World lined the walls, all of them marked up with Athan’s extensive notes.
Athan rose from his seat at the head of the planning table when his disagreeable son was presented. Vinson’s submissive stance was all too typical. He’d never been social in any of his thirty-five years, either before or after his arrival from Weslan several years prior.
Vinson kept his gaze averted from the older man, his lips pressing together tightly as he braced for whatever was to come.
“I know it’s a terrible inconvenience to bring you down from your room,” Athan said, leaning forward onto the table. “But something caught my attention as I did my last inspection of your quarters, and I’m eager to discuss it.”
Vinson’s body tensed up. “That was over three weeks ago. I’d like to have my drawings back if you’re done with them.”
Athan reached out and dragged one of the aforementioned drawings across the table’s surface. “They’re quite interesting, and they are, in fact, the reason I called you down.”
Vinson’s wine-colored eyes slowly panned toward his father, one brow rising. While Athan had thrown fits over contra-banned items in his room before, never had his sketches and plans been called into question. “What of them?”
“You’ve proven your reputation with small machinery and clockwork.” The elder man paused, steepling his hands before him. “I haven’t really pushed you into working with such things for a while, now, though.”
The Stolen Princess Page 6
