by Edun, Terah
“Trust me—you wouldn’t have,” said Lillian. “I have done things, been places I would never want to subject you to. I did it for you. I did it for Caemon. I did it for the future of this empire.”
Then she turned to Caemon, who stood across from them. She reached out and took his hand as a wary but pained look crossed his face. “But you my son, you never had the chance to know me in childhood. Never had the chance to toddle through the fields of raw wheat with me or have me sing you a lullaby as you fell asleep in your cradle. And I am sorry for that. So, so sorry.”
Lillian’s voice hitched as tears appeared in her eyes. “I will tell you now what drove me to flee. I was young and vain, knowing that I was destined for greatness from birth. And I, as a young woman, reveled in being absolutely as irresponsible as they come. I flirted with dragons, danced with empresses and impoverished dukes overnight. I was a wild child, free of responsibility, free of judgment. So I didn’t care what they whispered about me at court. I didn’t care until I was forced to. Until there was no one I could turn to because my friends were shams more afraid of scandal than justice. But there was one woman I trusted more than any other—the Empress Teresa Athanos Algardis. A few months before her murder, her brother-in-law—the first-born son of Emperor Cymus, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. With the first-born son’s death, her husband and Sebastian’s father, became heir apparent and soon after that—inherited the throne.”
“Not the princess heir?” interrupted Ciardis.
Lillian chuckled. “No, never her. Although Marissa was the apple of her father’s eye, it was Sebastian’s father—Bastien Athanos Algardis—who was second-in-line after his brother’s death, and rightfully so. Marissa hated that. Hated that she wasn’t destined to rule, and did everything in her power to make everyone else at court miserable as well.”
“In fact,” Lillian said softly, “I am now certain that she had a part in Teresa’s death. I cannot prove it because she wasn’t there that night, but I’m certain she colluded with the duchess of Carne and the murderer who got away. ”
Silence reigned as Lillian caught her breath. You could have heard a mouse scurry in the room.
“On the night that Empress Teresa died, I had a massive disagreement. I fled to her bedchamber for comfort. It was there that I discovered a plot far more sinister than the one I had fled from. When I arrived, Teresa had already dismissed her lady’s maids and was resting.”
Anxiety permeated the air as she paused.
“Now I will show you what happened that night,” Lillian said.
Ciardis and Caemon looked at each other in confusion for a moment.
“What do you mean ‘show us?’” asked Caemon carefully.
Lillian smiled at her son, a shallow smile, but a smile nevertheless. “I haven’t been using the amulet to project a vision of Serena for days. The power that I would usually use for the daily maintenance sits unused. Now sit and watch.”
Before their eyes, the room transformed as Lillian lifted her hand, and for the first time Ciardis noticed a small charm bracelet on her wrist. A magical wave emitted from the charm bracelet in the form of a glowing golden orb that passed over each of them in turn. As the wave moved outward, to surround everyone in the room, the room in front of them began to change. First Ciardis noticed the furniture: it morphed from the elegant chaise lounges of the lord chamberlain’s home to a luxurious boudoir filled with stuffed pillows, silks, and soft furs.
Then she looked up and gasped. Because the closed ceiling had disappeared, as well. Lord Steadfast’s chamber, with its eight-feet-high ceilings, seemed to have disappeared entirely. In its place soaring columns of white marble surrounded them. To their left and right, the columns opened at the very top to the outside air. She couldn’t feel the breeze wafting in but she could imagine it.
She turned to her mother. “What is this? Where are we?”
“It is my memory of the empress’s chambers in Sandrin that night close to nineteen years ago,” Lillian whispered.
In awe, Ciardis looked around. The chamber was elegant, opulent, and impressive. But more impressive was her mother’s intense recollection of every aspect of the room, down to the polished red sandstone floors and the hand-painted vases that stood on pedestals.
Then Ciardis flinched. Of course Lillian would remember. This was the chamber where her life had changed forever.
Before she could turn to her mother, sound came to her ears. But none of the people around her were speaking. These voices came through the air like ghosts. Thanar and Vana’s stiff faces told her they heard the voices too. They were all looking around for the source. While Lillian stared straight ahead with sadness in her eyes.
The people appeared then like apparitions.
The first one to come was a beautiful young woman with skin the color of light almonds and hair like freshly dried wheat—a light brown so creamy it was hard to determine if the highlights were the color of sand or a more earthy tone. Her back was turned to the group of spectators in the center of the room, and they couldn’t see who she was. But it was clear that she was speaking earnestly to someone. Someone whose hands she clutched.
Little by little, the second person appeared. First her hands, then her arms of golden brown, and then her full body with riotous curls atop her head. Several gasps from the group emerged when the woman appeared.
Ciardis realized that she was looking at a younger version of her mother.
The young vision of Lillian faced their group as her hands clutched the woman with her back turned to them. Yanking away from the younger Lillian, the woman they didn’t know turned around.
“That is Teresa Athanos Algardis,” said the lord chamberlain in awe.
Her fists clenched by her side, Ciardis watched the Empress of Algardis stride towards them in an olive green dress. It must have taken a seamstress dozens of hours to sew each delicate layer of gossamer fabric on, but Empress Teresa Serene Algardis didn’t seem to care as she nearly hit a marble bench in her way and caught the fabric on the edge.
And then the memory became really interesting.
With a curse, Teresa yanked the fabric away from the bench and the fabric ripped.
“Oh Lillian, you must be wrong!” said Empress Teresa in the vision.
The younger version of Lillian Weathervane hurried after Teresa with a distressed look on her face. “I’m not, Teresa. I fear for Bastien’s life. Surely you believe me.”
Teresa let out a caustic laugh.
“It was quite uncharacteristic of her,” Ciardis heard the real version of her mother murmur from where she sat beside her as they watched the drama of the past develop.
Unable to resist, Ciardis asked, “What?”
“Her refusal to see the plot unfolding before her. She didn’t want to believe,” replied Lillian.
Again, Ciardis wanted to ask what, but she knew she would see soon enough anyway. The conversation unfolded before them.
“You want me to believe that my husband’s sister intends to kill him and has already murdered his older brother?” Empress Teresa said as she turned around in a fury. “With what evidence?”
“I...I just need you to trust me,” begged Lillian.
“I do trust you,” said the empress. “What’s more, I love you. You are dearer to my heart than any other, but you must see the predicament you’ve put me in, Lillian.”
The younger Lillian Weathervane rubbed her furrowed brow in irritation. “I know, I know.” She gestured and as she did so her robes parted. The empress’s eyes flickered to her waist involuntary.
Stepping forward lightly with a gasp, she said, “Lillian.”
Ciardis’s mother frowned. “What?”
“Are you with child?” the empress asked quietly.
Lillian couldn’t deny it. “Yes, but that has nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing? Or everything?”
“What are you talking about, Teresa?” Lillian cried.
&nbs
p; “You think I’m a recluse, shut-in as I am,” Teresa said ardently. “I may be sick upon my bed for most of my hours, but there are days when I get out. And days when I have courtiers come to me.”
“What are you getting at?” said Ciardis’s mother.
“They say you leave court for weeks at a time now. That you’ve been seen in the company of some unsavory characters recently,” Teresa said as she lifted her chin defiantly.
“‘They,’” scoffed younger Lillian, “Who is they? And what unsavory characters?”
“Must I say it aloud?”
“Yes, yes, you must, Your Imperial Majesty, because you seem to think my condition more important than the life of your own husband at the moment.”
Teresa balled her fists together in anger. “Very well. A minstrel has been seen hanging on your every word and gesture in the lower quadrant of Sandrin.”
Lillian sat down unsteadily with a hollow laugh. “A minstrel? Teresa, that minstrel is the man with the recording to prove the princess heir’s culpability.”
“Why would a minstrel have such important knowledge?”
“Because I gave it to him!” said the younger version of Lillian.
Teresa whirled away with a heavy sigh. “Lillian, don’t you see?”
“See? See what, exactly?” Lillian said, resting an uneasy hand on her belly.
The empress turned to her. “This. Your condition. You must be feeling ill, so early in your pregnancy. This is why you’re having these delusions.”
“The last time I heard, Teresa, delusions were not a product of morning sickness,” said Lillian with sharp sarcasm. “You know I came here to warn you. Not to be castigated for your belief that I have ruined myself with a child out of contract or marriage. And perhaps you wouldn’t be so focused on this impending child if you could have one of your own.”
Teresa reeled back as if she had been slapped across the face. Tears appeared in her eyes.
Lillian stood, her face contrite. “Oh, Teresa. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know the illness has been hard on you. And I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” the empress said scornfully. “You had every right. Just as I have every right to say that your vendetta against the princess heir has gone on long enough. You’ve despised her ever since she broke up your alliance of marriage with Bastien.”
Lillian stood back, her face pale. “No, Teresa. No. It’s not about that. I told you, I was never meant for Bastien. I wanted to live in the countryside, to raise a family away from the life of the courts. Something he and I could never do.”
Teresa waved a dismissive arm. “You can’t expect me to believe that. I took the one thing that you wanted from you. The title of Empress of Algardis. Just say it. And now...now you want to ruin the princess heir and me.”
Lillian gaped. “That’s not true! I’ve told you the truth.”
“I don’t believe you,” whispered the empress. “I don’t. I want you to leave.”
“Teresa, you’re my only hope. Bastien won’t see me. He won’t heed my words or listen to my pleas.”
“Rightfully so.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?” pleaded the younger Lillian, practically on her knees. “I need you.”
And then a spiteful look came upon the empress’s face. “And for once, Lillian Weathervane, I don’t need you. Get out. Get out!”
The last word was shouted so loudly that the imperial guards came running. When five appeared in the empress’s doorway, garbed in chainmail, armor, and carrying swords, they saw two distraught women standing yards apart.
“Escort her out,” said the empress.
As they stepped forward, Lillian snapped her fan at them.
“There’s no need,” she said with her head held high. “I’ll make my own way out.”
And she walked to the door.
When she heard Teresa’s scream, to her credit, she didn’t hesitate—not for a moment.
With cries of horror, the imperial guards rushed toward their stricken empress.
Younger Lillian turned around as the group watched the scene unfold. In their vision, out of the darkness stepped a man clothed in a mage’s robe of black and gold. A color that signified a sect among human mages—the sect of the Unknown. The Unknown was something everyone knew about, few understood, and fewer still experienced. It was a branch of magic that gave specific individuals highly specific and unusual gifts. Like the ability to call lightning with no storm on the horizon. Vana Cloudbreaker was a mage of the Unknown, and so was this man.
As he stalked forward, his hand upraised, he clutched the empress’s neck in bands of air from a distance. She lifted three feet in the air as her feet kicked helplessly under her. Ciardis noticed a figure creeping silently into the room from the doorway, which had been abandoned by the empress’s imperial guard in their quest to help her.
“Stop it,” screamed Lillian as she ran toward the mage. He gave her a chilling smile and flicked her away with a gust of wind that tossed her into a heap of pillows with barely a gesture. When she struggled to stand, he pinned her with bands of air to the ground.
As the soldiers charged him, the strange man blinked and set them on fire. No words, no chanting, no wave of his hand. They incinerated into ash in moments. Ciardis had only the sense of gratitude that they had died instantly. Who was this man, this mage that displayed powers over the elements with a simple look?
Off to the side, the second person who had snuck in came forward and into the light. The Duchess Leah of Carne strode across the sandstone floor quickly to stand by the man’s side.
They all heard her whisper, “What do you think you’re doing? This wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to kill Lillian and make it look like an accident. Not attack the empress or her guards.”
The empress whimpered as she looked into the face of the man before them. Even panicked at the thought of dying, she looked as if she had seen a ghost.
“Yes,” drawled the man. “An accident of fiery brimstone from a dragon—I remember. But this is so much more satisfying. I’ve been meaning to get rid of the whiny wench for years. She’s the only one aside from my brother who could see through my glamour. Blasted powers of the throne and all.”
Ciardis blinked. That was an odd reason to kill one woman. She noticed the empress turn toward her mother with rapid spasms of her fingers. Her airway must be constricting, Ciardis thought.
“No,” hissed Leah. “You leave her be. We kill the weathervane. You reconcile with Marissa and allow the princess heir to take the throne by your side.”
“Change of plans,” he whispered darkly. “She’s seen my true face.”
“And whose fault is that?” whispered Leah.
He smiled and without a further word snapped the empress’s neck. She fell to the floor, lifeless. Leah looked down on her dead ruler’s body with little emotion. “And the weathervane?”
He spared the terrified young Lillian a brief glance. “Kill her.”
Then he walked toward the curtains and set the wafting fabric on fire. With darkness in her eyes, Leah came for the younger version of Lillian Weathervane. She put her hand on Lillian’s forehead and leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”
“Why?” Lillian managed to gasp.
Leah gave her a surprised glance. “Because a true ruler belongs on the throne. You’ve always wanted to escape the courts. Now women like us won’t have to. They won’t have to flee and run from a ruler either too inept to take action or too controlling to let those around them live without fear.”
“And who could possibly accomplish that? Marissa?”
Leah gave her a calculated look. Apparently she decided she was going to die anyway, so why not tell her? “No—Maradian.”
“Maradian’s dead.”
The man turned around. “Leah, leave her. The fire will consume her. She cannot escape my bonds.”
And so they left Lillian Weathervane on the floor. Alive but
trapped as the fire caught wind in the night and spread to the pillows, the blankets, and the fallen empress. And the vision slowly faded out until they all stood in the lord chamberlain’s quarters once again, dazed and confused.
Voices with questions interrupted from all over, but they all boiled down to one.
Vana asked quietly, “How did you survive?”
Lillian lifted her head with a smile. “That is a question for another day.”
“Who is Maradian?” asked Caemon.
Lillian looked at her son and then at Prince Heir Sebastian, who was tense and pale, his green eyes standing out like ovals in his face as he answered Caemon, “My uncle.”
“Your uncle?” asked Ciardis. “What uncle?”
Sebastian turned to her, “The firstborn son of my grandfather, Emperor Cymus. Maradian Athanos Algardis. He was supposed to have died years ago.”
“But his body was never found,” said Lillian softly as she stared into the eyes of the young man before her.
“So in summary, some projection-cloaked man and the future duchess of Carne killed the Empress of Algardis on the orders of the Princess Heir Marissa Athanos Algardis, her sister-in-law?” said the lord chamberlain.
Lillian’s lips twitched in amusement. “If only it were that simple.”
“What else is there, Mother?” Caemon asked.
“I know the identity of the cloaked man,” Lillian whispered, “and so does the Emperor of Algardis.”
Sebastian stood abruptly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying your father knows who really killed Teresa, but, like his wife before him, he refuses to believe.”
Carefully, the lord chamberlain asked, “Lillian, are you saying the cloaked man was the Princess Heir Marissa in disguise?”
Hollow laughter rang out. “No, I’m saying that the cloaked man was the former prince heir of the realm, His Imperial Highness Maradian Athanos Algardis.”
Silence thickened in the air.
“That can’t be,” said Stephanie.
