by Anna Carven
I pull my blanket tighter around my shoulders as sadness overcomes me.
Why do they hate us so?
I remain expressionless as I watch their angry faces through the iron bars. There’s a kind of savage intensity about the crowds, as if they’re thirsty for blood.
And they’re whipping each other up into a mad frenzy.
“Hail to the emperor!”
“Long live emperor Krogen!”
“Glory to the divine, the almighty, Elar’s light on earth, our new supreme emperor!”
The bright sun disappears behind the clouds.
It starts to snow. A stiff breeze blows perfect white snowflakes in through my window.
There’s no sign of Kaim yet, but I’m not worried.
He’s not the kind of man who will ever fail to live up to his word.
As I watch the people outside jostling and shoving all just to get a glimpse of me, I start to feel a little sorry for them.
You have no idea what’s coming.
Kaim’s changed. I don’t even know what he’s even truly capable of anymore.
All I know is that he’s claimed me as his, and nothing can stand between us, not even death.
He’s coming.
And soon, everything will be different.
Thirty-Five
Amali
On our way into the palace, we pass massive crowds clamoring against the palace walls, bodies pressed close together in the ice and snow. The roar of thousands of human voices, all in one place at the same time, is deafening.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
The crowd starts to chant in unison, oscillating between “death to the witch,” and “long live the divine emperor.”
Drums pound in the distance.
The energy is wild and dangerous.
It feels like this place could explode at any moment.
That’s what the guards are for, I suppose.
The road leading up to the palace gates is lined with soldiers standing in strict formation, facing toward the crowds. They hold long poles with sharp blades on the end, ready to push the citizens back if they surge forward.
As we stop to wait for the gates to open, they form a tight ring around my carriage, barking orders at the frantic citizens.
“Come too close and you’ll get a blade in your fucking eye,” one of them warns.
Subtlety isn’t their strong point, it seems.
The massive wooden gates swing open with a groan.
We roll through, horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the cobblestones.
The gates slam shut behind me with an ominous thud.
I see heavily armed guards everywhere. I see mounted horsemen with crossbows. I see the vast, manicured gardens of the Silver Palace, blanketed in a layer of perfect white snow.
Inside these walls, it’s a different world to the chaos outside. Everything is pristine and elegant and perfectly controlled.
We roll on until we reach some outer wing of the palace, where I’m quickly bundled out of the carriage and surrounded by four burly palace guards.
I recognize their uniforms. Their ornately tooled black leather armor is the same armor that was worn by Horghus’s personal guards.
Obviously, they’re Krogen’s personal guards now.
Trise climbs down from the front seat and salutes the guards. “Delivered in one piece, as requested by His Majesty,” he says. The smug satisfaction in his voice makes me want to slap him in the face. “See you in there, lads In the meantime, I will go and change into something decent. Praise be to Elar. Today is a glorious day for the empire.” His sour breath washes over me as he moves in close. “Look up, murderer. This is the last time you’ll ever see the sky.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into a small doorway in the side of the long grey building.
I stare after him, hatred burning a hole in my chest.
“Don’t try anything crazy, Tieglander, otherwise we’ll have to restrain you,” one of the guards snaps as I grow restless, my feet shifting on the cold cobblestones. “Walk straight ahead with your head down.”
A soft laugh escapes me. I can’t help it. These men are leading me to my death, and they’re asking me to co-operate?
“Or what?” I say softly, meeting the guard’s narrowed blue eyes. “You’re going to rough me around? Put me in cuffs? Kill me?”
One of the guards swears profusely. “Don’t let her bewitch you with her mind-tricks. She’s fucking dangerous. Let’s restrain her and carry her in. It doesn’t really matter. She’ll be dead soon, anyway. They just said to give her a proper bath and put her in a dress before bringing her to His Majesty.”
One of the guards kicks my legs out from under me. I crash to my knees. The guards quickly descend upon me, pulling my arms behind my back, lashing my legs together, raising me up like a trussed pig.
“You take her arms. I’ll take the legs.”
They carry me away, their rough hands rubbing against the torn skin of my back, causing a fresh wave of agony every time we turn a corner or go up a flight of stairs.
I stare up at the ornate ceilings of the palace, wondering how in the hells I’m back here again.
I sway and lurch and close my eyes, feeling sick.
Kaim, are you here yet? Desperately, I search for him, but he gives me no answer.
He’s running through a separate kind of time. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how it’s possible. Entire moons pass in his world, while only days go by in mine.
Perhaps he’s in the forest right now.
In the next heartbeat, he’ll be here by my side, putting his powerful arms around me, taking me away from all this madness.
Thirty-Six
Amali
The Great Hall of the Silver Palace is exactly as I remember it, only this time I’m surrounded by four heavily armed guards as I walk toward the emperor’s throne.
They’ve bound my arms behind my back with iron cuffs.
That was after they took me into the baths and dunked me in ice-cold water, and three female attendants came out of nowhere to scrub my hair and body with caustic soap, rubbing the suds into my barely healed back.
How painful that was.
And all the while, the four palace guards just stood back and leered as they watched my naked body being put through the ringer by those hard-handed women, who didn’t say a word to the entire time.
They put me into this simple and hideously scratchy black dress, which extends from neck to ankle, hiding the welts on my back. Then they braided my hair tightly into twin plaits and bound my wrists, before leading me barefoot down cold tiled corridors until I reached the massive gilded doors of the Great Hall.
Along the way, the servants and guards and nobles stopped to let me pass, sneering and spitting at me.
“Murderer.”
“Witch.”
“Rot in hell, Tieg bitch.”
And to think I almost forgot how charming this cursed place was.
The four guards lead me all the way to the foot of the dais, where they stop abruptly and make a stiff salute.
One of the Midrians pokes me in the back with his sheathed sword.
“Kneel before your emperor,” he hisses.
I look up at the throne. It’s the very same chair Horghus was sitting on when he received me, only now it’s empty.
Where is this young emperor, this mysterious Krogen, who I’ve never seen, but heard so much about?
More importantly, where is Kaim?
Dread coils in my belly I stare straight ahead at the ugly golden throne, studying the ornate details. A carving of a great golden dragon is curled around the chair, its scaled tail looped around one leg, claws curled along the wooden arms, head resting over the right shoulder.
Was this here before? I don’t think so. Perhaps this Krogen had it made specifically for him.
How pompous.
I’ve seen what a real dragon looks like, and there is no way a creature like Vylore
n would bow for these fools.
On either side of me, the lords and ladies of the Imperial Court stand in attendance. Dressed in their finery, they look like they’re about to attend a fancy ball, not an imperial judgement and execution.
Most of the women, and even some of the men have heavily powdered and rouged their faces. Their kohl-lined eyes are hard and hateful, their expressions strangely at odds with their colorful silk suits and gowns.
Strangely, I haven’t seen Trise anywhere.
“Kneel,” the guard behind me hisses, “or we will force you.”
My gaze returns to the empty throne.
Why is it that the sight of that empty chair gives me hope?
“Where is he?” someone whispers loudly from behind me.
“Shh!” Several voices violently shush the speaker. “How dare you doubt the emperor? We do not question his wisdom. He has his reasons.”
I keep staring at the empty chair.
A tense silence falls across the hall.
I think of Kaim.
I hope you’re here soon, my love, because this is becoming intolerable.
“Kneel,” the guard hisses.
The fear snaking around in my belly crawls up into my chest, sending my heart into a wild, pounding rhythm.
My mouth goes dry.
My legs tremble.
My hands start to shake.
I can’t breathe.
What if…
What if my dreams are just that—dreams?
What if Kaim and the death-god are just figments of my imagination?
What if I’m going to die here?
No.
No.
“Where is he?”
“She refuses to kneel? What ignorance! How can this savage be so disrespe—”
“On your knees now,” the guard on my left hisses.
A thick hand clamps over my right shoulder. Another thick hand clamps over my left.
They push me down.
I laugh.
I won’t kneel willingly. I won’t bow my head to this cursed empire, which has done nothing but torment my people.
I owe them nothing.
The only way they’re going to get my co-operation is by force.
Finally, I go down, falling to my knees with a painful thud. The guards are very strong, and I’m weak from spending so long in captivity.
“Bow your head.” A rough hand tips my head forward.
I clench my firsts as they force me to look down at the floor.
We wait.
Time passes.
People shift nervously, silks rustling, boots scraping the floor.
Still, the Emperor of Midria doesn’t appear.
“Where is he?”
“Perhaps someone should go and check on him.”
“Fool. Nobody hurries the emperor. He is beholden to no-one. We wait.”
My knees ache.
My back is a tapestry of stinging pain.
My shoulders grow stiff from being bound behind my back.
In the background, voices murmur. A door creaks as someone slips out, presumably to go and check on said emperor.
Fear swirls around in my chest, along with a sliver of excitement.
The longer this takes, the better I start to feel, because surely the emperor’s absence from the court is no accident.
But then someone in the crowd starts whispering excitedly. “He’s coming.”
My heart sinks.
I close my eyes and search for Kaim in my mind the way I did before, when Lok gave me the gift of mindspeech.
Where are you, my love?
What will he do when he sees me like this, bound and humiliated, the marks of Midrian cruelty visible on my body.
“Krogen is here. That murdering bitch is finally going to get what she deserves. Bet you he’ll carry out the execution himself. The lad’s always had a mean streak. He’s even worse than the father.” The nobles whisper about my impending death with savage glee.
Fear wars with excitement in my chest.
My heart is beating so fast I worry it might burst. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.
Kaim?
There’s a faint groan as the massive golden doors behind the throne open. I start to lift my head, but the guard pushes me back down. “Eyes down,” he hisses.
I hear gasps from the crowd. In a flurry of rustling dresses and scraping boots and a little shoving and pushing, they all drop to their knees at once.
The room falls silent.
A single pair of footsteps echoes hollowly on the polished floor.
Even the guards beside me drop to their knees.
Tap tap.
Tap tap.
Behind my back, I clench my fists even tighter. Anger sparks inside me.
This must be Krogen. There is no way the Midrian court would react this way toward anyone else.
This is man who wants to defile me and then kill me.
Who wants to eradicate my people from the face of this earth.
Ignoring the guards beside me, I look up, wanting to see my despised enemy for myself.
“Put your fucking head do—”
“No.” A man’s voice cuts through the guard’s angry hiss. It’s a voice I’ve never heard before; deep and a little raspy…
And perhaps carrying just a hint of tension.
Is he nervous?
Now why would the emperor of all Midria be nervous?
I raise my eyes and meet his gaze.
Pale blue eyes, the very same shade as Horghus’s, stare back at me. The new emperor is the spitting image of the young Horghus I’ve seen depicted in so many portraits.
He looks to be in about his thirtieth winter or so, and he has the same straw-blond hair and broad shoulders as his late father. In Midrian terms, I suppose he might even be called handsome.
As he walks slowly toward me, I notice the stiffness of his gait and the damp patches under his arms, sweat bleeding through the royal blue fabric of his jacket.
I notice the way he glances warily beyond me, as if he’s looking for something… or someone.
My heart beats just a little faster.
Kaim… where are you? What are you playing at?
The new emperor of Midria walks all the way to where I’m kneeling and holds out a hand.
“G-get up,” he says awkwardly.
Beside me, the guards stiffen.
Shocked murmurs ripple through the court.
To my left, an old man with heavy jowls and bushy eyebrows raises his head. “Wh-what is the meaning of thi—?”
“Be quiet,” Krogen snaps, shooting the man an imperious glare. His gaze snaps back toward me. “Please, get up.”
I return his stare with what I hope is a calm one of my own. “I’m cuffed,” I say quietly as I rise to my feet.
For a moment, the emperor just stares at me, and I swear a little of the color drains from his face.
“Get up and unlock those restraints,” he snaps to his guards.
“B-but…”
“Are you seriously questioning me, guard?” A terrible urgency has entered Krogen’s voice. “Unlock her at once.”
The guards stiffly rise to their full height. One of them pulls out a set of keys and proceeds to unlock my iron cuffs. My wrists come out of those horrible restraints, and I swing my arms around to the front.
My arms tingle as the bloodflow returns. I swing them back and forth, shaking out the stiffness and the ache.
Krogen regards me for a moment. Is it just me, or does he look a little ill.
“You are pardoned,” he says quietly.
The onlookers gasp. They start whispering and murmuring furiously amongst each other.
“The Midrian army will no longer occupy the Komori Forest,” Krogen continues. “Those lands are to be returned to their rightful owners, the Tieglander people, who are free to live there independently of the Midrian Empire. No Tieglander is to be harmed. From now on, the forest tribes are
off limits.”
My jaw drops open. What is this new emperor doing?
Sweat glistens on Krogen’s face. That’s strange, because it’s the middle of winter and it’s bloody cold in here.
He takes a step back from me, as if I’m poisonous.
Pandemonium breaks out amongst the crowd. They rise to their feet with a roar, with a clamor. Some are shouting. Others whisper amongst themselves, ashen-faced and confused.
“Your Majesty!” A man cries, furiously straightening the ruffles of his silk shirt as he steps forward. “What is the meaning of this? I beg you to reconsider!”
A shadow passes across Krogen’s face. His gaze is flat and empty, his expression defeated. “Get back,” he snarls. “Anyone who disobeys my orders will be executed.” He turns to his guards. “Why are you standing there like imbeciles and just tolerating this disorder? Control the situation, now.”
Ashen-faced, one of the guards glances at me. “What of her?”
“She’s free to go.” Krogen raises his voice. “Nobody is to touch a hair on her head, do you hear me? Nobody! Anyone who disobeys will face the death penalty.”
“How can you do this?” a young man yells, his face red with anger. “She murdered your father!” He pushes a confused looking old woman out of the way and strides forward, heading toward me.
If looks could kill…
He seriously looks like he wants to harm me.
I step back in anticipation.
The young man pulls a long, thin dagger from inside his jacket.
Krogen draws the ceremonial golden sword at his waist. “Don’t you fucking dare, Jullen.”
“I don’t understand you, Krogen,” this Jullen shouts, his knuckles going white around the hilt of his blade. “Yesterday, you were all about giving her the public fucking she deserved and putting her head on a stake in front of the palace gates. Now you’re pardoning her? Elar’s light, I wish we had your father around right now.”
“You don’t understand a thing,” Krogen hisses, getting into a defensive stance. “There are things… things you and I can’t control…”
“Stop, Lord Jullen,” one of the guards says threateningly, drawing his broadsword.
“You’re bloody mad,” Jullen whispers as the guards move in from both sides to protect their emperor.
