Amilia, Breckton, Hadrian, and Arista led thirty horsemen to the gates of Colnora. The cavalry detachment was selected from the Northern Imperial Army and included Breckton’s best soldiers. Most of them had been at the siege of Drondil Fields only weeks before. These were not the sons of counts and dukes. They did not wear elaborately decorated armor of full plate. They were grim, battle-hardened men who honed their skills on bloody fields.
In the wake of Modina’s abduction, Amilia found herself in the surreal position of imperial steward. The former scullery maid now ruled the empire. She tried not to think about it. Unlike Modina, she was not descended from Novron and held no pedigree to protect her station. And she had no idea how long she had before her power, her station, and perhaps her very life ended.
She had no idea what to do, but to her great relief, Sir Breckton mobilized his men and vowed to find the empress. When Sir Hadrian and Arista volunteered to join them, Amilia decided to ride as well. She could not sit in the palace. She did not know how to administrate, so she left Nimbus in charge until her return. If she could not find Modina, there might be no point in returning at all. They had to find her.
“Open the gate!” Sir Breckton shouted toward the watchtower that sat atop the wall in Colnora.
“City gate opens at dawn,” someone replied from above.
“I am Sir Breckton, commander of the imperial hosts, on a mission of grave importance to Her Eminence. I demand that you open at once!”
“And I am the gatekeeper with strict orders to keep this gate sealed between dusk and dawn. Come back at first light.”
“What are we going to do?” Amilia asked as panic threatened to consume her. The absurdity of the situation was overwhelming. The empress’s life was at stake, and they were at the mercy of a foolish man and a wooden gate.
Breckton dismounted. “We can lash tree branches together to make ladders and go over the walls. Or we can build a ram—”
“We don’t have time for that,” Hadrian interrupted. “The full moon’s high. Royce is doing the exchange at the Langdon Bridge. We have to get inside and down to that bridge—now!”
“This is all your fault!” Amilia burst out, and shook with fury. “You and your friend. First you attempt to kill Sir Breckton, and now he’s taken Modina.”
Breckton reached up and took her hand. “Although he had the power to do so, Sir Hadrian did not kill me. He is not responsible for the actions of his associate. He is trying to help.”
Amilia wiped tears from her eyes and nodded. She did not know what to do. She was no general. She was just a stupid peasant girl whom the nobility would soon execute. Everything was so hopeless. The only one who did not seem upset was Arista.
The princess was humming.
Already off her horse, she stood with her eyes closed and her hands outstretched. Her fingers moved delicately through the air and a low vibration echoed from deep in her throat. The sound was not a tune or a song of any kind. There was no discernible melody, and as Arista’s voice grew louder, the air seemed to grow thick and heavy. Then there was another hum. An echo resonated from the gate. The wooden beams moved like a man quivering in the cold. They cracked and buckled. The great hinges rattled, and bits of stone fractured where they met the walls. Arista stopped humming. The gate ceased its trembling. Then, in one burst of voice, she uttered an unrecognizable word, and the gate exploded in flying bits of splintered wood and scattered snow.
Modina tested the ropes on her wrists, but the movement only caused them to bite deeper. Merrick Marius and two men she did not know had dragged her off the bridge and into a nearby warehouse. Saldur was allowed to walk freely. The building was cavernous, abandoned, and in need of repair. Broken windows let in snow, which drifted across the bare floorboards. Torn sacks and broken glass littered the floor.
“Excellent, my boy. Excellent.” Saldur addressed Merrick Marius as another man cut his hands free. “I will honor my offer to reward you handsomely. You will—”
“Shut up!” Merrick ordered harshly. “Get them both upstairs.”
One of the men threw Modina over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her up the steps.
“I don’t understand,” Saldur said, even as the other stranger steered him upstairs too.
“This isn’t over,” Merrick replied. “DeLancy is dead. You have no idea what that means. The scales are balanced. The demon is unleashed.”
He said more, but his voice faded as Modina was carried up several flights. The man carrying her dropped her in an empty room on the third floor. He pulled a wad of twine from his pocket and bound her ankles tight. When he was done, he moved to the broken window and peered out.
Moonlight fell across his face. He was a short, husky brute with a rough beard and flat nose. He wore a dark cowl over a coarse woolen garnache, but Modina’s eyes were focused on the leather girdle from which two long daggers hung. He crouched on one knee, looking at the street below.
“Be very quiet, miss,” he murmured, “or I’ll have to slit your throat.”
With trembling hands, Royce laid Gwen’s lifeless body near the side of the bridge. He closed her eyes and kissed her lips one last time. Folding her arms gently across her chest, he covered her as best he could with the rough, oversized cloak as if putting her to bed. He could not bring himself to cover her face and stared at it for a long while, noting the smile she wore even in death.
Turning from her, he got up and, without conscious thought, found himself crossing the bridge.
“Stop right there, Royce!” Merrick shouted when he had reached the far side.
From the sound and angle of his voice, Royce knew Merrick was on the second floor of the warehouse.
“All of the lower doors and windows are sealed. I have a man with a dagger to the empress’s throat.”
Royce ignored him. He deftly climbed up the closest lamppost, shattered the lantern, and snuffed out the flame. He repeated this twice more, darkening the area.
“I mean it, Royce,” Merrick shouted again. The tinge of panic in his voice betrayed that his old partner could no longer see him. “Don’t make the mistake of killing another innocent woman tonight.”
Royce tore the bottom of his cloak and soaked the scrap in the lamppost reservoir. Then he walked to the warehouse.
“You can’t get to me without killing her!” Merrick shouted again. “Get back where I can see you.”
Royce began coating the base of the walls with oil.
“Damn it, Royce. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her. It wasn’t me.”