Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

“No? It must be the good news that I’m to become a bride.”


Amilia looked terrified. “Modina, what’s going on? What’s happening in that head of yours?”

Modina smiled. “It’s okay, Amilia. Everything will be fine.”

“Stop using that word! You’re really frightening me,” Amilia said, reaching toward her.

Modina pulled away, moving to the window.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I’m sorry there was no guard at the door. I’m sorry you had to hear such a thing from the brandy-soaked breath of—”

“It’s not your fault, Amilia. It’s important to me that you know that. You’re all that matters to me. It’s amazing how worthless a life feels without someone to care for. My father understood that. At the time, I didn’t, but now I do.”

“Understand what?” Amilia asked, shaking.

“That living has no value—it’s what you do with life that gives it worth.”

“And what are you planning to do with your life, Modina?”

Modina tried to force another smile. She took Amilia’s head in her hands and kissed her gently. “It’s late. Goodbye, Amilia.”

Amilia’s eyes went wide with fear. She began shaking her head faster and faster. “No, no, no! I’ll stay here. I don’t want you left alone tonight.”

“As you wish.”

Amilia looked pleased for a moment, then fear crept back in. “Tomorrow I’ll assign a guard to watch you.”

“Of course you will,” Modina replied.





True to her word, Amilia remained in Modina’s chamber all night, but slipped out before dawn while the empress still slept. She went to the office of the master-at-arms and burst in on the soldier on duty, unannounced.

“Why wasn’t there a guard outside the empress’s door last night? Where was Gerald?”

“We couldn’t spare him, milady. The imperial guard is stretched thin. We’re searching for the witch, the Princess of Melengar. Regent Saldur has commanded me to use every man I have to find her.”

“I don’t care. I want Gerald back watching her door. Do you understand?”

“But, milady—”

“Last night the Earl of Chadwick forced his way into the empress’s room. In her room! And has it occurred to you—to anyone—that the witch might be coming to kill the empress?”

A long pause.

“I didn’t think so. Now, get Gerald back on his post at once.”

Leaving the master-at-arms, Amilia roused Modina’s chambermaid from her bunk in the dormitory. After the girl had dressed, she hurried her along to Modina’s room.

“Anna, I want you to stay with the empress and watch her.”

“Watch her, what for? I mean, what should I be watching for, milady?”

“Just make certain the empress doesn’t hurt herself.”

“How do you mean?”

“Just keep an eye on her. If she does anything odd or unusual, send for me at once.”





Modina heard Anna enter the room quietly. She continued pretending to sleep. Near dawn she stretched, yawned, and walked over to the washbasin to splash water on her face. Anna was quick to hand her a towel and grinned broadly to have been of assistance.

“Anna, is it?” Modina asked.

The girl’s face flushed, and her eyes lit up with joy. She nodded repeatedly.

“Anna, I’m starved. Would you please run to the kitchen and see if they can prepare me an early breakfast? Be a dear and bring it up when it’s ready.”

“I—I—”

Modina put on a pout and turned her eyes downward. “I am sorry. I apologize for asking so much of you.”

“Oh no, Your Gloriousness, I’ll get it at once.”

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Your Worship.”

Modina wondered if she kept her longer how many elaborate forms of address she might come up with. As soon as Anna left the room, Modina walked to the door, closed it, and slid the dead bolt. She walked toward the tall mirror that hung on the wall, picking up the pitcher from the water basin as she passed. Without hesitation, she struck the mirror, shattering both. She picked up a long shard of glass and went to her window.

“Your Eminence?” Gerald called from the other side of the door. “Are you all right?”

Outside, the sun was just coming up. The autumn morning light angled in sharp, slanted shafts across the courtyard below. She loved the sun and thought its light and warmth would be the only thing besides Amilia that she would miss.

She wrapped her gown around the end of the long jagged piece of glass. It felt cold. Everything felt cold to her. She looked down at the courtyard and breathed in a long breath of air scented with the dying autumn leaves.

The guard continued to bang on the door. “Your Eminence?” he repeated. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Gerald,” she said, “I’m fine.”





Arista entered the palace courtyard, walking past the gate guards, hoping they could not hear the pounding of her heart.

This must be how Royce and Hadrian feel all the time. I’m surprised they don’t drink more.

She shook from both fear and the early-morning chill. Esrahaddon’s robe had been lost the night of Hilfred’s rescue, leaving her with only Lynnette’s kirtle.

Hilfred. He’ll be furious if he reads the note.

It hurt her heart just to think of him. He had stood in her shadow for years, serving her whims, taking her abuse, trapped in a prison of feelings he could never reveal. Twice he had nearly died for her. He was a good man—a great man. She wanted to make him happy. He deserved to be happy. She wanted to give him what he never thought possible, to fix what she had broken.

For three nights they had hid together, and every day Hilfred had tried to convince her to return to Melengar. At last she had agreed, telling him they would leave the next day. Arista had slipped out when Hilfred went to get supplies. If all went well, she would be back before he returned and they could leave as planned. If not—if something happened—the note would explain.

It had occurred to her, only the night before, that she had never cast the location spell in the courtyard. From there, the smoke would certainly locate the wing, and if lucky enough, she might even pinpoint Gaunt’s window. The information would be invaluable to Royce and Hadrian and could mean the difference between a rescue and a suicide mission. And as much as she did not want to admit it, she owed Esrahaddon as well. If doing this small thing could save Degan Gaunt, a good man wrongly imprisoned; ease the wizard’s passing; and vanquish her guilt, it would be worth the risk.