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

Sleeping in a tent this time of year would be miserable. Besides, what would the regents say? Moreover, what would they do in his absence? They treated him badly enough when he was here. How much worse would they conspire against him if he left?

He did not really want to be home. Ballentyne Castle could be a lonely place, all the more horrid in winter. He used to dream of how all that would change when he married, when he had a beautiful wife and children. He used to fantasize about Alenda Lanaklin. She was a pretty thing. He also often imagined taking the hand of King Armand’s daughter, Princess Beatrice. She was certainly appealing. He had even spent many a summer evening watching the milkmaids in the field and contemplating the possibility of snatching one from her lowly existence to be the new Lady Ballentyne. How grateful she would be, how dutiful, how easily controlled. That had been before he had come to Aquesta—before he had met her.

Even sleep gave him no solace, as he dreamed about Modina now. He danced with her on their own wedding day. He despised waking up. Archibald did not even care about the title anymore. He would give up the idea of being emperor if he could have her. He even considered that he would give up being earl—but she was marrying Ethelred!

He refused to look at the regent. The fool cared nothing for her. How could he be so cold as to force a girl to marry him just for the political benefit? The man was a blackguard.

“Archie … Archie!” Ethelred was calling him.

He cringed at the mention of the name he hated and turned from the window with a scowl.

“Archie, you need to talk to your man Breckton.”

“What’s wrong with him now?”

“He’s refusing to take my orders. He insists he serves only you. You need to set him straight on the lay of things. We can’t have knights whose allegiance is strictly to their lords. They have to recognize the supremacy of the New Empire and the chain of command.”

“Seems to me that’s what he’s doing, observing the chain of command.”

“Yes, yes, but it’s more than that. He’s becoming obstinate. I’m going to be the emperor in a couple of months and I can’t have my best general requiring that I get your permission to give him an order.”

“I’ll speak with him,” Archibald said miserably, mostly just so he could stop listening to Ethelred’s voice. If the old bastard were not such an accomplished soldier, he would seriously consider challenging him, but Ethelred had fought in dozens of battles, while Archibald had engaged only in practice duels with blunt-tipped swords. Even if he wanted to commit suicide, he certainly would not give Ethelred the satisfaction.

“What about Modina?” Ethelred asked.

The mention of her name brought Archibald’s attention back to the conversation.

“Will she be ready?”

“Yes, I think so,” Saldur replied. “Amilia has been doing wonders with her.”

“Amilia?” Ethelred tapped his forehead. “Isn’t she the maid you promoted to Chief Imperial Secretary?”

“Yes,” Saldur said, “and I’ve been thinking that after the wedding, I want to keep her on.”

“We’ll have no use for her after the wedding.”

“I know, but I think I could use her elsewhere. She’s proven herself to be both intelligent and resourceful.”

“Do whatever you like with her. I certainly don’t—”

“Queens always have need of secretaries, even when they have husbands,” Archibald interrupted. “I understand you’re going to assume total control of the New Empire, but she’ll still need an assistant.”

Ethelred looked at Saldur with a puzzled expression. “He doesn’t know?”

“Know what?” Archibald asked.

Saldur shook his head. “I felt the fewer that knew, the better.”

“After the wedding,” Ethelred told Archibald, “once I’m crowned emperor, I’m afraid Modina will have an unfortunate accident—a fatal accident.”





“It’s all arranged,” Nimbus reported. Arista paced the room and Modina sat alone on the bed. “I got the uniform to him, and tonight the farmer will smuggle Hilfred into the gate just before sunset in the hay cart.”

“Will they check that?” Arista asked, pausing in her journey across the room.

“Not anymore, not since they called off the witch hunt. Things are business as usual again. They know the farmer. He’s in and out every third day of the week.”

Arista nodded and resumed her pacing.

“The same wagon will cart you all out at dawn. You’ll go out through the city gates. There will be three horses waiting at the crossroads for you with food, water, blankets, and extra clothing.”

“Thank you, Nimbus.” Arista hugged the beanpole of a man, bringing a blush to his cheeks.

“Are you sure this will work?” Modina asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Arista said. “I’ll do just what I did last time. I’ll become Saldur, and Hilfred will be a fourth-floor guard. You’re sure you took the right uniform?”

Nimbus nodded.

“I’ll order the guard to open the entrance to the prison. We’ll grab Gaunt and leave. I’ll instruct the seret to remain on duty and tell no one. Believing I’m Saldur, no one will know he’s gone for hours, maybe even days.”

“I still don’t understand.” Modina looked puzzled. “Amilia said there was a prison in the tower, but all the cells were empty.”

“There is a secret door in the floor. A very cleverly hidden door, sealed with a gemlock.”

“What’s a gemlock?”

“A precious stone cut to produce a specific vibration that when held near the door trips the lock open. I used a magical variation on my tower door back home, and the church used a far more sophisticated version to seal the main entrance to Gutaria Prison. They’re using the same thing here, and the key is the emerald in the pommel of the sword the Seret Knight wears.”

“So, you’ll make your escape tonight?” the empress asked.

Arista nodded. The empress looked down, a sadness creeping into her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Arista asked.

“Nothing. I’m just going to miss you.”





Arista’s stomach twisted as she looked out the window and watched the sun set.

Am I being foolish?

Her plan had always been to merely locate Gaunt, not break him out. Now that she knew exactly where he was, she could return home and have Alric send Royce and Hadrian to rescue him. Only that had been before—before she had found Hilfred, before she had been reunited with Thrace, and before she had known she could impersonate Saldur. It seemed like such an easy thing to do that leaving without Gaunt would be an unnecessary risk. The smoke verified that he still lived, but could she be sure that would be the case several weeks from then?

She was alone with Modina. They had not said a word to each other for hours. Something was troubling the empress—something more than usual. Modina was stubborn, and no force could move her once she decided on a course. Apparently the course she had decided on was not to talk.