Emperor of Thorns (The Broken Empire, Book 3)

‘There’s nothing to see,’ I said. ‘And besides, it’s just a room, what’s to choose?’


‘And there’s me thinking this was your idea in the first place,’ Elin said, moving by me, pulling me into the shadows. Something in the way she brushed past lit a fire.

I had been thinking to send Sindri and his party off questing after a suitable room to claim, hopefully with the Lord Commander in tow, leaving me to poke around the empire throne in a moment of privacy. Instead we’d left Hemmet back by the throne and I was wasting my time with—

‘We won’t have long.’ Elin snaked her arms around me, strong and slender fingers kneading into the muscles along my spine.

‘I don’t want Sindri to—’ I started.

She kissed me, challenging, hungry. Then, pulling away, ‘Oh shush, he knows me.’ She shrugged off her velvet cloak.

‘I need to get to the—’

‘I know what you need, my king.’ She drew her tunic overhead, black as moleskin, a fluid motion leaving her naked save for skirts. Skin like milk, showing only the faintest pink at the tips of full and heavy breasts.

It was true. She did know what I needed.





46


Five years earlier

‘Who the hell are you?’ I pushed myself from Elin and left her leaning back against the wall, still patting down her skirts.

‘A man who sees the future.’ The intruder, a priest by the look of his robes, watched us with milky eyes. For the sake of Elin’s honour I hoped he saw as little as the cataracts suggested.

‘So you already know I’m just about to repeat my question?’ I said.

‘I am Father Merrin, priest of the Free Church of Adam.’

‘You’re to marry my brother to his Hagenfast wife,’ Elin said, pulling on her top, remarkably unashamed of herself, rather pleased if anything.

‘Yes,’ Father Merrin said.

Something niggled at me, something familiar about a man looking into the years to come. I scratched my head as if that would aid matters. It didn’t.

‘Can we help you?’ I kept an eye out for Sindri and his uncle appearing at the door. They’d kept busy touring the other rooms. Elin said Sindri knew her mind. I’d hoped he approved – she had said he would. I did stop Ferrakind stirring their volcanoes up, after all. ‘Is there something you need?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think so,’ Father Merrin said. The lamplight from the main hall glistened off his baldness and made something comic of his ears, too big, like those of all old men. ‘I came to help you instead, King Jorg.’

‘How so?’ Something about the man tickled at me. I doubted that he would be walking through the Gilden Gate to conduct the ceremony. He’d choose a different entrance. It seemed unlikely the Gate would let him through any more than it would admit me.

‘You’re wanting to search beneath the throne, Jorg. Something to do with a ring you’re carrying. But you can’t see how to do it. Hemmet isn’t going to allow you on the dais. You’ve thought about distractions you could make. Each plan more wild and less promising than the last. You even thought of causing some scandal with my lady here and trying to achieve your goal in the uproar.’

‘All true,’ I said. Elin punched me in the shoulder. Hard. ‘And why do you want to help me do that? What’s going to happen when I use the ring?’

Father Merrin shrugged. It made him look young, just a boy wearing all those creases. ‘I don’t see so much with these blind eyes, only a glimpse or two. All I know is that somehow it will make the Lord Commander owe you a favour.’

‘And why is that good for you?’ I asked.

‘That too is dim and far away,’ he said. ‘But Lord Commander Hemmet’s support, the surety that his favour builds, will tip you in some decision made years from now. And that decision will help the Free Church, and what helps the Free Church weakens Roma and helps the people.’

‘Helps the people?’ I drew the view-ring from inside the jerkin Sindri had gifted me and spun it before Elin’s eyes. ‘Oh well. If I really must.’

I motioned for the priest to lead on. ‘Lead on,’ I said, remembering he was blind.

Sindri, his uncle and bannerman, had rejoined the Lord Commander and Captain Kosson before the throne.

Sindri called out to us as we approached. ‘Did you find us a good room, Jorg?’

‘Well, I liked it.’ We both grinned, naughty boys in the schoolroom. Neither of us married quite yet – growing up could wait a while.

‘Lord Commander,’ Father Merrin said, his voice carrying the sing-song of prayer. ‘It is necessary that the throne be set aside for a short while.’

Hemmet scowled, as if the thought of it being touched, let alone moved, distressed him. ‘You’re sure, Father? Is it one of your visions?’

Father Merrin nodded. Bald-headed, skinny in his robes, big ears like handles, I found it hard to take him seriously, but he held sway with the Lord Commander. Hemmet clapped his hands and four guards came trotting in from a distant entrance.