He approaches me, and at the horror in my eyes, he grins, all the more savage for the pain he’s just felt in remembering Zak. “Careful now, Shrike,” he says. “Your sister is to be in my care. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you?”
“She—you—” While I gibber, Marcus strides out, his guards trailing. When our slaves have closed the courtyard gates behind him, I hear Hannah’s quiet laugh.
“Won’t you congratulate me, Blood Shrike?” she says. “I am to be Empress.”
She’s a fool, but she’s still my little sister, and I love her. I cannot let this stand.
“Father,” I say through gritted teeth. “I would speak with you.”
“You should not be here, Shrike,” my father says. “You have a mission to complete.”
“Can’t you see, Father?” Hannah whirls on me. “Ruining my marriage is more important to her than finding the traitor.”
My father looks a decade older than he did yesterday. “The betrothal papers have been signed by the Gens,” he says. “I had to save you, Helene. This was the only way.”
“Father, he is a murderer, a rapist—”
“Isn’t that every Mask, Shrike?” Hannah’s words are a slap in the face. “I heard you and your bastard friend speaking ill of Marcus. I know what I’m getting into.”
She swoops toward me, and I realize she’s as tall as I am, though I don’t remember when that happened. “I don’t care. I will be Empress. Our son will be heir to the throne. And the fate of Gens Aquilla will forever be secure. Because of me.” Her eyes glow with triumph. “Think on that as you hunt down the traitor you call friend.”
Don’t punch her, Helene. Don’t. My father takes my arm. “Come, Shrike.”
“Where’s Livvy?” I ask.
“Sequestered in her room with a fever,” Father says as we ensconce ourselves in his book-stuffed study. “Your mother and I didn’t want to risk Marcus picking her instead.”
“He did this to get at me.” I try to sit but just end up pacing. “The Commandant probably put him up to it.”
“Do not underestimate our Emperor, Helene,” Father says. “Keris wanted you dead. She tried to persuade Marcus to execute you. You know her. She refuses to negotiate. The Emperor came to me without her knowledge. The Illustrians have turned on him. They use the escape of Veturius and the slave-girl to question his legitimacy as Emperor. He knows he needs allies, so he offered your life for Hannah’s hand in marriage—and the full support of Gens Aquilla.”
“Why not throw our weight behind another Gens?” I say. “There must be some who covet the throne.”
“They all covet the throne. The infighting has already begun. Who would you choose? Gens Sissellia is brutal and manipulative. Gens Rufia would empty the Empire’s coffers in a fortnight. All would object to any other Gens ruling. They will tear each other apart vying for the throne. Better a bad Emperor than a civil war.”
“But, Father, he’s a—”
“Daughter.” Father raises his voice—a rare enough occurrence that I fall silent. “Your loyalty is to the Empire. Marcus is Augur-chosen. He is the Empire. And he needs a victory badly.” My father leans across his desk. “He needs Elias. He needs a public execution. He needs the Gens to see that he is strong and capable.
“You are Blood Shrike now, daughter. The Empire must come first—above your desires, your friendships, your wants. Above, even, your sister and your Gens. We are Aquilla, daughter. Loyal to the end. Say it.”
“Loyal,” I whisper. Even if it means my sister’s destruction. Even if it means a madman running the Empire. Even if it means I have to torture and kill my best friend. “To the end.”
???
When I arrive at the empty barracks the next morning, neither Dex nor Harper mentions Hannah’s betrothal. They are also wise enough not to remark on my black mood.
“Faris is at the drum tower,” Dex says. “He heard back about the horse. As for those reports you had me look through …” My friend fidgets, pale eyes on Harper.
Harper almost smiles. “There was something off about the reports,” he says. “The drums gave conflicting orders that night. Martial troops were in disarray because the rebels cracked our codes and scrambled all the communiqués.”
Dex’s mouth drops open. “How did you know?”
“I noticed it a week ago,” Harper said. “It wasn’t relevant until today. Two orders given that night went unobserved in the chaos, Shrike. Both transferred men from the eastern part of the city elsewhere, thereby leaving that entire sector unpatrolled.”
I curse under my breath. “Keris gave those orders,” I say. “She let him go. She wants me tied up in the hunt for Veturius. With me gone, she can influence Marcus without interference. And”—I glance at Harper—“you’re going to tell her I figured it out. Aren’t you?”
“She knew that the moment you walked into Villa Veturia with questions.” Harper fixes his cool gaze on me. “She doesn’t underestimate you, Shrike. Nor should she.”
The door bursts open, and Faris lumbers through, ducking his head to avoid the frame. He hands me a slip of paper. “From a guard post just south of Raider’s Roost.”
Black stallion, eighteen hands, Gens Veturia markings, found on routine camp raid four days ago. Blood on saddle. Beast in poor condition and showed signs of hard riding. Tribesman in possession was questioned but insists horse wandered into his camp.
“What in the bleeding skies was Veturius doing at Raider’s Roost?” I say. “Why go east? The fastest way to escape the Empire is south.”
“Could be a ploy,” Dex says. “He could have traded the horse outside the city and turned south from there.”
Faris shakes his head. “Then how do you explain the beast’s condition and where it was found?”
I let them argue. A chill wind blows through the open barracks door, rifling the reports on the table, bringing in the smell of crushed leaves, cinnamon, and distant sands. A Tribal trader trundles past with his cart. He’s the first Tribesman I’ve seen in Serra in days. The rest have left the city, in part because of the Scholar revolt and in part because of the Fall Gathering in Nur. No Tribesman would miss it.
It hits me like a lightning bolt. The Fall Gathering. Every Tribe attends, including Tribe Saif. In the middle of all those people, animals, wagons, and families, it would be child’s play for Elias to slip past Martial spies and hide among his adoptive family.
“Dex.” I silence the discussion. “Send a message to the garrison at Atella’s Gap. I need a full legion mustered and ready to depart in three days. And saddle our horses.”
Dex lifts his silver brows. “Where are we going?”
“Nur,” I say as I walk out the door for the stables. “He’s heading to Nur.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Laia
Elias suggests we rest, but sleep won’t find me this night. Keenan is equally agitated; an hour or so after we’ve all bedded down, he gets up and disappears into the woods. I sigh, knowing I owe him an explanation. Delaying it will make the road to Kauf more difficult than it already promises to be. I rise, shivering from the cold and pulling my cloak closer. Elias, on watch, speaks quietly as I pass.
“The poison,” he says. “Don’t tell him or Izzi. Please.”
“I won’t.” I slow, thinking of our almost-kiss, wondering if I should say anything. But when I turn to look at him, he’s studiously staring out at the forest, his broad shoulders taut.
I follow Keenan into the woods and run to catch his arm just as he’s moving out of view.
“You’re still upset,” I say. “I’m sorry—”
He throws off my arm and spins about, his eyes flashing dark fire.
“You’re sorry? Skies, Laia, do you have any idea what I thought when you weren’t on that barge? You know what I’ve lost, and you did it anyway—”
“I had to, Keenan.” I didn’t realize it would hurt him. I thought he would understand. “I couldn’t let Izzi face the Commandant’s wrath. I couldn’t let Elias die.”