Saldur had expected the peasants to tire themselves out overnight, but their fury seemed to have increased. He was irked that the city, which had been quiet and orderly for years, chose this moment to rampage. In the past, people had been taxed penniless and starved to provide banquets for kings. Despite all this, they had never revolted. That they did so now was strange, but moreover, it was embarrassing.
Even Merrick had been surprised by the reprisal, which had appeared to come out of nowhere and everywhere at once. Saldur had expected some disappointment at the outcome of the joust and anticipated a few troublemakers. He knew there was a chance that one of the knights would live and supporters of the fallen champion might lash out. What he had not counted on was both competitors surviving. With no obvious crime, their arrests appeared unwarranted. Still, the response was curiously impassioned.
At first he thought it would be an easy matter to contend with, and ordered a dozen heavily armed soldiers to silence the agitators. The men returned bloodied and thinned in ranks. What they had met was not a handful of dissidents but a citywide uprising. The whole matter was frustrating, but of no actual concern. He had sent for the Southern Army, and it was on its way to restore order. That would take a day or so. In the meantime, Saldur proceeded with the wedding.
The ceremony had been delayed a few hours, as Saldur had needed the morning to arrange armed escorts for the carriage’s trip to the cathedral. That had gone well and now he just needed to transport the bride and groom. He was anxious to get the final procession under way, but Ethelred had not returned with Modina. If he had not known better, Saldur might have thought Lanis was exercising his husbandly rights a bit early. Whatever the delay, he was tired of waiting.
Saldur reached the empress’s bedroom and found two guards posted outside the door. At least Nimbus was following orders. Without a word to either guard, Saldur threw the door open, entered, and halted just past the threshold. The regent stood, shocked, as he took in the grisly scene.
The first thing he saw was the blood. A large pool spread across the white marble floor of the chamber. The second was the broken mirror. Its shards were scattered like brilliant islands in a red sea.
“What have you done!” he exclaimed before he could catch himself.
Modina casually turned away from the window to face him, the hem of her white nightgown soaked red to the knee. She looked at the regent without qualm or concern.
“He dared to place a hand on the empress’s person,” she said simply. “This cannot be allowed.”
Ethelred’s body lay like a twisted doll, an eight-inch shard of glass still protruding from his neck.
“But—”
Modina cocked her head slightly to one side like a bird and looked curiously at Saldur.
She held another long, sharp shard. Despite its being wrapped in material, her grip was so tight blood dripped down her wrist.
“I wonder how a feeble old man such as yourself would fare against a healthy, young farm girl armed with a jagged piece of glass.”
“Guards!” he shouted.
The two soldiers entered the room but showed little reaction at the scene before them.
“Restrain her,” Saldur commanded.
Neither of them moved toward the empress. They simply stood inside the doorway, unheeding.
“I said restrain her!”
“There’s no need to shout,” Modina said. Her voice was soft, serene. Modina moved toward Saldur, walking through the puddle. Her feet left macabre tracks of blood.
Panic welled in Saldur’s chest. He looked at the guards, then back at the empress, who approached with the knifelike glass in her hand.
“What are you doing?” he demanded of the soldiers. “Can’t you see she’s crazy? She killed Regent Ethelred!”
“Your forgiveness, Your Grace,” one guard said, “but she is the empress. The descendant of Novron. The child of god.”
“She’s insane!”
“No,” Modina said, cold and confident. “I’m not.”
Saldur’s fear mingled with a burning rage. “You might have these guards fooled, but you won’t succeed. Men loyal to me—the whole Southern Imperial Army—are already on their way.”
“I know,” she told him in her disturbingly dispassionate voice. “I know everything.” She nodded at the guard and added, “As is fitting for the daughter of Novron.
“I know, for example, that you killed Edith Mon for aiding Arista, which incidentally she didn’t—I did. The princess lived for weeks in this very room. I know you arranged to have Gaunt captured and imprisoned. I know you hired Merrick Marius to kill Esrahaddon. I know you made a deal with him that handed the port city of Tur Del Fur over to the Ba Ran Ghazel. I know how you bargained with a dwarf named Magnus to betray Royce Melborn in exchange for a dagger. I know you convinced Hadrian to kill Sir Breckton in the tournament. I know you slipped Breckton a war tip. Only neither knight killed the other. I like to think I had a hand in that.