His aura washes over me, and for the first time, I get a sense of how intimidating he can really be.
Because he’s sizing up these guards, deciding whether or not their act of respect is genuine, and if they try anything stupid…
Goddess help them.
But the guards don’t seem to be hostile at all.
“Your Highness.” The one on the left, a man with intense blue eyes and a big rust-colored beard, bows again, his demeanor solemn. “His Majesty has been expecting you.”
“How long has he been like this?” Corvan’s voice is taut with barely restrained anger. I want to go to him, but I sense that he needs to face this alone.
It strikes me that Corvan didn’t know his father was dying.
Nobody told him.
The guard lowers his eyes. “Can’t say, Your Highness. He ordered us to keep it quiet. Nobody but his inner circle and the Elite Guard know of it.”
Corvan lets out a soft sigh; part exasperation, part despair. “He’s in his personal chambers?”
“Aye. You’ll find him in his bedchambers. Please, go on right through, Your Highness.” This massive guard, so hard and dangerous, is suddenly gentle. “There’ll be no resistance from us.. None at all.”
Corvan inclines his head in acknowledgment. “And if you swear fealty to me, I won’t hold you accountable for the sins of his rule.”
Then he turns to me, holding out his hand.
I take it without asking, feeling reassured by his strong, warm grip, even though I’m the one that should be doing the reassuring.
The guards give me a passing glance, but they stop short of scrutinizing me. I sense it’s out of respect and deference for Corvan.
How surprising. I’d always thought the people in the capital would be hostile to him, but that isn’t the case at all.
I take his hand. We pass through the first entrance. Once we’re out of earshot of the guards, I look up at him. “Those men have a lot of respect for you.”
He shrugs. “The Elite Guard know me well. For a time, I was overseeing their training.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about your father.”
Corvan squeezes my hand. “It’s okay, Finley. I was expecting it. He’s seen seventy-two summers. A considerable age. He’s been fortunate to live this long, considering who he is. Most of my ancestors were lucky to reach even half his years.”
I fall silent. It never occurred to me that carrying the Duthriss name would be so fraught with danger.
But Corvan won’t have that problem.
Who could kill him now?
“My father’s no saint either,” Corvan says quietly. “He’s inflicted his share of good and evil upon the world.”
“Nobody’s just one or the other,” I say softly, as the promise of power prickles the back of my awareness. How sweet it would be if I could just make everything go away. “But maybe for some, there can be redemption.”
He stops and leans in to kiss me. His lips are warm, his kisses tender and filled with need.
“Perhaps,” he whispers, before taking my hand and leading me the rest of the way, right into the innermost sanctum of the most fortified place in the entire continent.
51
CORVAN
My father’s chambers are at the very heart of the Inner Sanctum. Surrounded by windows on all sides, they’re a light-filled space looking out upon lush, delicately manicured gardens.
It’s also one of the most heavily fortified places in all of Rahava, with Elite Guards stationed within each of the Seven Circles, and elaborate hidden traps built into every layer.
The second last ring of the Inner Sanctum is his personal library, where he keeps the most precious and forbidden texts—rare books on distant lands beyond the borders of the empire; on the topic of forbidden magic. Some of those books are the only remaining copies in existence.
He’s ordered all the others to be destroyed.
How much knowledge has been lost from the empire, all because of my father’s pathological need for control?
This place is as familiar to me as the back of my hand. As a child, I played alone in these chambers, running down the empty corridors under the watchful eyes of the Elite Guard. I remember staring at my own reflection in the windows, daring myself to race, imagining that boy was another child—a brother, or a cousin.
Ansar was rarely allowed in here. We’re ten years apart—by the time he was old enough to run around, I’d been sent to the Military Academy.
It’s a little ironic, then, that I’ve returned with a companion. Not a sibling, but a mate.
My future wife.
The one I cherish with all my being.
She instinctively moves closer to me as we near the final set of doors. I breathe in her sweet scent, and as always, it grounds me.
It overpowers the stench of sickness and decay that seeps from my father’s bedchambers. I can hear his breathing—slow and erratic.
Gods, father, why didn’t you send word earlier?
But it’s just like him to not tell anyone that he’s bloody dying. Valdon Duthriss wouldn’t want the world to pay witness to his weakness.
He’d rather die first and shock them all.
He would have planned his funeral procession already—right down to the very last detail.
He always was obsessed with details.
We pass through the antechamber, where a large arched window overlooks a pond filled with golden koi set amidst immaculately landscaped gardens. My boots land on plush silk carpet. Between a pair of life-sized bronze statues—depictions of mother and father in their prime—rests a sofa upholstered in sumptuous green velvet, where one can sit and meditate upon the view.
Father used to sit here alone. As a child, whenever I intruded, he’d chase me out.
I never knew what he was thinking; why he sat in that place so very often.
I glance up at the statue of my mother.
Empress Helia.
Her face is as I remember it; serene and beautiful, her eyes conveying warmth.
How the artist captured that, I don’t know.
Mother… if only I could have shown you…
Me, as I am now.
And Finley.
My memories of her from when I was a little boy are still so vivid. She’d always had a commanding presence; an aura that would make everyone in the room focus on her. She was incredibly beautiful, with raven hair, flawless skin and eyes that were a curious shade of violet.
Nobody else in Rahava had eyes like hers.
And yet, it was her incredible warmth I remember the most. She was never cold and distant. She was funny, kind, loving, mischievous.
The formidable Empress of Rahava would exchange her lavish dresses for a simple loose shirt and trousers. She would sit on the floor and play toy soldiers with me.
With me, she was simply mother.
She made me feel safe.
And I loved her so. That’s how I remember her before she fell ill; before father confined her to her chambers like a caged bird, and as the days passed, I saw her less and less…