Prologue
Brevan
Smoke fills the twilight sky,turning the setting sun a violent orange. Screams, sharp and terrified bite into the air, then vanish, overcome by thundering hooves and the yells of the night legion. It’s not a fight, it’s slaughter. As it has been at every town we visit.
It’s colder here as we near the border of Iskvaland. I never thought I’d long for the gloom of Aurorium, but being away from home has a way of making you long for things you took for granted.
My horse’s hooves click across the cobblestone street. I move slowly, giving my men time to eliminate any threats. Not that there are any. These people never had a chance.
Women and children are dragged from their homes, forced to their knees in front of the burning buildings. Their tears don’t reach my soul anymore. Not that I have anything left of my soul after so many years of service to Pendralia. Anything Imight have once felt was smothered and destroyed. The emperor himself saw to that.
I stop in front of the humble building at the edge of town. It’s an old structure made of stones that aren’t mined on this continent. Which means, they were imported from somewhere across the Obsidian Sea.
I dismount and nod to the three legionnaires on my right. They draw their swords then charge, slamming into the door until the wood cracks and splinters. They rush inside, each one eager to be the man who retrieves something of value.
I remove my helmet and hand it to one of the men on my left.They’ll find what we’re looking for. I’m certain it’s here. I can feel it. An energy that hums like raw power. While they can’t sense it, they usually have no problem finding the secret doors or locked boxes housing the relics.
By the time I approach the building and wait just beyond the steps, I hear the screams of whoever was hiding inside. I wait.
It’s not long before the legionnaires exit the home, dragging an old man between them. They toss him to the ground at my feet. He looks up at me, defiance in his eyes.
I stare down at him. He’s just like all the others. So much hatred and anger in his expression. It doesn’t change anything.
Legionnaires surround him, prepared in case he tries to run. Or worse.
“By order of the emperor, you have been found guilty of using and distributing the magic of the gods. If you renounce your heretic ways and comply, he may have mercy on you.” I’m tired of repeating the same phrase, but it’s good for the other citizens to hear me. It’s a warning.
The man mumbles through gritted teeth and his long white hair rises around his head. I can feel the charge of magic in the air. My jaw clenches. “Wrong choice,” I sneer.
In a heartbeat, I pull my sword from its holster at my side then stab him in the chest. Blood oozes from around the blade. I push him away with my boot so I can more easily retrieve my weapon.
The man falls to the ground, still mumbling despite the gushing wound. Wind kicks up around us, sending a spray of pebbles and dust. Another legionnaire approaches, axe in hand. I give him a single nod, and he lops off the man’s head. Blood sprays and the head rolls near my feet. His glassy eyes are wide with fear, and I catch the scent of piss. After all that false bravado, he still spent his last moments afraid. What a waste of the god’s gift.
I push his head with my boot, so I don’t have to see his eyes, then turn to my men. “Find all the relics, then burn the house.” I look behind me to where women and children are being loaded into wagons, then turn back to my men. “Burn it all.”
One
How the fuckdid I get talked into this?
I smooth the skirts of my elaborate dress and try to get comfortable. I should be comfortable. I’m on a velvet seat cushion in the most elegant, expensive carriage I’ve ever seen. But the corset is poking into my ribs, and the piles of fabric are making me sweat. Pulling back the curtains, I peer out the window and my breath hitches. We’re nearing the massive black hedges that surround the castle grounds. The stories say they’re full of thorns, that the leaves themselves are poisonous.
My heart hammers against my ribs as the carriage rumbles over the cobblestones. This was a terrible idea.
The hedges are getting closer. The leaves are so black they nearly blend together into one dangerous mass. In front of them are several corpses in various stages of decay tied to posts. Rebels and traitors. A warning to anyone considering opposing the empire. Ravens peck at the bodies, their cries sounding excited as they devour the dead.
I slam the curtain closed and lean back against the cushions. My breath is coming too quickly, and I replay everything I learned in my mind, trying to calm myself.
I can do this. I have to do this.
I move the curtain just enough to peek out. We’ve reached the hedges, and the carriage halts. There are night legionnaires outside the carriage, but none of them turn my direction. They’re expecting me, but they’re not allowed to look at me.
As we start moving again, I marvel at how thick the hedges are. We’re on a smoother road now. No more bumping and rattling. The carriage glides as if we’re floating. After so much time spent in the vibrating seat, it’s a bit unsettling.
When we’ve finally passed between the hedges, a lawn appears, dotted with stone sculptures and topiaries made of the same dark leaves.
I close the curtain again and prepare as best I can. I blot my damp face with a handkerchief and smooth my ruffled skirts. I spray myself with the perfume they stowed in the carriage with me.
The carriage comes to a stop, and somehow, I’m going through the motions. It’s like I’m watching myself, completely detached from what I’m doing and what comes next.
