His mother’s lashes fluttered, then slowly lifted. Her delicate silver brows drew together in hazy confusion when she saw him. “Dori?”
Tears sprang to his eyes. “Yes.” He pressed a kiss to her hand. “It’s me.”
“You’re alive!” She sat up, flinging her arms around him. “Thank the gods. They said your ship went down.”
“It did, Mama. The Danae saved me. The Tairen Soul’s trip to Elvia brought us the allies we needed to defeat the enemy at Great Bay.”
“Oh, Dori!” Abruptly, tears filled Annoura’s eyes, and her features twisted with a mix of elation and grief. “Dori… oh, Dori, he’s gone. He’s gone.”
“I know, Mama.” Dorian put his face against his mother’s neck as he hadn’t done since childhood. They both wept, mourning the loss of the husband and father who’d been the center of their lives.
Eld ~ Boura Fell 9thday of Seledos
Damn them! Damn them! Damn them for their incompetence!
Vadim Maur snatched the silverglass mirror off his bedchamber wall and smashed it against the stone. It exploded with a satisfying crash, sending shards and splinters of glass flying in all directions. He grabbed the carved chaise in the corner of the room and slammed it into the wall until it broke into kindling. The small private desk and chair suffered a similar fate a few chimes later.
Vadim stood in the center of the wreckage, panting with exertion and trembling with rage.
Did he have to do everything by himself?
Kolis Manza was dead. Prince Dorian—the new king—was not. Annoura and the unborn child who were to have been Vadim’s power in Celieria were lost to him. And working in league with thedahl’reisen,the new King Dorian had instantly begun a purge of not only his court but the entire city. Centuries of planning and careful cultivation were unraveling with increasing speed.
And to top it all off, Ellysetta Baristani had escaped capture. Again.
Of all the bitter disappointments—of all the gross ineptitudes—that was the worst.
His Mages had failed him. All of them. Nour had failed. Manza had failed. Keldo had failed. Dur and the Mharog had failed. Every Primage and Sulimage he’d entrusted to bring his great plan to fruition had failed.
“Damn them!” If they weren’t already dead, he’d kill them himself for their bungling.
Throughout history, High Mages of Eld had held their Dark throne through a combination of strength, cunning, and ruthlessness. But no amount of cunning or strength could disguise the string of failures that had dogged his footsteps from the moment he’d fixed his eye upon Ellysetta Baristani. Or keep the whispers already circulating in the Mage Halls from gaining strength and credence. Primages who had been waiting for him to falter would seize upon the survival of Prince Dorian, the loss of Celieria’s throne, and not one but two failed attempts to capture the Tairen Soul and his mate as proof that Vadim Maur no longer enjoyed Seledorn’s Dark favor.
He needed a decisive victory—fast. And this time he had no intention of sending a lesser Mage to bungle the job. He would oversee the next stage of this battle himself.
Vadim released the privacy wards sealing his room and summoned a trustedumagito clean up the mess while he returned to the war room. Vargus and the other Primages were still there, several of them talking in quiet whispers. They fell silent when he entered. Vargus watched him with trepidation, the others with carefully constructed blankness.
“Vargus, pack your bags. You and I will be heading to Boura Dor tomorrow to oversee the next phase of our attack from there. And Garok?” Vadim turned to the Primage he suspected of leading the rumblings against him in the Mage Council. “You, Fursk, and Mahl are coming too.” He named the other two Primages who were most loyal to Garok. “I have an important job in need of your great talents.”
To his credit, Primage Garok’s expression never changed. “Of course, Most High.” He executed a smooth bow. “It is our honor to serve.”
Vadim hid his satisfaction behind a cold mask. When he achieved his great victory, he would be on hand to take the credit. His greatest detractors, unfortunately, would either perish as heroes supporting their Mage or die as incompetent fools, depending on the outcome of their battles.
When cunning and strength were not enough for a High Mage to hold his throne, it was time for ruthlessness. In particular, the swift and decisive elimination of all who opposed him.
Celieria City ~ The Royal Palace
Annoura, Dowager Queen of Celieria, sat alone on a stone bench in the private palace garden that had been Dorian’s favorite. Winter had come, and the trees had all lost their leaves weeks ago. It seemed fitting, somehow, to be here now, alone in a barren winter garden.
A sealed letter lay in her lap. Her name was written on the front in a familiar script. Dorian had sent the letter to Dori, in Great Bay, before his death. The ink was a bit smudged from seawater. When Dori’s ship went down, the letter was tucked in an oilskin pouch strapped to his waist. Her son had come very close to dying. If not for the Danae water spirits who had rescued him from his sinking ship, he would have drowned at the bottom of Great Bay.
The Danae had saved him, and he had returned to Celieria City with Gaspare Fellows, adahl’reisenfrom Cannevar Barrial’s land, and the Fey, to save her. After all she’d done, after all her hatred and accusations, the Fey and adahl’reisenhad still come to save her. That was a humbling realization. But not nearly so humbling as the realization that her Favorite, Ser Vale, had been a Mage, one who’d nearly claimed her soul.
She had harbored, in her innermost circle, an Elden Mage who had planned the execution of her entire family in order to claim her soul and rule Celieria through her and the royal son she carried in her womb.
She ran the pads of her fingers across the folded parchment of Dorian’s last letter to her. She was afraid to crack the seal, afraid what harsh truths might lie inside, but eventually, she mustered the courage. The blue wax broke in two. She unfolded the parchment and began to read.
My Dearest Annoura,
