“Mother?” Karima asked quietly, the fear in her voice a brittle thing. “If the airfield is on fire, how are we to leave?”
They’d had a plan, a way to escape if Bellingham was in danger of falling, predicated on Eimarille still being an ally. Now? Fleeing to Daijal was no longer an option, and if their troops had been compromised byrionetkas, the streets were just as dangerous. A city’s walls were meant to keep threats out, but when the threats were within, escape was far trickier.
“We’ll leave for the Imperial estate within the city. Quietly, with only a few guards to escort us,” Joelle said.
“How will staying there help us?”
“Because we must assume Eimarille’s people are within the city and that they will comehere. Better to be out of reach while we figure out what to do.”
Because the galling, bitter realization that they couldn’t stay—not here in their ancestral estate, nor likely Bellingham—sat like poison in her heart. Joelle did not want to run—did not want to give up everything her House had lived for over the Ages—but she’d rather be alive to enact revenge at the end of the day than not.
“What about the Ashionens?”
“We’ll take them with us.” They’d have to knock out the prince, which was never easy, considering his tolerance to poisons and drugs, and assign a magician to watch over him. Transferring the lady was a bigger problem, considering her still-unconscious state and needing the machine to keep her that way. Joelle glanced at her handmaidens, tipping her head at the closest one. “See to what needs to be done to transfer the prisoners.”
Her handmaiden sketched a shallow bow before leaving with quick strides. Karima watched her go with a frown. “What if Vanya knows?”
Joelle levered herself up to her feet, letting Karima carry the lantern. “If he does, I find his spy network lacking. We’ve had the warden for weeks now.”
“Do you think he’d raze Bellingham to get the warden back?”
Joelle didn’t profess to know what Vanya was willing to do or lose or risk to reclaim the warden, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She’d lost too much of her House to him since she’d signed the betrothal contract for Nicca years ago. The opportunity to claim the Imperial throne was slipping through her fingers. All her attempts at fostering political support with other Houses and clandestine alliances with Daijal were crumbling in the face of counterattacks she had nothing left to defend against.
More and more, Joelle questioned her decision all those years ago to turn from the Dawn Star and place her loyalty with the Twilight Star.
“It doesn’t matter what Vanya will do. What matters is our own efforts to secure our power,” Joelle said.
“But we keeplosing.”
“Our House still stands, and we will ensure it stays standing by leaving until it is safe to return.”
Karima pressed her lips together in a thin line. “My daughter shouldn’t have died for scraps.”
Joelle tightened her grip on her cane, silently lamenting that Artyom wasn’t with her. He’d been a better heir than Karima ever had. “Obey yourvezirand do your duty to your House.”
Karima bowed her head, knuckles white where she gripped the lantern. She said nothing as she left, taking the light with her. Joelle let out a slow breath, keeping a firm grip on her temper. “Turn on the light.”
“Of course,” her handmaiden murmured, moving to switch on a small table lamp, providing them with some illumination—enough that Joelle could see the hideous, desiccated face pressed against the glass of the window that looked out upon the rear garden.
She opened her mouth on a warning cry, but nothing came out, voice too tangled by fear to find the words. Her horrified expression must have given enough of a warning, for her handmaiden spun around, and the shriek she let out was cut off by the revenant that crashed through the window, bloated hands reaching for her. The revenant dragged the handmaiden to the floor, mindless in its ferocity to kill the living.
A guard slammed his way into the room, eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene. “Vezir!”
He gathered her up in his arms, Joelle dropping her cane so it wasn’t in the way. They fled the room for the darkness of the hallways, the sound of shattering glass elsewhere in the estate reaching her ears.
“How did revenants get into the estate?” Joelle asked frantically as she was carried down the hallway.
“We don’t know,vezir,” the guard grunted. “But we must get youout.”
She curled close to his chest, bones aching from the jostling she endured as he raced through the estate to wherever the rest of the guards were preparing to stand their ground. She didn’t see Karima anywhere in the rush to safety, but Joelle breathed out a sigh of relief when she caught sight of her daughter in one of the ground-floor rooms located in the center of the estate, the interior space having no windows.
Joelle tried not to feel as if she were stepping into a grave like the sort that used to rest beneath the old Imperial palace in the royal crypt.
Karima let out a cry of relief at Joelle’s arrival. The guard carrying her set Joelle on her feet, and she let Karima grasp her hands and pull her close. “Mother, did you see them?”
“We’ll barricade the door,” one of the guards said.
Fear spiked through Joelle as she thought of how Artyom must have died in the Imperial palace. “No, we can’t stay in here. We need to leave.”
