Bellingham was a city surrounded by war, but the sound of it never quite made it through the walls of the House of Kimathi’s grand estate. Spring, however, had, and the flowers blooming on the vines and trees lovingly tended throughout the estate lent the air a perfumed scent. The inner courtyard meant for the House’s private use was adorned with so many blossoms it rivaled the gardens that once existed in the old Imperial palace grounds.
VezirJoelle, head of the House of Kimathi, sipped her tea in relative silence as she watched her daughter read through the reports she herself had already reviewed the night before. Karima’s dark head was bent over the sheaves of paper, brow furrowed as she studied the latest news from theirvasilyet’s borders.
“We’ve lost ground,” Karima said when she finished, leaning back in her seat. The low table between them had been cleared of the late-morning meal some time ago, with only the tea tray remaining. The sun shining down on the courtyard had migrated closer to where their table sat beneath the branches of a potted tree.
“Some,” Joelle conceded. “The general of our army assures me it is nothing to worry about.”
Karima pursed her lips, the motion deepening the lines that bracketed the corners of her mouth. She was dressed in a white-and-gold gown offset by gold and opal jewelry today, her dark hair twisted up in an elaborate style picked through with diamond-encrusted pins. As with Joelle, Karima dressed as if she were royalty, reinforcing the image of their rule. “I find that difficult to believe, Mother.”
Joelle set her teacup on the table, the knuckles on that hand throbbing faintly from gripping the delicate handle. She’d taken the salve and potion for the aches in her joints with food, but it hadn’t yet carved out the pain she lived with. Her House’s healer was worried about her becoming resistant to such relief, and at her age and position, there was only so much medicine she could afford to take. Part of that was the side effects and potency of such medications; the rest of it was not wanting to risk being addled when someone attempted to kill her.
For a time, she’d weathered such potential threats from her daughter. Karima had never been pleased with her right as heir being usurped by Artyom while mourning her daughter, Nicca. She’d ultimately not acted on such desire, and while Karima still grieved for her daughter, she’d seen what such devastating depression could cost her. She’d mourned Artyom strictly during the official mourning period and no longer than that.
Karima was intent on retaking her rightful spot to succeed her mother. To that end, Joelle no longer believed Karima was plotting against her now that Artyom was dead. The ache of losing her son left her with melancholy thoughts at night and when she prayed at the memory wall that held Artyom’s name. But Joelle had not survived and come so close to reclaiming her House’s rightful place on the Imperial throne by being someone who let emotion control her.
Joelle had plenty of family members to choose an heir from, but the road to the Imperial throne ran through Karima, for Nicca had born Raiah. Artyom’s children had as much right to Joelle’s title ofvezirbut less so to the Imperial throne at this time. And so Joelle had gone back to her daughter and left Artyom’s widow and children by the wayside. These days, Karima accompanied her to every meeting about the war come to theirvasilyet’s borders.
Karima wasn’t the only one present in those moments. Joelle’s gaze cut briefly to the Blade who stood in the corner, ever silent and watchful. Daijal’s support for their House’s endeavors ran through Joelle, kept in check by a pair of Blades who’d set up residence in their household last Twelfth Month. She chafed at the oversight but went along with it because pretending to bow to someone else and toeing the line hopefully meant less intrusion. Besides, Joelle had other ways to pursue her own plans.
For all her supposed power, Eimarille’s attention and army were tied up in Ashion despite the support sent to Joelle’svasilyet. Joelle knew Eimarille viewed the fight in Solaria as a distraction to Vanya, to keep him focused on his own people and not give in to the begging of Ashion envoys. The Legion guarded the long northern border and skirmished with Daijalan war machines in the northwest amidst thousands of revenants roaming the poison fields and back roads.
Vanya had not yet authorized aerial bombardment of Bellingham, and Joelle doubted he would. She knew he did not want to be viewed like his mother and make the same mistakes that had turned Rixham into a dead city. Killing innocent civilians in an attempt to claw back avasilyetand punish a House wouldn’t play well with all the rest of the Houses who had backed him in the Conclave.
In the aftermath of her House being named a traitor by Vanya, Joelle had refused to return to a fold she no longer believed in. The House of Kimathi stood alone as a rallying point for what was coming. If Vanya could not see his rule would end in ruin, then Joelle would wait out his inevitable fall.
“Eimarille is shipping down another death-defying machine to one of the towns on our side of the border. She’s emptying the POW camp outside of Istal to provide more bodies for it. The revenants it produces will be deployed within range of the Legion battalions harassing our border,” Joelle said.
“And what of our soldiers?” Karima asked.
“Their use of the sentinel-class automatons is what keeps them safe. Trust the generals in charge of war. They know what they are doing.”
Especially since the defected Solarian general deployed in the field on their side was arionetkaloyal to Joelle and no longer under Eimarille’s control. Where that general led, many of the legionnaires under his command had followed. Vanya had yet to push the full might of the Legion against her defected army backed by Daijal weapons and magic. Whenever he did, Eimarille had promised to divide his attention further. The Legion would be handled.
For now, Joelle had to handle her own matters.
The meeting with Karima lasted another hour before she sent her daughter off with political aides for the interview with reporters that would appear in the evening edition of the only broadsheet printing in Bellingham. Propaganda was an important part of keeping power that Joelle never let fall by the wayside. Letting Karima dance those steps at Joelle’s direction meant she could control the narrative.
The Blade did not follow either of them when they left the parlor, but Joelle didn’t trust the assassin’s prying eyes. Neither did she appreciate needing to skulk about her own home, but she’d yet to figure out how to remove the Blades without it getting back to Eimarille.
Her handmaidens escorted her to her bedroom, opting to use the small lift to spare Joelle’s knees. She’d taken to napping through the midday hours, needing the rest but also the privacy it allotted her. The Blades never watched her sleep.
When the door closed behind her, her youngest handmaiden opened the closet door and pushed aside the numerous gowns and robes hanging there. The intricately tiled walls hid a narrow door in the corner. The hinges were always oiled and made no sound when the handmaiden used the key Joelle gave her to unlock the door and push it open.
One of her handmaidens was already slipping beneath the covers of Joelle’s bed, a wig in place that mirrored Joelle’s current hairstyle. The body double was a precaution she’d utilized off and on throughout the years. The rest of her handmaidens ranged themselves around the room to await her return.
“This way, my lady,” the handmaiden in the closet said in a low voice.
Joelle took the offered hand and let the other woman guide her into the hidden, narrow spiral staircase built between walls and floors that led underground. The estate boasted several such hidden passages, some meant to exit the estate entirely. This one led to the estate’s cellar, a place only the servants ever really accessed except in moments like this. Whether or not the Blades knew of it didn’t matter so long as her secret meetings with her own spies were never uncovered.
Joelle stepped out of the narrow stairwell into dimly lit darkness, the cellar only having one other exit that led to the servants’ and kitchen areas of the estate. The spies loyal to her House knew how to enter the estate dressed as servants and were always listed on the duty roster under an alias. They went through the physical checks forrionetkasthat everyone else did and another check by a magician with an affinity for mind magic. So Joelle knew that the young man with a forgettable face was no threat. Even if he was, the starfire she coaxed into existence at the tips of her fingers was enough to make most people hesitate.
She didn’t have Vanya’s strength, but starfire ran in her bloodline and through her House. Nicca hadn’t been able to cast it, but she’d passed it on to Raiah through her blood. Joelle’s great-granddaughter was the culmination of all her efforts to reach the Imperial throne in her lifetime, and yet, she’d never properly met the girl. It galled her to know that part of her House was out of reach.
But hopefully not for much longer.
“VezirJoelle,” the spy said with a deep bow, keeping his voice low.
“What news have you of the warden?” Joelle asked.
