“No. I need to speak with my father first. The people responsible may still be in the castle or on the grounds. I don’t want to spook them with the bells.”
Rounding a corner on the way to the emperor’s chambers, Zane stopped short. Before him was one of the more gruesome sights he’d seen. A body lay on the ground, one arm at a terrible angle, the other arm severed completely. Both knees appeared to be broken. Multiple gashes crisscrossed the body, and it had been eviscerated. The face was a bloody pulp. But it appeared the killing blow was a slash across the throat. Even with all the disfigurement, Zane recognized Azazel. One man retched behind him, mixing the always lovely smell of vomit with that of blood andurine. Zane nudged the severed arm with his boot.Shame,he thought, attempting to hide his smile. He’d always hated the torture master, even if he’d never touched Zane himself.
Stepping over Azazel’s mangled corpse, he continued on his way up to the emperor’s lavish quarters. Uther had dedicated almost an entire wing of the castle to himself. It was obscene how much gold and precious jewels he’d fit into this space. The emperor needed his riches close by, like a dragon with his hoard. The guards posted at his bedroom door attempted to bar his entry, but even Uther’s personal retinue didn’t have the authority to touch the crown prince without a direct order. Zane burst open the double doors, striding confidently into his father’s space.
A shriek sounded from the large four-poster bed, immediately followed by Uther’s, “What the fuck?” A woman close to Zane’s age was throwing a sheet over herself, and Uther rolled onto his feet stark naked, ready to bash in whoever had interrupted his exceedingly mediocre fucking, if the sounds the woman had been making were anything to go by. Zane peered around his father and recognized the woman as Lady Seph, one of the noblemen’s daughters. And a woman Zane had already fucked months ago.Gross.
“Zane,” his father practically growled, “there had better be a good fucking reason for this. Or maybe you’ve grown fond of the switch?” Zane almost winced, hating that Uther mentioned his beatings in front of Seph, but he squared his shoulders, not worried about the consequences.
He motioned to Uther’s naked body. “Do you want to put some clothes on?”
“Youinterruptedme,” the emperor said, his impatience growing by the second, “so you get to be uncomfortable.”
Zane shrugged. “Just thought you might want to be dressed when I told you the prisoner escaped.”
“What?” Uther shouted, his body flushing red. He stormed over to the armoire, throwing on loose clothing in a rush. Holygazer green, as always. “Which one?”
“The girl.”
“Fuck!”
Zane was enjoying this far too much, and he had to double check that he had firmly affixed his uninterested, obedient son mask. “And why don’t I hear the bells?”Uther growled.
“I wanted to inform you first, in case they were still on the grounds. I didn’t want to scare them off.”
“Go ring the fucking bells!” Uther barked at the nearest guard, who immediately ran to do his bidding. “Zane, you need to start talking.”
“I was going to see the girl—”
“Why?” his father demanded.
“Conjugal visit,” Zane said, bored, shrugging. Uther huffed, but didn’t say anything about his choice in bed mate. “When we arrived, the two stationed outside the door were unconscious, and her cell’s lock had been completely melted.”
Uther went unnaturally still, confirming Zane’s suspicions. The emperor knew what was capable of committing such magic. Because it had to be magic. “Who aided her? Because I know she was too weak to get out on her own.”
Zane raised a shoulder again, nonchalantly. He studied his nails as Uther continued dressing. Poor Lady Seph was silently clinging to the bedpost. Uther paid her no mind, but Zane gave her an encouraging smile, nodding towards the bathing room. She scurried in on quiet feet; she’d be able to sneak out once they left.
Fully dressed, Emperor Uther rushed past Zane, clipping his shoulder as he left. Zane waited until his father was leaving at a hurried pace to call out, “Oh, and Azazel is dead.”
Uther spun around to face Zane, and the fury in his ice-blue eyes belied his loss of control. Zane knew his father hated that someone had outsmarted him. Let alone under his own roof. The emperor continued on his way without another word. This time, Zane couldn’t hold in a delighted chuckle. The past hour had been the most fun he’d had in at least a decade.
Chapter 26
Emmeric
Iyana had been sleeping for two days, Altair keeping her unconscious with his magic. The bells had clanged out the escaped prisoner pattern as they left Athusia. When the horses broke into a gallop, Emmeric could see Iyana was in severe pain, and it jolted throughout his entire body like lightning. Gods, the amount of shit this small woman had gone through in the past week was unbelievable. And the fact she was still alive? Remarkable. Emmeric found his respect for her growing. He’d yelled at Altair to put her to sleep, and the pain in his body mercifully dropped to almost nothing. Still some twinges in his back from time to time, where the flogging had been the worst of her injuries.
Emmeric had never killed anyone out of pure rage or hatred. His body count stacked up from years in the military under a ruthless, power hungry emperor. Guilt would consume him every time he killed an innocent in the Holygazer name. He’d spend days praying to Altea, begging her to welcome his victims to the Everlands with open arms. Emmeric knew there was a place in the nine hells waiting for him after he died. He only hoped as he went through the hells he’d be able to atone enough to eventually cross over to the Everlands, finally able to reunite with his parents. But Azazel? He relished that kill. His only regret was the time limit, and that he couldn’t produce more pain or evoke more terror from the craven. Still, he’d made sure Azazel felt every slice, every punch, every kick until Emmeric drew his sword across his throat. Even then, he’d made certain the cut was shallow, ensuring the small man would bleed out slowly. Hopefully, Phaedros himself would escortthe torture master directly to his pit. Only the worst of the worst bypassed the nine hells, being kicked into the pit of eternal torment without a chance at redemption.
They rode hard, attempting to put as much distance between them and Athusia as possible. There was no time to camp—the three men eating upon the horses—taking quick bathroom breaks to feed and water the horses. Iyana slept through it all. Finally, after an exhausting and frantic two days, the horses frothing at the mouth; they slowed and determined it was safe enough to sleep. They stopped in a small glen, trees with leaves of changing colors surrounding them, but the night sky peeked through the limbs. Probably not the most strategic of resting places, but there weren’t many other choices. Emmeric desperately wanted to fall asleep immediately. He’d only dozed a few times while riding, trusting his horse to follow the others, but it was anything but restful. However, Iyana’s well-being was his priority. Altair lowered her to Emmeric, and he placed her gently on a bedroll. Talon was busy starting a fire, the sounds of metal striking flint scaring off a flock of nightjars who screamed at them in protest.
“Can’t you heal her?” Emmeric asked Altair.
Altair shook his head. “I don’t possess that type of magic. Imera gave the gift of healing directly to humans.”
“But you helped her in Imothia.”
“That was panic, anxiety, which is much different from physical injuries. I can induce calm, or sleep, but knitting her skin back together or mending broken bones is not within my power.”
