“You know what will happen if you persist in this manner!” Gwaharad continued.
She knew. She also knew that the reason they were having thisconversation with the prefect at all was because the people of the city were still riding high on their triumph, and Hesperus wanted to make the incident go away by blaming it on a rogue element of the legion. Had this been a real war, the prefect would have locked himself inside the castle and waited for the Twenty-Fifth Legion to arrive. Loran and Gwaharad were still in the shadow of the Empire.
She lowered her sword. Gwaharad assumed a persuading tone.
“The matter concerns not two, but hundreds and thousands of lives. What are we to do if the entirety of the Twenty-Fifth overwhelms Kingsworth?”
Her left eye lost its sight again. Wurmath stopped issuing smoke. Gwaharad took a step toward Loran.
“Liberation cannot be achieved in a day,” said Gwaharad placatingly. “Do not forget that a moment of foolishness can cost us everything we’ve gained.”
His voice was soft. The prefect, still petrified, would not let go of the drapes.
“Prefect Hesperus. Forgive us,” Gwaharad said, turning back to the prefect. “The princess is still unused to the ways of the world and seems to have momentarily forgotten herself.”
Loran sheathed her sword. Hesperus coughed again and leaned against his chair to stand up. A few guards burst into the room, but Hesperus dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He gave Loran a sidelong look before straightening his doublet and sitting down once more in as dignified a pose as he could muster.
“When will you give us our compensation?” Gwaharad asked.
“You shall have it when you leave. Will you join us for our midday meal?”
While the prefect and the king exchanged more pleasantries, Loran stared up at the golden falcons on the red drapes. The Empire was strong. No matter how strong Loran herself was, no matter how hot Wurmath might burn, it wasn’t enough to stop the legion and drive the Empire out of her country. She needed to take what she could when she could; perhaps Gwaharad was right.
But there was still one thing she could not accept.
“What are you going to do with the gold?”
Their conversation interrupted, the prefect frowned. Gwaharad hesitated before answering.
“We will use it for the Liberators, of course. You need not worry about it, Mistress Loran. I will make sure my staff do not waste any of it.”
“This is coin gathered by taxing the hard work of Arlanders. Why should it be spent on the Kamori army?”
Gwaharad smiled awkwardly. “As I’ve said before, the Kamori Liberators fight not only for ourselves but for the good of all the Three Kingdoms. I hope you come to see it that way as well. The princess shall have her turn—”
“That money is the price of the lives of two Arlanders,” Loran cut in. Before Gwaharad could speak again, Loran continued. “The old woman in the square had lost her husband, son, and the wife of her son at the Empire’s hand, and now her own life as well. You wish to fill your own stomach with the money made from that injustice?”
Gwaharad looked appalled. “How dare you speak to me this way?!”
Loran’s vision filled with blue. Her burning eyepatch fell to the floor. She smothered the flame with her foot, then took a step toward Gwaharad.
“To be sure, Arlanders are not your own people. But even so, your lack of qualms is astounding. You dare call yourself a king? Much less speak for all the Three Kingdoms?”
Gwaharad’s eyes were wide, his trembling hand on the hilt of his sword.
Loran drew Wurmath and swung the blade. But not at Gwaharad—at the prefect. Half the room was suddenly engulfed in blue dragonfire.
Hesperus screamed, but the sound soon disappeared with him into the fire. Gwaharad stared at Loran, dumbfounded, before running out of the door.
Loran stood where she was, watching as the red drapes went up in blue flames.
16CAIN
Cain found himself in what looked like a child’s room. Everything looked normal—there was a small bed, a shelf full of books, and a dresser with some drawers. But then, sitting on the edge of the bed was a dried-up cadaver wrapped in bandages. The bandages constrained the cadaver’s arms to its body. Its legs were also tied together. Cain couldn’t tell the body’s age or gender. The only thing he could say for sure was that it was dead. Its withered lips surrounded a mouth that was torn at the sides, revealing teeth.
He tried hard not to be alarmed. He sensed this was not a space any ordinary mortal could understand, and there was no reason to understand it. Cain tried not to pay too much attention to the body but instead looked at the small shelf above the drawers. The books were mostly adventure stories featuring heroes of the Empire. Cain rarely read such books, but he recognized most of the titles of the books here. Among the smaller volumes, there was one larger book.The Sorcerer of Mersia.He had never heard ofit, but he knew Mersia as the steppe country that was rumored to have been destroyed in a single night. Just as he stretched out his hand to it, Arienne’s voice came from nowhere.
“This is not a real room. I imagined it using the memories of my childhood bedroom back home… You are inside my mind.”
