Aria continued retreating, until her fingertips touched the hem of Isana’s filthy gown. She swiped at her eyes a few more times, then hoisted herself to lift her sword into an awkward guard position, her left leg hanging lifelessly beneath her.
There was a quiet rustle of sound—and no fewer than eight more blade-beasts dropped from the ceiling all around the vord Queen and slowly rose. Their gently glowing eyes focused on the Alerans, and the vord creations lifted their sword-limbs, ready to strike, as they rustled closer.
“Crows take you,” Aria choked, her voice shaking. “Crows take you, Invidia.”
Invidia stared at the vord Queen from one side, her face bloodless. It made her scars stand out purple and hideous. “I didn’t… I thought that…”
“You thought,” the Queen said, “that you would allow the High Lords to exterminate me. Then you, in turn, would exterminate them—disposing of nearly every Aleran still alive who could match your power.” She shook her head as she looked at Invidia. “Did you think me a fool?”
Invidia licked her lips and took a step back. Blood ran down her wounded arm and dripped to the croach in a quiet, steady patter.
“You have no need to fear me,” the Queen told her. “It is a weakness over which you have no control, Invidia. I simply planned to take your shortcomings into account. It was not difficult to remove a junior queen’s higher functions and reshape her into the lure for the trap. I regard your treachery as a minor shortcoming of character, in the greater scheme.”
Invidia stared at the vord Queen, and whispered, “You aren’t going to kill me?”
“I do not condemn a slive for its venom, a hare for its cowardice, an ox for its stupidity—nor you for your treason. It is simply what you are. There is still a place for you here. If you wish it.”
“Traitor,” hissed Lady Placida.
Invidia bowed her head. She shook silently for a moment.
“Invidia,” Isana said gently, “you don’t have to do this. You can still fight. You can still defeat her. Aria will help you. Sandos will find a way in, soon. And my son is coming. Fight.”
The woman shuddered.
“Isana was not lying about the Blessing of Night,” the Queen said. “Serve me until Alera has been put in order, and I will grant it to you when I release you to rule what remains.”
“When, Invidia?” Isana said urgently, leaning toward her. “When is the price too high? How much innocent blood must be spilled to slake your thirst for power? Fight.”
The Queen looked at Isana, then at the former High Lady. “Choose.” Invidia’s eyes flicked to the two unmoving forms in the alcove, then to Lady Placida. She shuddered, and Isana saw something in her break. Her shoulders slumped. She bowed forward slightly. Though nothing about her changed, her face, Isana thought, suddenly looked ten years older.
Invidia turned to the vord Queen, and said, her voice bitter and weary, “What would you have me do?”
The Queen smiled slightly. Then she gestured with a hand, and a trio of wax spiders came walking over the croach, carrying with them the sword of the fallen Phrygia. They stopped at Invidia’s feet.
“Take the weapon,” the Queen said quietly. “And kill them all.”
CHAPTER 48
“Bloody crows, Frederic,” Ehren complained, as they moved into the hall. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
The hulking young Knight Terra grunted as the little Cursor elbowed him and stepped a bit away. “I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s just that Harger said—”
Frederic was interrupted as Count Calderon rounded the corner at a brisk walk and slammed into the young man. Frederic let out a grunt at the impact and fell backward.
Count Calderon scowled ferociously. “Frederic! What the crows are you doing in the citadel?” He looked at Ehren. “And you. You’re…” His eyebrows went up. “I thought you were dead.”
Ehren leaned on his cane and tried not to let too much wince leak into his smile. “Yes, Your Excellency. And so did Lord Aquitaine. Which was the point.”
Bernard drew in a slow breath. “Get up.”
The young Knight Terra hurried to obey.
“Frederic?” Bernard said.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re not hearing any of this.”
“No, sir.”
Bernard nodded and turned to Ehren. “Amara said that he suspected you had manipulated him into that stunt at Riva.”
Ehren nodded. “I didn’t want to be within reach when he figured it out. And the best way to do that was to be tucked safely into a grave.” He shifted his weight and winced at his injuries. “Granted, I hadn’t intended my exit to be quite that… authentic. The original plan was for Frederic to find me at the end of the battle.”
“Wait,” Frederic blurted, his eyes almost comically wide. “Wait. Count, sir, you didn’t know about this?”
Count Calderon narrowed his eyes and eyed Ehren.
Ehren smiled thinly. “Sir Frederic, Tribune Harger, and Lord Gram may have been operating under the impression that they were acting under your direct and confidential orders, sir.”
“And what would have given them that impression?” Calderon asked.
“Signed orders!” Frederic said. “In your own hand, sir! I saw them!”
Calderon made a rumbling sound in his chest. “Sir Ehren?”
“When I was learning forgery, I used to use your letters to Tavi for practice, Your Excellency.”
“He gave you those letters?” Calderon asked.
“I burgled them, sir.” Ehren coughed. “For another course.”
Calderon made a disgusted sound.
“I—I don’t understand,” the young Knight said.
“Keep it that way, Frederic,” Calderon said.
“Yessir.”
“Leave.”
“Yessir.” The brawny young Knight saluted and hurried away.
Calderon stepped closer to Ehren. Then he said, very quietly, his voice hard, “You’re telling me, to my face, that you conspired to murder a Princeps of the Realm?”
“No,” Ehren said, just as quietly, and with just as much stone in his voice, “I’m telling you that I made sure a man who absolutely would have killed your nephew could never hurt him.” He didn’t let his gaze waver. “You can have me arrested, Your Excellency. Or you could kill me, I suppose. But I think the Realm would be better served if we sorted it out later.”
Count Calderon’s expression didn’t waver. “What,” he said finally, “gave you the right to deal with Aquitaine that way? What makes you think one of us wouldn’t have handled it?”
“He was ready for any of you,” Ehren said simply. “He barely looked twice at me until it was too late.” He shrugged. “And I was acting under orders.”
“Whose orders?” Bernard demanded.
“Gaius Sextus’s orders, sir. His final letter to Aquitaine contained a hidden cipher for me, sir.”
Calderon took a deep breath, eyeing Ehren. “What you’ve done,” he said quietly, “orders from Sextus or not, could be considered an act of treason against the Realm.”
Ehren arched an eyebrow. He looked down at the stone floor of the fortress beneath him and tapped it experimentally with his cane. Then he looked up at Calderon again. “Did you have orders from Gaius Sextus, sir?”
Bernard grunted. “Point.” He exhaled. “You’re Tavi’s friend.”
“Yes, I am, sir,” Ehren said. “If it makes it easier for you, I could just vanish. You wouldn’t have to make the call.”
“No, Cursor,” Bernard said, heavily. “I’ve reached the limits of my tolerance for intrigue. What you did was wrong.”
“Yes, sir,” Ehren said.
“And smooth,” Bernard said. “Very smooth. There’s nothing to link his death to you but a dying man’s babbling suspicions. And only Amara and I know about that.”