"Is it done?" Orabon asked.
Killian rubbed his hands together. "It has surpassed anything that we expected. Alaric, Serona, the Reaver — even Lord Drowan is dead, although he mattered little."
Orabon's laugh was an amused rumble. "Don't be too pleased with yourself just yet, my eager friends. It shall take time to see just how deep the waters are. Take care that you do not leap in and drown yourselves."
Gile bit off the retort that almost sprang from his lips. There was a look, a flicker in Orabon's onyx eyes that made him hesitate. He still did not know enough about Orabon, and it was that lack of knowledge that made him uneasy.
The larger man folded his arms. "I am secured in my station. It is mine in all but name. Soon all the 'Aberran' will be united as Guelph brothers. Then we will be able to deal with toppling the nations of men, starting with the Kaerleon."
Killian nodded as he tapped his slender fingers together. There was no glimmer of what he truly thought. He had to find Orabon's assumed leadership as chafing as Gile did. I will work with you both for now. But not forever. Once I have all that I need, I will be the last man left standing.
Killian wet his lips from a jewel-encrusted goblet. "We must consider what to do about Jacquelis. So long as she lives, she is a threat to any plan Masiki puts into motion. I know her too well. Even now she seeks a counterstrike against us. It would not do well to underestimate her."
Orabon's teeth flashed. "I would not presume to do so. And I know just the thing that would serve that purpose. I believe you have heard of the creatures called Eidolon?"
"I know they were all supposedly destroyed in the War of the Sages." Killian studied Orabon's face. "Or were they?"
The faintest smile touched Orabon's lips. "Destruction is not a word that can apply to beings such as the Eidolon. Their skills are at our disposal, courtesy of our generous mistress."
"That's rich, mate. Richer than the shite from a bloody golden gryphon." Killian's hair flailed as he threw back his head and roared with laughter. It echoed down the broken halls, carrying out to the outer grounds. The throngs of Malic clansmen that gathered answered with wild howls of their own, brandishing curved blades and pikes. Their deranged cries carried out to the dark red sky, reflecting the promise of the blood to be spilled soon.
MARCELLUS JOINED NYORI on a balcony overlooking the palace grounds. The lush fields of Epanos sprawled as far as the eye could see. She was draped in a clinging cream-colored dress, another gift from Salliana. Her hair was unbraided for once, hanging loose and lustrous, and her earrings sparkled in the sunlight. Marcellus looked at her for a moment as she gazed upon the flowering trees and gardens with a small smile on her lips.
Kill her now and move on.
She spoke without turning. "This is truly a land of beauty."
Marcellus followed her gaze. "I know. It makes you wish to stay, does it not?"
Her eyes lowered. "That is where you and Queen Salliana met?"
"Yes." He studied her. "What we had was finished long ago."
"She still loves you."
Marcellus sighed, gazing at the budding fields. "And I love her. But it is different now. A different love than what we used to have. A love between great friends and rivals, if you will."
They stood there a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun before he spoke again. "What are your plans, Nyori?"
Kill her now and move on.
She looked up at him with a sly smile on her face. "What does the business of a mere Shama have to do with his Majesty of Kaerleon?"
He tried to smile, but it died on his lips. "Everything has changed. I fear for what will become of you. Do not think of Kaerleon to be a haven. The affairs of state are every inch as deadly as a battlefield, but with less honor. You are free to do what you will. You should use that freedom to get away from all of this."
"Are you so eager to be rid of me?" Her eyes searched his, wary with anticipation of pain.
"No. You are one of the few I know I can trust. And I…I have grown fond of you. It is just…" He sighed.
Tell her. Kill her now and move on. It's better for both of you.
"I will have to marry, Nyori. Oren says it will ease the sting of the nobles if I have a marriage pact with one of the greater Houses. It will be bad enough that I will claim the throne with a show of force if necessary. My claim will have far greater legitimacy if suited with a high-ranking lady of the court."
Her gaze lowered. "I…see."
Marcellus could tell she did not. "I do not want this. I do not even want the throne. But I cannot escape duty, it seems. It hounds my footsteps no matter where they land." He took hold of her hand. "You should leave, milady. There is nothing for you in Kaerleon."
Nyori exhaled softly and looked toward the horizon. "I expected this. You are a king now. You have to think of others other than yourself."
It's done. Move on and don't look back.
Marcellus knew he should have listened to the nagging inner voice. Duty was his mistress; he had no time for any other. But Nyori's face held his gaze. He saw the slight tremble in her jaw, the moisture in her eyes that betrayed her true feelings. He felt his resolve evaporate the longer he looked at her.
Don't do it. It will be the death of you both.
"Nyori."
She turned to him. Her face was a reflection of the confliction that he felt inside. He could think of only one way to end it.
It will be—
"My words say one thing, but my heart feels another. I died when I buried my family. I thought it was better that way. Better to bury myself along with them. But I don't wish to continue that way. I know now that I must go on. I must live and repair the damage I have wrought. And the truth is there is something else I don't want." Marcellus' hand trembled when he wiped away the teardrop that glistened in the corner of his eye. "I don't want you to leave. Not now." He traced her cheekbone lightly and drew her closer. "Not ever."
— the death of you both.
Her expression was wary, hope crouching behind cautiousness. "What are you saying, Marcellus? I know little of the ways of royalty, but I've heard about kings and their mistresses. I cannot be—"
He stopped her with a gentle laugh. "I'm not asking you to be my mistress, Nyori. I would never demean you like that." He hesitated for a moment as his future span around him.
The death—
"I'm asking you to be my wife, Nyori. I'm asking you to be the queen of Kaerleon."
— of you both.
Her eyes shimmered. "I…know nothing of rulership, Marcellus. I am from a tiny village in the Steppes."
He smiled. "I know nothing of ruling either, Nyori. We will be quite the pair. But we have made it this far together. Surely we can continue to this next step as well. Together. Will you say yes?"
"Yes."
She surprised him with the fierceness of her kiss. He held her tighter, savoring the closeness as time dissipated like a dream. The wind blew through, heavy with the floral perfume of the surrounding groves. Soft rain sparkled in the daylight; dancing in chartreuse colors as though celebrating the moment.
They stayed there, isolated from the rest of the world in their little nook with a view of paradise. When the departing sun cast scarlet shades across the sky, they witnessed it from the same balcony. Marcellus felt at peace for the first time since he departed Kaerleon. He smiled as he stroked Nyori's hair.
"You still have a choice, Nyori. The weight of a crown can be a cruel burden with few if any rewards. If you have any second thoughts or doubts, I would hear them."