She remembered the last time they had met, and how uncomfortable she had felt under his gaze. This time she would ensure her Sentinels remained close. For his part, Azai Dravos kept a respectable distance, though his own bodyguard, in their tunics of red, stood not far from him.
‘Azai Dravos,’ she said. ‘I understand you are eager for your answer?’
The man bowed. ‘My apologies, Majesty, but my master, Kalhim, is an impatient man. And perhaps you are not in a position to tarry either?’
‘You’re right, of course. It seems time is a commodity neither of us can spare.’
She felt Durket squirming beside her, wringing his sweaty hands and moving from foot to foot. It made her want to slap him.
‘May I assume your answer is “Yes”?’
Janessa looked at him, at those green eyes and that white smile. What was her answer? Choose yes, and she would have mercenaries to help defend the city, but ultimately it would be a city influenced by a foreign hand. Refuse, and there might indeed be no city to rule.
‘I am sorry, Azai Dravos, but the answer is no.’
But then it had to be. Her father had fought to unite the Free States and she was his only heir. She could not betray his legacy by gifting the kingdom he had fought so hard for to a merchant from the Eastern Lands. Had she said yes she may well have gained ten thousand swords but the trust and love of her people would have been washed away into the sea. It wouldn’t matter whether Steelhaven was razed or not — she would have given away a kingdom to save a city.
Azai Dravos took a step forward. His smile was gone now. Durket shrank from the man, but Janessa stood her ground, taking strength from the warriors that stood at her shoulders.
‘My master will be most disappointed. And he is not a man used to being spurned.’
‘I am sure he will accept my decision,’ Janessa said. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’
Before she could withdraw Dravos was right in front of her. How he had moved so fast she couldn’t tell, almost as though he was possessed of some preternatural speed. Durket and her Sentinels took a step back, taken by surprise, but Janessa was held by that green gaze.
‘No!’ Dravos demanded. ‘You will listen, girl. My master has made an offer you cannot refuse. Without his aid you are damned. This city is damned. The unborn child that grows within you is damned.’
How could he know? What witchcraft was this?
Janessa tried to step away but she was locked in place, held by Dravos’ piercing eyes.
‘I … I cannot …’
But he is a man of wealth and power. A man used to governing a kingdom of his own, if the reputation of the White Moon Trading Company was to be believed. Would it not be a strategic match?
‘You will say yes,’ demanded Dravos, staring intently into her eyes.
Something shifted inside her, and she again placed a protective hand on her belly.
Janessa knew that she was being manipulated. It was obvious Dravos’ charm was not all in his smile. Was he some kind of sorcerer? Was he even now casting some glamour on her?
‘No,’ Janessa barked, pulling her gaze away and stumbling back.
The spell broken, her Sentinels rushed forward, Janessa watched as they drew their swords and Durket scrambled desperately out of the way of any possible violence.
Azai Dravos did not move as the Sentinels drew on him. Did not move as they advanced. Did not move as one of them raised his sword to strike.
He didn’t need to.
There was a flash of red as one of Dravos’ bodyguards moved in. He was unarmed and clad in only a simple cloth tunic, but there was no fear in him as he faced the armoured knight. As the sword came down the bodyguard caught the knight’s arm, twisting his body and sending the Sentinel crashing to the ground. His fist came down again and again, a bare fist that pummelled the faceplate of the knight’s helm, denting it more and more with each swift blow, only stopping when the knight was no longer moving.
By now the second Sentinel had charged in, but two more of Dravos’ men had moved to intercept. One swept his leg low, smashing it into the knight’s knee and knocking him to the floor. The second kicked out, his heel thudding into the Sentinel’s helm and sending him sprawling.
Janessa staggered back, staring at the downed knights. She could hear Durket whimpering somewhere in the shadows, mumbling to himself in fear. Before she could flee, Dravos was in front of her again. He took her arms in his powerful hands and shook her.
‘There is no one here to protect you, girl. You have only one option.’
Janessa, desperate to avoid that gaze, turned away from the green eyes, but Dravos slapped her across the face. It was an open-handed blow, strong enough to send her reeling to the ground.
She could taste blood on her lips. The room spun around her and for a moment she was fearful, not for herself but for the life inside her.
What was she to do now? Who would come to her aid?
No one. No one is coming. You have to get out of this yourself, stupid girl. Did you think you would be protected forever? Did you think every knight of legend would come running at your beck and call?
Janessa looked up, seeing a door in front of her and she realised where she was. This was the reliquary chamber, where the Helsbayn was kept on its plinth. If only she could reach that sword she would give good account of herself.
She tried to stand, stumbling towards the door behind which her sword stood. From the corner of her eye she could see Azai Dravos following her.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, seeming amused by her defiance. ‘There is nowhere to run. You cannot escape me, child.’
Janessa reached the door, pushed it open and fell into the small chamber. On its plinth stood the Helsbayn, the fabled sword that had been wielded by her ancestors in so many victories. Janessa reached out, but before she could grab the blade Dravos had her by the wrist and forced her to look at him.
His touch burned and she refused to cry out in pain but as she was caught in Azai Dravos’ baleful gaze she could not turn away.
‘Your persistence is admirable, but futile. You will promise yourself and your throne to my master whether you want to or not. You cannot resist. You must yield to my will.’
His hand seemed to be searing into Janessa’s flesh. His eyes bored into her soul. She wanted to scream but no words would come. The urge to beg for respite was almost overwhelming, but even as the sorcerer’s powers tore into her she somehow found the strength to resist.
I will not beg. I will not yield. I would rather die.
Her defiance suddenly seemed to frustrate Dravos, and he frowned in consternation. ‘You cannot disobey me. I am an acolyte of the Sha’kadi. A priest of the Black Light of Horas. You will submit to my will.’
‘The hells I will!’ Janessa screamed, spitting in Dravos’ face.
As the spittle ran down his cheek his only response was to look down at Janessa and smile.
She could feel herself weakening, her vision darkening, filling with images of strange horrors. She would never be able to resist and she knew it. Ultimately Dravos would win.
It was too late now. Too late for her, for the city … for her child. No heroes were coming. No one would save her.
The world began to darken, and she wondered if there would ever be light again.
As her mind faded, she seemed to see the image of a man’s face … a beautiful face, marred on one side by a crisscross of scars.
She knew him from long ago. It seemed important somehow … but for the life of her she couldn’t work out why.
And as the dark began to consume her she realised she no longer cared …
TWENTY-FIVE
Mandel Shakurian closed his eyes and listened to the sea crashing against the cliffs. It was a sound that usually filled him with peace and made his worries seem to fade. But today Mandel remained troubled.