ago when she and Caim fought to win her throne had destroyed nearly a third of the city. She’d toured Low Town and seen the aftermath for herself firsthand, and been moved to tears by the plight of her most vulnerable subjects. To imagine that those same people roamed the streets of Othir tonight, taking up arms against her, was like a hammer blow to the heart. She grasped for a solution.
“I could address the people,” she said. “Explain the situation and ask them to return to their homes until the crisis is over.”
Hirsch stirred a finger in his cup. “Wouldn’t work. Those crowds would tear you and your guards apart as soon as listen to you.”
Hubert frowned at the adept. “I’m forced to agree, Majesty. It’s too dangerous for you to go out in public.”
She swallowed, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. But she had seen it herself, in the eyes of the crowd. They hated her.
“How long would it take to summon the nearest garrisons?”
Hubert set down his cup. “That would be Parvia and Wistros, but most of the levies from those lands have already been dispatched to the west. We can send riders to recall them. In the meantime, I suggest that we secure the city gates and the docks. With the granaries still under construction, we need the daily shipments of grain to continue or face the possibility of widespread famine.”
Josey nodded, still numbed by the news. “Yes, as you say, Hubert. I put this matter in your hands.”
Hubert bowed and left the room. Amelia hovered at Josey’s shoulder. The events of the evening-the carriage ride, the attack, the flight back to the palace-came crashing back to her, and her legs trembled as if about to give out.
“Master Hirsch,” she said. “Thank you for your courage this night. Ask for anything, and if it is within my power, I will grant it.”
The adept hitched his thumbs in his belt. “Well, lass, I’m not one for collecting payment until a job is done. That creature is out there somewhere, but I’ll get it.”
“I trust you will. If you’ll excuse me, I shall retire for this evening.”
“Aye.”
Josey peered over her shoulder as she and Amelia walked to the door. The adept stood before the fireplace with a silver flask in his hand. His eyes were almost closed, and his lips moved as if he were praying. Josey couldn’t make out the words, but something about his expression unsettled her. Could she really trust him? Or anyone, for that matter? The chimerical killer could be anywhere. What if it was leading her away to her death right now?
With a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill of the hallway, Josey let Amelia pull her from the room.
Stepping out of the interrogation chamber, Sybelle peeled the layers of half-melted skin off her fingers. A rush of cool air rustled her hair as the guards closed the door, shutting out the moans of the prisoners inside.
The session with her other prisoners, though enjoyable on a personal level, hadn’t produced the results she desired. She had pried loose the location of several rebel safe houses within the city. Safe houses. What a droll phrase. No place was safe from her reach, not within this city, not in all of Eregoth. After sending troops to roust these locations, she set to prying loose the information she needed most of all. Where was the scion? But the rest of her time was wasted. She wiped off her bottom lip and sucked the coppery liquid from her finger. Well, not entirely wasted.
The enchantment she had used to break Caedman Du’Ormik’s will was irresistible, but it left holes in the memories of its victims, so she had turned to other avenues to fill in the blanks. Yet the captives Soloroth brought in were shockingly ignorant about the long-range plans of their leaders. She didn’t know why she had expected more of these half-clothed barbarians.
The clack of boot heels echoed down the corridor as a young man in sleek leathers approached. When he presented her with a cylindrical tube, Sybelle expected news from her commanders about the raids.
Instead, the messenger said, “From His Highness.” His tone was deferential, but his eyes roamed her body before they settled on her face. “I am instructed to wait for a reply, Your Ladyship.”
With a look she knew would send the boy’s pulse racing, Sybelle broke open the tube. A thin scroll of parchment slid out into her hand. Its message was brief and to the point. Erric had found out she’d ordered raids inside the city without his consent. He wanted her to return to the palace. The last words burned in her mind.
At once.
She crumpled the note into a ball and froze it into ice with a thought. She turned back to the messenger as the note shattered on the floor.
“Tell His Majesty I will return when I am finished here.”
The man departed on swift steps. Sybelle ran the tip of her tongue across her teeth. What was keeping Soloroth? She had expected his report not long after she sent him out with the duke’s soldiers.
As if in response to her thoughts, a gargantuan shadow rose against the wall at the end of the corridor. The jangle of metal filled the stairwell as the black peak of a massive helmet appeared. Conflicting emotions quivered inside her breast at the sight of him. Soloroth was the flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood, but something else lurked within his steel-clad chest. While he served her dutifully, Sybelle didn’t fully trust her son. Someday, he would seek to supplant her, and on that day she would have to kill him. Until then she kept him on a tight leash. But watching him approach now, she had to wonder how secure was the collar she’d fastened around his soul. Dried blood coated Soloroth’s metal gauntlets, his breastplate, even the armored plates protecting his legs. It looked as if he had bathed in it.
“What news?” she demanded before he’d even stopped three paces before her.
His metal visor looked down at her. “The locations were searched and their occupants seized, as ordered. There was insignificant resistance.”
“Did you get them all?”
The face mask moved side to side. “Some escaped capture in the southern ward. Patrols have been sent out to sweep the burgs.”
“You lost them in the forest, and now they elude you again! Soloroth, I swear by-”
“All the insurrectionists at my site were captured.” He held out a blood-spattered gauntlet. “Or eliminated. Blame your other captains.”
She slapped his hand away. It wasn’t his fault. The outlaws had become devilishly clever of late, but if this persisted, her situation would continue to deteriorate. Her father’s patience would not last forever.
“Find the officer in charge of that raid and execute him,” she said. “Do it yourself.”
Waiting for an acknowledgment that never came, she had an urge to freeze his insolent eyes in their sockets, but she could not afford to be without him. Not yet.
“Is there something else?” she asked.
“The scion is here.”
Sybelle bit the inside of her cheek. Pinpricks raced across her skin. This explained everything-the disturbing portents, the feelings of unease that had settled in her belly like a clutch of serpents.
“You know this for sure? You tracked him?”
“No. As before, the shadows will not cooperate.”
Her nails bit into the tender skin of her palms as she clenched her hands into fists. She expected no better- Soloroth had his uses, but subtlety was not one of them. Still, it rankled. She knew what her master would command if he knew-destroy the last heir of Shadow, of course, and be done with it. But she had other ideas. To take him, to absorb his essence and bind it to her own, that could mean everything, including an end to her filial bondage. The thought made her heart pound.
“Empty the barracks. Send every soldier out into the streets. Your Northmen, too. Scour the city until he is found.”
When Soloroth started to turn away, she stopped him. “I want him alive. Understand?”
His helmet tipped forward. “It will be done.”
She watched him march away down the corridor. The chain on his belt creaked like the shackles of the damned. When he was gone, she strode in the opposite direction. She wanted to discuss this new development with Caedman and find out how much the outlaw leader knew. If he had been withholding information about the
