The officer saluted with a sharp snap of gauntlet to helm. “Yes, Majesty.”
He directed one of his subordinates to remain and then followed her down the hall with the others. They met Captain Drathan as he rounded a corner.
“Majesty,” he said. “I was coming to report.”
The captain looked beyond exhausted, deep into a realm of fatigue that showed in the lines in his face and the dark circles around his eyes. Yet he held himself upright. While she suspected he had not taken the time to bathe since their return to the palace, his armor had been cleaned and his face washed to give a semblance of suitable presentation.
“How are my men?” she asked.
“Eleven are in the hospital ward, Majesty, including Sergeant Merts. There are some bad cuts and a couple broken bones, but the physicians believe everyone will pull through.”
“And Master Hirsch?”
Captain Drathan’s frown pulled the corners of his eyes downward. “He lives, but I’m told it will be a miracle if he survives until morning.”
Josey’s hands trembled. They were losing this fight for the soul of her city, and now her most potent weapon hovered on death’s doorstep.
“I want funerals for the fallen, Captain,” she said. “With full honors. What arrangements have you made for the defense of the palace?”
“I have increased the sentries on the walls and inside the palace proper. Your personal bodyguards”-he looked past her and frowned at the subaltern-“should have been doubled.”
“I will do as I wish with my guards, Captain.”
“I didn’t mean to imply-”
Josey held up a hand. “My apologies. I’m tired and short of temper. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Majesty. I meant to say that the situation has grown decidedly more precarious. I can vouch for the mettle of every man in your guard, but I fear we are too few to protect you. If the assassin strikes again-”
“If the assassin strikes,” she said, keeping her fear from rising to her voice, “we shall deal with it in due time.”
“Yes, Majesty.” But by his expression he was not convinced. “I also came to inform you that Duke Mormaer has arrived with a request for an audience.”
“At this time of night?” It had to be almost midnight.
“He seems… intent.”
A sudden burst of thunder rattled the window frames. Josey sighed and put a hand to her temple.
“Are you feeling all right, Majesty? Shall I fetch a-”
“I’m fine. Lead on.”
Josey was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It felt like huge fists were grinding against the sides of her head. She tried to shut it out, but the rumble of the soldiers’ boots on the marble floor only made the pain worse. Gritting her teeth, she descended the broad staircase to the ground floor.
Despite the hour, Lord Parmian and Major Volek waited in the throne room. Both men bowed as she climbed the dais and settled on the throne. The main doors of the chamber were open, and through them she could make out Mormaer’s broad frame in the foyer. She nodded for Ozmond to issue the summons.
Duke Mormaer’s footsteps rang out on the hard flagstones. His usually impeccable ensemble appeared slightly rumpled, as if he, too, had not slept in some time. His eyes, though, were fierce as ever as he strode up to the foot of the platform. His bow was stiff and perfunctory.
“What could not wait until morning, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Empress Josephine, the messengers you dispatched to Parvia and Wistros never reached the garrisons. They were murdered.”
Josey stood up. “How did you discover this?”
“I sent couriers of my own. My men came across the bodies of two imperial envoys on the road. Their assailants didn’t bother to hide the evidence.”
Josey struggled to breathe. Without those garrison troops, she could not save Othir. Sinking back onto her throne, she gazed up at the ceiling. The tiny eyes of saints and Church hierarchs looked down at her from the paintings above. For the first time she noticed that none of them, not even the Prophet of the Light, was portrayed with a smile.
“Duke Mormaer,” Ozmond said. “How far from the city did your men find the bodies?”
“About two days’ ride.”
Josey drew in a deep breath and was mindful of the tautness of her belly beneath her gown. Two days. How long before we would have begun to suspect? The city may have fallen before we sent new messages. Which, of course, was her enemies’ plan.
“Was the assassin responsible?” she asked.
“I do not believe so,” Mormaer said. “My men reported the envoys both died of wounds to the stomach and chest, possibly the work of daggers.”
“Close-up work.” Ozmond turned to the throne. “Majesty, those who killed the messengers were able to get within arm’s reach of them without drawing suspicion.”
Mormaer cleared his throat. “Empress Josephine, twenty of my best men await outside this chamber. If you will permit, I would add them to your guard for the time being. I personally vow as to their loyalty, each of them having served me for many years.”
Josey rose to her feet. “Duke Mormaer, I am honored, but a fortnight ago you might have gladly stood by and watched as I was toppled from this throne. What, may I ask, has brought on this change of heart?”
Mormaer nodded. “It’s true that we have different views on how this nation should be ruled, but I will not suffer the throne to be bullied. Not by anyone. Now if you will accept-”
A terrifying howl sliced through the air of the chamber. Josey fell back against the throne. Captain Drathan and his men drew their weapons as everyone gazed up at the ceiling. Ominous darkness cloaked the balcony overlooking the hall. Josey’s breath froze in her lungs. Gods protect us. It’s here.
Mormaer placed a foot on the bottom step of the dais. Shouting for his men, he looked to Josey. “Majesty, you must be away now. My men and I will hold this chamber.”
“But-”
“Majesty!” Captain Drathan shouted. “He’s right. It isn’t safe here.”
With a frown at Mormaer, Josey hurried down the steps. Major Volek strode up behind them as Ozmond, the captain, and a pair of guardsmen surrounded her.
“With your permission, Majesty,” the major said. “I would accompany you to safety.”
“Of course,” she replied as they hurried her away.
Her last view of the throne room was of Duke Mormaer drawing a huge sword from an ornate scabbard while his soldiers fanned out with weapons readied. Josey’s silk shoes made a soft patter on the floor as she jogged to keep up with her escorts. Their flight reminded her of the night she had been whisked through these corridors by Ral and Markus during their insane bid for the throne. That feeling was reinforced as they turned a corner and passed through the wide chamber that had once been a trophy room. Even though the room had been converted into a sewing nook with cushioned chairs and placid arrays, she breathed easier when they were well past it.
Captain Drathan took a lamp from the sewing room and led them into the east wing of the palace. Scaffolds and tarps covered the walls, and crates were stacked in the available niches-all part of Hubert’s pet project to turn this wing into new apartments for the palace’s many servants. As they came to another intersection, Ozmond and Captain Drathan turned down opposite corridors.
“This way,” the captain said. “There is a postern leading to the north bailey.”
Ozmond gestured down the other hallway. “We should get the empress back upstairs to the imperial suite. There are stairs this way.”
Captain Drathan shook his head. “Upstairs is no good. For all we know, the upper levels are in the hands of the assassins.”
“There is only one assassin,” Ozmond said, “and he is occupied in the throne room with Duke Mormaer. The empress would be safer-”
