He fell silent as the Empress stepped up to the edge of the balcony. They were standing on the observation tower of her southern-most fortress, the one she’d left to remind the desert tribes who had conquered them. That was two hundred years ago now, but the fort was still one of her largest. From its tower, she could see clear across the sandy desert to the coast, miles away, but even if she’d been on the ground, she couldn’t have missed the storm. It loomed off the edge of her continent’s southern coast, a wall of black clouds and forked lightning stretching as far as she could see in any direction. Great winds blew in the smell of rain and sodden mud, and though the smell triggered her memories again, Nara did not smile. The storm chewed at the edge of her lands, destroying everything in its path beneath a rain of lightning and the endless booming thunder she knew too well.
The Empress shook her head. “I cannot banish this storm.”
The general’s eyes widened. “But surely,” he began. “You are queen of everything. The spirits would not dare—”
“You question me?” the Empress said coldly.
The general froze. “No, Empress,” he said, bowing so low that his helmet slipped off. “Forgive me, Empress. Your voice is the only law.”
She nodded and held out her hand, letting the storm-tossed winds sweep over her fingers. When she felt a particularly strong one, she closed her fist. The wind squealed at first but grew still when it realized what will had caught it.
“Hail, Empress,” it whispered.
Nara glanced pointedly at the enormous storm. “What is he doing here?”
“The Lord of Storm is in disgrace,” the wind said, wiggling in her hand.
“I can see that,” the Empress snapped. “He’s been in disgrace for weeks, apparently, and wrecking my shore in the process. What did he do that Benehime would impose such a harsh punishment?”
The wind jerked. Lesser spirits were so obedient that even the mention of the Lady’s name was enough to send them into a fit of reverential terror.
“He raised his blade against the favorite,” it whispered at last. “The Shepherdess’s wrath was swift.”
White-hot fury roared through Nara’s mind and, for a moment, she forgot everything. Forgot the storm, the general standing beside her, even the wind in her hand. Time seemed to flow backward, carrying her back to that hated day when everything in her life had fallen apart. The day the Shepherdess brought that boy into her white world.
She could see him clearly in her mind even now, a skinny, dark-haired thing sitting smugly on Benehime’s beautiful lap as the Lady doted on him. The memory made Nara tremble with rage. That spoiled brat had stolen the Shepherdess’s love from her, and with it everything Nara cared for. All the things that had given her pride—her victories, her legions, her unified country, the fairness and efficiency of the government she had built, the peace she had brought to her people, her loyal spirits, even her great wish of a fair and peaceful world—none of it meant anything when Benehime, her beautiful, beloved Shepherdess, was ignoring her in favor of that hateful, conniving, selfish child.
Nara bared her teeth at the enormous waves washing over the ruins of her sea towns. How could the Shepherdess love that brat enough to punish the Lord of Storms this severely just for raising his blade? He’d raised his sword to Nara several times, and the Lady had never done anything like this. Was she finally sick of his disobedience? Or was it because she loved the boy more than—
The Empress stopped that line of thought dead. She could not believe it. The Lady’s love was for Nara alone. The boy was nothing more than an infatuation. He’d beguiled the Shepherdess. What else would explain Benehime’s abandoning her Empress after eight centuries of Nara’s ceaseless devotion? Her undying love? Nara clenched her fists. Den had been right. For eleven years she’d lived in her misery, waiting for the Shepherdess to remember who truly loved her, and all she had to show for it was the suffering of her own lands. She was through hiding, through crying. If the Lady loved her as an Empress, then Empress she would be. She would rebuild her army as never before. An army fit to conquer the rest of the world. And when all the lands of creation were united under her good rule, her wish would be fulfilled. She alone would rule a world without war, without unfairness, a world that was guided by her wisdom alone. And then Nara would take this perfect world and throw it at the Lady’s feet. There, she would say, who is your favorite now?
Just the thought of it brought the smile back to Nara’s lips. With such a grand offering, the Shepherdess would have no choice. She would cast the thief aside and return to her true favorite. Benehime would take Nara in her beautiful embrace once again, and together they would laugh at the memory of the boy called Eli, when they thought of him at all.
She was still savoring that thought when a high-pitched squeal brought her back to the present. The wind was writhing in her clenched hand. The Empress eased her grip, letting the wind slide gratefully through her fingers.
“Go to my war palace at Istalirin,” she said. “See if Den has arrived yet.”
“Yes, Empress,” the wind panted, flitting gladly away.
Nara nodded and turned to deal with the mess the Lord of Storms had made. Without a word of warning to her general, she walked to the edge of the balcony and jumped off. The desert winds caught her fall, setting her down gently on the fortress’s stone yard. The soldiers dropped to their knees when they saw her, pressing their heads to the ground in reverence. She ignored them, focusing instead on the stone beneath her golden boots.
“You,” she said, stomping on the ground. “Wake up.”
The stone rumbled as it woke, and then lowered itself in obedience.
“Yes, Empress?”
“Form a wall along the coast. This storm is no concern of ours. We will protect our borders and wait it out.”
“Yes, Empress,” the stone said again.
The Empress nodded and slammed her foot on the ground a second time. The stone obeyed instantly, and a pillar of rock shot up beneath her feet, lifting her back to the edge of the watchtower balcony. Her general ran forward to help her over the railing. When her footing was solid again, she turned to watch as the bedrock spirit followed her orders.
All along her coast, a great wall of stone exploded out of the sandy beach, forming a barrier between the water and the land. The stone wall ran as far as she could see, following the snaking coastline until her continent’s entire southern tip was cut off, safe from the storm surge behind a fifty-foot barrier.
Nodding in approval, the Empress turned back to the waiting wind, who had just returned from the north.
“Den has arrived,” the wind said. “He’s demanding to see you.”
“He would,” the Empress sneered. “Well done. You are released.”
The wind bowed and fled, vanishing into the clear, desert sky.
“General,” Nara said, turning to face the old man who was still bowing in reverence. “You will leave five hundred men here to resettle those misplaced by the storm. The rest of your army will march to my war palace at Istalirin. I want everything: support, supplies, siege troops, the full panalopy. March them hard, I want my armies gathered by dark tomorrow.”
The old man paled. Istalirin was miles away. Such a deadline, even on the Empire’s awakened roads, would be nigh impossible. But the Immortal Empress expected the impossible from all her subjects as a matter of course, and her general knew better than to complain.
“Yes, Empress,” he said, bowing lower than ever. “Is it war then?”
“War indeed,” the Empress said. “It is time at last to bring the entire world into the light of my Empire.” And to show Benehime who was truly worthy of her love.
The general eyed her nervously. “Permission to speak, Empress.”
“Granted,” the Empress said.
“Your army marches wherever you command,” he said. “But the man Den is not to be trusted. While you were gone, he did nothing but wander your Empire, terrorizing your towns and challenging every strong fighter he could find. We lost several of your best to him. He has no discipline or loyalty, and he does not follow orders. You are the chosen of the land, Empress, and I would never question your judgment, but can such a man truly be a
