Princeps’ Fury

Once again, Gaius turned to face High Lord Riva-but this time, he remained silent.

“Yes, the founding laws of the original Primus give you that authority,” Riva seethed, “but it is well understood that we have grown beyond such ancient measures! This fearmongering is nothing but a pathetic and transparent attempt to continue grasping at power-exactly like the announcement of the sudden appearance of your so-called legitimate grandson.

“You are not a tyrant, Gaius Sextus! You are a first among equals! Among equals, the crows take your egotistical eyes, and I will go to the crows before I will submit to your-”

Calmly, in no apparent rush, High Lord Aquitainus Attis rose from his seat in his box, turned to the railing dividing it from Lord Riva’s, and drew his sword in a blur of silver. There was a hissing sound, a chime of steel, and the heavy wooden railing fell into two pieces, their ends smoking and glowing orange.

Lord Aquitaine pointed his sword at Riva, and fire abruptly licked its way down the length of the weapon, fluttering up out of the steel, which began to glow with a sullen orange heat. “Grantus,” Aquitaine said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Close your cowardly lips over that void in your head where your brains went missing and keep them there. Then put your lazy, shapeless ass back into your chair and do it swiftly. Or face me in the juris macto.”

Riva’s eyes grew so round that Amara could clearly see the whites all the way up where they sat, even without Cirrus’s help. His mouth opened and closed several times, then he abruptly sat down.

Aquitaine nodded sharply and turned a slow circle, burning sword’s point sweeping around the boxed seats of the High Lords. He spoke in a quiet, hard tone, carried all the way through the Senatorium by his own furies, Amara had no doubt. “Does anyone else have an objection to obeying the lawful commands of the First Lord?”

Evidently, no one did.

Aquitaine lowered his blade, the flames upon it dying down. He turned toward Gaius, descended from his seating, and crossed the Senate floor to the podium. There he bowed to the First Lord and offered him the hilt of his sword over one arm. “My Legions are yours to command, sire. I will dispatch them at once. Further, I offer you my personal services in the field.”

Gaius nodded gravely and took the sword, then offered it hilt first back to Aquitaine. “Thank you, Your Grace. Your support is most welcome. It was my hope that you would be willing to serve as captain for this campaign.”

Aquitaine sheathed his sword, struck his fist to his heart in a legionare’s salute, and moved to stand at Gaius’s right hand. “Who will stand with us?” he demanded, eyes sweeping sternly around the room.

Lady Placida rose. “My lord husband is already on the march to support our friend and neighbor Lord Cereus,” she said. “Veradis, dear, he should be arriving at Ceres within a day.”

“Atticus?” Aquitaine said. “Parcia?”

Both lords rose and began to pledge their support, and estimate how long it would take for their troops to arrive.

“Huh,” Bernard grunted, folding his arms. “There’s something I didn’t expect.”

“What’s that?” Amara said.

“Aquitaine turning into a supporter for Gaius.”

Amara arched an eyebrow. “Is that what you think he’s doing?”

“It does look something like that, love.”

Amara shook her head. “Look at what he’s done. He’s uniting the Realm. Serving as its protector. Leading everyone against the deadliest threat Alera has ever known-all while the Princeps is entirely absent.” She smiled grimly. “Some might even say, conspicuously absent.”

Bernard blinked. “That’s absurd.”

“Of course. But not everyone will know that. Tavi is an unknown quantity. A great many people would prefer a known, proven veteran of Aleran politics to be the next First Lord. Should Aquitaine lead this war and win, he will be a hero as well. At that point…” Amara shrugged. “Gaius will not live forever.”

Bernard stared down at the Senate floor, a sickened expression on his face. “And Gaius just… just let him do it?”

“Wanted him to do it, I should think,” Amara said.

“Great furies, why?”

“Because whatever else Aquitaine is, he is very capable in the field,” Amara said quietly. “Because if we are to survive, we will need him.” She rose. “They won’t be much longer here. Let’s go before we get caught in the crowd.”

“Where to?”

“The Citadel,” Amara said. “Unless I miss my guess, Gaius is going to have a favor to ask of us.” She glanced down at the far side of the Senatorium. “And of your sister.”

CHAPTER 7

Amara and Bernard were standing outside the First Lord’s study when a pair of Crown Guardsmen arrived. The two men nodded to them, confirming Amara’s suspicion that Gaius wished to speak to them privately, and one of them went into the study and emerged again. A moment later, the First Lord himself appeared, flanked by four more Guardsmen.

“Gentlemen,” Gaius said, nodding to the Guardsmen. “Your Excellencies, if you would join me, please.”

One of the guards opened the door, and Gaius went inside. Amara stared after him for a moment, her lips compressed into a hard line. A quietly violent tide of emotion surged through her at the sight of the First Lord, there before her, at the sound of his voice, at his blithely competent, peremptory manner. He had unleashed the great fury Kalus upon the people of Kalare with the same kind of immediate, decisive calm, killing tens of thousands of innocent Alerans, civilians, along with the forces of the rebellious High Lord Kalarus.

And she had stood upon a mountaintop overlooking the city with him and watched those people die.

Amara hated him for making her see that.

Bernard put his large, warm hand on her shoulder. “Love,” he said quietly. “Shall we?”

Amara gave her husband as much of a smile as she could manage, then straightened her back and followed Gaius into his study.

Like all the rest of the Citadel, the chamber was lavishly, exquisitely appointed without being overdone. There was a broad writing desk made of green-black hardwood from a Rhodesian tree found near the Feverthorn Jungle, surrounded by matching shelves that groaned with books of every description. Amara had seen many such studies in which the books had been nothing more than decoration. She had no doubt that in that room, every book had been both read and considered.

Gaius crossed to a sideboard with brisk strides, opened it, and drew out a bottle of wine and a cup, every motion precise and focused-until Bernard shut the door behind him.

Then the First Lord bowed his head for a moment, shoulders sagging. He took a couple of slow breaths, and Amara could hear them rasp in his lungs. Then he opened a bottle of what smelled like particularly pungent spicewine, fighting down a cough as he did, and drank a glass in several quick gulps.

Amara traded frowns with her husband.

The First Lord, it seemed, was not nearly as strong and fit as he would have the Citizenry believe. Granted, Amara had no doubt that he had permitted them to see his true condition deliberately, and for reasons of his own. Or perhaps he hadn’t. After all, Amara and Bernard had seen Gaius in far worse condition, during their trek through the swamps of Kalare. There would be no harm in letting his mask slip in front of them now.

Gaius half filled his cup again and walked quietly over to his desk, settling carefully down behind it, wincing a bit as several joints creaked and popped. “First, Amara, allow me to apologize to you for the… rather uncompromising nature of the orders given to the Knights sent to bring you here. Given the situation, sensitivity had to be sacrificed to haste.”

“Of course, sire,” she said stiffly. “I have never known you to employ a means which you did not feel