As a king, it worried him but only to a degree. It wasn’t his kingdom being attacked by this monster. If there were any truth to the rumors, surely the Boahim Senate would step in since the aforementioned crimes broke the Thirteen. As a father, he worried. Worried that his last remaining daughter was marrying a monster made of nightmares.
A cough rose and shook his massive frame, bitterness coating his tongue. Useless healers. They gave him tonics aplenty, but nothing ceased the shredding of his lungs. How long could he hide whatever it was that turned him inside out? My days are numbered, but please, Delorcini, bless me and keep me here with Margaret until—
His ankles shook and King Leon gripped the wall for strength as another coughing fit washed over him. “Your Majesty. Are you well?” A nearby page dashed toward him, tripping over his own feet in his rush, but King Leon stopped the boy with the out-turned palm of his hand. The page slid across the smooth, polished stone and halted just before the King.
“I’m—fine.” King Leon tried to push the page away, but weak, he fell back against the wall hard enough to rattle the door behind him. Eyes wide, the boy turned tail and took off down the hallway. Probably fetching a healer. As if there were anything they could do for him now. Not even I can command what I cannot control.
This next cough rendered him breathless, and Leon wondered if this was it—the cough that would burst his lungs and orphan his child. Not yet. Please, Itova, don’t come for me yet.
The page returned, dragging a healer by the arm. “Another fit, Your Majesty?”
At his nod, the healer pulled a packet of powder from his robe and offered a pinch to the King. Whatever herb it was couldn’t heal him, but King Leon seized it with shaking fingers, his mouth puckering up with the bitter taste that parched his mouth.
“My thanks.” The effort to catch his breath left beads of sweat upon his brow. To the page, he said, “Don’t worry, lad. It’s just a cough. Now hurry along to bed.”
At first the boy paused, but when the healer nodded, he scampered off. “You should be in bed yourself,” said the healer, and his eyes narrowed as they lingered on Leon’s face.
Leon self-consciously wiped the spittle still at his mouth and came away bloodier than before. “I’m heading there now. No need to lecture.”
“Take the rest of this with you.” The healer handed King Leon the small packet. “Remember, one pinch at mealtimes. And rest.”
It was the same old lecture the healers had been dictating for several seasons now. More rest, less stress. The kingdom wouldn’t run itself. The marriage couldn’t come fast enough. And with that thought, the worry returned. What if she were marrying a monster? His kingdom needed him now more than ever. He couldn’t die now. Not yet.
The room spun slightly, a side effect of the herb, and the healer took his arm to steady him. “Let me help you to bed, Your Majesty. Time for you to rest.”
No, not yet. Not until I know Margaret is safe. King Leon allowed himself to be put to bed like a child, but inside, his brain spun plans. It was time to make sure of Prince Bajit. To make sure King Leon’s bloodline would continue to thrive.
Soon enough I’ll rest. For now, I must be King.
CHAPTER THREE
The Order of Amaska, Sadai
The council room’s polished stone floor reflected the painted blues and greens of the carved walls, and Adelei drew in a breath at the sight. It wasn’t just that powdered gold mixed with colors had been brushed along the walls, though that was impressive, but the carvings of the Thirteen deities—those that had created her world—held her enthralled with their detail.
Someone cleared his throat, and Adelei found herself face to face with a room full of people. It wasn’t Grand Master Bredych she was reporting to, nor any of a dozen individual Masters. It was all of them. Every Master who sat aboard the Amaskan Council and held voting rights waited for her.
The hair on her arms stood up despite the tightness of her tunic’s fabric. Oh, damn. Double damn. The thoughts whirled and bounced around inside her head as she studied their grim faces, stretched long with weariness. She stepped up to the dais and bowed her head until Grand Master Bredych acknowledged her. When she met her mentor’s eyes, he didn’t speak. He beckoned for her to follow him through the blue arch that led to the Order’s great chamber. As she passed beneath the arch, the familiar tingle ran through her body, relaxing stiff muscles and calming her mind. For once she minded the intrusion.
If I messed up, I don’t want complacency. Just tell it to me straight. She stepped left, toward the common seating area, but one of the Masters cleared his throat, and she followed to the right, their steps taking them into a room reserved only for Masters.
Damn. Either she had just gotten promoted, or something was very wrong. Adelei forced her own steps to a slow, calm stroll, but her fingers twitched and danced in her pockets.
No words were spoken as the Masters took their seats in the sacred chamber. Adelei remained standing, awaiting Bredych’s nod indicating she was permitted to sit, but his head held firm. To keep the quaking of her legs to a minimum, she studied the chamber’s smooth walls, its sigils carved in a language so ancient that Adelei felt less than a babe in its presence. She’d been in the room once—when she had stood before the Masters to ask admittance into the Order.
I think I’m more intimidated
