After placing the wine on the cart, Ailith moved to stand with her back against the wall next to Emlyn, who’d apparently finished her serving duties. She tuned into the conversation at the table.

  Aloric stuffed an entire brownie into his mouth and spoke around the food. “What I have to say should be kept between the two of us, Sábria.”

  As Ailith watched his disgusting habits, she unwittingly scrunched up her nose but then quickly blanked her features again and stared straight ahead. She chanced a glance at Shirin, who’d had her eye on her, but the Commander turned her attention to Aloric when she saw that she’d gotten her message across.

  Sábria took a sip of tea. “Unfortunately, after your betrayal of my trust the last time we spoke alone, I’ll never again speak with you in private. Shirin stays, and I trust my two trainees not to take what we speak about outside these four walls. They’re here to serve, which they can’t do if I dismiss them.”

  Aloric stiffened, but Lord Dunham placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly in his ear. The Emperor pursed his lips and nodded. He sat back and crossed his arms. “I want your word, Sábria, that no one else will hear what’s said in this room today.”

  Sábria’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you my word that neither of the two trainees will repeat what is said here, ever. However, if I deem it necessary for either Commander Shirin or me to speak about it for whatever reason, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll not blithely chat about it to people within the Temple, but I can’t give you my word that we’ll never speak of it again. Those are my terms. You can either agree with them, or this meeting is over.”

  There was no one else in the Empire who dared speak to Aloric in that manner, and the room was silent while he weighed what he needed from the Arch Priestess against his singed pride. Eventually, he nodded his agreement. “Very well. My spies have informed me that the King Slayer has come to Cibía.”

  Sábria hadn’t heard that rumor, but she could see that the thought of the King Slayer coming to their Empire frightened and worried her co-ruler. “Do you think she’s here to kill you? You’ve done nothing as heinous as those rulers did. I hardly think—”

  “Not just me, Sábria. We’re co-rulers, don’t forget.”

  “Aloric, the King Slayer doesn’t go around arbitrarily killing rulers. Every one of those men was corrupt, sadistic, egotistical, and a danger to the Olarnian people. The King Slayer even submitted to being tried by a jury of Olarnian nobles on three separate occasions. She was acquitted of any wrongdoing, and many Olarnians consider her a hero for taking a stand against the brutal tyranny of those three monarchs.”

  Aloric pointed a fat finger in Sábria’s face. “You’re a fool, Sábria if you think she doesn’t have a specific reason for coming here. I know what that reason is, and so do you. I, for one, intend to strike first. Are you with me?”

  “With you, for what, exactly?”

  “Kill her before she kills one of us.”

  Sábria set her teacup down and sat straighter in her chair. “Absolutely not. You know perfectly well that the doctrine of the Temple of Elyon is to protect women, Aloric. We don’t kill them simply because we’re afraid they might commit a crime sometime in the future.”

  The cups rattled in their saucers as Aloric’s stomach lifted the table when he jumped to his feet. “I knew it. You brought her here. My spies told me that during her trials, she’d claimed the Goddess Elyon sent her to protect the Olarnians.” He put two beefy fists on the table and leaned toward the Arch Priestess. “She’s your puppet, isn’t she?”

  The room became very still. Emlyn and Ailith watched the Commander, hoping to take their cue from her.

  Shirin, for her part, rested her hand on the hilt of her belt knife but took no aggressive action against Aloric. Yet, anyway.

  Lord Dunham froze and stared at the pastry on his plate.

  Sábria rose to her feet. If the man who would replace Aloric weren’t such a corrupt, evil man, she’d kill the fool and be done with it. Instead, she spoke in a cold, measured tone. “Unlike you, Aloric, I have never attempted to kill my co-ruler.”

  Aloric blinked several times and rose to his full height, which wasn’t very substantial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, I know you tried to weaponize the Deathbell disease against me and against all of Elyon’s Blades.” He began to sputter, and she held up her hand. “Don’t waste my time denying it. But know this. I did not bring the King Slayer to Cibía to kill you, and I will do everything in my power to protect her from you and your paranoid plans to kill an innocent woman.”

  Lord Dunham, who was basically an honest man who’d been roped into the Seneschal position by the Emperor, sighed, sat back with his elbow on the chair’s arm, and put his forehead in his hand.

  Aloric turned and glared malevolently at Ailith. She’d been the one to ride to Dreyutha to bring the only healer who had a cure for the Deathbell disease. He knew he couldn’t say anything to her about her role in foiling his plans, but he held his glare long enough to send the message that she was in his crosshairs.

  The only thing that kept her from staring back and saying something about how despicable she thought he was for bringing the Deathbell down out of the Blacktip Mountains was Commander Shirin’s promise of the consequences should she decide to do so. She stared straight ahead and didn’t meet his eyes, something contrary to how she usually handled bullies like Aloric.

  In an effort to change the subject, Lord Dunham cleared his throat and stood. “Your Imperial Majesty, there was one other item you wished to bring before the Arch Priestess. Perhaps now would be a good time to do so.”

  Aloric eyed the Seneschal, picked up a chocolate croissant, and shoved it into his mouth. He again spoke around the masticated food. “Lady Knight Elondra is insisting you release her daughter, Nox, into her custody. Have one of these two,” he hiked a thumb over his shoulder at Emlyn and Ailith, “fetch the stupid chit, and I’ll take her off your hands when Dunham and I go.”

  The fact that Elondra had gone behind her back to Aloric didn’t surprise Sábria. What did surprise her was Aloric’s assumption that she’d blithely turn over a former Blade trainee to him. “Excuse me? I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

  Aloric waved his fat fingers in the air. “Oh come, now, Sábria. Don’t tell me you won’t be relieved to get the lying little coward out of your hair.”

  Sábria opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She pulled in several deep breaths and composed herself before replying to his demand. “Let me walk you to the gate. Emlyn, please go and tell Subcommander Calit to inform his Imperial Majesty’s honor guard that he and Lord Dunham will be down shortly.”

  Emlyn saluted with a fist to her chest. “Yes, My Lady.” She hurried out of the room to find the Subcommander, leaving Ailith standing alone with her back to the wall.

  Aloric pointed to her. “You. Go get the girl and bring her to the gate.”

  Ailith didn’t move. She wasn’t sure how to refuse an order from an Emperor, and she fervently hoped either Sábria or Shirin would step in to help.

  She needn’t have worried. Sábria took Aloric by the arm and steered him to the door. “Nox is going nowhere. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you have important matters of state to attend to. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

  As she moved to follow the two out the door, Lord Dunham stopped Shirin with a hand on her arm. “How do you know he brought the Deathbell to your gates?”

  Shirin narrowed her eyes at the man. “Are you saying you didn’t know?”

  He put his hand on his heart and shook his head. “I swear on the lives of my children. I did not know. Are you sure he was involved?”

  “Yes.”

  Pursing his lips, he held Shirin’s gaze while he spoke. “I’ll find the person he sent into Dreyutha and see that they’ll never be in a position to do such a thing again.” He narrowed his eyes. “Permanently. The Emperor went behind my back because he knew I’d have no part in assassinating the Arch Priestess. I’ll find out whom he used, and I give you my word. They will disappear.” With that, he left the room, followed closely by the Commander.

  Ailith hadn’t been dismissed, and since the Arch Priestess had ordered her to report to the dining room, she took the rest position, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind her back. There she settled in to wait.

  After a quarter candlemark, she heard Sábria and Shirin return, and since they were talking in Sábria’s office, she wondered whether she should remind them she was there. She was spared the decision when Shirin came into the dining area.

  “Mistress Fullman will be on her way up to clear up the dishes, but before she gets here, we need to talk. I never told you it was the Emperor who paid that woman to come here and infect Sábria with the Deathbell Disease.”

  Ailith stood quietly, wondering why the Commander thought they needed to talk about what Aloric had done.

  “There was a reason I didn’t tell you. You have a temper you haven’t yet learned to control. Since you know now, it’s only fair that I fill you in on what the woman revealed on her deathbed. Apparently, they gave her two choices. Bring the disease to the Temple, and her family would get five gold nobles. If she chose to stay in her village and be treated for the disease, all of her children and all remaining members of her family would die. That’s the kind of man we’re dealing with, Ailith.” Shirin hiked a hip onto the table and crossed her arms. “Now, first, you’ll tell no one what you heard here today. Second, you will not act on what you heard. Any questions?”

  “Aye. What do ya mean I won’t act on what I heard?”

  “As I said, you have a temper. I saw your eyes flash with anger when Sábria accused Aloric of bringing the Deathbell to the Temple.”

  “It’s no like I’m surprised. I figured he had a hand in it, but that’s no somethin’ a shiv takes care of, is it?”

  Shirin shook her head. “No. That’s something only the Arch Priestess can deal with. I’m glad to hear you say that. I think that when you don’t let your temper or your tongue get the best of you, you have something that can’t be taught. Common sense. Now, it’s our job, mine and Sábria’s, Geller, Terrowyn, and Jenx, to teach you how to behave around the nobility and how to hold your temper and your mouth in check. It’s your job to learn. Understand?”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Ailith was surprised the Commander had actually given her a compliment after tearing into her the way she had earlier. She stopped at the door, glanced back over her shoulder, and watched Shirin as she left through the dining room’s second door that led into Sábria’s office. With a light step, Ailith headed down the stairs intending to get a good breakfast before climbing into bed. She’d adjusted well to sleeping during the day, and her tired body was telling her it was well past time for her head to relax into her pillow so she could sink into a much-needed rest.

  CHAPTER 15

  After meeting with Aloric, Sábria had put out word with a few select Blades on all three shifts that she wanted to be immediately informed if they came across someone calling themselves the King Slayer.

  It had been over a sevenday since his visit, and as she took off her tunic and tossed it into the hamper, she wondered if Aloric’s spies had been mistaken. Her people hadn’t seen or heard anything about the woman, and she was beginning to wonder whether it was some elaborate ruse on Aloric’s part, although she couldn’t imagine what he hoped to accomplish with such a tactic.

  She always slept in the nude, and when she sank beneath her silk sheets, she reveled in their featherlike caress as they closed in around her body. It had been a busy day, and she was asleep within moments of her head touching the pillow.

  It seemed barely a heartbeat had passed when she awoke with a start. There was brightness where, only moments before, she’d been cloaked in darkness. Not only that, but she was fully clothed and, by the feel of the tunic, was dressed in the colorful ceremonial garment of her office as the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon.

  Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she took in her surroundings and realized she was no longer in her bed chamber. Diaphanous curtains shimmered on either side of two narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a small, meticulously carved round table with two chairs was placed in the center of an elaborately decorated room. Maybe twenty to twenty-five green leafy plants, some flowering, some cascading over the sides of their pots, were decoratively placed on varying levels of golden stands around the room.

  An enamel tea set sat in the middle of the table, but what lifted her heart with joy was the sight of her beloved Goddess, Elyon, seated in the chair facing her. Over the turns, Sábria had enjoyed quite a few visits from the deity. Each time the Goddess had brought her to a different setting. This was the first time they’d taken tea together.

  Rising from her bed, Sábria immediately lowered herself to the floor, pressing her face to the cool tiles and waiting for Elyon to speak.

  “Come join me, My Heart. It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of your company.”

  Sábria rose, and as she walked to the table, she couldn’t help but admire the way the rich, cobalt-blue gown accentuated Elyon’s sensual curves and valleys. It had been Elyon, after all, who’d taught her the more subtle, advanced techniques of the Kiprian Arts.

  Drawing nearer, she saw that the Goddess’ eyes, which presented as different colors depending on the reason for the visit, were also blue, the color of revenge. That brought her up short. Revenge for what?

  As she stared into those eyes, the color began to change, something that had never happened in all the turns she’d been Elyon’s voice in Cibía. If the Goddess presented with blue eyes, they remained blue throughout the interview. If that were the case, Sábria knew her task would be one of revenge.

  But the eyes were a deep ruby red now, the color of a woman’s blood. The gown had changed along with the eyes, and the beautiful woman with waist-length, jet-black hair was now wearing a gown of deepest cinnabar, so powerful and majestic that Sábria almost dropped to the floor to worship this magnificent celestial being.

  To her surprise, they changed a third time. Now, Elyon wore a gown of cadmium yellow, the symbolic color of justice. When the eyes flashed a yellow brighter than the morning sun, Sábria cried out and covered her eyes. This time, she did fall onto her face, once more waiting for Elyon to speak.

  “Forgive me, Child. I forgot your eyes aren’t accustomed to the brightness of the sun. Come and enjoy this lovely tea with me.”

  Sábria raised her head, hoping her eyes hadn’t been burned from their sockets. When she heard Elyon chuckle at her unwarranted fears, she pushed to her knees and then to her feet. Walking the remainder of the way to the empty chair, she sat and looked at the woman sitting opposite her.

  Elyon’s eyes and gown still blazed yellow, but the Goddess had muted their intensity. Although the color was rarely worn well, often causing the wearer’s skin to appear sallow or even ashen at times, on the Goddess, the yellow radiated warmth, energy, and above all else, a righteous need for justice. “You’ve done well, My Heart. I’ve had many Arch Priestesses serve me, but few that I love as well as you. You shepherd my Blades with strength tempered with mercy and love, just as I watch over you.”

  The Goddess picked up her cup and saucer and held them in her lap. Daintily lifting the teacup to her lips, she closed her eyes and savored the flavors. “It’s not often I can enjoy such a delectable tea with my favorite mortal.”

  Taking that as a hint, Sábria sipped from her cup as well. Flavors she’d never tasted before exploded across her tongue, and she opened her eyes wide with delight.

  The Goddess’ eyes shone with pleasure at Sábria’s reaction. “While you enjoy your drink, let me explain the reason for my visit.”

  Since she knew from past experience this would be a mostly one-sided conversation, Sábria settled in to listen. Telling Elyon how things were going in her Temple was always a futile exercise because, unlike most Gods, she kept a close watch on her Blades. As Sábria sipped her tea, she enjoyed the sight of Elyon’s exquisite features over the rim of her cup. Her face brought to mind the perfection of an evening moon or the blush of a newly opened rose, and Sábria’s heart felt as though it would burst with love.

  With a knowing look, Elyon blushed with pleasure. “Perhaps when we’re through, we can enjoy one another in more fulfilling ways.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement when Sábria met her gaze with a playful look of her own. “But first, you wondered why I presented you with the three colors of Providence. Blue for revenge, red for a woman’s blood, and yellow for justice. Today, unlike the other times we’ve visited together, these colors aren’t meant as a portent of a task for you to complete. They have already been fulfilled by a woman I hope to bring into your loving embrace.”

  Sábria cocked her head, curious now to know what the Goddess wanted of her.

  Elyon sipped her tea, then placed the cup and saucer on the table. “As you know, I require much of my Blades, some more than others. Some die in my service. That’s to be expected, and I reward their souls when they arrive at my doorstep. But there’s one who has given me her life, in fact, has lost her life to justice, woman’s blood, and revenge, yet she still remains locked within her mortal shell. I would have you free her and give her back her life.”

  Thinking hard, Sábria wondered who the Goddess could be referring to. “Is she already one of my Blades?”

  “No, but she is one of mine.”

  How could there be a Blade who wasn’t within one of the Temples of the Daughters of Elyon? That didn’t seem possible, and yet, if the Goddess said as much, then it must be so. “I don’t understand.”