Cyrus reeled from the memory, and he struggled to speak against the sudden emotion.

  “I am glad there are those who still remember my father fondly,” he said. The polite words of political theater were clumsy on his tongue, and he was glad they were alone.

  “More than you might suspect,” Jase said, and he glanced over Cyrus’s shoulder to the door. “And here comes another. I believe you have met?”

  An older woman dressed in military finery joined their meal, her gray hair loose and hanging to her waist. She stood at perfect attention, somehow both respectful and at ease with her hands crossed behind her back.

  “Indeed we have,” Kaia Makris said. She bowed deeply. “Welcome to Thiva, my prince.”

  Though he had met her only once, Cyrus recognized her immediately. Kaia was the reason Cyrus had revealed his face at one of Thorda’s meetings, finally exposing the truth of his survival in his attempt to obey Thorda’s orders to win over her support. How many of those who looked upon him at that moment had later hung due to Thorda’s schemes? In seeking to win their favor, Cyrus had sealed their deaths. That the reveal, and the deaths that followed, were both of Thorda’s engineering only made the ache sting worse.

  “Thiva is truly beautiful, a vibrant flower amid the forest,” Rayan said. “If only we could stay and enjoy your hospitality longer, but alas, we cannot. But while here…”

  Rayan removed his boot and pulled out a thin scrap of paper held shut with a ring of wax. Jase took it, broke the wax, and unfurled it. His eyes squinted to read the tiny writing.

  “The Coin’s ambitions grow by the hour,” he said, and crumpled the paper. “I suppose you do not know the message you carried?”

  “I do not.”

  Jase gestured to the table, set and waiting.

  “Sit. Eat. Your journey must have been tiring. As for the message, I would not bother you with logistics. Suffice it to say that the Coin wants soldiers to arrive in Vallessau via boats, and wants them sooner than I anticipated.”

  “And yet much later than most have been waiting,” Kaia added.

  They sat, Rayan and Cyrus on one side, Jase and Kaia on the other. The food was extravagant and, unlike Vallessau cuisine, contained more spoils of the forest than the ocean, such as fire-roasted venison and plates of quail plucked and simmered in sauces containing honey and berries. Compared to the simple rations Cyrus and Rayan carried, and the stew they ate at their first night’s inn, it was a divine feast. Cyrus tore into it, proper etiquette and grace be damned. He was starving, and the meal absolutely delicious.

  “Should I send a compliment to my cooks?” Jase asked.

  Cyrus lifted a thumb and shook it in response. There would be no speaking, only eating. He left the speaking to Rayan and the others.

  “I suspect the prince is not accustomed to such simple travel on foot,” Rayan said. He winked. “He will earn his road calluses, though, for we still have far to go.”

  “I suspected we were but a momentary diversion,” Jase said, tearing a small piece of bread from a nearby plate and dipping it in the quail’s berry sauce. “For the both of you to bring a simple message is unnecessary, happy as I am to finally meet the Vagrant in person.”

  “I agreed to this ‘momentary diversion’ out of hope you might have information useful to me,” Rayan said. “Rumors from the north have reached Vallessau’s streets, which means they assuredly reached Thiva long before us.”

  “You speak of Lycaena,” Kaia said, not even waiting for the paladin to finish.

  Cyrus and Rayan exchanged a look, and then both nodded.

  “I am blessed to command the farthest northern reaches of Ierida in Jase’s name,” she continued. “And I have heard much of these rumors. I dismissed them at first, but no longer. The whispers grow stronger, as do the number of those who believe them.”

  “Do you know where these cultists might be hiding, or who spreads such rumors?” Rayan asked.

  “I have no location, but I do have a name. A priest of your goddess, before the empire came, a man by the name of Eshiel. Do you know him?”

  Rayan shook his head. “I cannot say I do. But I will find him. Thank you, Miss Kaia, for your aid.”

  “If only we could offer more,” Jase said. “These rumors bode ill, and I fear the attention they will bring to my lands. The Uplifted Church will not take kindly to their work being undone.”

  “I would hope the opinion of the church was not your highest priority,” Rayan said, a bit of venom sliding into his voice.

  “When my people suffer at their whims, I must give them all my attention and more,” Jase replied. Though he tried to hide it, Cyrus sensed a bit of annoyance at the paladin’s barb. “Placating their occasional inquiries is a delicate act.”

  “Strange, how placation often mirrors subservience.”

  “Do you question my loyalty, Paladin?”

  “Your loyalty,” Rayan said, and he pointed to Cyrus, “was to that young man and his family, and yet when Everlorn’s ships arrived, you cast it aside before a single rise and fall of the sun.”

  The lord set down his drink. His chair groaned as he stood. Cyrus thought him merely insulted, but then he leaned forward, his fists on the table, and spoke with trembling rage. His eyes flung daggers toward Rayan.

  “So easy for you to challenge my decisions,” he said. “So simple to compare your life to mine, as if we might offer it up equally, but they are not equal. My responsibility was not, and has never been, to the royal family. It may seem that way in the city on the cliffs, but here in Ierida, my responsibility is to my people. I am to protect them, teach them, bless their lives, and guide these lands to safety and prosperity.”

  “And so you bent your knee to Everlorn,” Rayan said.

  Jase smashed the table with his fists.

  “Do not play at fools,” he seethed. “Endarius died in the very first battle. One of our gods, slain, and in the heart of our island. Vallessau was lost. By the time I was even informed our island was at war, the king and queen had been executed and that young man over there was held prisoner. I am not without maps and history texts, Paladin. I am not without reason. We are a gnat before a giant, and the best hope for my people to live, to survive, was to avoid being swatted by that giant’s fingers. With blood and death all around me, I made the hardest decision of my life. I pray you will never be faced with one similar.”

  Cyrus swirled his own wine in its silver cup, disgust stirring in his belly. Not all of it was aimed at Jase.

  “Every reason you speak justifies your betrayal,” he said. “And every justification tells me I should not trust you now.”

  Kaia cleared her throat before Jase might speak.

  “I was there when my lord made his decision,” she said. “It was made with a heavy heart, and to spare the innocents of our realm. It was also made with a belief the empire would tire of our island and grow frustrated by the great distance between us. They would appoint a regent, one they deemed capable of keeping the populace well-behaved. Our surrender, and cooperation, was always under the hope that the Thanese way of life could survive if controlled by sympathetic governance.”

  Rayan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He seemed remarkably calm for having a lord of the four realms be so furious with him.

  “You thought you would be that regent one day,” he surmised.

  Jase slowly returned to his seat. The splotchy redness of his neck started to fade.

  “Regent Gordian Goldleaf was an ambitious man from Gadir, and he wanted nothing to do with Thanet beyond using it as a stepping-stone to power in a more noteworthy kingdom. After Lycaena’s execution, I thought the matter would be settled. An ill-advised rebellion was at an end, the god and goddess were dead, and so far as I knew, the Lythan family line had ended. Once in power, I could lessen the empire’s presence and defang their church. I whispered in Gordian’s ear my willingness to take the burden from him so he and his family could return to the mainland.”

  The lord smirked, and he took a long drink of his wine. When he set it down, he did not try to hide his disgust.

  “And then Gordian made it clear to me no one of Thanese blood would ever hold the title of regent. ‘I would sooner grant it to a pig’ is how he phrased it. The very next day, I set Kaia to work. If the rebellion survived, I wanted to be there for its founding. It took time, but I connected with the Coin’s network of spies. And then, not a year later, the strangest whispers reached my ears, whispers later confirmed by the Coin himself: Prince Cyrus had survived and would soon begin his war against the empire, albeit in disguise.”

  Cyrus remembered his first and only encounter with Kaia. Thorda had given him a mission to convince the vassal of the Vagrant’s trustworthiness.

  “I was asked to alleviate your concerns over my loyalties,” he said, turning to the older woman. “Yet you knew my identity before we ever met?”

  Kaia straightened, her posture proud but her gray eyes downcast.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “The Coin believed it best that the people learn of your survival, but he feared you would refuse to reveal yourself if ordered. I was to be an example of the doubts and concerns hampering our resistance, to see how you might respond.”

  “You were to bait me into revealing myself,” Cyrus said simply. Venom dripped off his tongue. He almost revealed Thorda’s name in return, but that would be petty. It could put Stasia and Mari in danger, a risk he would never accept. “I suppose I should stop being surprised the Coin would manipulate me so callously.”

  “For good or ill, the Coin uses every weapon available to him,” Kaia said. “And you are a weapon, Prince Cyrus. I was meant only to sharpen you.”

  Another plate arrived, thick slices of fruit smothered in honey and sprinkled with crushed walnuts. Cyrus tried one, found it too sweet and sticky to his taste.

  “You must understand, our defeat in a normal war was inevitable,” Jase said. “I sought only for my people to endure Everlorn’s wrath, change their pledge of allegiance from a throne in Vallessau to one in Eldrid, and then carry on with their lives. The God-Incarnate would announce our conquest to his bloodthirsty populace, we’d bow our heads, and then they would forget us. Condemn me as a traitor to Thanet, or call me naïve if you wish. I will accept these titles, for in bearing that shame, I ensured that the Dead Flags never flew in Ierida.”

  “Again and again you justify treason, while offering me little in return to justify trust,” said Rayan.

  “Your master, the Coin, trusts me,” Jase said. “Is that not reason enough?”

  Cyrus could not have laughed harder.

  “No,” he said. “It is not. Something changed your mind. You went from cooperating with the empire to betraying them, and I do not believe it solely because Gordian denied your plans. One man can be manipulated, killed, or removed. Yet now you participate in a war you were convinced could not be won. Why?”

  The handsome lord crossed his arms and studied Cyrus. The scrutiny filled him with a need, fleeting and unwanted, to hide behind his mask. Or his true face.

  “I wish I could give you a better answer,” Jase began suddenly. “But the truth is, it is a belief held deeply in my gut that something is wrong. What it is, I cannot decipher, but I know it to be true. When it comes to coin, to trade, to construction, the empire sets down no roots. Yet when it comes to faith, they are fervent to the extreme. They kill and butcher. They want our prayers, but not our goods? Why seem so disinterested in us, and yet so focused at the same time? They give no sign they will be leaving, yet no sign they are making this their home. Most worrisome of all, nearly every man and woman brought over by their boats has been a soldier, not a tradesman or merchant.”

  Cyrus picked at his food. This was the first he’d heard of such suspicions. It had always made sense to him that the flood of soldiers would arrive nonstop.

  “Is that so unusual?” he asked.

  “I have spent many hours discretely discussing the matter with Everlorn soldiers who consider me trustworthy,” Kaia explained. “As have my servants and spies. After five years of conquest, we should be awash in people from Gadir. Representatives of the grand merchant companies should be scouting our island’s bounty for what would best profit them, and how to transport it across the Crystal Sea. Yes, Gordian Goldleaf arrived with his family, but he should have brought with him a whole host of minor nobles, each hoping to establish themselves upon Thanet. Every conquest is seen as a ripe opportunity to plunder, and to gain in renown. But not here. Not on Thanet.”

  Jase nodded appreciatively to his vassal, and then he leaned closer, fingers steepled.

  “Just as confusing, no one from Thanet has been sent to Gadir. An exotic people, from an exotic island, yet no one has been coveted and brought back as lovers, trophies, wives, or servants? Instead, they embargo us even more severely than before. What is it they fear? Our faiths? Our history? Our blood? Why conquer us, if they would trap us here? Why subdue us, if they would show no interest in the bounty of our land?”

  Cyrus thought over his time imprisoned in the castle with Gordian, of the conversations he’d overheard when no one noticed him lurking. Had things been different? He didn’t remember anything particular being remarked, but at the same time, there had always been an impatience to what Gordian did, a sense of running out of time. Why show such haste, if he did not seek to leave the island as Jase claimed?

  “Perhaps we overlook the obvious,” Cyrus offered. “The God-Incarnate is jealous above all others. One world, one nation, one god. Is that not their creed?”

  Jase shook his head, clearly unsatisfied with such an explanation.

  “I do not know what they plan, but I know there is a plan. Gordian gave me every indication he wished to be gone from Thanet, but that he had no choice in remaining. Thanet must be prepared, he would say. It must be made ready. But for what? I do not know. What I do know is that I fear the Uplifted Church and the madness of its priests. I regret nothing of my surrender, prince. It has kept me in power and spared my people the hardships others endured elsewhere. Where I erred was thinking we had reached the limits of what they would take from us. If our gods and our sovereignty are not enough, then I fear what next they take with their knives.”

  Rayan pushed away his plate and stood. He glanced at Cyrus, his expression calm and unreadable.

  “I thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “Forgive me for letting my emotions get the best of me. If the Coin trusts you, then I trust you.”

  “You are forgiven,” said Jase. “For I would never condemn a man for being protective of his prince.” He clapped, and a servant appeared from around the edge of the door. “Please, see Rayan to his room.”

  “I think I’ll join him,” Cyrus said, also hurrying to his feet. The thought of being alone with Kaia and Jase intimidated him. They were both older and wiser when it came to matters of Thanet, and while Cyrus could declare himself a prince, he had few who truly served him compared to the Lord of Ierida. It made Cyrus feel like a child playing pretend.

  “If you wish,” Jase said, and he stood so he might bow. “Pleasant night to you, my prince. Should I not see you again before you depart, I wish you both the best of luck in tracking down these rumors of a living Lycaena. May she live, and soon grace us with her presence. I fear, however, the naked truth shall be far less beautiful, and far more cruel.”

  CHAPTER 5

  VAGRANT

  They were given a pair of guest rooms side by side, with clean beds and lit candles. Cut flowers still wet from the river sat on tables by the windows, their vases matching the swirling blue and white of the outside banners. Cyrus’s belongings were waiting for him, brought by the servants during their bathing. He searched through them, confirming the presence of his swords and mask.

  Especially his mask.

  Why such fear? he wondered as he touched the painted wood with his fingertips. Why such a caress?

  Cyrus jammed the mask back into the pile of clothes, tied the sack shut, and refused to dwell on it further. Moments later, after a knock on the door, he joined Rayan in the matching room. The paladin lay atop his bed, his head propped up by a pillow. A half-full glass of wine rested on the bedside table, an open bottle beside it.

  “I see you’re quick to make yourself comfortable,” Cyrus said as he shut the door.

  “Should I not?” the paladin asked with a laugh. “Some say sleeping on hard floors and depriving yourself of comforts will make you a stronger person. I say it leads to a bad back and an unwelcoming disposition.”

  “Is that why you were so… unwelcoming… to Jase?”

  “Do not judge Jase harshly by my own distaste. I tend to disagree with most lords. Born into their privilege, they too often view themselves inherently superior to the people they are meant to guide and protect.”

  “My parents were born into their privilege,” Cyrus said.

  “A privilege given to them by my goddess, and by the mighty Lion. It is not the same.”

  Except it wasn’t given, it was taken from the Orani. Cyrus almost admitted as much then and there, but he was tired, his skin raw from the soap, and his belly overstuffed. He wanted to sleep, yet his mind felt aflame, and so he sought friendship instead.

  “Your complaints may be valid, but I don’t get that feeling from Jase. He cares for those in his realm.”

  “And yet keeping power has been the heart of all his decisions. Oh, to help others, he insists. Consider me doubtful. Even tyrants will claim their actions are for the betterment of the masses. Judge them by their fruits, not their words.”

  “And so far, his fruits are a realm mostly at peace compared to the bloodshed in Vallessau.”

  Rayan sat up, grabbed the bottle of wine, and offered it to Cyrus.

  “Are you so certain you wish to argue such matters now? If so, at least get a little drunk first. It’ll make things more bearable.”