Sterling (31 page)

“
H
alt
!” The Lethemian word rang loudly through the evening darkness. Erich and I froze.

“Please.” I could not see the guard who’d stopped us. “We are Lethemian. We beg your mercy. We’ve barely escaped the Empire with our lives. We have vital information for King Costas.” I spoke with all the power and privilege of my cultured accent, certain the guard would believe me.

He did not. “Don’t move,” he ordered as he lit and lifted a lantern.

“We want no trouble,” I said. “I am Lady Sterling Ricknagel.”

The man chuckled wryly. “Not with that face. Try a more believable lie, next time. Lift your hands where I can see them.” I did, knowing better than to try to argue my case yet, but Erich did not follow suit. “Lift your hands, man,” the guard demanded.

“Treat the lady gently,” Erich said. “You will regret it if you do not.”

“Lift your hands,” the guard repeated.

Slowly, Erich did.

The lavender rustled as more guards approached. This was not how I imagined our return.

The first guard searched Erich, finding nothing. He did the same to me, sliding his hands down my sides, earning an angry glare from Erich.

“I have nothing,” I told the guard. “We’re so thankful to be home. All we wish is to return to Shankar to meet with the King. We have—”

“You’re coming to our camp for questioning.”

The guards brought us into the largest tent. The one who had spoken to us lit another lantern, and I studied his face, searching for recognition. He was not a Ricknagel man; he wore Galatien grey and his insignia marked him as a legion commander.

“Sit,” the commander said, gesturing to two camp stools as yet unfolded. Erich lifted an eyebrow at the stools. I snatched them and set them up for us.

“Who are you and what were you doing in Vhimsantyr?” The commander began his questioning without sitting down, instead leaning against his desk with arms folded over chest.

Erich’s mouth flattened at the commander’s tone. “We need to see King Costas immediately,” he said. “I am Lord—”

Deafening thunder subsumed his words. The commander leapt to the tent flap.

“Hells of Amatos! It’s the Imperials. They’re fleeing Shankar.” He dashed outside, bellowing commands to his men.

I stared at Erich, who’d come to his feet. He pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes wild.

“We have to get out of here,” he said. “They mean to fight.”

I tried to process what was happening. “If the Imperials are retreating from Shankar, that means Costas is winning.”

Erich pulled me through the tent flap.

Outside, the noise and chaos were unbearable. Horses screamed, metal clashed, men shouted. Several tents burned, sending smoke and stench into the air. Erich hauled me north, towards the empty moor.

A contingent of mounted Galatien Guards galloped by us. “Who are they?” one yelled, but his interest was forgotten as the formation clashed with an oncoming vanguard of Imperials in a screeching frenzy of hard blades and wet flesh.

Erich pushed farther into the tall lavender, cursing and checking his shoulder. “I don’t even have a pocket-knife to defend us,” he muttered. “I knew I shouldn’t have left that
shir
in Valnis. For the love of Amassis, get down, Sterling!” He pushed me to me knees so that the plants shrouded me, but he didn’t lower himself, instead watching the battle.

Smoke thickened the air. Imperials rode differently than Lethemians, and I could distinguish the two factions by their horseback postures even in the dim light. The Imperials seemed to be flagging, and the force Costas had left in his border tents was considerable. The Galatien Guards fanned out around the oncoming Imperials, cutting down those on the outside and surrounding the ones who remained.

“We’re winning,” I said.

Something whizzed by my head. Once, twice.
Arrows.

“Get down, Erich! Someone’s shooting at us!” I grabbed his Esani shirt and pulled. The shirt tore fully in half before Erich dropped and covered my body. “Did you see the shooters?”

“No, I only heard—”

The grasses rustled. Armor clicked, sending shivers down my spine. I could barely breathe; we were as vulnerable as newborn kittens, weaponless in the grass. I couldn’t bring myself to look up as the footsteps moved even closer through the grass.
Please, Lord Amassis,
I prayed silently,
you have guided us this far;
let them not see us.

Erich surged off my body. I watched, transfixed, as he threw himself at an Imperial soldier, the muscles of his back flexing. He hit the man like a cannonball, hurling him to the ground. Their dark figures wrestled amidst the grasses. Erich gained the advantage and straddled the downed soldier. He gripped the Imperial’s head in his hands and twisted, violently.

I suppressed a scream as Erich dropped the man with a sickening thump. He rose like a terrible angel silhouetted against the indigo sky, his Esani shirt long gone, his bare torso gleaming in the moonlight.

Erich turned, scanning for other enemies. I crawled forward to search the Imperial. The dead man’s standard-issue
shir
rested at his hip, and his bow hugged his shoulder with his quiver. Avoiding his lifeless gaze, I took the weapons and handed the
shir
to Erich.

He took it silently and gestured at the battleground around the tents. The Galatien Guards had completely surrounded the fleeing Imperials, and a contingent of our men rode for the border—no doubt to prevent further attack there. Fallen horses and men littered the ground. It was clear the skirmish here was over.

Not a single Imperial had made it back to the Vhimsantyr border.

Horse hooves drummed the moorland behind us. I whirled, nocking an arrow and pulling my bowstring.

The Galatien commander sat atop his horse, scowling, not the least bit threatened by my display. Several of his men flanked him. I was half-tempted to release my arrow just to prove I was dangerous—but that would never do. These were Costas’s men. I lowered the bow.

“Take them and tie them,” the commander ordered. “We’ll bring them as prisoners along with the other surviving Imperials to Shankar.” He rode off, leaving his men to deal with us.

“We aren’t Imperials,” Erich said as the Galatien Guards closed around us, their butterfly blades drawn. “I am Lord Erich Talata—”

“Put down your weapon,” one guard commanded as another took my arm and yanked me backward, blade to my throat.

Erich dropped the blade and lurched towards me. “Don’t you dare touch her,” he said. “That is—”

The lead guard bashed the handle-end of his butterfly blade into Erich’s face.

I screamed. The guard who held me tied my hands behind my back.

“I’m Lady Sterling Ricknagel! That is Lord Erich Talata, heir to House Talata! How dare you!”

The lead guard smirked as he gestured for his men to contain Erich. He leaned into my face and chuckled. “My commander said you’d say that. But Lady Sterling Ricknagel, as everyone knows, is repulsive. She has a pussing welt over half her face. Nice try, pretty girl, but we know you’re only an eastern spy with bad information.”

They tied a gag over my mouth and led me and Erich—separately—back to the battle tents.

* * *

A
t dawn
, after a few sleepless hours, they marched us to Shankar. A broad, easy road led from the border camp to the Shankar gates, and we walked it, hands bound, mouths gagged, as criminals. Erich looked ready to commit murder, and a terrible bruise swelled on his left cheek. Despite our dire circumstances, I couldn’t contain my surging joy as we approached Shankar. I was home.

I gazed everywhere as we passed through the city’s eastern gate. The buildings appeared intact, the roads clean and swept. I had feared mass destruction, and it comforted me that the Eastern Road looked so pristine.

The commander, who rode to my right, saw me looking. “Costas runs a clean war,” he said proudly. “The Fall caused more damage than our battle.” Then, probably recalling that he should not speak about the Fall of Magic to eastern spies, he spurred his mount onto the broad avenue that abutted my Ricknagel Manor.

I let out a deep sigh of relief around my gag. The estate remained intact. I would have died of shame had the destruction of my family’s ancestral home occurred on my watch.

More Galatien Guards met us at the Manor gates. “Commander Athos,” one of them said. “His Majesty is expecting you.”

I caught Erich’s gaze, and we nodded to one another. Though I squirmed at the thought of having to explain myself to Costas, he was the target we sought. He would recognize us and listen to our news. Despite my gag and binds, hope rose. We had made it—in time!

The commander dismounted and threw his reins to a waiting groomsman before striding up the steps of my house. Erich and I followed without prompting, though all of the other prisoners had not even entered the Manor gate. Instead they were driven like cattle to the garrison prison.

Nothing could dampen my spirits as I entered my home’s grand foyer, tilted my head back, and gazed at the ceiling painted by Aranti Marsus. It depicted one of my favorite scenes from the tales of the gods: the seduction of Amassis by Amarite, which had resulted in the conception of Ricknagel, the warrior son who had founded the lineage of my family. Amarite was naked, her golden hair flowing around her as she reclined in a bower. The god Amassis leaned against the bed, staring longingly at Amarite. I’d always wished I’d someday see that look of desire on a man’s face, for me.

The commander cleared his throat and marched up the stairs, leading us to my father’s study. Behind the desk, hunched over a parchment, sat Costas Galatien.

The King looked up, but only at his commander, who stopped in front of Erich and me. “Nik, I received your message. You caught two spies in the battle?” Costas used the commander’s first name in his typical informal way as he rose from Papa’s favorite wing chair.

The commander’s voice was tinged with annoyance. “We captured them crossing the border north of Valnis, just before the fleeing Imperials came upon our camp. It seemed almost orchestrated.”

“You did good work at the border, Nik. I have just this morning captured the top Imperial general and his man here in Shankar. I will meet with him after this to accept surrender, to discuss terms, and to send his messengers across the border with free passage to inform the rest of the Imperial Army of their defeat. I do believe it’s almost over, but I’ll need you to return to the border camp and keep your men on alert.” He gave a sharp nod. The commander bowed before departing.

I shivered. How close we had come to being too late.

“What in the name of the gods—” Costas tore away Erich’s gag. “Erich Talata? You look terrible, man! Amatos!” Costas dropped a butterfly blade from his sleeve and cut Erich’s arm bindings.

“Gods above, Erich!” Costas set the blade on the desk. “Everyone’s been in a frenzy trying to locate you. Your mother has been after my blood as though your disappearance were my fault. What happened?”

“I told your men who we were,” Erich croaked as he shook out his wrists. He reached for the butterfly blade and cut my bindings, too. “They didn’t believe us.” With soft fingers, Erich untied my gag and tossed it to the ground. He ran his fingers over my cheeks to soothe where the gag had rubbed. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.

“Lord Erich!” Costas said sharply. “I asked you a question. How did you come to be in the Eastern Empire?”

“Pirates captured us in the Parting Sea and took us to the Governor of Vorisipor. But Costas, we have more important news.”

Costas blanched and ignored Erich’s opening. “By the gods, Erich! Did they know who you were?”

Erich shook his head. “I told them nothing.”

I thought of those whiplashes on his back. They had put him to harsh questioning.

“Amatos! If you’d still been captive and the Imperials had known your identity, I’d have had to make concessions in my parley with the general today, and let me tell you, giving these cursed Imperials
anything
would have galled me beyond bearing.” He waved dismissively. “Ah, well, fortune was with us, and your timing couldn’t be better. We must send a message to your family, Erich. They’ve been distraught with worry, and rightfully so.” Costas reached for fresh paper and a stylus. “Gods, magic was a useful thing. I miss the ease of aether-sending.” He shook his head. “Ring the bell, Erich. Send for some food. You look half-starved.”

At last Costas glanced at me, but he looked away as quickly. “Amassis, Erich, only you would make a ballad-worthy escape from Vorisipor with a courtesan in tow. Ever the rake! You need to get married.” Costas chuckled as he signed and sealed his letter.

He did not recognize me!
My heart nearly froze in my chest, though I suppose I ought to have expected it. No one ever saw anything but my mark, which was smeared with cosmetic, and I was as filthy and bedraggled as I’d ever been in my life. Not to mention I was wearing strange Esani clothing.

Costas would not let Erich or I get a word in. “I didn’t know the Empire produced such fair creatures. She does speak Lethemian, doesn’t she?” he added to Erich.