Page 43 of Betrothed to the Emperor
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Sagam said roughly. “My life is yours. My failure deserves retribution. Give me leave for my sword to find its calling.”
“Rise, Sagam. You are not given leave to end your service to me.” Tallu approached, his bare feet quiet on the wooden floor.
Sagam shook his head. “I failed you. I only returned here to ensure that we found you.”
He ended there lamely, and I could hear the unspoken caveat. He had only returned to ensure that they searched the cave long enough to find the emperor’s body.
“You have not failed me. I stand here before you, alive because of the sacrifice that you and the other Dogs made.” Tallu looked around, and his eyes caught on General Kacha, whose proximity to the throne was a threat in itself.
Silently, Tallu stepped forward, his eyes fixed on where Rute stood, ready to claim the throne. Tallu mounted the few stairs up the dais, pausing when his shoulder brushed Rute’s. I heard the murmur of words, but it was too far away. Rute’s whole face flinched, and he dipped his head, descending down the stairs.
Tallu settled himself on his throne.
“Well?” He looked around. “Who tried to kill me?”
A man wearing a pale green coat with stitching that marked him as a doctor managed to forcefully lever Sagam off the floor. Sagam’s head still hung low, but he answered. “We aren’t sure. Ten men overwhelmed the two Dogs left at the entrance to the cavern. They came in silently—they must have learned the layout ahead of time because they had no guide and no light. They attacked us, and we managed to kill all of them, but by the time we finished, you were gone.”
“What do you mean we don’t know who it was!” General Kacha pointed at me. “They were northern. They wore northern clothes! Clearly, this is an assassination attempt by the Northern Kingdom. Arrest him!”
Two soldiers lurched from the doorway, rushing toward me, and all I saw was their weapons and the spark of electricity one held in his hand. A single bolt of it could stop a man’s heart.
Desperately, I glanced at Tallu. I should have killed him in the mountains. I should have left him to die. I was going to be killed here, and my mission would never be accomplished.
Tallu stared back at me, face as still as a bronze statue. He turned to the guards. “Stop.”
They stumbled, pulling up short.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” General Kacha said reproachfully. “I understand that you hold your intended in some affection, but we must be realistic?—”
“Show me the evidence,” Tallu said.
A tense silence settled over the room. Finally, General Saxu nodded. He turned to the soldiers. “Bring in the bodies.”
The men turned, striding quickly to the doors. As we waited in silence, the second of the Emperor’s Dogs moved to stand behind the throne. His eyes fixed on me, as though I was the most dangerous man in the room.
After a few excruciating minutes, there was grunting in the hall, and six soldiers brought in three bodies. The corpses dripped fluid onto the floor—water and blood—and they landed with heavy thuds so loud the wood under my feet vibrated.
Then, the soldiers backed away.
The attackers had been dressed in northern furs. They even wore the grays of my mother’s clan. From a distance, they would make passable copies of her soldiers. Only the Northern Kingdom didn’t have soldiers. Not like the Southern Imperium did.
In the north, the men and women were warriors, each belonging to their own clan. They had joined together under my mother’s banner when the Imperium had attacked, but at no other time would these men I didn’t recognize wear my mother’s colors.
“See? There can be no question that these are northern assassins! They pounced as soon as he told them that Your Imperial Majesty was alone!” General Kacha pointed at me again.
The silence in the room stretched, and just when I couldn’t stand it anymore, Sagam said, “He had no chance to tell anyone anything. General Saxu, did he speak with anyone when you walked him from General Kacha’s party to me?”
“No.” General Saxu approached the bodies, staring down at them. Frowning, he bent and tugged on one of the hoods.
The face he exposed was scarred. Both ears had been removed, and some of the flesh had clearly been carved away, growing back mottled and pink.
“This is no northern soldier!” I snapped. “We do not mutilate our warriors. He’s even wearing the jacket wrong.”
“Clearly, Prince Airón is trying to save his own skin.” General Kacha sniffed. “Let some of my interrogators at him, and he will confess the whole scheme.”
“How do you know they are not northern soldiers?” Tallu asked quietly.
“The ears. Someone is trying to cover up that these men are from Krustau. They cut away the ears so that you won’t notice that they’re pointed.” I gestured to the jacket. “He’s wearing a cold-weather jacket. The ties aren’t right, but more than that, it is hot here for a true northerner. This is a jacket you would wear in the dead of winter outside the gates of the Silver City. And when I fought one of these men—while trying to saveyourlife, just as a reminder—his bones were thick and heavy with the ore of the Krustau Mountains.”