Page 18

It would seem the pair were just the beginning.

More soldiers came through her bedroom door, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed.

The men who’d just attacked her took up a protective position in front of her, but they were outnumbered.

Avera glanced around. Touch could break the spell, but so could blood.

Her blood. If only she had something sharp.

The metal urn remained intact, but the drinking glass could break.

It took but a smack of her hand to send it to the floor where it smashed.

She grabbed a shard, ignoring the grunts of the men defending her, closed her ears to the cry of pain as one of them was hit.

She slashed the sharp glass across her forearm, splitting open her flesh, and held the dripping wound over the urn which held only a smattering of water after all that swinging, but hopefully enough for her plan.

As a body hit the floor in front of her, leaving a single defending soldier standing, she realized she had no time left.

Avera popped to her feet with the pitcher and aimed it forward, the bloodied water inside sloshing out to splash the soldiers advancing on her. It didn’t hit as many as she’d have liked, but did slightly drench three out of the seven she counted.

Three less armed men trying to kill her.

“Protect me,” she yelled in the face of their confusion, giving them purpose.

They whirled to meet those still pushing towards Avera, and the noise of battle deafened.

Avera dipped to pluck a sword from a fallen soldier.

It was heavier than she liked but at least now she could defend herself.

She hopped onto the bed, giving herself the advantage of height and just in time.

A soldier hacked at her legs. She parried the blow, the familiar movements soothing her frazzled nerves, even as her body protested.

It had been a while since she’d done anything so strenuous.

While she fought, she also sought an opening to snap the man out of his fugue state, however, he wouldn’t let her close and when his lunge left him vulnerable, she sliced at his throat.

Only as he dropped, did she realize that they’d won. Of the soldiers that had invaded her bedchamber, only one remained standing, and barely. He had a hand pressed to a wound on his side. He needed immediate care.

At the stomp of boots on the stairs, Avera wanted to scream. How many would Zhos send? She braced herself only to feel the tension in her ease as Titus—wearing an untucked, partially unbuttoned shirt and pants, no boots—rushed in with some soldiers.

“Avera!” He cried out at the sight of her.

“I’m fine,” she huffed, panting from exertion, as she hopped from the bed.

“By a miracle,” he exclaimed, eyeing the bodies. “I don’t know what came over my soldiers. They attacked me in my chambers, but I see I wasn’t their only target.”

“If I were to guess, they were ensorcelled somehow by Zhos.”

“But how?” Titus frowned.

“I assume no one reported seeing a mist?” she asked, remembering how the town at the base of Fraegus Spire had been taken.

Titus shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard.”

Avera glanced at a bloodied soldier kneeling a few paces away, head dropped low, the only one to have survived the conflict in her room. She dropped onto her haunches. “Do you mind answering some questions?”

“Was he one of those who attacked’?” Titus barked, making the soldier shudder.

“I swear, I didn’t want to eminence.” The soldier’s forehead hit the floor as he tried to meld with it, shaking with fear. “One minute, I was drinking with the others in the barracks, the next, we’d all taken up arms and headed for Her Majesty’s room.”

“You say you were gathered together,” Avera stated softly. “Was there a fog, or perhaps a strange shadow in the room?”

The man shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. Like I said, we were drinking some ale left for us in the common room.”

“Left by whom?” Titus snapped.

“I don’t know, Eminence,” the man whispered.

Avera rose and glanced at Titus. “We need to inspect this cask.” No need to explain why.

Avera joined Titus as he stalked from her chamber, his expression rigid. The barracks were attached to the palace and as they weaved the passages to reach them, they encountered more of the blank-faced soldiers who raised their weapons upon seeing them.

Avera tried to push her way to the front, exclaiming, “We can snap them out of it.”

But Titus growled, “It’s too dangerous. I’ll handle it.”

By handle it, he meant shunting Avera behind a wall of soldiers while Titus fought, rage making each stroke of his sword deadly as he struck down his men.

Men they could have saved. Then again, she could understand why Titus did it.

To those watching, it seemed like treachery, a mutiny by his own army that required punishment.

Could Titus have explained how their minds were taken over by an evil entity?

It might have caused widespread panic. An untenable situation all around.

Once they pushed past the recently infected, they made it to the barrack’s common room where two men played cards. Upon seeing the emperor, they almost fell out of their chairs as they tried to bow.

“Where is the cask of ale?” Titus barked.

“In the corner, Eminence, but it’s empty.”

Titus marched over to the unmarked barrel. He squatted and pushed at the tap. A single drop emerged.

Avera spotted a mug, still half full, and raised it for a sniff, as if she could smell Zhos’ presence. She couldn’t. However, she noticed a dark sheen floating on the surface. She carried the mug to Titus. “I do believe the ale was tainted with some of the fluid encasing Zhos in ice.”

“How can we be sure?”

She touched a bloodied fingertip to the slick floating layer, and it dissipated, leading Titus to clench his fists. He whirled on the men still bowing low.

“Who delivered this?” Titus barked.

“I don’t know, Eminence. The ale was there when we got off duty.”

Titus sent the soldiers around, asking if anyone knew who’d dropped off the cask.

No one admitted to seeing anything. It left Titus with no choice but to put out a warning to all palace staff not to eat or drink anything not prepared by the kitchen.

Those running the kitchen pantry were also advised to only accept goods from known and reliable sources.

Even with those safeguards, Avera understood how easy it would be to taint something.

And Titus knew it too.

He apologized—in between rants—for the breach in his security and vowed to ensure it never happened again. A promise he couldn’t keep because Zhos had proven itself tricky. More worrisome, it appeared to have someone working for it in Merisu.

That understanding brought Avera around to the realization that Titus was right. They couldn’t waste time. Zhos had to be stopped before more innocents were killed.

And for that, despite her trepidation, they would need dragons.