A Soul for Vengeance (32 page)

Her grip loosened around the fork, but she didn’t drop it. She kept her eyes on his boots. “Yes, my lord.”

“It’s against our code of honor to force ourselves on a woman, but I would hope you’d consider joining me later tonight. I’d like to get to know you better.”

I’d rather cut my eyes out with a spoon
. Thankfully, her common sense kept her from telling him that. She remembered the part she was playing. “I’m afraid my fiancé wouldn’t like that.”

“He wouldn’t have to know.” He came toward her and tilted her chin up. “Come now, I’m not that repulsive, am I?”

If he hadn’t been the enemy, she could see where some women might consider him handsome. He looked to be only a few years older than Kell, his unlined face contrasting with the experience behind his dark blue eyes. She’d overheard some of the other female slaves commenting about the well-muscled physique underneath his clothes and how they’d all love the chance to entertain him for a few hours in return for special treatment.

But she wasn’t one of them. Her heart belonged to Kell, and no man would even sway her from him. She tightened her grip on the fork, preparing to use it if he continued to touch her. “I would know that I’d cheated on him.”

The door opened, revealing the stern face of Decindra. “Leave her alone, Bar. Can’t you see she’s ready to stab you?”

She dropped the fork, but it was too late. They’d both caught her with a weapon in her hand. Thankfully, Barsaulus found it more amusing than his fellow member of the Triumvirate. “Poor little Sagalia—did I frighten you that much?”

She nodded, watching Decindra out of the corner of her eye. The woman looked ready to flay her alive.

“Perhaps I should consider a different means of convincing you to accept my offer.” He reached around her and slid the fork back into the place setting. “Until then, you have nothing to fear as long as you behave.”

She nodded again and slipped out the door before Decindra decided to find some fault in the table as an excuse to punish her. On her way back to the kitchen, she weighed the pros and cons of Barsaulus’s offer. If she pretended to accept, she could gain access to his most private quarters, but the thought of him touching her made her shudder. Besides, once he discovered her scars, he’d have her executed.

Normal housemaids didn’t have scars like that.

She managed to serve the first course of their dinner without any more propositions from the youngest member of the Triumvirate. The second course arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule, allowing her the luxury of eavesdropping.

“Honestly, Bar, I don’t understand your fascination with those Ranellian slaves. They’re beneath you.”

“It’s not like I have access to any Thallian women of my status here.”

Ouch! That must have stung Decindra’s pride
.

“Besides, there’s something intriguing about her,” Barsaulus continued. “The eyes, the accent—she’s not from Trivinus. Sometimes I see little traces of home in her.”

“She’s probably from the northern part of Ranello,” Ermane said in his gruff, no-nonsense way.

Zara bit her bottom lip, digging her teeth in to keep her panic at bay. If they discovered the truth, her plan was ruined.

“If that’s the case, then you might have luck luring her to your bed, Bar.” Decindra’s voice bordered on a sneer. “In this kingdom, girls leave their homes when they’ve been cast aside. Most of them end up as prostitutes.”

“Then perhaps I haven’t offered the right price. Every woman can be bought.”

Zara almost laughed at how accurate he was. Only her price was his stone-cold corpse.

She’d lingered long enough. If they kept dissecting her, they’d eventually put enough pieces together to see the true reason she was here. When she came in with the second course, she felt two sets of eyes on her—Barsaulus and Decindra. The first one was obvious. The second member of the Triumvirate didn’t become obvious until Decindra placed a possessive hand on him. She grinned once her back was facing them. Decindra had no reason to worry about her warming Barsaulus’s bed.

The second course had barely touched the table when a Thallian soldier stormed in. “My lords and lady, a fleet of Gravarian ships has just landed in Ranello.”

“Preposterous.” Ermane pushed back from the table and crossed the room to the large mirror. “I just gave orders for our fleet to leave Boznac a week ago. We should’ve heard something about them passing each other.”

Decindra followed him and ran her finger along the frame of the mirror in the same way Kell activated his mirror pendant. “Marist has many spies. She must have heard about our plans and sent a counterattack.”

The mirror clouded, clearing to show a dripping wet captain. The howl of a storm mixed with the crashing of waves, drowning out his voice. “My lords and lady, forgive me, but I have little time to talk.”

Ermane stood ram-rod straight, his arms stiff at his sides. “Give me a report.”

“We’ve already lost three ships to the storm. It came out of nowhere.”

Zara offered a quick prayer of thanks to the Lady Moon that such a storm hadn’t attacked the Gravarian ships.

“I told you we should’ve waited for storm season to pass.” Barsaulus crossed his arms, his expression grim. “One late storm like this could cripple us.”

A crack came from the other side of the mirror, followed by a crash. The captain’s screams echoed through the dining room, and a line of water rose up the length of the mirror before it faded from view.

Barsaulus cursed. “I warned you that we were in danger of overstepping our bounds, Ermane, and this is what happened. If the President of the Senate hears about this—”

“I was acting on his orders, and now it seems we have a new problem on our hands. If Empress Marist wishes to enter the fray, then perhaps we should give her a proper welcome.”

He turned to the soldier. “I want a detailed report on the Gravarian forces now.”

Zara ducked out of the room, hope fluttering in her chest like a bird trying to fly out of its cage. Her plan had worked. The Gravarians were here.

And in a couple of weeks, they’d be at Trivinus’s walls.

She had to refrain from dancing when she reached the kitchen. Instead, she harried Liverna to give her the next course so she could go back to the dining room and hear their plan of attack. Tomorrow was her day to meet with Niestro, and he could easily smuggle a note to Kell out of the city.

Zara arrived just as the soldier was finishing his report. All three members of the Triumvirate took the news differently. Decindra paled. Barsaulus’s face remained flushed with anger. And Ermane rested his cheek in his hand, his arms crossed in a pensive pose.

The eldest member of the Triumvirate waved the soldier away. “One of us should deal with the Gravarians personally.”

“I’ll go.” Barsaulus downed the last of his kokalla-laced sherry and snapped his fingers for the butler to refill his glass. “I have the most combat experience, and you two need to stay here in case the rebels hear this news and decide to strike.”

“The rebels are nothing more than a flea we have to scratch.” Decindra twirled her knife through her fingers before stabbing the blade into the table. “Even if there’s some truth to the rumors their prince has returned, he’s nothing more than a whore-mongering sop—worse than you, actually, Bar.”

Zara bit her tongue, her heart at peace knowing Kell was nothing like the man they thought he was. For once, she was grateful for his past reputation. They were so quick to dismiss him, increasing his chances of catching them off guard.

“Your kind words warm my heart, Decindra.” The sarcasm left his voice as he returned to business. “I’ll need at least five thousand men.”

Ermane shook his head. “I can give you two thousand. We’ve lost so many in our attempt to invade Gravaria, and I need all the reinforcements I can get.”

“And I need at least five thousand if I want to crush Marist’s forces and send a clear message to her and the rebels.” Barsaulus pushed back from the table and bowed to the other members of the Triumvirate. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a battle to prepare for.”

On the way out, he caught her eye and raised one brow in invitation.

Zara lowered her gaze to the floor, scared he’d see the joy in her heart bleeding to her features.

The next morning as the slaves frantically tried to gather supplies for Barsaulus’s expedition, she snuck down to the wine cellars and filled several bottles with the prized sherry. If she didn’t keep him on the kokalla, he’d slip into madness within two days of leaving the city, triggering a warning to the other members of the Triumvirate. However, she did want to time his withdrawals to when he would meet with the Gravarian forces. The bottles should hold enough for a week based on his current consumption. She divided her pouch of kokalla among the bottles and carried them upstairs, adding them to the growing pile of food meant only for Barsaulus and his lieutenants.

Later that afternoon, hours after the “parade” in honor of Barsaulus and his men had ended, Zara made her way through the streets of Trivinus to Niestro’s house. “I need you to deliver a message to Prince Kell.”

“Now?” He followed her to the loose wallboard where she concealed her supply of kokalla. “What’s going on, Lady Zara?”

She grabbed the largest pouch and grinned. “It’s the beginning of the end for the Thallians.”

Chapter 28

Arden peered into the fog that obscured the road to Trivinus, trying to make sense of the foreboding that dragged at her soul. Something was about to happen. The question was—what?

“Any ideas, Loku?”

“Chaos, my dear little Soulbearer. Lots of glorious chaos.”

His glee only added to her unease. She turned to Dev, whose tense shoulders told her she wasn’t the only one sensing danger on the other side of the fog. “Loku’s happy about this.”

“Which doesn’t bode well for us.” Dev looped his reins around his hand one more time, tightening the control over his horse. “Fane, what do you think?”

The knight who’d come from Gravaria with them had always been a calming voice of reason. “I say we keep moving forward with caution. Prince Kell is expecting us to join him at Trivinus on time, and any delays could have disastrous implications.”

“Are you a knight or a politician?” Dev said with a sardonic smile. “I’d feel better if I knew what I was walking into.”

“Why don’t we give Dev what he wants?”
Loku asked.
“It’s very simple to clear away the fog with magic. It’s even something you could do without my help.”

Arden took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to conjure up the spell she needed. Fog was a mix of air and water. If she applied heat and wind, she could burn it off and blow it away. She held out her hand, summoning fire from her inner source of magic. Flames surrounded her fingers. As she channeled her magic into them, they grew brighter, more intense, until she could no longer contain them. The spell pulsated through the fog like a drop of water in a still pond, clearing their view with each wave.

And revealing the Thallian army.

Arden’s breath caught. They’d almost ridden headfirst into the enemy, completely unaware and unprepared for the battle that would’ve erupted.

But the Thallians were ready. Less than a minute after the fog cleared, they launched dozens of fireballs from their catapults toward the Gravarian forces.

“Shields,” she screamed behind her to the mages who’d come with them. She concentrated on those around her, first Dev and then Fane. Once she knew they were safe behind her wall of magic, she stretched it out to cover the front line of the army. The impact of the fire balls against her shield drove the air from her lungs, but the spell held, and her soldiers were safe.

Dev cradled her elbow, keeping her from slipping out of the saddle. “Arden, what are you doing?”

“Trying to protect our people long enough to give them a chance.” Stars danced in front of her eyes from the next volley, but by then, the Gravarian forces had drawn their swords and were ready to charge.

“Let them fight this battle.” Dev took the reins from her hand. “You’ll only get hurt.”

“No, Dev, I’m as much a part of this as they are. More, actually, since I’m the only Ranellian here.” She yanked the reins back and followed the soldiers, keeping her shield in place for them. She may not be able to wield a sword like they could, but she could at least offer them protection with her magic.

“Arden, stop!”

Dev grabbed her by the hood of her cloak, breaking her concentration. The shield disintegrated. Fireballs rained down the Gravarian forces. Arden’s horse reared as one of them exploded in front of it. She fell back, taking Dev with her to the muddy ground. Iron shod hooves stomped within inches of her head, her arms, her legs. Panic choked her screams. This was battle like she’d never known before.

“Calm down, my little Soulbearer.”
A protective blanket of magic wrapped around her, one that bore the chaos god’s signature rather than Dev’s.

“We have to make it stop.”

“You’ll have to stop their leader, then.”
He showed her an image of a man on a hill, watching the battle play out with a self-satisfied grin.

“Gladly
.
”
She gathered her magic as Dev dragged her to safety, far from the frightened horses and soldiers’ blades. The spell swirled inside, growing stronger and darker as it mixed with a spark of yellow-green magic.

“Now, Arden
.
”

At Loku’s command, she released the spell. A bolt of green lightning shot through the sky, striking within inches of the Thallian leader and throwing him from his horse. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but a dangerous snarl on his lips warned her he was far from done.

A pair of hands pressed her arms down by her sides and gave her a firm shake. The image of the Thallian leader vanished, leaving only Dev’s worried face. “Don’t give into him, Arden.”

“I know what I’m doing.” She shrugged him off and tried to focus on the leader so she knew where to direct her next spell.