Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (3 page)

Something about the beautiful package filled her with dread. “Come back tomorrow,” she said firmly.

“But, Dula—”

She cut him off. “I’m not a Dula, I’m a Senne. You can sit on the step all night, for all I care, but I will not be giving an answer tonight.” Her mind wandered, going over all the things she feared the emperor might wish of her. She’d accepted his hospitality, not that she’d had any choice, and she had dreaded the moment he would demand payment. Curiosity tinged with dread crept over her. Was today that day?

Korbin lowered his voice. “Do as the lady asks. Come back tomorrow.”

The man looked miserable, but he nodded and bowed. “Yes, Dul.”

Korbin closed the door on the forlorn messenger and waited a moment before asking, “Am I still welcome to come in?”

Octavia shook herself sharply and realized she’d been lost in thought. “Of course,” she said, but in truth, she had no desire for company.

Chapter 2

Korbin removed his boots and placed them on the wooden rack by the door before following Octavia up the stairs to her living area. His heart had clutched at the sight of her. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, if a little tired around the eyes. He’d spent time with her when she was convalescing, but once she was strong enough, she wanted to come back here, and she seemed to want some time and distance.

Considering what she’d been through, he suspected she didn’t rest enough and worked too hard, but he would never voice his thoughts. She wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted advice, particularly from the likes of him. Despite being close to the same age, she had a way of making him feel young and inexperienced by comparison.

“How have you been?” she asked, her tone distracted as her gaze lingered on the parcel she’d just received.

“Busy as well,” he said. “I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner.” In truth, he’d been hoping she would come to him, but as the weeks passed, he realized that would never happen. If he wanted to see her, and he very much did, he would have to make the first step to renew their acquaintance. Despite all that they’d been through, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d welcome a continued friendship. They were, as she often reminded him, from different worlds.

Octavia put the package on the rickety wooden table by the window and went to a compact iron stove to light a fire. She took the kettle resting on a side table and peeked inside before placing it over the heat. “Does your new token mean the emperor made good on his threat to make you a senator?” She grinned over her shoulder at him. Her smile made her even more beautiful.

“It hasn’t come up since the last time we spoke.” Korbin turned one of her two upright chairs and sat so he could talk to her while she rummaged through her shelves and muttered about not being able to find a matching pair of cups. His chair tilted on uneven legs, forcing him to lean to the side to keep from constantly wobbling.

She shook her head and laughed softly. “Only Talmorans could be so lax about such a thing.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of not caring. I think the seven remaining senators are hoping the emperor forgot about me so they can find someone more
appropriate
to appoint. My guess is they’re afraid my father will use me as a toehold in the Council.”

She finally found two cups she pronounced to be acceptable. The pair didn’t match, one being plain and the other bearing the image of a faded green flower, but they were similar in size and didn’t have any chips. She placed them near the black stovetop before joining Korbin at the table while the water heated up.

“Surely everyone recognizes that you aren’t your father. After everything that happened? He disowned you, after all.”

“Yes, and then I helped him have Seba locked up.” When she looked like she might argue, Korbin shrugged. “I’m just saying what it looks like to people on the outside.”

She nodded reluctantly. “I suppose. So, if not the senate, what is keeping you so busy?” She glanced down at his clothing. “Spending a lot of time with a tailor?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. The joke startled him, but in a good way. From the moment they’d met, they were one or both running from something, and there had been few moments where they could laugh together. Although things still weren’t what he would describe as normal for either of them, it was good they could relax enough to have a moment of pleasant conversation without someone wanting to kill or destroy them.

“What then?”

“Eliam’s estate,” he said.

All traces of humor left her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My jest was insensitive.”

“No, no. You couldn’t have known.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “But why does his estate involve you?”

“Eliam left me everything.”

“Left you?” She crinkled her brow in confusion. Her command of the Talmoran language was good but not perfect.

“He bequeathed me all his possessions.” Dul Eliam Kerstone had been Korbin’s closest friend when they were growing up, and after Graiphen disowned Korbin many years ago, Eliam was the only friend who didn’t abandon him.

“Did he have no family?”

“No immediate family. There are an assortment of cousins and an uncle by marriage, and they did come forward to make a claim, but the court awarded them only a nominal amount since they could not prove they had maintained a close connection.”

“You fought with them in the courts?” She blinked, looking confused and disapproving at the same time.

“There’s hardly a single Invocation of Postmortal Intent that isn’t challenged in the courts. The more money someone has, the more relatives who want a piece.”

“And the city court believed they were not entitled to their
piece
?”

Korbin shrugged. “Eliam mentioned them each specifically in his invocation and said they were to receive nothing. It’s difficult to disinherit someone in Talmor, though. It requires a specific court document to be filed in advance, which is why they received anything at all.”

“Why do you think he gave his possessions to you?”

“We were friends,” Korbin said quietly. He didn’t understand why she was challenging Eliam’s right to give his property to whomever he wanted, but he sensed it was more an effort to take in a part of Talmoran culture she found strange.

“Yes, but you were already rich.”

Korbin smiled. Octavia had a different idea of
rich
than most Talmorans. “As I said, I was surprised at his bequest.” The small inheritance Korbin had received from his mother was nothing compared to what he’d lost when his father disowned him, a formal status Graiphen had registered with the courts. There would be no challenge for Korbin to make when his father died. He’d lost his right to call himself Dul, and his family fortune. Eliam had said in his Invocation of Postmortal Intent that he wanted to right that wrong by investing his family title and holdings to a man he thought more worthy than most. Korbin, now once again Dul Korbin, had read the letter many times in the past months. It never failed to move him, sometimes to tears.

Octavia stood and went to the stove with a pensive look. She prepared the tea and brought him a cup. “You must miss Eliam. I thought he seemed a good man, though I didn’t know him well. He offered us help at great risk to himself and died for it.”

She sat opposite Korbin and sipped her tea. Korbin watched her, noticing the dark cloud that passed over her features when she spoke of Eliam and what they’d gone through. He wondered if he’d made a mistake in coming here, if she considered him a reminder of a time she’d rather forget, not that forgetting would be easy or even possible.

His gaze wandered to the red velvet satchel the messenger had given her. “Are you going to open it?”

She bit her lip, a sign of insecurity that surprised him. She’d always seemed self-assured, even when their troubles were at their worst. “I am afraid of what it might say, what he might want.”

“What makes you think he wants something? Perhaps he wants to bestow a gift or honor of some kind.”

She glanced at him and raised a brow in a way that said she didn’t believe that. “After so many months? No, more likely he wants something.”

With a sigh, she reached for the elegant pouch and placed it between them. She sat and fingered the soft material for a moment before pulling back the top layer. She pulled out two pages, one a letter written on heavy parchment, and a smaller bag. Before reading the letter, she opened the bag and withdrew a shining golden identity token.

She frowned at it, turning it in her hand, then offered the small disc to Korbin as she unfolded the two pages. He examined the token. On one side was engraved the imperial seal. On the other, a branch bearing eight alternating leaves and flowers. The sigil was one he’d never seen, standing for no family he was aware of nor any institution in his memory.

He watched her eyes going back and forth over the page. She put a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. She read the first a second time, then glanced at the second page before setting both down in front of her, meeting Korbin’s eyes. “He’s made me a citizen.” She showed him the second page: an Investment of Citizenship bearing her name.

“That’s wonderful, Octavia. You deserve it for all you did for the senate, for the empire. See, I told you he didn’t want anything.”

“Oh, but he does. He has invited me to come to Durjin. He wants my
advice
.” She took the token from Korbin and placed it back in the bag, then wrapped it all up in the original pouch and pushed it away from her.

“Advice? Did he say about what?”

“Seba.” She shivered.

Korbin hesitated. The haunted look on her face told him not to press, but he wasn’t sure she understood the significance of the gift or the request.

As though reading his mind, she met his gaze. “I’m not going. I’ll send back the token in the morning.”

“Please don’t be offended, but I feel I should offer some advice—”

“You think I should do what he wants? What if I don’t?” Her tone had become snappish and her tiredness showed more than ever.

He tried to keep his tone soft and gentle. She clearly had no idea the value of what she was holding and handling so carelessly. “You’re free to say no to the invitation, of course. You won’t be condemned for that. My advice, though, is that you not send back the token. It would be considered an insult to turn down Talmoran citizenship, something that many born here are never able to attain, much less someone of foreign birth. I’m certain he intends it as an honor. I would accept it in that spirit. Even if you do not wish to go to Durjin, you should still send a formal letter of thanks for the Investment of Citizenship.”

She ran her fingers over the packet. “I don’t wish to offer an insult.”

Korbin felt relief. He would hate to think what would happen if she’d bungled something like that. She didn’t bow to anyone, didn’t have the same ideas of rank and importance. She wasn’t a fool, but neither was she Talmoran born, and that meant she had different concepts of what mattered.

“Would you like my help?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t take offense at the offer.

She nodded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, would you
consider
his request? Although I only met him briefly, the emperor doesn’t seem an impulsive man. His request might represent a matter of importance, something he didn’t wish to put into the letter of invitation.” Korbin itched to read the letter himself but didn’t dare ask.

Pain and anger flashed in her eyes. “I won’t go near Seba, and I have no desire to discuss him. The temple of Braetin said they would advise the state on how to control his power, and I have even less wish to encounter Braetin’s followers than I do him.”

The emotion in her voice startled Korbin. “Are you all right?”

“I already gave too much blood,” she said. Korbin didn’t know the meaning of what he assumed was a Kilovian expression. She sipped her black tea slowly, as though trying to collect herself. When she spoke, her voice had a noticeable tremor. “I’ve been having nightmares. I see Seba’s eyes, feel his touch. And Graiphen…”

Korbin’s gut twisted. His father. Korbin had been forced to watch Graiphen beat Octavia bloody. That the man would feature in her nightmares was no surprise, but made anger boil inside Korbin. He put his hand over Octavia’s. “I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner. I was trying to allow you time to heal. I wasn’t sure you would want to see me.”

She breathed in deeply. “Why wouldn’t I? I know you’re not your father.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve been working night and day.” She cast a longing look toward the bedroom. “I’m so tired all the time. I am the only conduit in the city, and my one hope lies in a girl who can barely prepare a sleeping draught. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go to Durjin. I’m needed here.”

“All right,” Korbin said. “Then tell the emperor that. I’m sure he’ll understand. Do you have paper? I’ll help you form a reply that will sound proper to his ears.”

She brought him some sheets of cheap brown stationary and they drafted her letter together. She supplied the ideas, and he couched them in polite and deferential language. It took several attempts before they were both happy with the result.

When they were finished, Korbin folded the page into an intricate square, something he’d learned to do with formal correspondence when he worked as a Talmor Rider. “It’s late. I’ll give this to the messenger on my way out.” He stood, and Octavia followed suit.

“I sent him away. Remember?”

“Trust me. He’s still there. He may well consider this message the most important he’s ever been entrusted with. If the emperor’s steward left instructions that he wait for a reply, he will not budge until he gets one.”

She shook her head in bemusement. “Well, thank you. For everything. It was good to see you. Will you come again soon?”

“Of course,” he said. “Or you could come to Eliam’s house.” He couldn’t bring himself to call it
my house
yet. “The cook works miracles with pastry.”

“I’d like that.” Her tone told him she was simply being courteous.

He didn’t want to let the opportunity pass. “How about three nights hence? What’s your favorite pie? Do you like mildenberry?”