CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Josey closed the door and held onto the handle as lightning flashed in the palace windows. A heartbeat later, thunder crashed amid the steady staccato of driving sleet.

Inside the room, Anastasia was resting after the doctor dosed her with something to help her sleep. Hubert remained at her bedside with the nurse. His devotion no longer surprised Josey. All the way from Opuline Hill, he had refused to leave ’Stasia’s side. Josey smiled, warmed by the thought of Hubert’s gallantry. He couldn’t hide his feelings for Anastasia from her, much as he tried. But it made Josey miss Caim all the more; she could use some comforting herself. Before Anastasia drifted off, Josey told her friend about her delicate state. Anastasia had been ecstatic and promised to help. Josey fought back the sigh that gathered in her chest and turned away from the door.

Four bodyguards in full armor stood at attention in the hallway. The sight of them, with their gleaming halberds held high, caused a lump to form in her throat. She would never be able to look at them the same, these men who had risked their lives for her. She was bound to them now, and they to her, but it wasn’t the comforting thought she might have wished for. She’d sent men into battle and watched them die. That knowledge sickened her. That’s part of what I accepted when I put on the crown. Soldiers die. It’s regrettable, but I’d be a fool to think it would never happen again.

Josey addressed the ranking subaltern. “I want a guard at this door at all times, day and night.”

The officer saluted with a sharp snap of gauntlet to helm. “Yes, Majesty.”

He directed one of his subordinates to remain and then followed her down the hall with the others. They met Captain Drathan as he rounded a corner.

“Majesty,” he said. “I was coming to report.”

The captain looked beyond exhausted, deep into a realm of fatigue that showed in the lines in his face and the dark circles around his eyes. Yet he held himself upright. While she suspected he had not taken the time to bathe since their return to the palace, his armor had been cleaned and his face washed to give a semblance of suitable presentation.

“How are my men?” she asked.

“Eleven are in the hospital ward, Majesty, including Sergeant Merts. There are some bad cuts and a couple broken bones, but the physicians believe everyone will pull through.”

“And Master Hirsch?”

Captain Drathan’s frown pulled the corners of his eyes downward. “He lives, but I’m told it will be a miracle if he survives until morning.”

Josey’s hands trembled. They were losing this fight for the soul of her city, and now her most potent weapon hovered on death’s doorstep.

“I want funerals for the fallen, Captain,” she said. “With full honors. What arrangements have you made for the defense of the palace?”

“I have increased the sentries on the walls and inside the palace proper. Your personal bodyguards”—he looked past her and frowned at the subaltern—“should have been doubled.”

“I will do as I wish with my guards, Captain.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

Josey held up a hand. “My apologies. I’m tired and short of temper. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Majesty. I meant to say that the situation has grown decidedly more precarious. I can vouch for the mettle of every man in your guard, but I fear we are too few to protect you. If the assassin strikes again—”

“If the assassin strikes,” she said, keeping her fear from rising to her voice, “we shall deal with it in due time.”

“Yes, Majesty.” But by his expression he was not convinced. “I also came to inform you that Duke Mormaer has arrived with a request for an audience.”

“At this time of night?” It had to be almost midnight.

“He seems … intent.”

A sudden burst of thunder rattled the window frames. Josey sighed and put a hand to her temple.

“Are you feeling all right, Majesty? Shall I fetch a—”

“I’m fine. Lead on.”

Josey was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It felt like huge fists were grinding against the sides of her head. She tried to shut it out, but the rumble of the soldiers’ boots on the marble floor only made the pain worse. Gritting her teeth, she descended the broad staircase to the ground floor.

Despite the hour, Lord Parmian and Major Volek waited in the throne room. Both men bowed as she climbed the dais and settled on the throne. The main doors of the chamber were open, and through them she could make out Mormaer’s broad frame in the foyer. She nodded for Ozmond to issue the summons.

Duke Mormaer’s footsteps rang out on the hard flagstones. His usually impeccable ensemble appeared slightly rumpled, as if he, too, had not slept in some time. His eyes, though, were fierce as ever as he strode up to the foot of the platform. His bow was stiff and perfunctory.

“What could not wait until morning, Your Grace?” she asked.

“Empress Josephine, the messengers you dispatched to Parvia and Wistros never reached the garrisons. They were murdered.”

Josey stood up. “How did you discover this?”

“I sent couriers of my own. My men came across the bodies of two imperial envoys on the road. Their assailants didn’t bother to hide the evidence.”

Josey struggled to breathe. Without those garrison troops, she could not save Othir. Sinking back onto her throne, she gazed up at the ceiling. The tiny eyes of saints and Church hierarchs looked down at her from the paintings above. For the first time she noticed that none of them, not even the Prophet of the Light, was portrayed with a smile.

“Duke Mormaer,” Ozmond said. “How far from the city did your men find the bodies?”

“About two days’ ride.”

Josey drew in a deep breath and was mindful of the tautness of her belly beneath her gown. Two days. How long before we would have begun to suspect? The city may have fallen before we sent new messages. Which, of course, was her enemies’ plan.

“Was the assassin responsible?” she asked.

“I do not believe so,” Mormaer said. “My men reported the envoys both died of wounds to the stomach and chest, possibly the work of daggers.”

“Close-up work.” Ozmond turned to the throne. “Majesty, those who killed the messengers were able to get within arm’s reach of them without drawing suspicion.”

Mormaer cleared his throat. “Empress Josephine, twenty of my best men await outside this chamber. If you will permit, I would add them to your guard for the time being. I personally vow as to their loyalty, each of them having served me for many years.”

Josey rose to her feet. “Duke Mormaer, I am honored, but a fortnight ago you might have gladly stood by and watched as I was toppled from this throne. What, may I ask, has brought on this change of heart?”

Mormaer nodded. “It’s true that we have different views on how this nation should be ruled, but I will not suffer the throne to be bullied. Not by anyone. Now if you will accept—”

A terrifying howl sliced through the air of the chamber. Josey fell back against the throne. Captain Drathan and his men drew their weapons as everyone gazed up at the ceiling. Ominous darkness cloaked the balcony overlooking the hall. Josey’s breath froze in her lungs. Gods protect us. It’s here.

Mormaer placed a foot on the bottom step of the dais. Shouting for his men, he looked to Josey. “Majesty, you must be away now. My men and I will hold this chamber.”

“But—”

“Majesty!” Captain Drathan shouted. “He’s right. It isn’t safe here.”

With a frown at Mormaer, Josey hurried down the steps. Major Volek strode up behind them as Ozmond, the captain, and a pair of guardsmen surrounded her.

“With your permission, Majesty,” the major said. “I would accompany you to safety.”

“Of course,” she replied as they hurried her away.

Her last view of the throne room was of Duke Mormaer drawing a huge sword from an ornate scabbard while his soldiers fanned out with weapons readied. Josey’s silk shoes made a soft patter on the floor as she jogged to keep up with her escorts. Their flight reminded her of the night she had been whisked through these corridors by Ral and Markus during their insane bid for the throne. That feeling was reinforced as they turned a corner and passed through the wide chamber that had once been a trophy room. Even though the room had been converted into a sewing nook with cushioned chairs and placid arrays, she breathed easier when they were well past it.

Captain Drathan took a lamp from the sewing room and led them into the east wing of the palace. Scaffolds and tarps covered the walls, and crates were stacked in the available niches—all part of Hubert’s pet project to turn this wing into new apartments for the palace’s many servants. As they came to another intersection, Ozmond and Captain Drathan turned down opposite corridors.

“This way,” the captain said. “There is a postern leading to the north bailey.”

Ozmond gestured down the other hallway. “We should get the empress back upstairs to the imperial suite. There are stairs this way.”

Captain Drathan shook his head. “Upstairs is no good. For all we know, the upper levels are in the hands of the assassins.”

“There is only one assassin,” Ozmond said, “and he is occupied in the throne room with Duke Mormaer. The empress would be safer—”

“Gentlemen.” Josey cut them both off. “I’m right here.” When they quieted, she said, “Ozmond, I appreciate your concerns, but this is the captain’s area of expertise. Captain Drathan, if you would—”

“Pardon,” Major Volek said. “But if I may interrupt.”

Josey looked past the tall officer. The corridor they had just come down was pitch black and silent. Gooseflesh prickled her forearms. “Yes, Major?”

Major Volek pointed down the opposite hallway. “If we proceed straight, I believe we will arrive at the east guard tower, where more reinforcements may be found.”

Captain Drathan nodded. “He’s right.”

“Let’s go, then,” she said.

Captain Drathan sent the two guardsmen ahead while he and Ozmond flanked Josey, with Major Volek bringing up the rear. They navigated the corridor around several turns, and then stopped before a blank wall. Blocks of chiseled granite lay beside buckets and trowels, and other masonry tools. The bitter odor of lime hung in the air.

“I don’t—” Captain Drathan began, only to have his words cut off by a grunt.

Josey turned. The lamp clattered on the floor, somehow staying alight as the captain fell to his knees. He turned away as he collapsed, revealing the back of his uniform, drenched with blood. Major Volek’s helmet bounced off into the darkness as he crumpled beside the captain. The two guardsmen pushed past Josey to take up positions between her and the unseen source of the attacks. Something flashed in the lamp’s feeble light, too fast for her to see. One soldier collapsed where he stood; the other was jerked into the darkness as if he were a puppet. Horrible screams filled the corridor, and then died away.

Josey stepped back from the corpses. The fallen guardsman had rolled over onto his back; ribbons of bloody sinew trailed from the gap where his throat had been. She put both hands on her stomach. Terror coursed through her as she considered the fate of her child. No! I will not allow this to happen. Caim, why aren’t you here when we need you?

Fingernails biting into her palms, Josey held her breath. She almost sobbed as Ozmond drew the rondel at his hip and stepped in front of her. When he made to approach the darkness, Josey grabbed his arm.

“Don’t!” she whispered.

“Majesty, we cannot remain here.”

“I know. Just a moment …”

She let her words drift away as a shape moved at the lamplight’s edge. At first she thought it was Duke Mormaer, but even a brief glance revealed that the figure was far too large. Its shoulders spanned the width of the corridor. Yellow flames danced in its bulging eyes. It was coming for her.

Josey didn’t have time to be frightened. One moment Ozmond stood before her. Then talons flashed, and he was slumped against the wall, blood pouring from a row of parallel slashes ripped down the front of his coat. His mouth moved, but no sounds came forth. She read the words formed by his lips.

Forgive me.

Tears filled her eyes. This was her fault. She had no right to put these brave men in danger. She was nothing, no one.… I am the Empress of Nimea. The words rose from the depths of her soul. She wanted to cast them aside and reject them, but she couldn’t. Not even in the face of death. Josey met the assassin’s glowing eyes as she reached under her gown. Her fingers closed around the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. I am descended from kings and warriors, queens and protectors of the people. If you desire my death, come seek it.

She drew the knife, and almost dropped it as a brilliant glow banished the darkness. The blade shined like a white-hot iron. Josey lifted the knife as the creature shambled toward her, and it paused. She was shocked. She had expected it to knock aside her tiny weapon and take off her head. Yet it held back. As if troubled by the knife …

She advanced a step. The monstrosity held its ground, but did she see a hesitation in its manner? She didn’t know why her knife was glowing, but she wasn’t going to give up any advantage she could find. If the creature was bothered by the strange light, then she would use it. Josey took another step. The assassin swiped at her with its curved claws. She lunged behind the point of her blazing stiletto, but a gust of hot air buffeted her to the floor an instant before a crackling burst of blue-white light filled the hallway.

Huddled against the newly constructed wall, Josey smelled powdered stone and quicklime. Two dark shapes loomed over her. She didn’t cry out, not even to spit in the face of her enemies. Two shapes?

Her vision cleared over a span of several heartbeats to reveal Hubert and Hirsch standing over her, the adept leaning on her lord chancellor. Beyond them, Captain Drathan and the major sat against a wall. There was no sign of the assassin. Josey placed a hand over her abdomen. Was the baby hurt? She wished she could know. Please be all right, little one. Everything is fine now. But was it? She felt like this nightmare was never going to end.

“Where is it?”

“Gone,” Hirsch answered. His voice was wan, and he looked terrible.

Josey’s palms stung a little where the skin was scraped, but otherwise she felt fine. Then she saw Ozmond. Both hands pressed to his bloody chest, he looked over at her and smiled. Before she could make the order, Major Volek stood up, shook himself off, and volunteered to find a physician. Once he was gone and Ozmond had been made as comfortable as possible, Josey looked over as Master Hirsch picked up her knife from the floor. The blade shimmered in his hands.

“My knife …”

“I enspelled it,” Hirsch said, “using the skin samples we obtained by the river. I wasn’t sure if it would be effective against the creature. Evidently, it is.”

She had trouble focusing on what was being said. “What?”

“Majesty,” Hubert said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m all … fine. Where did the monster go?”

Hirsch shook his head. “It got away. I gave him a blast in the hindquarters he’ll not forget, but the thing has more lives than a Hestrian moorcat.”

“You,” Josey said, “should be abed yourself, Master Hirsch. Your wounds are serious.”

“My impending demise was exaggerated,” he answered with a wink. “Did you happen to strike the creature, lass? Did you draw blood?”

Thinking she would have to have a long talk with the adept about keeping secrets from his empress, Josey found the knife on the floor. The glow remained, but the point was clean.

“Powers be damned,” Hirsch muttered.

Josey opened her mouth to chide his blasphemy, but she didn’t have the energy.

“You need blood?”

Steel scraped across the floor as Captain Drathan lifted his sword. An oily fluid stained the end of the blade.

With Hubert’s assistance, Hirsch hobbled over to the captain and reached for the weapon. He held it up to the light. “It’s arterial blood.”

“What does that mean?” Josey asked.

Hirsch laughed. “It means we’ve got the beastie right where we want it.”

“We do?” Hubert asked.

Hirsch held out the blade. “With this, I can follow the blasted thing anywhere.”

Josey’s heart beat faster. “Master Hirsch, are you certain?”

“Aye. But we must track it down right away.”

“First we have to get these men to the hospice, and you are in no condition to—”

“I am able to continue,” Captain Drathan said, standing up as if to prove it.

“Captain, you are in no condi—”

“We must finish this,” Hirsch said with a rasp that turned into a cough.

Josey was getting tired of everyone interrupting her. “You need to rest, Master Hirsch, and my guardsmen …”

She looked down at the soldiers on the floor, their blood mingling with the thick dust. Two more deaths at my feet.

The adept’s frame trembled, but his gaze was steady. “We must do it tonight, before the creature has a chance to recover. Before it can harm anyone else.”

Josey heard the wisdom in the adept’s words, but she hesitated. It would mean ordering more soldiers into harm’s way, and she was already holding so much misery inside. Any more and she felt she would collapse.

“All right,” she said. “But I’m going with you.”

Hubert opened his mouth to protest, and Captain Drathan sputtered. The adept’s lips turned down into a sour frown, but Josey put on her “empress” face and he said no more. She was terrified, especially for the life growing inside her, but she had to be strong.

“Lord Chancellor, conduct a search of the entire palace, including the outer grounds. I am guessing the assassin has fled, but we need to be sure.”

Hubert nodded and made way as Josey walked past him. Holding up the glowing knife, she led them down the darkened corridor, back to the inhabited portion of the palace.