Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(92)

“My mother would not allow me to go and look for them, because she feared for my safety. After she died, I began the search again, but by then, the trail was cold.”

Something wasn’t adding up. To Lyss, it sounded rehearsed, like a story the empress told herself and others, but didn’t quite believe.

“So . . . enemies of the Nazari stole them, but kept them prisoner? They didn’t kill them outright?”

“Clearly not,” Celestine said impatiently, “since some of them are still alive.”

Something was nagging at Lyss, a familiar scent that came and went. Then she spotted the smoldering pipe on a table next to Breon’s seat.

Furious, Lyss scooped it up and flung it over the wall into the sea.

Celestine watched the arc of it until it splashed into the water. “Well, now. That’s a waste of some very fine leaf.”

“You gave him leaf? Why would you do a thing like that?”

“The secret keeper is mixed with it. It soothes the pain of losing his music,” Celestine said. “I want him to be happy.”

“That won’t make him happy,” Lyss said, “not in the long run. He’d just managed to get clear of it, and now—”

“Captain Gray, I did not invite you here to lecture me,” the empress snapped, flame flickering over her skin. “You are offering opinions on matters you cannot possibly understand. You know nothing about us, nothing about our customs. My brother is charming, and handsome, and no doubt highly capable between the sheets, but you must let go of any hopes of a future with a blooded Nazari prince.”

Lyss, speechless, stared at the empress as thoughts tumbled through her head. She thinks I . . . She thinks we . . .

“Your Eminence, I—”

“Enough!” The empress’s eyes darkened to almost black. “If you cannot do that, this conversation is over and I will find you another role to play.”

Lyss’s cheeks burned. The threat in those words couldn’t be plainer. Unless she wanted to join the bloodsworn, she’d have to remember who held the power. Unless it was already too late.

“I . . . ah . . . yes. I see how impossible that is.” Lyss took a deep breath, released it. “I apologize, Empress. I was out of line.”

Celestine shook back her silver hair, the fire in her eyes still burning hot. “You think I am ruthless. I am as ruthless as I need to be to survive in this world. Those who are not of royal blood do not realize what a burden it is to rule, the difficult decisions that must be made.”

Hanalea’s blood! It seemed that everything the empress said hit too close to home. Maybe Celestine knew the truth about her birthright and was merely toying with her.

“Yes, Your Eminence,” Lyss said, eyes downcast, shoulders rounded against sorcery.

“Are you this bold when you speak to your queen?”

“Sometimes,” Lyss said. She cleared her throat. “Not usually.”

“In the future, I expect you to offer me the same courtesy and respect.”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” Lyss murmured.

“Good.” With that, the storm passed and the sun came out. Celestine gestured for her to sit.

Lyss eased back into her chair, heart still pounding, legs rubbery with relief, as if she’d just experienced a near miss on the battlefield.

Long ago, she’d traded the palace for the army, because on the battlefield the criteria for success were clear. It was all about performance, and that was something she could control. Now she was thrust back into the most dangerous game of all—the game of politics.

Lyss cast about for a safer topic, one that went to tactics. “I am curious about the bloodsworn. I saw them in action at Chalk Cliffs. Are they born or made? What, exactly, are their advantages over line soldiers?”

The empress smiled. “I was hoping you would ask. Come and see for yourself.” She stood, and then descended the steps at the edge of the terrace. Lyss followed.

They went down several more flights, until they stood on the lowest level, overlooking a parade ground.

Below, soldiers were drilling—hundreds of infantry, cavalry, both men and women, all dressed like Lyss. They were practicing maneuvers, riding hard, then pivoting, eddying across the barren landscape like some inland sea.

Scummer, Lyss thought, fighting off despair. I thought it was bad when it was just the king of Arden we had to contend with.

“What do you think?” the empress said, nearly into Lyss’s ear, making her jump.

“Are these all bloodsworn?”

Celestine nodded. “The bloodsworn are made mages. Their capabilities depend on the strength of the blood mage who creates them. Mine have unmatched physical strength and stamina.”

Based on what she’d seen at Chalk Cliffs, Lyss had to agree. But when she looked closer at the troops below, the eddies and whirlpools seemed random, pointless, poorly coordinated. It wasn’t clear, exactly, what these exercises were supposed to accomplish. She knew from experience that practicing chaos on the parade ground results in chaos on the battlefield. Then again, the queendom had never had the numbers to take a melee approach to battle strategy. It valued its soldiers too highly.

Is this my future? she thought. Am I going to be marching in the middle of a mob like this, attacking my homeland?

“If I may ask—how do you go about ‘making’ them?” Lyss tried to keep the revulsion off her face.