To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(14)
But it wasn’t to be. Not now, and perhaps not ever, and he had resigned himself to that. His fate was to rule Nandala, to serve and protect her, to lift his failed state up from its desolation, help it rise to glory as in the days of old. It was the task of a strong, hardened man, a wise warrior. Not a youth who couldn’t resist temptation and overcome his weakness for women.
Yavi turned away from the fireplace and left the library, heading for his bed, alone.
§
Graciella put her three nice dresses, some work dresses, her lavender-lilac soap, her coin box, her journal, and a collection of her mother’s recipes in her traveling trunk. On top of that went her nightgown, robe, and slippers, ready for the night at the inn in Frocklin Grove.
Elio came in to carry the trunk downstairs for her, and when Graciella followed him outside, Shirali and the children were waiting by the front gate to see her off. The coach was rolling over the stone bridge to their property, kicking up a bit of dust in the morning sunlight. On watching it approach, Graciella felt her heart beat faster with excitement.
“Safe journey, my precious sister,” Elio said, hugging her. “We will miss you. Write to us when you arrive.”
“I will.” She turned to Shirali and hugged her, then bent down to kiss the foreheads of Kunjana and her brother Sirin. Their piercing silver eyes peered up at her sadly.
Shirali squeezed Graciella’s hand. “May you journey safely, and enjoy your time in my homeland.”
“Yes, I’m sure I will. We’ll have so much to talk about when I get back, my friend.” Graciella touched the children’s cheeks once more. “You two take good care of your mum and of Uncle Elio for me.”
“We will,” Kunjana answered for them both. Sirin just nodded solemnly.
“All right, family, I must be off.” Graciella took Elio’s hand to climb into the coach, then seated herself. As the coach took off, she leaned out the window and waved, watching Elio, Shirali, and the children waving back at her.
Once they were halfway across the stone bridge, Graciella settled back into her cushioned seat and adjusted her skirt around her legs. In two or three days, she’d be in Darpan, climbing the white marble steps to the magnificent palace where her sister lived with the handsomest twin brothers Graciella could imagine. It would be wonderful to see Jiandra and stay with her for a while, but if she were honest, she was even more excited about seeing Yavi again. It had been six long years. He and his brother were at least thirty by now, but if Yavi had aged in the same way as Yajna, then he would be more handsome than ever.
She watched the trees, gentle hills, and stone cottages roll by, smiling as she imagined climbing those polished white steps and taking Yavi’s strong, olive-skinned hands in greeting. She hoped he’d be impressed with her maturity and her new, womanly body, because she was determined to win the affection of Emperor Yavi if it was the last thing she ever did.
§
Night fell over the frozen landscape outside Sangikar Fortress. Inside, Terijin turned around to face the gathered worshippers.
They gasped at seeing his face.
Terijin grinned. He’d sprinted all the way to Faril, with an energy he’d never felt as a mortal. When he’d stopped at a stream to peer at his reflection, he’d nearly scared himself with the sight. His face was white as a sheet, his eyes solid disks of luminous black lined with dark circles as one would see on a corpse. Then, he’d laughed, finding that his voice had deepened, become scratchy and thick. He was a corpse, a living one, one who could no longer be killed, one who craved and fed on fresh meat.
Uman addressed the worshippers. “You see that Terijin has made the transformation. The Zulfikars must be baffled and terrified right now, to have the body of their cook, the man they murdered a few days ago, disappear right from under their noses.” He gripped Terijin’s arm, pushing him forward. “Here he stands before all of you. Not dead, but not quite alive either. Invincible. Bloodthirsty. This is my vision for all of you.”
The followers nodded eagerly, chuckling amongst themselves. Terijin gazed at his leader’s face, waiting for him to continue.
“Together we will build an army of Vyrkune. Unconquerable, undefeatable, hungry. We will consume Darpan and take back the throne of my father, Thakur, from the usurpers.”
“Yes, milord,” Terijin and the others called out.
“We will kill the last of the Zulfikars, the twin brothers as well as their foreign Villeleian queen. We will rule Nandala as true kings, not as simpering servants. We will be feared and respected by all. You will be my royal guard—” Uman grinned— “and I will make certain your every craving is satisfied.”
“Long live Uman!” a large man in the back shouted, and the entire assembly took up the cry.
§
On his return trip, the palace courier avoided the main road into Nandala and took a narrow mountain trail, in hopes of avoiding crossing paths with the bandit group that had stopped him on his way south toward the Villeleian border. The moon hung high in the sky as he descended the mountain into the meadowlands below. He paused only a moment to water and feed his horse by a half-frozen stream, then set off again for Darpan. He had to get to the palace quickly, so he could warn the emperors that something sinister might be afoot concerning the queen’s sister.
He eventually reached the city gates and galloped through the deserted streets toward the palace. The palace guard watched as he dismounted and threw his hood back to show his face. “I am Teldin, the courier. I have an urgent message for Emperor Yavi.”