Three
The palace courier struggled to free himself from the bandit who had pinned his arms behind his back, while another bandit fished through his satchel and withdrew the message he was supposed to deliver to the queen’s sister in Villeleia.
“Blast! It’s written in Villeleian,” the thief complained.
“Let me see that,” an unnaturally gravelly voice interrupted. A tall, pale-faced creature stepped forward, and his henchman held up the letter for him to take.
The leader skimmed the parchment, then re-folded it and pressed the seal back together. He stuffed it into the courier’s satchel, his solid black eyes narrowing. “See that Miss Stovy receives this letter personally.”
The courier nodded, swallowing. “You—you’re letting me go?”
“Of course.” The leader smiled coldly, revealing sharpened teeth. “We’ve no interest in you, unless you try to go back to the palace to blab about this little encounter. If you do, I will personally hunt you down and devour you alive. Now, off you go. South, to Villeleia.” He shoved him back toward his nervous horse.
The courier scrambled onto the saddle, kicked the horse into a gallop, and rode south as fast as he could, not daring to look back to see if they were following him.
That creature with the black eyes had made him uneasy, and he prayed he’d never have the misfortune of crossing paths with him again.
§
Jiandra wrapped her cloak around herself a little tighter, blinking against the cold winter wind that blew through the courtyard. It was snowing lightly, and the skies were a gray and forbidding backdrop for the grim outline of the palace gallows. She stood with the twins, watching as the guards hauled the cook out of the dungeon to face his punishment.
Terijin wore the crazed smile of a maniac as the guards pulled him up the steps of the platform. It sent a chill through Jiandra that had nothing to do with the cold. They made him stand on a large wooden crate while the executioner secured the rope around his neck, and two guards pulled the crate out from under his feet. Within minutes, it was over. His body ceased convulsing and swung limply in a circle, like a macabre pendulum.
“Come, Lahdli,” Yajna whispered near her ear, caressing her arm to warm her. “There’s nothing more to do here. He’ll hang until the afternoon, to make sure he’s dead. The guards will keep watch.”
Jiandra nodded, allowing him to escort her back inside the palace. They went upstairs to the library, where Yajna busied himself building a fire while Jiandra stood shivering in her cloak.
Shandri arrived with a tray of tea, leaving it on the low table in front of the couches.
Soon the fire was blazing high in the tall fireplace, and Yajna came to Jiandra’s side. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his chest, and kissed her hair. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She rested her cheek against the black leather armor that covered his chest. “Yes, fine. There was just something about the expression on his face that was unsettling.”
Yajna caressed her back. “He had clearly gone mad. But I’m here, Lahdli. I know the Omaja protects you from physical harm, but I am here to protect your compassionate heart.”
Jiandra smiled, comforted by his warmth and his words.
“Terijin received his due punishment, and he won’t be here stealing from us and betraying our confidence any longer.”
“Yes. I’m relieved about that.”
“I love you, my precious wife.”
“I love you too, my valiant husband,” she replied.
§
Jiandra and the twins were finishing cleaning up the kitchen with their servants that evening when a guard rushed in. “Mahajin!”
Jiandra turned to see what was the matter, wiping her hands on a cuptowel.
The guard bowed to Yavi and Yajna. “The body is gone.”
“Whose body?” Yavi demanded, even though they all knew the answer.
“The cook, Sire. We cut him down a couple of hours ago and put him on a cart, and covered him up with a blanket so we could take the body outside the city and bury it tonight. Now it’s gone.”
Yajna frowned. “What do you mean? The entire burial cart is gone?”
“No, Sire, just the body. The blanket was rolled into a ball and shoved to the side.”
Yavi swore in Nandalan. “Now we’ve got grave robbers on our property? Why wasn’t anyone guarding the cart?”
“Sire, the cart was sitting by the gate. The gate guards were there, but they didn’t see anything.”
Yavi tossed his scrubbing cloth into the water bucket. “Let’s go. I want to see the cart.”
Yajna followed his brother, and Jiandra stayed behind with the servant girls to finish putting away the dishes. She suppressed a shiver. If Terijin’s body had truly disappeared, none of the possible explanations was a happy one. Either someone had stolen it—and in that case, who?—or he wasn’t really dead when they cut him down. It had been ten hours since they’d hanged him that morning. Had Terijin faked that whole time? Was that why his face wore a leering grin, even as he faced his own death?
The memory of Uman’s chillingly cruel, pale face as she’d seen it in Terijin’s thoughts loomed in her mind for a moment, causing the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She almost felt a presence in the room, as if Uman—or perhaps Terijin—were haunting her. She shook her head to dispel the feeling and refocused her attention on tidying the kitchen.
“All right, everything looks to be in order, girls.” Jiandra untied her apron. “You may retire for the evening.”
The three silver-haired serving girls curtsied with prim smiles. “Thank you, Your Highness,” they called out in lilting Nandalan accents, hurrying off to their quarters.
Suddenly Jiandra worried about sending them off alone, three young girls wandering around the darkened palace with such strange happenings afoot. She stepped into the center of the Great Hall. “Ciren? Are you there?” she called up to the balcony.
A guard’s face appeared over the railing. “No, Your Highness, it’s Tor. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing serious, I just… Is there a guard posted outside the women’s quarters tonight?”
“No, Your Highness. But we make rounds by there a couple of times a night.”
“Would you send someone to stand watch outside their quarters? At least until we know what happened to the cook’s corpse?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll send Jorak right away.”
“Thank you, Tor.” Jiandra breathed a sigh of relief. They were blessed with the best guard detail any palace could ask for, and she wished they could afford to pay them better, as well as fill out their ranks with more men so they could have more time off.
But things were as they were for now, and they would get better eventually. She would live to see Nandala prosper someday, and become as rich, peaceful, and happy as her home country of Villeleia—that was her goal and her prayer.
The twins came back inside and found her sitting by the fireplace in the library, waiting for them.
Jiandra rose to her feet. “What did you find?”
“Let’s go to my study where it’s more private,” Yavi suggested.
Once there, the three of them went inside. Yavi shut and bolted the door before turning to face her and Yajna. “Someone must have stolen the body. There is no other explanation. As much as I hate to consider the possibility, we have another traitor among us, an accomplice to Terijin.”
Jiandra took a deep breath. “All right. But who? It isn’t Liel, Shandri, or Kitran. I already used Knowing on them yesterday.”
“I say you check everyone,” Yavi said. “Every last serving-girl, stable boy, guard, and the cart driver. We’ll round them up in the Great Hall tonight, see who knows something about this missing body. Someone must have seen or heard something out of the ordinary.”
Jiandra nodded. “All right. Let’s get moving, then. It’s getting late.”
§
Thirty minutes later, twenty guardsmen, three serving girls, three stable boys, the cart driver, the horse caretaker, and the dungeon keeper were all lined up in the Great Hall, their nervous faces lit by the torches hanging on the side pillars.
Jiandra stood near the throne with Yavi and Yajna.
Yavi spoke to the staff in Nandalan, then repeated it in Villeleian so Jiandra could understand. “The body of Terijin has been stolen from the burial cart. I have asked the queen to find out who among you may have had something to do with its disappearance or knows something about it. This isn’t the way I would have liked to accomplish this task, but no one is going to bed tonight with a possible enemy or enemies living among us. And no one leaves this room until the queen has an answer. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sire,” many of them murmured, bowing their heads to him. They stood and waited while Jiandra palmed the Omaja stone and moved along the line, focusing Knowing on each person one by one.
She learned several surprising, personal things about their staff—one of the guards had a lover in town who was expecting his baby, a stable boy had big dreams of raising race horses on his own ranch someday, and two of the serving girls had crushes on Wolfan. But none of them, from the strongest guard to the skinniest serving girl, knew anything about how or why Terijin’s body had disappeared.
Jiandra went down the row again, just to be sure. She saw that every last one of them was loyal and faithful to the Zulfikar twins, and innocent of any knowledge about Terijin’s disappearance. Their expressions of concern and obvious love for Yavi and Yajna brought tears to her eyes as she returned to the emperors’ side.
“There is no traitor here,” she announced, loud enough for all to hear. “These people are completely loyal to the Zulfikars. None of them knows anything nor had anything to do with Terijin’s body going missing.”
Yavi frowned at her in puzzlement, then looked out at his staff, his expression softening. He pressed his palms together and bowed to them. “I thank you for your faithfulness and patience tonight. I am sorry we had to test you this way.”
“Sire, we understand,” Liel responded for the group. “You are protecting us.”
“Long live the Zulfikars,” one of the guards called out, and the other guards echoed his sentiment. “We are with you, Mahajin.”
Yajna spoke up. “All right. It’s nearly midnight, and we are all exhausted. Everyone to bed except for the night watch. Wolfan, be vigilant at the gates and on the walls tonight, and wake me and my brother immediately if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”
Wolfan stepped forward and placed his fist over his heart. “As you command, Emperor Yajna.”
As the palace staff filed out of the Great Hall, Yavi motioned his brother and Jiandra to follow him upstairs. The three of them ducked into the library, and Yavi closed the door.
He turned to Jiandra. “You’re certain about what you saw down there?”
“I am. I read everyone twice. I saw far more about them than anyone should, and I can assure you that every last one of those people is loyal to you down to their boots. None of them knew anything about the body.”
He put his hands on his hips, sighing. “All right then. There is nothing else to do but seek Tejeshwar’s help in this matter. I will seek him at the temple tomorrow.”
“I will go with you, brother,” Yajna said.
“As will I.” Jiandra smiled, touching Yavi’s arm. “Rest tonight. You are very tired.”
He met her gaze, the weariness in his face making him look older than his thirty years.
“Good night, brother,” Yajna added, placing a hand on Yavi’s other shoulder.
Yavi nodded. “Tejeshwar guide us.”
§
Once he was alone, Yavi walked over to the fireplace, braced one hand on the mantel, and stared down at the glowing embers, all that was left of the fire Yajna had built earlier to warm his wife. The image of the two of them holding one another, silhouetted by the flames, came to his mind. Yavi suddenly felt an intense wave of longing to feel a woman’s arms around him, to bury his face against her warm neck, and to savor her solace and comfort.
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.”
“The emperor has retired for the evening. He is probably asleep by now.”
“Wake him, I beg you. This is important.”
Two guards escorted Teldin to Yavi’s wing, and he waited behind them in the hallway outside the emperor’s door.
One of the guards rapped on the thick wood. “Sire, we have a message for you.”
The emperor opened the door almost immediately, dressed in his robe. A candle burned on the nightstand, signaling that he hadn’t been asleep just yet.
He frowned, examining Teldin’s face. “What is it?”
Teldin swallowed, bowing. “Sire, the day I left with Queen Jiandra’s letter to her sister, I was stopped by a group of highwaymen just north of the outpost on the border with Villeleia.”
The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “What did they want? Your coin?”
“No, Mahaj. I wasn’t robbed. All they did was read the letter, then tell me to make sure it arrived. Then they watched me go south, threatening to hunt me down if I tried to return to the palace to inform you.”
“Did you deliver the letter to Miss Stovy?”
“Yes, Mahaj. Three days ago. She said she would leave the next day, and meet our palace guards at the southern outpost as the queen instructed. She is surely traveling this way, getting closer to the border as we speak.”
Emperor Yavi nodded. “I’d better join the guards at that outpost.”
§
Yavi dressed in his leather armor, put on his cloak, and crisscrossed his scimitars over his back. He rappelled out of his bedroom window in the moonlight, hoping his brother would not catch up with him this time or even realize he’d left. Yavi didn’t want to alarm Jiandra unnecessarily by waking them with the news. He could take care of whatever bandit activity was being planned involving Graciella’s coach by himself, and have her here at the palace safe and sound by morning.
Moments later, he’d stolen Sikar from his stall and exited the western gate into the city, once again with a warning to the gate guards to keep quiet about his departure. He pulled his hood over his face, leaned low, and urged Sikar into a gallop through the cobblestone streets of the capital city.
Outside the city walls, he rode past the open farmland owned by the palace, land they were desperately working to grow successful crops. The moonlight illuminated the rows of cabbage, potato plants, and cauliflower, all carefully spaced and tended by local peasants. The plants were fed with what limited water they were able to divert from a nearby half-dried-up, frozen riverbed. The heavy snow on the southern mountain range that winter would hopefully swell the river closer to its original width, and if so, they’d have plenty of water come summertime for the summer crops.
That was Yavi’s fervent prayer, anyhow.
He rode hard for a couple of hours, reaching the foothills of the southern mountains a little after midnight. He could see the torchlights of the guard tower just ahead and rode in that direction, alert for any sign of movement outside the outpost. He paused in the trees before reaching the stone tower, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence.
He hoisted himself into a tall tree to get a better view. All seemed to be in order at the tower. A guard was walking the top of it, holding a torch, keeping an eye on the road coming north out of Villeleia. Yavi watched the road as well for a while, calculating in his head how soon Graciella’s coach could be crossing the border into Nandala. If she’d spent the previous night in Caladia, she would have already been here by now, so he figured they must have stopped in Frocklin Grove, another two hours south of Caladia. There were no other inns that he was aware of on the northern stretch of Caladian road through the lavender fields; her coach drivers probably intended to drive her through the second night all the way to Darpan.
Well, fine. He’d watch and wait, and he’d make sure he delivered Jiandra’s little sister to her safe and sound.
§
Terijin’s first assignment as Uman’s general was to kidnap the Stovy girl and bring her to Faril, and he intended to see that it was done without a hitch. Uman wanted to use her to control the twin emperors as well as strike a bargain with the queen, for the Omaja stone. He had sent Terijin with three mercenaries to intercept the girl’s carriage before it reached the outpost where guards loyal to the Zulfikars would be waiting to escort her to Darpan. That meant they would be extremely close to the Villeleian border, but Villeleia and Nandala were allies now, and Villeleia left their northern border unattended for the most part.
Terijin and his men waited behind a boulder up on a bluff where they had a bird’s eye view of the road below. It was a clear, starry night, and they could see for miles. Soon, a torchlight appeared in the distance, heading north out of Villeleia. Terijin straightened up to see better from his lookout. It was a coach.
“There,” he muttered to the henchman at his side. “It’s probably her. Let’s go.”
They were easily in position and ready to pounce by the time the coach arrived. Terijin motioned to one of the mercenaries to jump, and he did so, landing on top of the coach. As he scrambled toward the driver’s seat, a second mercenary leapt onto the back of the coach, attacked the footman, slit his throat, and tossed him to the ground.
Once the driver was killed and shoved off the seat, the mercenaries stopped the coach so that Terijin and the fourth man could open the coach and capture the girl. When Terijin yanked the door open, a knife immediately plunged into his neck. His air supply was cut off, and he panicked for a second, but then he grasped the handle and yanked the blade out. A booted, feminine foot planted itself firmly against his chest, shoving him back, hard. As he tumbled backward away from the coach, he saw his other henchman reaching in to grab the girl. She kicked and fought viciously, and landed the heel of her boot against the henchman’s jaw, causing him to stagger back a bit. From out of nowhere an arrow sailed through the air and struck the mercenary in the side of the head, and he crumpled to the ground.
Terijin looked up, trying to see their assailant, but the arrow had come from the cover of a nearby grove of trees. A second arrow whistled through the air, striking the coach, and then a third that buried itself into the chest of the mercenary in the driver’s seat.
A black-cloaked figure emerged from the trees, moving like a quick shadow along the darkened road toward the coach.
At first Terijin thought it was Yajna, but then he saw steel blades flash in the moonlight, dual blades crisscrossed over his back. Yavi. He’d cut Terijin and his crew to shreds. Terijin scooted away quickly on his hands and heels, then stood and ran. Fast.
§
Yavi killed the bandit on the back of the coach by slicing through his chest with his scimitars and tossed the body into the nearby ditch. He strode over to the open door of the coach and pulled back the curtain, but the inside of the carriage appeared to be empty. He grabbed the torch from the driver’s seat, held it up to see inside better.
Luminous, light hazel eyes framed by dark, arching brows stared back at him, and a full, soft pink mouth parted in surprise. Her dark, shiny hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and her sweetly rounded breasts heaved a little with shortness of breath.
“Graciella?” he rasped, in disbelief that the beautiful woman inside the coach was really her. She was definitely not as he remembered her from six years earlier.
“Are…are you Yavi or Yajna?”
“Yavi. Are you all right?”
Her heart leapt. She pressed a hand to her chest, offering him a wry smile. “I will be, as soon as I can breathe again. I fear my coachmen had the worst of it, poor fellows.”
“Yes.” He glanced back at the driver’s body grimly, then retrieved her dagger from the side of the road, where the bandit she’d stabbed in the throat had tossed it. He cleaned the unusually dark-looking blood off on the shirt of one of the fallen mercenaries, then handed it to her by the blade. “You’d better keep this wherever you had it. It seems to have come in handy.”
“Yes.” She raised the hem of her skirt a bit and bent forward to tuck the small dagger into her boot. Her breasts pressed together inside her neckline, jiggling a bit with the movement. “I thank you.”
Yavi stood frozen at the doorway, catching himself glancing down at the creamy smoothness of her leg just before she let the hem of her skirt back down. He looked up and cleared his throat. “Well, so much for a warm welcome into Nandala. I’d best get you to the palace before the others realize I’m gone and start to worry.”
She nodded, swallowing. “Do you want me to—to stay in here?”
“Yes. I’ll drive the coach. Let me get my horse tied to it, and we’ll be off.” He closed the door, then reopened it and held up the torch again to see her face. “Sure you’re all right to continue your journey?”
“I’m fine.”
“Call to me out the window if you need anything before we arrive.”
“Okay.” She smiled then, a fetching grin that lit up her lovely face and showed off a row of pearly white teeth.
Yavi cleared his throat again, shut the door, and went to get Sikar.
The bandit she’d stabbed had survived and escaped, but Yavi didn’t want to waste time chasing him down at the moment. His sole mission now was the safe delivery of Graciella to the palace.
Kitchen help, his arse. If he had his way, the exquisite creature inside that coach would never dirty her delicate little hands in his kitchen.
§
As the coach started rolling again, Graciella untied the restrictive strings of the cloak from around her neck to get some air, then sank back against the cushioned seat, fanning herself. Dear Gods, the attack was scary, and then to have Yavi suddenly appear in the doorway—she didn’t think her heartbeat was going to slow down for many miles. She had hoped to be washed, coiffured, perfumed, and dressed in her best gown when he first saw her, but instead she was sleep-deprived, had half her hair coming down, and her face was all sweaty from having to fight off those vile highwaymen.
The attack wasn’t the only reason she’d had trouble catching her breath. Yavi’s exotic silvery eyes were as handsome as ever, his firm jaw still square, his silver hair still thick over his brow and cropped short. The only thing that had changed about Yavi of the Zulfikars in six years was the pained sternness of his expression. That had deepened, and it worried her.