Sanctum Hall was little more than a dismal tavern, albeit a cavernous one. Four of Berdi’s taverns could have fit within its walls. It smelled of spilled ale, damp straw, and overindulgence. Columns lined the four sides, and it was lit with torches and lanterns. The high ceiling was covered in soot, and an enormous rough wooden table sat heavy and abused in the center. Pewter tankards rested on the table or swung from meaty fists.
The leaders.
Kaden and I hung back in the shadowed walkway behind the columns, but the leaders greeted the chievdar and his personal guard with boisterous shouts and slapping of backs. Tankards were offered and raised to the returning soldiers with calls to bring more ale. I saw Eben, shorter than some of the serving boys, lifting a pewter cup to his lips, a returning soldier the same as the rest. Kaden pushed me slightly behind him in a protective manner, but I still scanned the room, trying to spot the Komizar, trying to be ready, prepared for what was to come. Several of the men were huge, like Griz—some even bigger—and I wondered what kind of creatures, both human and beast, this strange land produced. I kept my eyes on one of them. He snarled every word, and the scurrying boys ran a respectful wide distance around him. I thought that he had to be the Komizar, but I saw Kaden’s eyes scouring the room too, and they passed over the burly brute.
“These are the Legion of Governors,” he said, as if he had read my mind. “They rule the provinces.”
Venda had provinces? And a hierarchy too, beyond assassins, marauders, and an iron-fisted Komizar? The governors were distinguished from the servants and soldiers by black fur epaulets on their shoulders. The fur was crowned with a bronze clasp shaped like the bared teeth of an animal. It made their physiques appear twice as wide and formidable.
The ruckus rose to a deafening roar, echoing off the stone walls and bare floors. There was only a pile of straw in one corner of the room to absorb any noise. The boys parked the carts of booty along one row of pillars, and the governors perused the haul, lifting swords, testing weights, and rubbing forearms on leather breastplates to polish away dried blood. They examined the goods as if they were at a marketplace. I saw one of them pick up a sword inlaid with red jasper on the hilt. Walther’s sword. My foot automatically moved forward, but I caught myself and forced it back into place. Not yet.
“Wait here,” Kaden whispered and stepped out of the shadows. I inched closer to a pillar, trying to get my bearings. I saw three dark hallways that led into Sanctum Hall in addition to the one we had entered through. Where did they go, and were they guarded like the one behind me? And most important, did any of them lead to Rafe?
“Where’s the Komizar?” Kaden asked in Vendan, speaking to no one in particular, his voice barely cutting through the din.
One governor turned, and then another. The room grew suddenly quiet. “The Assassin is here,” said an anonymous voice somewhere at the other end.
There was an uncomfortable pause and then one of the shorter governors, a stout man with multiple red braids that fell past his shoulders, barreled forward and threw his arms around Kaden, welcoming him home. The noise resumed but at a noticeably lower level, and I wondered at the effect an Assassin’s presence had on them. It reminded me of Malich and how he had reacted to Kaden on the long trek across the Cam Lanteux. He’d had blood in his eye and was equally matched, but he’d still backed down when Kaden stood his ground.
“The Komizar’s been called,” the governor told Kaden. “That is, if he comes. He’s occupied with—”
“A visitor,” Kaden finished.
The governor laughed. “That she is. The kind of visitor I’d like to have.”
More governors walked over, and one with a long crooked nose shoved a tankard in Kaden’s hand. He welcomed him home and berated him for being gone for so long on holiday. Another governor chided him, saying he was away from Venda more than he was here.
“I go where the Komizar sends me,” Kaden answered.
One of the other governors, as big as a bull and with a chest just as wide, lifted his drink in a toast. “As do we all,” he replied and threw back his head, taking a long careless swig. Ale sloshed out the sides of his mug and dripped down his beard to the floor. Even this taurine giant hopped when the Komizar snapped his fingers, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Though they spoke only in Vendan, I was able to understand nearly everything they said. I knew far more than just the choice words of Venda. Weeks of immersion in their language across the Cam Lanteux had cured my ignorance.
As Kaden answered their questions about his journey, my gaze became fixed on another governor pulling a finely tooled baldrick from the cart and trying to force it around his generous gut. I felt dizzy, sick, and then rage bubbled up through my veins. I closed my eyes. Not yet. Don’t get yourself killed in the first ten minutes. That can come later.
I took a deep breath, and when I opened my eyes again, I spotted a face in the shadows. Someone on the other side of the hall was watching me. I couldn’t look away. Only a slash of light illuminated his face. His dark eyes were expressionless, but at the same time compelling, fixed like a wolf stalking prey, in no hurry to spring, confident. He casually leaned against a pillar, a younger man than the governors, smooth-faced except for a precise line of beard at his chin and a thin, carefully clipped mustache. His dark hair was unkempt, locks curling just above his shoulders. He didn’t wear the furred epaulets of a governor on his shoulders, nor the leather vestments of a soldier, only simple tan trousers and a loose white shirt, and he was certainly in no hurry to attend to anyone, so he wasn’t a servant either. His eyes moved past me as if bored, and he took in the rest of the scene, governors pawing through carts and swilling ale. And then Kaden. I saw him watching Kaden.
Heat rushed through my stomach.
Him.
He stepped out past the pillar into the middle of the room, and with his first steps, I knew. This was the Komizar.
“Welcome home, comrades!” he called out. The room was instantly silent. Everyone turned toward the voice, including Kaden. The Komizar walked slowly across the expanse and anyone in his path moved back. I stepped out from the shadows to stand by Kaden’s side, and a low rumble ran through the room.
The Komizar stopped a few feet from us, ignoring me and staring at Kaden, then finally came forward to embrace him with a genuine welcome.
When he released Kaden and took a step back, he looked at me with a cool, blank gaze. I couldn’t quite believe that this was the Komizar. His face was smooth and unwrinkled, a man just a few years older than Walther, more like an older brother to Kaden than a fearsome leader. He wasn’t exactly the formidable Dragon of the Song of Venda—the one who drank blood and stole dreams. His stature was only average, nothing daunting about him at all except for his unwavering stare.
“What’s this?” he asked in Morrighese almost as flawless as Kaden’s, nodding his head toward me. A game player. He knew exactly who I was and wanted to be sure I understood every word.
“Princess Arabella, First Daughter of the House of Morrighan,” Kaden answered.
Another restrained hush ran through the room. The Komizar chuckled. “Her? A princess?”
He slowly circled around me, viewing my rags and filth as if in disbelief. He paused at my side, where the fabric was torn from my shoulder and the kavah was exposed. He uttered a quiet hmm as if mildly amused, then ran the back of his finger down the length of my arm. My skin crawled, but I lifted my chin, as if he were merely an annoying fly buzzing about the room. He completed his circle until he faced me again. He grunted. “Not very impressive, is she? But then, most royals aren’t. About as entrancing as a bowl of week-old mush.”
Only a month ago, I would have jumped at the baited remark, tearing him to shreds with a few hot words, but now I wanted to do far more than insult him. I returned his gaze with one of my own, matching his empty expression blink for blink. He rubbed the back of his hand along the line of his thin, carefully sculpted beard, studying me.
“It’s been a long journey,” Kaden explained. “A hard one for her.”
The Komizar raised his brows, feigning surprise. “It needn’t have been,” he said. He raised his voice so the whole hall would be sure to hear, though his words were still directed at Kaden. “I seem to remember I ordered you to slice her throat, not bring her back as a pet.”
Tension sparked in the air. No one lifted a tankard to their lips. No one moved. Perhaps they waited for the Komizar to walk over to the carts, draw a sword, and send my head rolling down the middle of the room, which certainly in their eyes was his right. Kaden had defied him.
But there was something between Kaden and the Komizar, something I still didn’t quite understand. A hold of some sort.
“She has the gift,” Kaden explained. “I thought she’d be more useful to Venda alive than dead.”
At the mention of the word gift, I saw glances exchanged among the servants and governors, but still, no one said a word. The Komizar smiled, at once chilling and magnetic. My neck prickled. This was a man who knew how to control a room with the lightest touch. He was showing his hand. Once I knew his strengths, I might discover his weaknesses too. Everyone had them. Even the feared Komizar.
“The gift!” He laughed and turned to everyone else, expecting them to laugh in kind. They did.
He looked back to me, the smile gone, then reached out and took my hand in his. He examined my injuries, his thumb gently skimming the back of my hand. “Does she have a tongue?”
This time it was Malich who laughed, stepping over to the table in the center of the room and slamming down his mug. “Like a cackling hyena. And her bite is just as nasty.” The chievdar spoke up, concurring. Murmurs rose from the soldiers.
“And yet,” the Komizar said, turning back to me, “she remains silent.”
“Lia,” Kaden whispered, nudging me with his arm, “you can speak.”
I looked at Kaden. He thought I didn’t know that? Did he really think it was his warning that had silenced me? I had been silenced far too many times by those who exerted power over me. Not here. My voice would be heard, but I’d speak when it served my purposes. I betrayed neither word nor expression. The Komizar and his governors were no different from the throngs I had passed on my way here. They were curious. A real princess of Morrighan. I was on display. The Komizar wanted me to perform before him and his Legion of Governors. Did they expect jewels to spill from my mouth? More likely, whatever I said would find ridicule, just as my appearance already had. Or the back of his hand. There were only two things a man in the Komizar’s position expected, defiance or groveling, and I was certain that neither would improve my lot.
Though my pulse raced, I didn’t break his gaze. I blinked slowly, as if I were bored. Yes, Komizar, I’ve already learned your tics.
“Not to worry, my friends,” he said, waving his hand in the air and dismissing my silence. “There’s so much more to talk about. Like all of this!” His hand swept the room from one end to the other at the display of carts. He laughed like he was delighted with the haul. “What do we have?” He started at one end, going from cart to cart, digging through the plunder. I noticed that though the governors had searched it, nothing appeared to have been taken yet. Perhaps they knew to wait until the Komizar chose first. He lifted a hatchet, running a finger along the blade, nodding as if impressed, and then moved on to the next cart, drawing out a falchion and swinging it in front of him. Its sching cut through the air and drew approving comments. He smiled. “You did well, Chievdar.”
Well? Massacring a whole company of young men?
He tossed the curved blade back into the cart and moved on to the next one. “And what’s this?” He reached in and pulled out a long strap of leather. Walther’s baldrick.
Not him. Anyone but him. I felt my knees weaken, and a small noise escaped my throat. He turned in my direction, holding it up. “The tooling is exceptional, don’t you think? Look at these vines.” He slowly slid the strap through his fingers. “And the leather, so buttery. Something fit for a crown prince, no?” He lifted it over his head and adjusted it across his chest as he walked back to me, stopping an arm’s length away. “What do you think, Princess?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I, too, had foolishly played my hand. I was still too raw with Walther’s loss to think. I looked away, but he grabbed my jaw, his fingers gouging into my skin. He forced me to look back at him.
“You see, Princess, this is my kingdom, not yours, and I have ways of making you speak that you cannot even begin to fathom. You will sing like a clipped canary if I command it.”
“Komizar.” Kaden’s voice was low and earnest.
He released me and smiled, gently caressing my cheek. “I think the princess is tired from her long journey. Ulrix, take the princess to the holding room so she can rest for a moment and Kaden and I can talk. We have a lot to discuss.” He glanced at Kaden, the first sign of anger flashing through his eyes.
Kaden looked at me, hesitating, but there was nothing he could do. “Go,” he said. “It’ll be all right.”
* * *
Once we were out of Kaden’s sight, the guards all but dragged me down the hallway, their wrist cuffs stabbing into my arms. I still felt the pressure of the Komizar’s fingers against my face. My jaw throbbed where his fingers had dug in. In just a few brief minutes, he had perceived something I cared about deeply and used it to hurt me and, ultimately, weaken me. I had braced myself to be beaten or whipped, but not for that. The vision still burned my eyes, my brother’s baldrick proudly splayed across the enemy’s chest in the cruelest taunt, waiting for me to crumble. And I had.
Round one to the Komizar. He had overtaken me, not with quick condemnation or brute force, but with stealth and careful observation. I would have to learn to do the same.
My indignation mounted as the guards jostled me roughly through the dark hall, seeming to relish having a royal at their mercy. By the time they stopped at a door, my arms were numb under their grip. They unlocked it and threw me into a black room. I fell, the rough stone floor cutting into my knees. I stayed there, stunned and hunched on the ground, breathing in the musty, foul air. Only three thin shafts of light filtered through vents in the upper wall opposite me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a straw-filled mat, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor, a short milking stool, and a bucket. Their holding room had all the comforts of a barbaric cell. I squinted, trying to see more in the dim light, but then I heard a noise. A shuffle in the corner. I wasn’t alone.
Someone or something else was in the room with me.