Queen of Fire (Raven's Shadow #3)

Queen of Fire (Raven's Shadow #3) Page 138

She waved a hand and the Arisai hauled the kneeling man upright, dragging him forward. He seemed to be absent any injury but sagged as if wounded, head lolling and limbs slack. He made no sound though the stench arising from the dark stains that covered his thighs spoke of bowels loosened by fear.

“Allow me to introduce General Lotarev,” the Empress said as the Arisai allowed the stinking man to slump to his knees before her. “Commander of the Third Volarian Army, whom I elevated to the red and promised the Ally’s blessing should he fulfil his boast of bringing that golden-haired bitch before me, preferably in chains though a corpse would have done. In the event his heroic troops fled the field with such alacrity I’ve little doubt some have reached the eastern shore by now.”

She crouched down, taking hold of the unfortunate general’s hair and jerking his head back, revealing a face twitching in unalloyed terror, bleached bone white and the eyes betraying a near complete loss of reason. “Why did you come back, Lotarev?” she asked him, her tone not unkind, though since she spoke in Realm Tongue, Reva doubted the man could comprehend a word. “What did you imagine your reward would be? Was it duty? All those years of service don’t fade easily, I suppose. The capital in peril, you racing to bring me warning regardless of the risk to your own neck. Hoping for a statue of your own, eh?”

She leaned closer, speaking softly, her hand cupping his unshaven chin. “Don’t you understand? The blond bitch can slaughter every soul in this city and rend it to dust, and I suspect I’ll laugh at the spectacle. No, I just wanted her.” Her other hand tightened in his hair, jerking the head again and drawing a fearful whimper. “She once took something from me, you see. I owe her a considerable debt.”

She released him, rising and turning to the headless statue with a contemplative air. “Still, your dutiful service shouldn’t go unrewarded. I’m minded to spare you the three deaths and give you the statue you hunger for. Fashioned by the expert hand of my own little sister.”

One of the Arisai came to Reva’s side, proffering a broad-bladed axe, the others dragging the general around until he knelt before her, head bowed.

Reva ignored the axe, fixing her gaze on the Empress. “No.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “How terribly uncharacteristic. The reports from Alltor were fairly lurid in their description of your willingness to do this very thing.”

The heroic Free Sword’s head spiralling blood as she cast it over the wall . . . The prisoners being led to the block . . . No better than us . . . Think nothing! Feel nothing! “Do your own killing,” she said.

“But I need for us to understand each other better.” The Empress reached out to clasp her shackled wrists, meeting Reva’s gaze with intent sincerity. “Blood will bring us closer. A lesson I learned from my beloved. In time we will be a family . . .”

Reva wrenched her hands away, burgeoning rage sending unwise images through her mind; Varulek’s secret chamber, the bow of Arren, how it would feel in her hands when the time came . . . Think nothing!

“What is this, little sister?” The Empress frowned, tilting her head in a now-familiar gesture. “Do you scheme? Do you plot? With whom, I wonder?”

Reva closed her eyes and drew breath, calming herself with an image of Veliss, that day in the gardens as they watched Ellese stumble through her scales. I have never asked you for a promise . . . Stay alive and come back to me. “I already have a family,” she said. “And you could never be part of it.”

“And Lieza?” the Empress asked. “Does she deserve a place in your family? What will you tell that woman you pine for if you return? Why don’t I spare you the complication? I can have her brought up, and my father’s statue can have a girl’s head instead of a coward’s.”

Reva lunged for the axe, tearing it from the Arisai’s grip and whirling towards the Empress, though she had danced out of reach, a delighted laugh escaping her lips. “Enough play,” she said, her mirth fading as she pointed to the kneeling general. “Time to craft your art.”

• • •

“She make you fight again?” Lieza stared at the blood discolouring Reva’s blouse, coming forward, eyes wide in concern. “You hurt?”

“No.” Reva moved away, tearing the blouse off, suddenly uncaring of what she saw. Lotarev gaped up at her in vague comprehension, drool beading on his lower lip . . .

She stripped, filled the bath and scrubbed herself clean. So much death wrought by these, she thought, staring at her hands as the blood turned to mist in the water. Why do I feel it so now?

After a while Lieza came to wash her blouse. This time she made no effort to enter the water, avoiding Reva’s gaze and crouching at the edge as she worked the soap into the material.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Reva asked her. “I know you tried with the Empress, but have you ever actually succeeded?”

The girl shot her a guarded look and shook her head.

“Well, to escape this place you may have to. I won’t be able to protect you when it starts.”

Lieza spoke in a soft voice, her hands still busy, “Won’t leave without you.”

“This is no game!” Reva thrashed at her, scattering reddened bath water. “This is no story! You will die here and I can’t save you!”

Lieza was on her back, pinned beneath her, the concern in her eyes now turned to fear. Reva couldn’t recall leaping from the bath. Lotarev didn’t speak as she raised the axe. It made a crunching sound as it bit into his spine, just like the prisoners and the Free Sword, Fatherless sinners all . . .

She shuddered and scurried away from Lieza until her back met the wall, drawing her legs up and burying her head in her knees. She felt Lieza come to sit beside her, soft fingers gently tracing through her damp hair until Reva raised her head. Her kiss was tentative, so unlike Veliss in its lack of experience . . .

Reva moved back. “I can’t . . .”

“Not for you,” Lieza murmured, kissing her again, more insistent now, Reva finding her heart pounding, knowing she should push her away and yet her arms opened to enfold her, drawing her close. Lieza drew back a fraction, their breath mingling as she stared into Reva’s eyes. “For me.”

• • •

Varulek arrived after the morning meal with a dozen female slaves, some bearing clothing, others combs and various concoctions used for dressing hair or painting faces. They dressed her in armour, of a sort, specially tailored to her size judging from the closeness of the fit. The breastplate was tight around her torso, fashioned from stiff leather but too thin to ward off anything but a glancing blow. Similarly the kilt of leather strips, each weighted at the lower end with a brass stud, was too flimsy to afford more than basic protection. She soon realised this was not truly armour; she was required to play a role and this was her costume. However, she took some comfort from the fact it was light enough to allow her to move quickly.

Lieza was dressed in a long gown of flowing silk, dyed a pale shade of violet that complemented her eyes. Her hair, grown longer than any slave was usually permitted over the weeks of seclusion, was moulded into a lustrous ebony cascade, adorned with a small silver diadem.

“Avielle was a queen,” Varulek explained. “Granted the throne by her elder sister who eschewed power for service, preferring to fight rather than rule. When the Dermos fired Jarvek’s lust to carry Avielle off to the dark places, they baited a trap Livella could never resist.”

Reva met Lieza’s gaze and the girl smiled, seemingly immune to fear now. Reva had woken awash in memories that alternated between Veliss and the previous night, guilt and delight stirring to a fugue of confusion. She disentangled herself from Lieza’s embrace and roamed the chamber, vainly searching the Ten Books for some words to comfort a betraying soul. Lieza was markedly less confused, waking and coming to her with more kisses.

“No.” Reva turned away, softening the rejection with a clasp to her hand. “No. Today we fight. One last practice before they come for us.”

Varulek dismissed the slaves when Reva grew fractious at their constant fussing, snarling at a matronly woman attempting to brush some reddish powder onto her cheeks.

“I doubt the Empress will notice any imperfections,” he said when they had gone. He glanced at the two Kuritai at the door, presumably to confirm no Arisai had joined them in the interval. “Rumour has it your queen is fifty miles from the city. Panic spreads but the Empress has her spies everywhere. A hundred free men received the three deaths yesterday and she has decreed all citizens of age attend the arena.”

“The bow,” Reva said.

“There’s a motif carved into the centre of the lintel under the Empress’s balcony, an eagle with wings spread. The bow is beneath the sand fifty paces directly in front of it. You will have six arrows.”

With luck, five more than I’ll need. “I have another condition,” she said, turning to Lieza once more. “Should I fall, you will secure her escape from this place and take her to the queen. She will be my assurance your words are true.”

“The task we face is perilous. I can make no promises . . .” He trailed off in the face of her glare, eventually giving a reluctant nod. “I will do what I can.”