“It is only by the favour and protection of the Spirit of the Mountain that we all exist within these lands; with her, in all her infinite power, our future rests. So, this prophecy worries me – our end beckons with an outstretched hand, heralded by the arrival of Inakara and the crown of a dead queen. Does the Spirit abandon us? Do we commit some unforgivable sin against the dragons or, worse, the Spirit herself? I must stop writing now. Litania comes.”
Excerpt from Queen Evanya’s diary.
Chapter 23
Alexandria Evior swung down from her saddle and handed the reigns over to a slave whom rushed forward, took them quickly from her, head bowed. She was striding across a rolled-out rug into a red tent, the opening held open by two guards. Their golden armour gleamed in the morning sun, no doubt concealing the sweat gathering beneath their many layered uniform. Their eyes remained downcast as she neared, fastened to the ground, only moving when she passed and they resumed their guard. She missed when people met her gaze, not out of necessity or with some scheme in mind. An honest look, a kind look that could scarcely be interpreted as anything but what it was. Now she saw schemes in eyes, agendas laid bare despite their master’s best efforts.
With her convoy outside waiting for her she felt no inclination to rush back, if only so that she might snatch a few moments of silence. She pursued her gaze through the expansive tent, full of tables laden with maps and plans. Pots of ink sat on every table with quills haphazardly scattered amongst them, some dried stiff. There was a partitioned section at the rear. Sleeping quarters for their owner, a large bed with silk sheets and the softest pillows. There was an empty bath, too, ready to be filled with water drown from the hot springs beneath the ground. She’d soaked in that bath, too, for hours before. The lingering smell of sweet spices hung in the air, swirling off piles of ash in little plates suspended above her head. They were burnt in the evenings, an old superstitious method to chase demons away. Nightmares, too, supposedly but she still had those anyway. It was a reminder that, for the moment anyway, she was still very much bound to the mortal coil that ensnared all living folk. Were it possible at that moment she’d cast off her body of flesh and bone, become something more than what she was. It was a foolish dream, of course, one sequestered deep within her own mind but perhaps, someday, it might become a reality.
If only to scorn her gutless bitch of a dead sister.
When the curtains behind her rustled she turned slowly, a smile lifting up her mouth, revealing her teeth. She took in the arrival of her head architect, and lover when it suited her, with an appraising look. He was handsome by any standard; tall, well-built, with a dark crop of hair and copper skin on a face that always seemed to be fastened into a kind of half smile, half smirk. He swaggered to her, the only one brave enough to do so, for not even Aziah swaggered. She slinked and slithered, like the slippery spy she was. No, he commanded the room, thrilled her and when required, yielded to her. She wasn’t stupid, however; he played the role she wanted him to for his own gain. With her favour he had everything and there wasn’t much sense, for the moment anyway, to betray that delicate trust. There wasn’t anyone whom might offer him such a glorious offer anyway or guard him so viciously from those who despised him for his position.
They both danced the knife’s edge in their prickly affair.
For the moment, Alexandria held the advantage.
He lowered himself into the chair in front of her, looking up with a bemused, almost smug expression. As much as she loathed that look, wanted to carve it off his pretty little face with her dagger as he screamed, there was a kind of appeal about it. She stepped back, so that there remained an appropriate distance between them. If she was too close she sometimes got a little distracted, which given the state of things, was not worth the risk. No passion was worth losing everything over.
“You look well, Sir Talon,” she drawled. “How fairs my creation? Will my temple be completed on time?”
He surveyed her for a moment, perhaps searching for the real reason behind her visit – rather than an update, which could have been accomplished, and had been before, by letter alone. Like usual, he would not see her true motive unless she permitted it. When he realised this fact, which he always did after a moment, he rose from his seat and walked to the other side of the table. He lifted up a series of letters, sifted through them until he found the one he was after. He read it for a moment, just to be sure and set it down, one hand lingering on it.
“I had to purchase a further one thousand slaves from the City of Slaves last week, which are set to arrive within the next two days. There was a sickness which killed one third of the slaves within days. We removed those infected and had to kill them too, so we were low in numbers. The new arrival should help fill those numbers, partially at least. I would ask though for additional funds to procure a further three thousand. This, I calculate, will keep us not only on time but protect us if any further sickness arrives.” He paused for a moment, looked up, seriously. “I had to set aside five hundred slaves to dig a new water channel to bring in more water; I am told this will ensure they remain fit enough to complete the work. Normally, I would not do such a task for slaves but I would like to stop any further interruptions.”
She nodded. The temple had to be constructed quickly, if she was to assure her restless lords that her mission was just. It had created a lot of strain on her rule. Enslaving the more remote village under the pretence of their seditious natures or treasonous alliances, some on the coast she had removed under the guise of foreigners. No one ever guessed – or, if they did, she had ways to ensure silence – that she was ferrying them to the City of Slaves. Simply snatch a village, sail it off shore under a foreign flag, change ships on the water, then return it with the slaves having no tongues. If they could not speak they could not reveal they were of her own people. Then they’d be marked, noted down in the books and sold off – priority was her construction but she ensured the costs of slaves remained low enough to tempt her lords. Keep them happy with a plethora of cheap slaves for whatever vices or ventures they desired in and all was well.
The less attention she had on her own mission the better – or, at the very least, ensuring several troubling lords were satisfied or manipulated out of the way.
“So long as my temple is completed on time then do what you must – if you require further funds or encounter resistance in any form you will inform me immediately.” Her hand lingered on a map in front of her, outlying the temple’s construction, which was nestled deep within the mountains of the east. Her brow furrowed. “I have my spies watching several small rebel groups. Have you heard any whispers from within your slaves or in the neighbouring villages?”
She looked at him then, studying every tiny reaction. He kept his face calm, sensing what she was doing. “Nothing of concern. Hungry slaves are some times an issue, though nothing organised. The worst I have heard is the supposed rebels within the City of Slaves, though I heard they are holding off rallying against you. Some sort of prophecy of theirs?”
Alexandria snorted, waving off his suggestion dismissively. “They believe my sister’s daughter survived. Impossible since I ensured my sister, her elven husband and their half blood daughter were killed. I saw the baby myself, its throat cut and its skin blue.”
There was not even the tiniest reaction at her casual mention of her sister’s murder by her hands – well, her orders. It wasn’t a known fact, one she guarded. He knew, from the cold and steady way he looked at her, that he was being studied closely. Either it truly didn’t bother him she had her sister’s family and her sister brutally murdered – or he his true feelings deep enough.
After a pause, he nodded calmly. “Well, then there is only the matter of the dragon prophecy, then. Which, I heard-“
“And where do you hear such things from? I should like to speak to your little birds, for they seem to know much,” she cut in coldly.
He gave a feline smile, languid and perfectly controlled. “They only know what your esteemed highness knows.”
Bullshit, she thought scornfully. It does not matter. I shall have Aziah discover these birds, watch them, see how much he truly knows.
She smiled back at him serenely. “The dragon matter is being handled. What should concern you is the construction of my temple; leave the rest to me, as it should be, for it is I whom rules this land and you whom follows my order.”
Talon gave a mocking bow, his gaze on her, gleaming. “Of course, my empress. It is your will I carry out, now and forever.”
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