Heart of Thieves (Fallen Empires #1)

Chapter 8.1

8.1
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Yazia burst through the oak doors. The throne room fell silent, save for the swish of blades being unsheathed.

Though no one stepped forward, as if realising who she was.

Great braziers attached to one side of each of the six alabaster columns illuminated the throne room with an orange glow. Intricately carved woodwork hung from the askew ceiling, and a carmine rug covered the elaborate tiles, spanning the path from the arched wooden doors leading to the dais.

Yazia strode down the aisle. Atop the dais her Father was poised uncomfortably straight. At his left side, another but much smaller throne was positioned, though it remained unoccupied.

"You cannot possibly marry her!" Yazia spat. Her footsteps ceased when she stopped in front of the dais, her hand gripping the hilt of a sword wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Oh, chams hayati, we've already been over this." Yazia's father raised his hand to dismiss the sentinel of the room. Within moments, they were alone, and she was kneeling at the steps leading up to the platform.

"I dislike her very much. She cannot be my mother, and I do not think kindly of Draven either," Yazia admitted. "They do not like it when I use my sword, and--"

The King gently hushed Yazia, and pulled her into his embrace, his large hands warm on her cheeks. "Chamsi, there is no other way. Sankori will need somebody to take care of it while I'm not here. My child, You will need somebody to take care of you. I--"

"But baba! You choose to marry a human! The very kind that is killing us."

"Azizi Yazia, when you are older, I only hope that you will come to understand this allegiance. All that our bloodline has done to survive, all that we have had to sacrifice. Chamsi, I need you to be strong."

For a brief moment, Yazia's eyes locked with the King's--his brown skin was creased, forming worrisome lines across his forehead, his elven ears drooped. So she decided that she'd forget her hatred for humans just a short while. All that mattered to her was making her Father happy.

She placed a small hand over his own, and pressed her forehead to his. "I will be strong, baba wallah," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, after several heartbeats passed, the distinctive hiss of an arrow streaked into the room. The King released a guttural breath in unison with the solid impact of an attacker's shaft lodged into the side of his throat.

Yazia's eyes widened as she pulled back to see the stream of crimson that seeped from the arrow, burying deeply into her father's flesh. His eyes were partially glazed over. For a few quick moments, he'd shoved Yazia away before he dropped to the ground with a thud. The King sputtered blood onto the carmine rug; he choked, he convulsed.

Then, he was completely still.

"Baba...baba." Yazia grasped onto his large hand and held it tightly to her chest as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. All that she could hear above her thudding heart was the Templar's heavy boots mingling with the ambience of the quiet palace moments before it erupted into blood curdling screams.

They had come. The monsters she had read stories about--they had come to collect her.

The footsteps behind her halted, and a steel blade could be heard as it slid from its scabbard. Yazia weeped. She feared turning around to face the man standing right behind her, but in the corner of her eyes, there were many more than just one. She was sure that one of them had killed her Father.