The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 24: A Throne of Dust

Once, it would not have been unusual for the Laycreeks' townhouse in the capital to receive visits from a princess. But those days of respect and grandeur were long past. The Laycreek family had not lived here since debts had struck their once noble name to the bone a generation ago. The house was too expensive for the already strained family to keep staffed. Now Laurence Laycreek and his eldest children lived in their small rooms in the castle, and the younger sisters were married or managing the rundown estate miles away.

Leaving that old, dusty house empty for secret meetings.

"Apologies for the state of things," Irina said as the princess stepped over the threshold, once it became clear that Luca was not going to remember his manners. He had followed them dutifully down to the city without objecting to Irina's offer of using their house, but he had moped the whole way.

Irina had to physically restrain herself from loosing her tongue on him with the princess present. He had been given an opportunity full of potential, one in fact he didn't deserve, yet all he could do was mutter unconvincing thank you's and look as if someone had died.

For God's sake, who else could say they'd let a handful of rebels escape under their watch and been promoted for it? He could have been stripped of his rank, even tried for possible collusion with rebels, and instead she'd seen that he was made Auxiliary Captain. He hadn't even thanked her.

Not that she'd expected him to. Luca seemed to look at each new opportunity to rise higher with suspicion and fright. Irina had no sympathy for his skittishness. You needed courage to succeed in the castle. And you sure as hell needed to know when to let go of old relationships and go on by yourself.

Joshua Blaisze was dead. Luca needed to stop acting like the man might walk in at any moment and demand his position back.

After all, Irina was moving on without Nemia.

She followed the princess inside, leaving Luca to close the door behind them without latching it. "There is a room back here that will work well, I think." The dining room's grand table had been removed years ago, leaving it a large empty room with one wall of rippling glass windows that looked out on what would have been the walled back garden. In the dusk light, the long dead beds of flowers and overgrown trees were barely visible through the dirty glass.

The princess barely glanced around before sitting in one of the chairs pushed against the wall. It was as dusty as anything else in the house, but high backed and regal, its scrolling wooden arms glinting with nearly faded gilt. An approximation of a throne.

Irina went to her and smoothed the folds of her deep green cloak falling to one side without asking. Magali had been quiet since news of Vain's injuries reached them just an hour before. The message said that he was severely wounded — it was less that he might not make it than he most likely would not. Others guards from their mission were already dead. It went without saying, although the report did have to say, that they had not been able to follow the rebels into Emorial.

It was a disaster of a scale they had not foreseen. Magali had said little more than that she still planned to continue with her meeting that night and that she would deal with it tomorrow since Irina read her the message.

Luca came in and took up position on Magali's other side. Irina noticed that the sword he wore had an undecorated hilt — his own sword he had used as a knight for years, not the captain's sword he had been given with the promotion. She glared at him over the princess's head, but he met her eyes blankly.

"Is it time?" The princess asked, making the smallest adjustment to her circlet. The emeralds embedded in the gold glinted in the low light. In the past week the changes to her appearance had become more evident, even to those who hadn't been watching her refine it over the past months.

The pastel colors she used to silently accept from her seamstresses had been replaced by richer colors, especially deep Solangian green, and her old elaborate embroidery evolved into simpler styles of dress accented with more jewelry. She wore her circlet crossing her forehead, with her hair styled in braids that twisted around it at the back of her head, as if physically locking it on. It was an unusual hairstyle that hadn't been worn by monarchs in years, but you might have noticed it in portraits of the Warrior Queen Magali the First, if you bothered to look.

"The mage will be here within a few minutes, if he means to be on time," Irina promised, when once again Luca acted as if he was not there. One of these days he would have to start answering when his princess spoke.

Magali touched her circlet again, and then set her hand on the armrest as if with purpose. Heavy rings on each finger clicked against the wood. "To be clear, I don't trust him."

"It would be unwise to," Irina agreed. "But Luca will be watching him, and— you are not obligated to make an agreement with him." She'd almost said we are not obligated there, and had to catch herself at the last minute. She had scraped a significant quantity of trust from Magali in the past months, but as the princess grew more powerful she also grew more sensitive to those who would try to take power from her. It wouldn't do to let Magali think Irina wanted to step above her admittedly very high station. After all, she didn't want to rule; she only wanted to stand in the shadows of the throne, and be listened to when she whispered. Be listened to very well.

"He's a snake, but I doubt he is so large a snake Luca could not stomp on him if you wish."

As if summoned by their very distrust, they heard the front door open and then close again softly, with the latch clicking into place. A measured, double set of footsteps came down the hall.

Luca put a hand on his sword as the princess settled back in her chair and looked with narrowed eyes at the newcomers.

A woman with steel gray hair entered first, her face stony. The man just behind her was tall, elegant, his old-fashioned cloak sweeping dramatically as he touched the woman's elbow to keep her from approaching the throne.

"My princess," Aiden Amathos said politely, sinking into a low bow. He stayed bowed until Magali gave the barest flick of her fingers, and straightened regally. "I am so glad you agreed to meet with me."

"An honor you don't deserve," Magali reminded him coldly. "So earn it fast."

Aiden's voice was mild. "There is no need for animosity. My days of planning assassination attempts against you are quite over, your highness. I think we both need each other's help."    

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Ok I know this is short, but if I let this and the next chapter be one chapter together it would just be too long, so here you go! The next chapter is much longer and let's just say some stuff goes DOWN.