Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

82. Your Maxima

Idezza threw open the city gates for me.

I wrenched my weapons from the Tigress's cooling flesh and held one of her beautiful blades against the nape of the driver's neck for assurance. Despair makes people stupid.

So does the triumph.

As I rode into Idezza, hands waved at me from the windows. Flowers poured down like rain over me. Keening gave way to happy tears. The air was pregnant with the first words of a thousand songs coming together. They were delivered.

I yelled at them, "Idezza killed the Tigress!"

And they echoed, "Idezza!"

I yelled, "Glory to the martyred Vanozza!"

And they echoed, "Eternal glory!"

The dead maidens were as beautiful as they were short-lived. They were the shooting stars. Vanozza's sacrifice earned her every ounce of glory she craved so badly. But it was the old Ismar who lived to slay the Tigress in the end.

The seven Crones of Idezza, Nirav and Soffika waited for me at the Piazza Divina. They stood in a semicircle on the steps of the temple, not on its terrace. The rest of the townspeople flooded the streets, lanes, balconies and the square. I stood almost at the same place where Nirav had stood when had announced to the crones that he had hired me to defend Idezza. Unlike the Duke I towered over them from Shamshona's back. I could see the place of honor on the terrace clearly. The Duchesses' throne in its middle stood empty.

Baroness Ornatti, drawn, dark, defeated, stepped forward. Nirav was forced to do the same, on her right side, for her crooked fingers dug into his white-clad shoulder. Her left hand gripped Soffika's in a similar vice-like manner.

She looked up at me and forced every word from the void of her mouth. Sickness, I guessed, some fatal sickness put those shadows on her face. Sickness and dread.

"Your Grandissima, Ismar of Palmyr," the Baroness said. "Idezza humbly asks you to rule by the Rite of Mythra and under the auspices of Gala."

She pressed Nirav's shoulder down. The Duke dropped to his knees, somehow holding on to his smile. Blood-red flooded my vision at the sight of his humiliation. I would have screamed at the Baroness if the rage didn't rob me of breath.

"Idezza is weak," the Baroness continued. It surprised me that her neck was not bleeding, since every word came out razor-sharp. "Only this man is left from the once mighty line of her rulers and a girl in need of protection. Take pity on them. Take pity on us. Take pity on Idezza."

The citizens looked at me with the glazed eyes, the kind of gaze that the faithful set on the holiest of the Divines' relics. Nirav, the Baroness, the Crones and the citizens of Idezza, they all looked up to me. All, except Soffika. She scratched the Baroness's arm and wriggled free to lunge for her brother. Nirav patted her hand, though his attention remained on me.

I drew in a deep breath. I needed only to say yes to add the lovely Duke to my clan, and become a lady of my own domain. I needed only to say yes to give Idezza a fairy tale wedding they craved after the trials of war. I needed only to say yes to become what they wanted me to be for our victory to ring louder down the ages: Ismar of Idezza, the Duchess.

"No."

I looked down at them. At the noble siblings first, then taking every other citizen into my confidence. "Idezza already has a Duchess. And a Duke, her guardian. They gave this gift to you."

I heave-hoed the gigantic feline body from Shamshona's back. The Tigress landed with a heavy thud on the paving stones. Her arms splayed to the sides. Her unseeing eyes stared at the eternal dome above us, the mortals.