The Princess, page 9
Chapter 13
The howling wind whistled through the narrow streets of Mador, and Luca’s voice was growing hoarse from having to fight to be heard. The relentless rain had left him shivering and as he hefted another bag of sand onto the makeshift wall in front of him, his hands shook. He kept his gaze on the rising water on the other side of the wall that he and three other soldiers had been struggling to build. The citizens who called the southeastern portion of the city home had already been evacuated to higher ground, but there was still an effort to make an attempt to save as many homes and as much property as they could because most of it belonged to Mador’s small band of nobility. They would stand to lose much in coin if the structures were destroyed.
“Five more!” Luca shouted back to the two soldiers behind him, Cyrillus and Pollux.
The men scrambled to do as he instructed and Luca grunted when he took another bag from Pollux, the aching in his muscles growing even more insistent. Ever since Dimitri had departed for Talekos, Luca had sworn that the weather along Viribus’ coast had grown steadily worse. The current storm lashing Mador had begun almost two nights prior, bringing with it high winds and never-ending rain. They had been fighting flooding in the city for almost a full day, and Luca feared that when the tide eventually rose again, it would only make their current predicament worse.
“Move those bags further down!” he called to another soldier, Leander.
Leander hurried to do as Luca instructed, only to slip and fall in the muddy muck. Luca hurried over to help the other man to his feet, Leander’s face flushing as he straightened.
“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Leander said, his gaze downcast.
“It isn’t easy to keep one’s footing in this muck,” Luca told him, clasping Leander on the shoulder. “Let’s get these bags where they need to be.”
Leander fell in step beside Luca, the two men shifting a few more bags farther down the wall they were creating so that the middle could be made higher. Leander fumbled a few more times, but Luca could hardly blame the other man for his unsteadiness. Leander was young, just barely eighteen, and had arrived in Mador right at the start of the storm, one of twenty-five recruits who had been sent up from Primun to try and address their company’s flagging numbers after they had lost far too many men to the sickness. Leander was the son of a blacksmith, who bore no noble blood and, much like Luca, had entered the army as a way to try and make some sort of future for himself. But Leander, like the other recruits, was untried and had received only the barest of training, which had left Luca and Adrian scrambling to ensure the new recruits had the skills they needed in order to survive.
As Luca and the others struggled with the cumbersome bags of sand, he kept a close watch on the slowly rising water. The Salis Sea had already overtaken the harbor and was slowly creeping into the city through its wrought iron gates. And the gods help us if these waters continue to rise, Luca thought as he called to Cyrillus and Pollux to bring more bags. A sudden roar began to fill Luca’s ears. At first he thought it was the winds rising again, but as the noise grew louder, his stomach clenched. He spun back around to discover a wall of water heading right toward them. The wind had grown strong enough to make it difficult for Luca to remain upright. How in the seas had the flood waters risen so quickly?
He shouted for the others to run, and the four of them took off through the mucky street, but they weren’t fast enough. The water rushed over them, sweeping Luca off his feet and plunging him into murky darkness. Somehow, he found his way to the surface, gasping for breath as he struggled against the strong current. The rain fell in sheets, obscuring his view as he frantically searched for the others in the debris-filled water, only to find no signs of them.
He fought the strong current that tried to drag him under, searching for an escape. Suddenly, his gaze fell on a piece of wood lodged between two tall posts that he could have sworn had once been a hitching rail. He fought the current, determined to get out of the flood waters before he drowned. His muscles began to tremble as he pushed against the powerful water and his hands were beginning to feel numb. By nothing more than the will of the gods, he finally pulled himself up onto the damp wood and collapsed, coughing and spluttering as his chest heaved. He briefly let his eyes flutter shut, his body begging for rest.
How long he lay on the narrow slab of wood, he wasn’t certain, but the rain soon stopped and the wind rapidly died down. Groaning, he rolled himself up onto his knees. The sky was still ominous, full of heavy, dark clouds, but not only had the rain and wind stopped, the flood waters were rapidly retreating as well. Don’t question such good fortune, he told himself. Find the others. He pulled his shoulders back, preparing to slide down off the wood and back into the murky water, but heard a series of shouts that sent a shiver down his spine. His situation had become infinitely worse.
Three raiders were striding through the floodwaters, the water itself moving away from them as if they were somehow parting the sea. Luca could feel their magic in the air, strong and sharp, and as he gripped the hilt of his blade, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods that he had not lost his weapon again.
The first raider spotted Luca, saying something to the raider beside him in their strange, melodic tongue before waving his hand over the water.
Flames burst forth, dancing across the water’s surface and heading straight for Luca. He cursed, scrambling backward as far as he dared on the creaking wood. As the unnatural flames drew nearer, he could feel the heat of them. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. If he stayed on the sliver of wood, he was a dead man.
He leapt off of it, landing a few feet away, relieved that the water only came up to his shins. The raiders laughed, unsheathing their distinctly jeweled blades as they stalked toward him, fanning out with the intent of surrounding him. Luca cursed again as his gaze darted around the ravaged city street. There would be no escaping them easily, not with the mess the storm had made of Mador.
The first raider lunged at him and Luca blocked his attacker’s strike with his own blade, only to have a scorching ball of water strike the back of his right leg. His skin burned where the strange ball of water hit him and steam rose from the darkened fabric of his pant leg. He dodged away from another bizarre ball of water, barely preventing another raider from slicing into his shoulder. As the raiders continued to attack him from all sides, he danced and struck at them the best he could, but not only did they outnumber him, he was fighting more than mere flesh and blood.
Finally, he landed a disarming blow to one of the raiders, knocking his attacker’s blade from his hands and into the water. The raider roared in anger, baring his teeth. The ground beneath Luca began to rumble, throwing him off balance. He tried to widen his stance to steady himself, only to find himself unable to move. He glanced down, making out what appeared to be some sort of roots underneath the water. They wrapped around his feet, slowly climbing up his legs. His heart hammered in his chest and his eyes widened as he tried to dislodge himself. One of the raiders struck him from behind, knocking his blade from his hand before striking the side of his face with the hilt of his jeweled sword. Luca felt his head snap to the side before another blow to the center of his chest sent him tumbling into the floodwaters.
He coughed as the vile-tasting water filled his nose and mouth and he fought to pry the roots off of him, but it was no use. The raiders circled around him, laughing as one raised Luca’s own blade and aimed it at his throat. He only had a split second to make his decision. There was no one in the narrow street save for him and the raiders. Without his magic, he would die. With it, he had at least a chance at living.
Exhaling a long breath, he let his magic roll through him. His body vanished. The raiders let out cries of alarm, the one holding Luca’s sword shouting angrily before swiftly bringing the blade down toward Luca’s throat. To Luca’s shock and relief, the roots released their hold on him, allowing him to roll away from his attackers. Somehow, his magic must have countered the raiders’ strange power.
You’re still at a disadvantage here, he reminded himself as he got to his feet,. They still have your sword. He pulled a dagger from his boot, circling his attackers as they began to argue amongst themselves. Luca stealthily came up behind the raider who still held his blade. He raised his dagger and plunged it into the raider’s back. The raider fell to his knees, his eyes wide, and Luca’s blade fell from his hands. He retrieved his blade from the water, leaping backward as the other raiders rushed to their companion’s side.
One of them brought flames bursting forth across the water again, but this time, the flames didn’t appear to have nearly as easy a time locating Luca. Sweat trickled down his back as he darted away from them, the remaining raiders brandishing their blades—though judging by their angry gestures and the way their gazes darted around the street, they hadn’t a clue where Luca was.
He used the surprise to his advantage, burying his blade in the stomach of the next remaining raider before bringing his sword across the throat of the last. Luca’s breathing came short and fast as he allowed his body to rematerialize. The gods help him if there were more of them.
A shout behind him made him start. He whirled around, raising his blade, only to lower it mere seconds later when he saw the red and silver uniforms of Kelnore approaching him. He let out a sigh of relief as Adrian, along with three other men from their company—one of whom was young Leander—waded their way through the water toward him.
“Opes’ bones and Noctus’ teeth!” Adrian said, his gaze on the bodies of the dead raiders. He raised his brows as he looked over at Luca. “Where they already dead by the time you found them?”
Luca hesitated, a quiver settling in his middle. A half truth, he told himself. Not a complete lie.
“One of them was,” he replied. “I finished off the other two. Are there more of them?”
“There were,” Adrian said with a grimace. “They’ve been run off for now. Thank the gods it was only one ship this time. It seems as if we’re not the only ones who have had our numbers lessened by this damned plague. But the wretched bastards will be back. I have no doubt.”
“We’ll continue to run them off,” Luca said, despite the sinking feeling that remained in the pit of his stomach. “At some point, they will have to admit defeat.”
“The gods willing.” Adrian tilted his head ever so slightly. “Killing two raiders on your own. Rather impressive, Lucanus, considering that no one else has lived to tell such a tale. How, pray tell, did you manage that?”
The skepticism in Adrian’s tone made Luca’s shoulders tense. Adrian was a viscount’s son, and while he and Luca had come to a necessary truce when Dimitri had left the both of them in charge. Adrian had still made it clear that he did not see Luca as his equal and had looked for any excuse to disparage him. He doesn’t care for you because you’re a bastard, Luca reminded himself, even as his hands began to grow clammy. He knows nothing of your magic.
“Sheer desperation,” Luca replied. “And a bit of providence from the gods.”
“Yes,” Adrian said, drawing out the word as his gaze strayed back to the bodies. “Providence.” A tense silence fell before Adrian gave a slight shake of his head. “We need to finish securing the city. I don’t want to be caught unawares again by these wretched raiders.”
Luca fell in step with his fellow soldiers, letting Adrian lead the way back through the city. As Luca came up alongside Leander, he clasped the younger man on the shoulder.
“Glad to see you’re still with us,” Luca said.
“Likewise,” Leander replied with a strained smile.
As they moved farther away from the bodies toward higher, drier ground, Luca allowed himself one last glance over his shoulder. Even the mere sight of the raiders’ bodies poking up out of the floodwaters was enough to leave his chest tight. He’d gotten lucky. They all had. But Adrian was right. The raiders would be back. And the next time, that luck might not hold.
Chapter 14
Fabian had returned to his post as captain of the Invicta, but Dimitri had managed to convince Alekos to allow him to linger at the palace for a little while longer before returning to Mador. Cyrus had finally proclaimed Aurelia well, but as Dimitri had watched her in recent days, he worried that such a proclamation had been made too soon. Unfortunately, not a soul in the Imperial Palace seemed inclined to agree with him.
He glanced down the table at Aurelia as he cut into his roasted fish, his mouth turning down when he noticed that she had still barely touched the food on her gleaming silver plate. Most women took smaller portions at meals, many believing in eating as little as necessary, but Aurelia had never been one for leaving food untouched, and roasted sea bass was one of her favorite meals. Her features were still pale and a heavy wrinkle had marred her brow ever since she had entered the banquet hall.
“It seems that you will not return to Mador a moment too soon, Your Highness.”
Dimitri started when General Hesoid addressed him. As he pulled his gaze away from Aurelia, he felt heat creeping up the back of his neck and he hoped it didn’t show on his face. While the evening banquet had been a smaller, more intimate affair in the Caeruleum banquet hall, it had still centered around Alekos showing favor to his esteemed officers, including Hesoid. Unlike the other Imperial Army officers, Hesoid had been given a place of honor, seated at the main table next to Alekos, a silent, subtle reminder of not only his importance but also of the power that Hesoid wielded.
“I am certain that Lieutenant Adrian and Lieutenant Lucanus have matters well in hand in my absence,” Dimitri replied, silently chastising himself for not paying better attention to the conversation that had been passing between Hesoid and Alekos.
“Yes,” Hesoid said as he dipped a piece of fresh bread into the sauce that had covered the roasted fish, “Adrian has performed well in the field. But, then again, he comes from good stock. His father and grandfather both earned countless accolades during their years of service. Though, I admit, I have been surprised that you have continued to keep Lucanus in such an important position. Remus’ performance in the Great War aside, there is still the matter of Lucanus’ other blood. Then again, perhaps you were not so misguided, if the rumors trickling out of Mador that Lucanus somehow managed to kill two of these barbaric, unnatural raiders all on his own are indeed true.”
Dimitri stiffened, fighting to school his features. The army, he had learned was no different than the Imperial Court. Everything came back to blood. In the case of Luca, it didn’t matter that he was a capable fighter and had a good rapport with many of the men, in particular those with common blood. Perhaps it was wrong to wish to judge men on their merit, but Dimitri had found during his time as captain that blood was no guarantee of competence.
“Lieutenant Lucanus has proven himself a capable fighter and leader,” Dimitri said. “And I believe my company’s performance these last few months has been more than satisfactory. If I didn’t know better, General, I would wonder if perhaps you were questioning my judgment?”
Alekos gave Dimitri a withering glance from across the table, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. But to Dimitri’s surprise, Hesoid threw back his head and laughed before taking another large gulp of his wine.
“I see it is you who inherited Emperor Stelios’ opinionated tongue,” Hesoid said. “Far more so than Prince Fabian.”
“But it was my father’s opinionated tongue that often got him into trouble,” Alekos said. “And unfortunately, Dimitri has yet to learn self-control where his opinions are concerned.”
The remark stung, Dimitri’s jaw tightening as he took another bite of his fish. As he reached for his goblet of wine, he noticed Alekos stiffening again and mere seconds later, he heard the thunk of a chair being shoved backward on the marble floor. His chest tightened as his gaze fell on Aurelia. She had gotten to her feet, her movements unsteady as she took a few halting steps back from the table. She looked even more pale than she had earlier and her hands shook ever so slightly as she gripped the back of her chair.
“Aurelia,” Alekos said with a frown. “Sit down.”
She swallowed hard. “I… I don’t feel well. I just… I just need a moment. Outside.”
“You will sit back down until this meal is over,” Alekos said, his tone stern.
Aurelia bit down hard on her lower lip, swaying slightly where she stood.
“If Aurelia isn’t feeling well, would the infirmary not be the best place for her, Father?” Dimitri said. “Especially considering how ill she was weeks ago. I am happy to escort her there.”
Dimitri didn’t wait for his father’s answer, pushing his own chair back and getting to his feet. Alekos pressed his lips tightly together as every guest in the banquet hall turned their gazes to him.
“Very well,” Alekos said with a stiff wave of his hand. “See your sister to the infirmary and then return here.”
Dimitri allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief as he walked over to Aurelia. She took a few steps away from her chair, but there was still an unsteadiness to her movement. Dimitri came up beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. As he felt her muscles trembling, his own heartbeat quickened. Cyrus had proclaimed her well, but what if the physician had been wrong?
Murmurs and whispers broke out across the room before Alekos loudly cleared his throat and began asking one of his captains about the state of things in the province of Ignis. As Dimitri and Aurelia passed Regulus, he let out a snicker, twisting in his seat to briefly smirk at Aurelia. Dimitri wasn’t able to stop himself from kicking the leg of Regulus’ chair. By the seas, did someone need to knock his brother down a few rungs.
Dimitri guided Aurelia to the carved wooden doors at the other end of the banquet hall. The Caeruleum, thank the gods, was far smaller than the main banquet hall, and it didn’t take long before Dimitri had ushered Aurelia through the doors and out into the empty hallway. She swayed again as the guards closed the banquet hall doors behind them, her pulse so strong and erratic that Dimitri could see it in her neck.
