Page 63 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

True, I’d never once heard of him being involved in any of the battles, for whatever that was worth.

He stayed near Elin, speaking with her as they watched the display nearby. He’d been with her at the festival too, the young farmer she’d danced with. Perhaps her charm and innocence had somehow swayed him to her side? Surely, she hadn’t planned on that, not with the way she’d paled and shrunk the one time he joined her in the garden. But now…

I could almost picture that farm boy again: the softness in his eyes, the kind smile. How had he come to be under Ryszard’s command? What kept him from becoming so corrupt and horrid like Orson?

Unless it was all a ruse.

I shook my head, clearing away my racing thoughts. There were more important things to consider.

“When you say birds…” I hesitated. My teeth bit into my bottom lip. I’d first heard of the rebels on my way to Zhine when they’d shot a letter into my coach. Reyna had been here long before that. Her city-state had been one of the first to submit to the emperor’s rule. But what if she’d found a way to get information in and out? Could her birds be the rebels?

Reyna looked at me out of the corner of her eye, one eyebrow raised.

“I wonder if they’re the birds I heard chirping on my journey here.”

She paused her brushstroke.

“I did enjoy their song. Very much,” I continued.

Reyna smiled and added another stroke of yellow to her canvas. “It’s such a joy to find someone else who likes their song. Truly it is.”

My body hummed with excitement. Reyna knew of the rebels somehow, but we’d hadn’t been the ones to tell her. I was fairly certain of that. For so long, we’d believed her an enemy, but if she knew what happened on the way here, she might not be. Unless someone else told her. One of the captains? Maybe Zurina? They seemed close enough. It could be another trick, a ploy to shine a light on my guilt.

Though she had given me the contraceptive, not that I’d had to use it. Whose side was she on?

“You seem…perplexed?” The wooden end of her paintbrush tapped against her lips as she stared me down.

“I don’t know anything other than that,” I said, spilling the flimsy lie as my defense. “Why tell me this? What can I do?”

She laughed. “Only your arrows can hit the stag. As they say in the stories, the Lord of the Forest influences all the animals within his domain. He’s the one we need.”

The stag.It had to be Lucien. Whatever plot she had in mind involved him, and thus me as well.

“When you say—” I planned to saywe, but the word vanished from my tongue as another captain entered across the room.

As if my thought had conjured him from the air, Lucien came to stand near Warren. Elin paled in his presence, stepping away from the new arrival.

Lucien’s attention scanned the room before settling on me.

“And look,” Reyna added with a blinding grin, “your scent lures him like a hound to the kill.”

I forgot all about the painting as he skirted the training circle in my direction.

Chapter28

Lucien

Of all the places I’d expected her to be, this was one of the last. If one of the guards hadn’t mentioned helping to arrange a painting easel for two of our emperor’s guests, I would have searched another hour before finding her.

Ilya’s paintbrush hovered in the air, unmoving, as I approached. Her eyes locked on mine, stirring something deep within my chest.

I’d barely seen her the past few days, too preoccupied with my search for truth and Zurina’s request for me to carry word of Lord Gabriel’s punishment to Trale along with details of his increased tax. Only the fact that the two overlapped had me agreeing to her odd proposition so readily. I could only hope Emperor Ryszard would as well, or we’d both be in for an argument this afternoon.

“What’s today’s work of art?” I asked, rounding the canvas. I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping she couldn’t see the way my lips twitched as I took in her painting.

Ilya’s cheeks flushed as she looked up and frowned at me. “You can’t tell?”

It took a moment, and some creativity, to puzzle out her interpretation of two people training. Oddly proportioned figures, more animalistic than human, stood on either side of the canvas. Grey rods thrust between them, one impossibly long and spearing toward the sky. Her paintings of plants were much better, including the one of an oak tree colored to reflect the fading season, which I’d secreted away in my room.

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