Page 92 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

It’s what I’d always been told and believed. Though Zurina had encouraged me not to discount my memories, and Warren had implied the same. “That’s right,” I said, but doubt swarmed me. My friends kept secrets. The emperor’s actions grew more erratic, his tactics cruel and punishing. I’d always been the emperor’s first-in-command, ever since he’d named me so once he came to power. A fighter, a conqueror. So sure of my role, my next victory. I’d had no doubts about my place in life or the friends at my side.

Yet now…

Soft warmth grazed my cheek, and I looked over at Ilya as she dropped her hand back into her lap.

A sad smile painted her lips. “You went somewhere far away.”

“I suppose we both have a lot on our minds,” I replied with a fake half-smile. I ached to feel her soft curves pressed against me, soothing away all the uncertainty that the day stirred up within me, but it would be only a temporary distraction.

“At least some of the captains are your friends, right?” she asked.

I nodded, but the doubts made it short and jerking.

“Then it’s worth talking to them. Trusting them.”

“And are we friends, Ilya? Can I trust you?” I needed someone—an anchor in the stormy winds threatening to tear my world apart.

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. “I don’t have sex with my friends. Only you. So I think we’ll need a different title—”

Ilya gasped as I pulled her into my lap. Her thighs hugged my legs through the material of her dress. Her scent swarmed my senses like a marauder at the gates. I didn’t give her the chance to continue before I claimed her mouth. I threaded my fingers through her hair, savoring the feel of silken locks against my skin. With Ilya so close, the pain and confusion nearly vanished. Temporarily but needed.

I nipped her bottom lip as I pulled back, a satisfied grin spreading across my features. She soothed my aches faster than healing magic. “No more titles.”

“No more.” Warm breath ghosted across my face.

My perfect distraction. Too perfect. With a groan, I eased her off my lap. “I have something I need to do.”

“Right now?”

The soft pout of her lips nearly changed my mind. It had to be now. Any longer with her and I’d lose myself again. I couldn’t afford that tonight, not when I desperately needed to think.

* * *

The foundationsof my life shook, crumbling more with each passing day. Only one place beckoned me, offering peace and clarity in the haze of uncertainty—the temple room of Erabus. It would be quiet this time of day, or so I hoped.

Each city and town bore temples consecrated to the four Gods and Goddesses that oversaw our world, even south of the river Savanet where they considered magic a curse rather than a blessing. Priests and devotees swarmed the halls of the city’s temples. Though no priests resided within the castle, the temple rooms offered a place to pray and beseech The Four without traveling into Zhine.

“Can I speak with you?”

The unexpected voice snapped me from my thoughts as I whipped around to find Brishon leaning against a shadowed wall outside the temple rooms—a place he rarely went.

“Sorry to surprise you, brother” he continued, shoving off the stone. “I didn’t expect you to seek their wisdom tonight too, but I’m glad you did.”

I nodded. I wasn’t the only one seeking guidance from The Four. “In here.” I wrenched open the door to the prayer room dedicated to Erabus, God of Darkness.

Tall, black candles dripped their wax along the edges of the room. Tonight, the two rows of four chairs facing the altarpiece sat empty.

Brishon locked the door behind him. No one would think twice about a locked door here, not in the space where people came to pray privately to The Four.

We took seats side by side in the front row. Brishon eyed my missing gauntlet but didn’t comment on it.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.

He hunched in the chair, his fist bunched up under his chin. We’d never been close friends. He often spent time with Orson and his circle, but thankfully, the man lacked his friend’s foul disposition.

With a sigh, Brishon pulled off his helmet and ruffled the black hair framing his dark olive face. “I don’t like the way things are going for us,” he said, barely a whisper in the quiet room. “We were raised to serve and protect, but this…”

I looked at him hard, seeking truth or fallacy in his words. The open, unguarded look in his eyes told me everything. I’d known him too long to be played. His eyes always spoke the truth, even when his words did not.

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