Page 105 of Poisoned Empire

Belisarius looked ready to tackle the man to the ground and start pummelling him.

“How dare you profane the memories of my parents with your falsehoods!”

“Did the man who claims my throne give you any proof that the magistri had used foul magics on their daughters themselves? He has silver-tongues at his disposal, and knowledge of foul magics. How difficult would it have been for him to orchestrate their victimization himself? Was it not convenient that for at least two of my sponsors, he found bastards, one apiece, to testify against their fathers? Can we be certain that the daughters they impersonated are even still alive? Maybe they resisted him too strongly, and paid the ultimate price,” Mercurius continued, growing more confident.

“Guards, arrest that imposter! I will not allow these lies to stand!”

Guards hesitantly approached the fire mage, who held up his hands in apparent surrender.

“Do not speak of lies to me, Brother! You stand before men of real power, dignified elemental mages of esteemed bloodlines and good repute! I inherited my father’s flames, but you were born an abomination! If you wish to prove me wrong, then go, show them your fire!”

“Collar him!” Belisarius called out.

Mercurius flicked his wrist and held off the guards with an impenetrable wall of flames.

“He cannot produce flames because he is no elemental mage! The man who would be Emperor is none other than a detestable, ignoble, negation mage! He’s an unnatural creature who surrounds himself with ferals and menials, because no decent elemental would ever kneel to him if they knew.”

Iliana could see the tide of sentiment turning against Belisarius. The guards stopped trying to advance, and the magistri eyed him with suspicion.

“Marduk.” Iliana’s voice was hysterical with anxiety.

“I know,” he replied grimly.

“Despite all these injustices, I am not unjust myself. In view of the forgotten gods and these honoured noblemen of Lethe, I demand the right to contest the throne through ritual combat. No more innocent blood should be shed over this feud, Brother. What say you, magistri? Step forward if you will allow me to prove myself!”

Mage gift aside, how could anyone believe the lies he was spewing? He asked the magistri if the prince had presented any proof, but Mercurius had yet to do more than speak and present himself as the evidence. Surely the magistri would turn their backs on him.

To her horror, each magister stepped forward.

Rage coiled through Belisarius, poisoning his veins and darkening his thoughts. If he lived to see another sunrise, he swore he’d see the end of the elementalist traitors who had demanded this farce proceed according to the whims of a man who should be dead. He’d never imagined that a clever bit of rhetoric, weaving half-truths and lies, would undo his entire claim to the throne and sway men he’d done right by over the years. Belisarius had been well and truly trapped. If he revealed that Mercurius had been the one rampaging through the palace all those years ago, only he and Marduk could back the claim. The lie from all those years ago, that had spared the image of the royal family, had strangled his ability to fend off Mercurius’ schemes. Belisarius’ ignoble status made him that much less worthy in the eyes of the elementalist magistri. He still couldn’t entirely believe the man was who he claimed.

He and Mercurius had been separated, with Magistri Topaz and Opal standing guard at their doors so that neither one got the fight underway before the appointed time. Magister Opal stood in his doorway, nervously running his tanned fingers through jet hair going grey at the temples. Marduk would soon return to him with the sword he would use to slay his supposed brother.

“I deeply regret this situation, Your Royal Highness,” Opal ventured.

“If I live, I’ll see to it that you do,” Belisarius threatened.

“He took my girl to ensure my co-operation. Please, forgive me.” Opal bowed low.

The news hit him hard. More traitors and spies, now kidnapping dominae to ensure their fathers’ compliance. With only a handful of men, the fake Mercurius had affected a coup. Would the blows never end?

“Whoever he is, he is no emperor.”

“It pains me to say this, but he may be. Twenty-eight years ago, the empress begged my brother to transport a young man in secret along with your uncle. He only spoke of it once while deep in his cups, but, until your mother’s death, he regularly took shipments from the late empress to transport across the sea to your uncle, where he lived with a younger man.”

Belisarius must have gaped at Opal like he’d grown horns. If curved protuberances had sprouted at his temples, it might’ve been less disorienting. What would Mother have sent across the sea? Something that, until her death, had kept Mercurius from returning? What else but her memory reversal flowers, so potent that even a poison mage found herself returning to the innocence of childhood with a fistful? Gods below, had Mother spared Mercurius’ life without father ever discovering the truth? Had Uncle Phokas agreed to the scheme? Once again, Belisarius’ world tilted on its axis. It was not magic which gave the traitor his father’s likeness. It was Mercurius in truth.

As Belisarius spiralled further into the endless darkness of the Bloodstone family secrets and lies, Marduk returned to his side, a large case in his arms.

“Your Majesty?”

“It’s truly Mercurius.”

“Yes. Returned from the grave by dark gods, it seems.” Marduk scowled, ready to spit. He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Give me the word and I’ll rally the soldiers most loyal to me. I’ll cut down that elementalist pig myself, and any magister who sides with him, and have their children arrested to ensure the provinces stay in line. The fleets can be redeployed to destroy Topaz and Emerald’s harbours. Mercurius is dead, and whoever this ghost is will not take your crown.”

“Or maybe he never died at all.”

“Your Majesty?”

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