Page 87 of Poisoned Empire

“Hold on tight. I’m told the shadow path can be dizzying.”

Selene realised too late he intended to drag her through the shadows to their destination. She tried to flee. If he so chose, he could leave her to wander the darkness forever, never to return to the world as she knew it. Before she could yank her hand from his, he dragged her into a place devoid of direction, her only connection the grip he had on her hand. She tried to scream, but here there was no sound, only the endless void.

The world as she knew it came back to her in a sudden wave of being: weight, direction, time, senses, rightness. Blessed, flickering light illuminated her surroundings as echoes placed her in a cavernous hallway. Another moment, and her eyes focused. They stood on a staircase leading down. The dungeons were below, warded against magical entry or exit. She breathed a sigh of relief, the air cold and musty, just then noticing her claw-like grip on the hand of the shadow mage. Only a slight hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Selene slapped his gloved hand away.

“Smile all you like, Shadow. Your lovely leather glove is now the most dangerous thing about you.”

He gaped at his hand as if it had turned into the head of a snake. He stripped it off using the greatest of care not to touch it with his bare skin, and tossed both gloves away like they were dripping in entrails.

“Are we even now, poison mage?”

“Perhaps.”

He made enough of a show of it all that she almost missed him surreptitiously slipping a hand into his cloak to grab something. A knife? A collar? A curse? It was impossible to say, but her instincts screamed danger. Whatever it took, she couldn’t let him get behind her.

“First, take me to the silver-tongue mages. They can fill me in before I meet the magister.” She played with a poison she conjured on her fingers and gave him a feral smile. “And if they prove troublesome, I have ways of making people talk.”

The shadow mage paused, removed his hand from his cloak and swallowed nervously. He nodded, keeping his eyes on her poison.

“This way. There’s only one left.”

Iliana sat as unobtrusively in the corner of the imposing study as she could without actually disappearing into her seat, absently fiddling with a scroll perched on a rack on the shelf. She’d been asked to attend in case they needed questions answered about potential new weapons, though she suspected a good deal of it was due to Marduk’s refusal to let her out of his sight. Her enchantments made her plum pickings for potential enemies.

Though the thought of danger chilled her, she tried to pay attention to the men before her. In a way, it was interesting to watch the prince, praetor and Marduk speaking without carefully considering their words, as they might in the company of others. She could see that, though Marduk and Nicephorus spoke to the prince with respect, they treated him as a friend. There was also a side to Marduk she had expected, but had never seen—his military-minded decisiveness.

“Do we know who killed them?” the prince asked.

“No, Your Royal Highness. But one of the investigators found scorch marks surrounding their bodies. It’s possible they were fodder for the ritual,” the praetor replied.

“Then we still have a traitor on the loose, just not one we’ve identified,” Belisarius said, his cheek resting on a fist as he frowned.

“Your Royal Highness, is it really alright to have a young woman here?” Nicephorus

hedged. Iliana had not escaped the praetor’s notice.

“She was stabbed by her own sister on orders of her father. My fiancée will stay by my side until it’s safe,” Marduk protested before returning to the topic at hand. “The arrows have been distributed to our archers, and my most trusted soldiers have been assigned to guard the remaining magistri. The praetor’s spies are keeping their eyes on the remaining members of your family who knew about the ritual. Whoever is ultimately behind this, they are now utterly alone. Even if they covet the power of the ritual, knowing that both an execution and theDamnatio Memoriaeawait the conspirators, the remaining magistri have little reason to offer any support.”

The prince seemed to think it all over. Iliana had by now been privy to a fairly detailed explanation of the goings on of the plot and the traitors. Foul magic, taught by a traitor to three magistri, had been the cause of her half-sisters’ lifelessness, siphoning off their power and souls. The prince, trying to uncover the players, had used the excuse of a bride show to invite esteemed families throughout the empire to his palace, where he could determine who had been in on the plot. The family members he had suspected of being the traitors had been found dead, having decayed for some time, possibly victims of the ritual themselves. They had been killed almost exactly when his fake engagement had been announced. Oddly, that was the bit that stuck most in her mind.

“May I ask a question?” Iliana ventured.

The prince seemed at the end of his tether, but he waved her on.

“Why did the traitor wait until the announcement of your engagement to kill your family members and take their power?”

The three men stared at her.

“I’m sorry, was that a stupid question?” she asked, cringing from the attention.

“Was the traitor worried you were consolidating your power, or that Grigori had decided to side with you?” Marduk mused.

“If you were truly about to wed the poison mage, the Emperor might step down early or co-rule to give your marriage, and her, legitimacy. Your coronation would happen before your thirtieth year, unlike what had been planned,” Nicephorus added.

Emboldened now, Iliana raised her voice again.

“How did the traitor get to your family so quickly? I thought your relatives were in the Ruby Province. Wouldn’t the traitor have needed to be in the palace to know about the engagement so quickly after it was announ-”

A scuffle outside the doors cut her off. Marduk placed himself in front of her, nearest the door, slipping a blade from his boot and handing her another. Nicephorus stood between the door and the prince.

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