Page 17 of Haunted

A few days have passed since Emleen’s death. I’ve cooled to the empress, and she’s moved on to other pursuits, which is why I seek her out tonight, to see what she’s up to.

I’m perplexed by her. Her arms and torso are rigid. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes flick over the map. What’s she searching for? Does she scheme for more control? She has no other lands to invade.

I stiffen when she speaks. I’m the only one present so she’s acknowledging me.

“What do you know of the Great Divide?” The empress means the barren desert to the west that stretches farther than the eye can see.

I step into the room, and as I do, a compulsion to be near the empress pulls me beside the heavy table. I don’t know why I feel this; I hate her. The very fibers of my soul despise what she is, yet as I stare at her bare arms, with a golden bracelet circling her upper bicep, the contrast between her soft skin and the solid metal strikes me. I press my hand to my thigh to keep from reaching out and fingering the perfection of her flesh.

She knows she’s as desirable as she is terrible. Two sides of a coin created to drive a man insane.

Her eyes draw me as I speak. “No man has dared cross it.”

Her mouth purses, defining the angles of her upper lip. “One has dared cross it.”

I tilt my head slightly to show interest, though the empress hasn’t looked at me.

The slender finger of her left hand traces the Great Divide’s edge on the map. “Mother Siana is from the other side, from the dragon realm called Gorlassar.”

“I know this story,” I say. “She left the immortal paradise to come to this country. Why she would do that, I do not know.”

Siana was the first pure emrys to arrive in this forsaken volcanic land, wed a mortal man, and become the mother to the first half-emrys, the empress. The rest of the half-emrys in this realm were born over several generations.

The empress straightens and whirls away from the table and from me. At this late hour, she wears nothing but a thin black shift that hangs loosely yet clings to her curves when she moves. Her thick hair falls to her hips, giving her the illusion of wearing a great veil, a scarlet veil of death. Did she come to the war room on a whim after partially dressing for bed? I’ve never seen her so undone. She’s almost natural instead of dressed up for intimidation.

“Mother Siana has no recollection of what lies beyond. She only knows she was driven to come here. A power beyond her own coaxed her across Bryn to Morvith.”

Tension that I don’t have to discern smothers the room. I can’t guess why her mother’s lack of memory should agitate the empress. “Do you wish to know of her homeland?” I step closer to her. “Your realm is glorious. Seven vast regions spreading from the north to the south. What do you need to know of Gorlassar? Be satisfied with your accomplishments.”

The empress drags her fingertips down the length of the table as she paces away from me. “I’m not the one who’s unsatisfied.”

I’m not sure what she means by this. Who is unsatisfied? “How can I help, Your Highness?”

She sighs. “Can you find Commander Meuric?”

The commander has not been at Caer for weeks. He wasn’t even at the banquet. I haven’t concerned myself with his whereabouts because I’ve been too focused on the woman before me, but now I’m wondering if the lapse was a huge error. “Do you mean to say he’s the one pressing to know about the dragon realm?”

“No, he’s not, but can you find him nonetheless? He’s moping again, holed up in some tavern, and drinking himself senseless.”

Moping again? I never took Commander Meuric as one to mope.

I close my eyes and open my mind to the lights. I’ve marked Meuric’s distinctive glow before, but given how dim it is, finding him might take some time. “Which region does he prefer, Your Highness?”

“Siôned. Wherever it’s warm.”

That narrows it down to one seventh of Morvith, unless Meuric went as far south as Cadomedd.

My body relaxes as it settles into the task. Lights sprinkle across my vision like snowflakes. The specks are every color imaginable. Meuric’s is a soft orange, like a peach. I imagine my hand swiping away the lights that don’t matter. I practically pull myself through the field in my mind, combing and parting the sea of half-emrys.

Near the coast, where the dots drop off because of the ocean, I find the commander. He must be with a group of his men because his fuzzy orange is surrounded by a cluster of other dim lights. Also noticeable are the voids. The Dark Emrys who carry no light. My mind trips over the gaps in my vision. The commander is not alone in his frivolity.

“I’ve located him, Your Highness.” As I say this, a breath warms my cheek.

My eyes snap open.

Empress Rhianu faces me, so close only a hair can fit between our bodies. I’m aware of the soft swells under her dress that move with each of her breaths. I lick my lips and swallow. My throat’s dry, but I force my mouth to continue. “You were right. He’s in Siôned. On the coast.”

Is she studying my pores? Her face is tilted up to mine because she’s shorter than I am. I’m highly aware of her mouth and its berry stain that enhances the lushness of such a temptation for men.

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