Page 33 of Haunted

I’m torn. My heart tells me I’m loyal to the empress, but I owe my allegiance to Siarl’s wishes.

Neifion does not judge me either. He supported the seduction. He tells me to return.

I can’t.

I’m restless. I pace in my library. My books bring me no solace. My nights are filled with visions of red. Rivers of blood. Fields of blood.

Cascades of her red hair.

The dagger from my initial intervention, from the moment I so foolishly offered myself up to the empress, often stabs me in my dreams. The pain rears over and over.

Then she comes to me and kisses me.

I wake, on fire, and race out to the frigid ocean to cool the heat in my skin, which is where I am now.

The sun rises, and I try not to stare into its depths.

Blind me, that I may not see red again. Standing waist deep in the water, I push my wet hair back. It’s well past my shoulders. Overdue for a cut.

At least it’s not red.

Siarl told me things would become complicated between the empress and me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and told me as much when we were laying down plans to undo the empress. He knew she was a sly seductress.

Caedryn, son. I know you will always do what’s honorable. I know you’ll always protect this region, no matter what your heart tells you.

How did he know I would fall to her?

“I’ve betrayed you, my lord!” I yell and slap the waves.

A shadow passes overhead. It’s Neifion. He lands on the beach, and I wade through the water toward him. I’m soaked, fully clothed in the garments I fell asleep in.

“I’m ready to go back,” I say as I lean against Neifion’s warm scales and rest my cheek against them.

He nuzzles me with his snout. “You’re strong. And you are brave.”

I hope he’s right, because I’m scared out of my mind.

27

As we descend into Caer, I try to calm my fears by telling myself I look forward to a quiet morning with Nesta. Digging in the dirt might bring me perspective, and Nesta might have some insight into my relationship with the empress.

But Caer is not the silent abode I expected.

The empress’s court is back in session. The hall is lined with chained prisoners when I enter. Some are weeping. Most are half starved. I guess the empress realized she had a backlog of sentences to pass.

Empress Rhianu is pronouncing a verdict, so I hedge along the wall until I reach the dais. I step into the shadows in my usual spot beside and to the rear of her chair. I don’t look at the room or the sad face of the human she’s sentencing to death until a new voice speaks.

Commander Meuric. He’s not on the dais. He’s among the dragon riders near the front, and he’s the only one holding a flagon of ale. I take it he’s mourning. He’s not drunk, at least not yet.

“Empress.” He shoves his flagon into a comrade’s hand and steps forward.

“Commander.” The empress doesn’t sound put out from his interruption. In fact, she seems perfectly calm, completely out of character for herself. She also hasn’t acknowledged my presence. I’m not sure what to make of that.

“I ask that this man be given into my custody,” he says.

“You know his crimes,” she replies with a flat voice.

Meuric steps forward and comes to one knee beside her chair, a move no one else would be so bold as to make. His words are for her ears only, but I catch his simple statement. “He’s Mara’s brother.”

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