Page 6 of Haunted

Her long red mane is pulled back, gathered high on her crown, waving like a horse’s tail. Her face is more severe because of how she’s wearing it. She takes less than a second to register who I am, and lets go of the handle on the dagger at her waist.

“Ambassador Caedryn. It’s a pleasure to finally have you join us.” Her brows rise as her eyes round. She doesn’t move her head, but indicates with the flick of her pupils where I should sit.

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness.” I bow. “I must thank you for the prompt attention and care you gave me. I am quite recovered.” She doesn’t seem fazed by my sarcasm nor does she slam me against the wall with a chokehold. All good signs. I sit at the table’s far end in the only vacant seat.

The empress addresses the room. “Many of you are aware of the ambassador’s heroics. He’s to be commended.” She pauses, but no one in the room moves. “I expect just as much loyalty from my mortal subjects as well as from my immortal ones.”

Bodies around the room stiffen. The ambassadors are mortal; all her subjects are mortal, except for her dragon riders. Any mortal would die from a wound such as the one I received, especially if the empress left them to mend without using the power of light from an emrys healer, and the empress knows this.

But she doesn’t care about their unease—or the unnecessary sacrifice they would have to make. All that matters to her is loyalty.

“Ambassador Caedryn has proven himself. In gratitude and to fill the vacancy, I am appointing him chancellor, in addition to his duties as ambassador for Creiddylad.”

Her words shock me. Chancellor? Me? The empress rarely bestows rewards. Most likely the appointment is to keep me close. She’s suspicious of my motivations for shielding her from attack.

Regardless, I smile and acknowledge my appreciation with a head tilt.

“Moving on.” She resumes her casual pacing as she continues her speech. “I desire peace for the seven regions. Each region has more than one valuable commodity, but trade is slow and inefficient. My dragon riders will accelerate trade.”

Only one ambassador glances to the side to see the reaction of the others. Not one of them is a fool. Enhanced trade will benefit all the regions, but a price is always forthcoming.

The empress lifts a document off a stack, which a pitiful-looking errand boy holds while standing at attention. “This is a list of your required contributions to support the dragon riders.” The boy stumbles forward and places a copy in front of each of the ambassadors.

I pluck the paper up. The contributions are high. Outrageous. The empress justifies her demand because Caer has no farmlands, no forests with animals. Just hardened lava beds. Her dragons are bred in this barren landscape. Before our lords swore allegiance, the empress took her supplies by the sword. Now they will be given.

None of the ambassadors protest the costliness. They will send the list of demands, along with personal notes, by dragon, to their lords.

With no doubt, I know the correspondence is checked. The dragon riders are the property of the empress. The mortals use them at her leniency. The ideal recourse is for the ambassadors to deliver their correspondence personally, but they are more or less prisoners here, only able to come and go as the empress sees fit, and the empress will not let them go easily. She will take no chance for them to betray her.

I’m lucky to have Neifion to spring me when I need reprieve or fresh air.

Because being in the empress’s presence is suffocating. Her darkness seeps off her as if it’s an entity in itself.

“Ambassador Caedryn.” The empress heads for the door. “Join me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I push away from the table and follow her out the door, careful to keep my breaths steady and my footfalls confident.

She strides down the hall. I keep pace at her left elbow, slightly behind her. Walking beside her is improper. Guards clank in our wake. The empress is never without an emrys guard, those who can sense duplicity before an individual can act. The guards are always emrys. Humans could never intervene swiftly enough if the empress’s life were in danger. Her personal guards are some of the few half-emrys who carry light, because most half-emrys prefer the strength of the dark power, which is useless for discerning.

Her astute entourage will not make undoing the empress easy. But I have ways around such measures, and I always shield my inner thoughts and emotions.

The empress waves the guards back after we emerge onto a balcony. She gazes over the solidified lava beds. Fissures mottle the ground, and the air waves with heat lines. I pull at the mantle around my throat. It will not be needed here. My homeland, Creiddylad, is temperate—lush with greenery and changing seasons. I miss my library of books to the ceiling. I miss lounging under a tree and scanning lengthy prose and text.

“I’m told you have many skills.” The empress’s hands fold on the balcony railing. “There’s a reason Lord Siarl keeps you close.” She’s relaxed. Vulnerable.

I keep my hands at my sides, proper and straight. “Your Highness, he is my great-great-great-grandnephew. He values family. I serve him because—” He’s family. It’s hard to believe that it’s been one-hundred and thirty-four years between our births.

She turns her head to look at me. “Because you have no other place.”

This truth irks me. My immortal father married my mortal mother. I was his only child. His only immortal heir, and he was ostracized for falling in love with a mortal. After his murder, Mother remarried a human, and my siblings were mortal, and their children, and so on to Siarl. Many generations passed. I was the only immortal until the invasion that took over our region flooded the countryside with half-emrys and dragons. Let’s just say that humans don’t like anyone who can outlive them, particularly those who hold dominion over them. It matters not that I side with the mortals.

“I’m an outsider in my country,” I say. That would never change my loyalty to Siarl and my family.

“The lords despise the half-emrys. You could have joined me, and yet you did not.”

Because my father was killed by your murderous hands. I banish the thought as soon as it surfaces. I carry no anger. I must remain impassive to the empress and her goading. It doesn’t matter if she murdered my father for loving a mortal. That’s not my motivation for being a spy, even though revenge would ease an ache in my soul that time has yet to heal. “Your Highness, if you wish for me to fight in your—”

“No. I have purpose for you elsewhere. Here.”

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