Page 1 of The Empty Throne

One

They beat Cohea on and off for several hours,spread over five days, interspersed with starvation, freezing cold,and food so vile that rats wouldn't eat it.

Throughout, Cohea said nothing, except tooccasionally scream or moan in pain. He'd known this mighthappen—that there was in fact a very high chance of it happening.He'd taken the gamble anyway, on the hope he could get back toCremisio all the sooner.

Unfortunately, he'd lost that gamble.Hopefully at least one of the others would be able to figure it allout from the clues he'd left just in case this happened. Damn HisMajesty anyway for sending Cohea away at the worst possibletime.

Cohea should be at home, helping Kite andSobeki, putting this problem behind them once and for all. Now… nowthere was no telling what would happen.

On the other hand, this might not be hisproblem anymore. From the way his current situation was going, soonit would all be over. One way or another. His only regret was thatso many more people would die because of his failures.

No, that was one of two regrets. His greater,far deeper regret was that he'd never get to enjoy the life he'dbeen waiting for, the life he was meant to have had after thiswhole nightmare finally ended. That's what he got for thinking hehad the right to be happy, to live a life he enjoyed like so manyothers.

At least they'd gotten a few monthstogether.

Cohea stirred at the sound of footstepsdrawing ever closer, hard and brisk, the steps of a soldier alwaysin a hurry, who probably didn't know how to walk slowly anymore.Like walking slowly might get him killed—which wasn't impossible,given the handful of possibilities as to who had kidnapped him.

The footsteps came into view, another grungyguard as unremarkable as all the rest. He came to a halt severalpaces away. "His Lordship wants to see him."

The guard who'd been idly kicking Cohea likea bored child half-heartedly toying with a ball grunted andwithdrew. "Fine. Help me get him up, and watch out for thesmell."

"Do I have to?" the new guard asked with agrimace before covering his nose and mouth with one hand and usingthe other to help get Cohea more or less standing. "Fuck, hereeks."

Cohea would have loved to point out that theyhad only themselves to blame for his stench. He certainly hadn'tchosen to go without a bath or clean clothes for days now. Did theythink he enjoyed being covered in his own fluids? The moment hecould breathe without everything hurting, he was going to voiceevery scathing opinion he'd stored up. With his fists.

He bit back a cry as they roughly led-draggedhim out of the cell and up the stairs. Cohea had been unconsciouswhen they'd brought him in, and so hadn't seen more than his damp,dank cell for the past few days. He only knew the time by thechanging of the guards, and the periodic appearance of dirty waterand moldy bread.

The dark gray, blue-veined stones, theintricate stonework, said he was in Terek. Well, confirmed. OnlyTerek was this fucking cold this time of year. Everywhere else, thereal cold wouldn't come for another couple of months. Also, no oneelse on two continents had reason to kidnap him, or resentmentenough to be so fucking mean about it.

He tripped and was barely spared fromslamming into the stone floor as they caught him up again.Unfortunately, all the movement reopened some of his wounds,causing blood to drip into his good eye, rendering him effectivelyblind throughout the rest of the journey.

When they came to a stop, it was in amoderately warmer place that smelled strongly of flowers, at leastwhen Cohea was able to get a whiff of anything past his own stench.He could hear the crackling of a fire, the scrape of boots, and themetallic ring of armor. Definitely a fortress, then, or maybe agarrison.

"The Fox himself, I can scarcely believeit."

Cohea blinked the blood from his good eye,the other one swollen shut, and stared at the man who'd spoken.Like most of his compatriots, the man had olive-toned skin andauburn hair, it and his beard shaved extremely close, making hisotherwise handsome features rigid and severe. His eyes were thegray of slushy snow, and faded scars from the mad plague riddledevery bit of visible skin. He was tall and broad, imposing at best,menacing at worst.

He couldn't say he was surprised. ElevenLairds ruled the kingdom of Terek, and seven of them were in fullsupport of taking Cremisio by force. Of the remaining four, twopushed for peace, and two pushed for other means.

Laird Lysy Fazekas, of the clan of the samename, one of the oldest in Terek, was one of the two for 'othermeans'. His heir, Lysyken, was rumored to be a scholar, not nearlyas ambitious and blood-soaked as his father, but Cohea had neverhad a chance to confirm that.

Fazekas's 'other means' was to locate thesecret heir first and marry Lysyken to them, at least according toCohea's most recent intel. Given his current predicament, thatintel seemed to be accurate. He also suspected there were traitorsin his ranks, because only a small handful of people had knownwhere Cohea was and how he'd be traveling home.

His heart sank at the idea of yet anothertraitor amongst those few he trusted, but well… if it could happenonce, it could happen again. People far more jaded than him hadwarned of it, but Cohea had fervently hoped that one traitor wasall he'd ever have to deal with.

So much for that.

At least they wouldn't kill him. Not yet.Hopefully he'd survive whatever they did do to him.

Panic tried to rise up with the knowledgethat a great deal of pain and suffering was coming his way, thekind that would make what he'd suffered so far seem trifling, butCohea tamped it down. Panic wouldn't help him now. He'd gottenthrough the death of his entire family. Having his arm broken whilehe watched. Watching as one of his oldest friends was cut down byan assassin.

He'd get through this too. And if not… Well,the world would carry on without him, even if not in the same formas he was trying to save.

Mustering a bravado he most certainly did notfeel, Cohea replied, "Is this about the way I won the Pechantcontract and you didn't?"

Fazekas laughed. His grizzled face, linedwith age and the scars of many a violent decision, seemed tostruggle with such a sound, even as mean as it was. "Don't try tobe clever, Your Grace. It was never your strong suit."

"Well, that's just rude," Cohea said. "Yourmen have already beaten me half to death; there's no need forinsults."

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