Page 54 of The Sundered Blade

“How long?” Karreya uttered the words with no hint of emotion—nothing that might tell her father how deeply he had disturbed her. “How long did she grant you before she makes someone else her heir?”

“Fifteen years,” he told her. “There are less than four years remaining to me, but it will be more than enough. The first three thrones will soon fall, and then I will have sufficient ships and troops to take the battle across the mountains to Katal.”

“You do not have that long,” Karreya said bluntly. “I have seen Grandmother. She fades, and her enemies have noticed. If you do not return within the year, she may die without an heir, and there will be a war such as the Zulleri have not seen since before the Dragurin line was first established.”

The first glimmers of doubt appeared in those unfamiliar dark eyes, echoed by the golden eyes beneath.

“But why? Why have you come here to tell me this?”

Why had she? What had she thought was going to happen when she vanished from the Enclave and found her way to Abreia on a tiny, struggling merchant ship?

“Is thisyourchance?” he asked suddenly, a note of suspicion entering his tone. “Has she promised to elevate you above me if you can stop me?” Another laugh, and this time it was a bitter one. “It would be just like her. Just as she used to pit me against Senaya. The perfect daughter, until she proved what I always said of her—that she was weak and unfit to rule.”

“As I said before, I do not want the throne,” Karreya returned steadily. “And neither did Senaya. No one, I think, who deserves to have power, could ever want such a thing.”

“You speak like a child,” her father snapped. “And you have acted like a child, which means you are useless to me. Go home, and live out your days as a mindless weapon.”

“And then what?” Karreya held her turbulent feelings at bay, intent only on her reasons for being here, her thoughts racing as she looked for a way to achieve her goals. “You will unite Abreia, return to Zulle, be established as the next emperor, and then…?” She turned and paced across the room, and his eyes followed her. He was still not entirely certain she would not harm him, and it might be the only advantage she had left.

“And then I will solidify my power, destroy my enemies, and ensure that the line of the Dragurin Emperors will live forever.” He sounded so certain. As if such a goal was a simple matter of intent. But he spoke as one who had never been permitted at court, had never been forced to navigate the deep and treacherous waters of imperial politics.

“And how will you do that,” Karreya asked softly, “without an heir?”

For the first time, her father seemed to regard her with something like respect. “Oh, so that is why you have come?” A smile creased his face—satisfied and more than a little predatory. “You wish me to acknowledge you now, to secure your own position while granting to me the task of eradicating the enemies of the crown. You wish to court my favor and rest in my shadow now that victory is all but assured.”

He understood nothing.

“I came to Abreia for no other reason than to tell you that you must leave this place and return home,” she said in a flat, hard voice. “Otherwise, everything you have hoped for will be at risk.”

His smile faded. “I will not be deceived,” he replied, shaking his head. “The Empress will never grant me what I desire unless I fulfill the terms of our bargain. I must achieve what she demanded. Then and only then can I return.”

“And if I make your name a curse among the people of this kingdom?” Karreya queried boldly. “I can tell them who you are and what you want. I can warn them of your plots and your threats and your intentions, and then they will want nothing more than to eradicate your very name from these lands you have sought to conquer.”

And yet, he remained unmoved. “Oh, you simple, foolish child. You think I have not prepared for this moment? I have spent the past decade ensuring that everyone is aware of my fear and hatred of magic. I have done everything possible—including ridding these lands of other mages—to ensure that I cannot be found out. You could climb to the roof of this palace and shout it to the winds, or gather my nobles together and make your heartfelt pleas, and they would only laugh at you.”

It seemed she had been wrong. She had nothing he wanted, nothing he feared—except death, and that was not a step she was willing to take. Not in cold blood. Even if she freely acknowledged that he should never be emperor, she could not—would not—be the hand that took her father’s life unless it were in self defense. Whether her trainers would call her a failure or not, she knew instinctively that such a line could not be crossed without losing a part of her soul.

And if she could not kill him, she had no other moves. No remaining options, except for a strategic retreat. Her father’s intentions were immovable and his plans secure, and if she did not warn Vaniell and Kyrion and the others, they would march their armies right into his waiting trap.

Her only hope was to escape, and yet if she did so, she left Leisa in his hands—injured and alone, doomed to whatever fate awaited the nobles who had dared to stand against their king.

It was a moment of terrible choice for one who had learned so recently to care. Who had never dreamed she would be called on to change the fate of kingdoms or protect the lives of her friends.

But when she thought of Leisa, of Kyrion, and of Vaniell most of all, she believed she knew what they would tell her. She recalled Leisa and Kyrion’s final desperate kiss of farewell, and understood what it was that they all risked—what they all were fighting for, and what it was that she had to do now.

“Then you leave me no choice,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I bid you farewell, Father.”

“Oh, but you don’t actually think I will allow you to leave now, do you?” His smile became a smirk. “My soldiers were in place long before I ever entered these rooms.”

But just as she had underestimated his plans, he had underestimated her.

“Your soldiers?” she said, and offered her own mocking smile in answer to his. “They are useless, but you would not know that, would you? You lasted less than a year in the Enclave, so you do not understand who or what I am.

“Eleven years, Father. Eleven years of learning to be the perfect spy, the perfect weapon, the perfect element of surprise. You employ your own assassins and trust in their abilities, but I have met one and they are weak and obvious. So do not bother trying to stop me. Do not bother searching your palace for me once I am gone. Easier to capture the wind or the shadows.”

He’d frozen in place, as if she had finally given him pause.

“And after I am gone, know that I am not your ally. Know that I will be watching and waiting in the darkness. Waiting for the moment you make a mistake. And when you do… I will be there.”

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