Page 134 of A Pact of Blood

I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Not at all. Is there another matter we need to attend to?”

A sharp smile curves my husband’s lips. “I’ve just gotten word that the Lavirian traitors have reached the city. They’re being held in the prison near the arena. I’m off to have a look at them now. Would you like to join me?”

That explains the presence of all these soldiers.

My gut lurches with the urge to balk. The last thing I want to do is gaze into the faces of the beaten figures who tried to fight back against the empire’s oppression and failed, one of whom I’m supposed to murder for my own glory.

But an empress who’s actually dedicated to her empire and eager to face the rite she volunteered for wouldn’t shy from the opportunity.

I gird myself. “Of course. Thank you for coming to find me.”

We amble out to the front of the palace where the gleaming imperial carriage is waiting, along with a couple of other vehicles in the much more subdued indigo, gray, and black of the imperial guard. Marclinus doesn’t appear to be in any hurry, and I can’t hasten his pace without raising questions.

My heart thuds on. If the prisoners have arrived, that means we’ll face the rite tomorrow, doesn’t it? I can’t shut myself away for the entire afternoon and evening attempting different brews.

I’m only going to get a few more attempts at concocting the potion both my life and that of my rebel opponent will depend on.

Axius and another soldier whose uniform suggests he’s a ranking officer climb into our carriage with us, our personal guards taking their spots on the outer seats. The high commander sits stern and silent, but I can sense his disapproval with a prickling sensation over my skin.

He still doesn’t believe I have any place carrying out these rites. Gods only know how he’d react if he found out I mean to battle a Lavirian rebel while carrying a child supposedly the emperor’s heir.

How much does his attitude affect the rest of the soldiers? I know I’ve gained some ground with them, but it must be hard to ignore the sway of their highest superior’s opinions.

At least he’s reasonably quiet about his qualms while his underlings are nearby.

Marclinus doesn’t appear bothered by his advisor’s reserve. He leans back on the cushioned bench with a dispassionate air and glances over at me. “Among the six of the miscreants who helped orchestrate the uprising, there’s one woman. It seems fitting that she’ll be your challenge in the rite.”

It’s hard to say whether that should be a relief. A woman can fight just as viciously as a man, especially when she has no other choice. Our godlen of war is female, after all.

At least I shouldn’t have to worry about facing an opponent more than a foot taller or vastly outweighing me.

“Fitting indeed,” I agree. “I’m curious to see all of them. Have there been no further incidents in Lavira since their arrest?”

He grins. “No reports so far. I hear there was quite a display with the other ringleaders by the royal palace in the capital, while the Lavirian queen and king spoke out against the assaults.”

Axius nods. “I don’t expect we’ll see any further trouble. Our officers will be monitoring the situation closely for some time all the same.”

All those defiant spirits have been crushed into submission. How much more pain will my husband inflict on his conquered people before I can crushhim?

For a second, the enormity of everything I need to accomplish before I can heal the empire presses down on me in a suffocating cloud. I inhale slowly, willing my nerves to settle.

One step at a time. That’s the only way I’ll see my whole purpose through.

When the carriage stops, we emerge into a ring of guards. They surround Marclinus and me all the way into the dim stone building.

The sour smells of sweat and human waste clog my nose. Marclinus strides on as if unfazed, with occasional flicks of his gaze toward me. He’s watching to see how I’m handling the unpleasantness.

I keep my head high and my breaths shallow. Axius leads us down a couple of hallways to a row of cells with barred doors, three on either side.

Wan light seeps through the single window set high in the wall, too narrow for even the skinniest human being to squeeze through. It illuminates six figures with dirt-stained skin and rumpled peasant clothing.

They peer over at our arrival. Most are sitting hunched against one or another wall. One man comes right to the bars, baring his teeth in a threatening sneer.

Another only glances our way briefly in the midst of pacing the short length of his cell. The scrape of his footsteps carries through the space like the underlying rhythm to a horrific song.

Marclinus saunters farther down the hall and points out one of the prisoners. “Here’s yours, wife.”

The woman glares at him and then me through the lank strands of her mousy brown hair that she’s let fall over her face. The arms wrapped around her knees are slim but sinewy with compact muscle. She won’t be able to overpower me easily, but she won’t be an easy opponent either.

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