Jon Sprunk - Shadows son

The only other people in the hall were Markus and Ral, who was also an assassin, according to Caim. A dangerous man, supposedly, but he hardly looked the part. He wore a fine suit of black with starched white cuffs and collar. A slender blade with a silver guard hung at his side. Josey couldn't imagine Caim wearing such an extravagant weapon. Then, she spotted the assortment of blades hidden about the man's person, tucked into the tops of his boots and under his sleeves, and reconsidered her opinion of him. Maybe he wasn't such a dandy.

"I don't care." Ral's words rang across the hall. "Drive them away. Kill them, if need be. Just get them away from the gates."

Markus saluted and stalked out of the hall. When Ral looked over, Josey met his gaze without backing down.

"A vast improvement." He treated her to a slick smile as his gaze wandered up and down. "Now you look the part of a princess."

"I'd throw this dress in your face if I had anything else to wear."

"Tsk, tsk. No need for hostility, Josephine. We need each other."

"I don't need anything from you. You're the one who killed my father. Don't try to deny it. I know everything now."

"Everything? Do you know that without the Council to control the people, the city is tearing itself apart?" He stepped closer, until the scent of his oiled hair clogged her nose. "Do you know that you're completely alone, a young girl in a perilous place surrounded by perilous people?"

"Caim will-"

He cut her off with a laugh. "Caim is dead in some gutter, or soon will be. Look around you, Princess. I hold the palace, and with it, the city. Perhaps someday the entire country will bow to me. Forget Caim and whatever romantic notions have been bouncing around inside that little skull of yours. Think of the big picture. An alliance with me would benefit us both. You would enjoy my protection, and I would gain a measure of legitimacy."

Josey could have been slapped across the face for all the shock she felt.

"You mean marriage. Us? You're insane. I would never-"

"It's not so far-fetched, my dear." Ral sauntered toward the dais. "Worse unions have been forged for the sake of politics. Our marriage will cement my hold on the throne. You will be an empress with all the wealth and splendor a woman could ever want."

Josey resisted the impulse to lift a hand to her temple, where the beginnings of a frightful headache throbbed. Her bodice was too tight, making every breath more difficult to inhale.

"You might hold the palace for now," she said. "But the Church won't sit idle. Once the riots are quelled, they'll put you…"

Her words died away as Ral opened the wooden boxes on the dais, one by one lowering the front sides to reveal their gruesome contents. Thirteen pairs of glassy eyes stared at her in various states of shock. She recognized their pale features. From their wooden prisons, the heads of the prelate and the Elector Council confronted her.

"As you can see, the Church is no longer a concern. With the Brotherhood firmly under my command, thanks to the largess of my benefactor, none remain in the city who can challenge me." He laid a hand on the box holding the prelate's head. "Call it a wedding gift from your betrothed. After all, these are the men who killed your real father."

Josey shook her head. Tears wet her lashes and gathered in the corners of her eyes. She wouldn't give in to this fiend, wouldn't allow him to twist her thoughts. She drew herself up straight. "The people of Othir will never stand for it."

"The people will do whatever their lord governor demands of them."

"And what of the mob gathered outside your gate?"

A grimace broke the hard planes of Ral's face for a moment. She had scored a hit, but then the calm returned as if nothing had happened. "Those who refuse to obey will be dealt with harshly and permanently."

She scoffed. "There aren't enough Sacred Dogs in Othir to subdue the entire city. Even recalling the nearest garrison-"

"I have," he said with a mocking grin, and waved a hand, "other resources at my disposal, my dear."

Josey started as a shadow detached itself from the darkness draping the wall behind the throne. The shadow resolved into the shape of a man, tall and lean, garbed in a monk's robe of purest black. There was something eerie about his movements; the intensity of his gaze was unnerving. Everything about him suggested barely restrained violence, a dangerous animal coiled to spring at the least provocation. An image flashed through Josey's mind, of the ebon serpent uncoiling from the ceiling in Calm's apartment, and she knew what this creature was at once.

Sorcerer. Trafficker of the black arts. Agent of the Dark Ones.

"What have you leagued yourself with?" she whispered.

"A power from beyond this world." Ral nodded to the newcomer. "Enough to rule a nation and rebuild an empire. You should thank me, Princess. I intend to restore your birthright."

Whatever Ral intended to say next was interrupted by a commotion at the entrance. Sacred Brothers ushered a throng of men and women into the hall. She recognized one face in the group: Anastasia's father, Lord Farthington. She started to lift her hand to catch his attention, but hesitated when she got a better look at him. Lord Farthington looked drawn and haggard, his face more deeply lined than she remembered. His mouth quivered as he was herded inside with the others. He's terrified. A tiny shudder fluttered her belly. If such a powerful lord was afraid, what chance did she have?

"My lords and esteemed ladies." Ral lifted his voice. "Forgive this dis turbance of your persons at such a late hour, but there are matters of great importance at hand which require your attention."

Josey chewed on her bottom lip. The words sounded rehearsed. Ral was playing some sort of game, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She cast her gaze about the chamber. The robed man had vanished when the aristocrats arrived, as silently as a phantom, but she got the feeling he was nearby. She sidled over to a side wall, pretending to admire the tapestries while she checked the exits. She didn't know the layout of the palace very well, but if she could get away from the hall she might be able to find a way out. Getting away was all she could think about.

Behind her, Ral climbed the dais as he addressed the nobles. He kicked over one of the wooden boxes on his way up the steps, sending its contents tumbling to the floor. Gasps rose from the crowd.

"Good people, don't be alarmed," he said. "This is a glorious moment. This is the day you shall long remember as the beginning of a new era of prosperity and majesty."

As Ral sat in the center throne, an old nobleman staggered forward as if to admonish him, but a hulking soldier shoved him back into the crowd.

"Nobles of Othir," Ral said. A pair of golden ravens rested atop the throne's tall back, as if perched upon his shoulders. "I proclaim myself your sovereign. As a merciful man, I am granting you the opportunity to be the first to bow to me and swear your allegiance."

He gestured to the wooden boxes. "Or be declared traitors and face immediate execution."

While the gentry sputtered and clamored in indignation, Josey picked up her skirt and tiptoed to a narrow archway tucked between two arrays. She was almost there when a large frame filled the opening. Her silk slippers slid to a halt as Markus loomed before her. His scarred cheeks twitched into a mockery of a smile as he stared at her with cruel intensity.

Ral's voice called from behind her. "Ah, it is time for your most excellent personages to meet my betrothed. Allow me to present Princess Josephine of the House Corrinada. My bride-to-be."

Tears formed in Josey's eyes as she turned to the crowd. They watched her with various degrees of astonishment.