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Authors: Nikki McCormack

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BOOK: Exile
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He grimaced, less than pleased at the reminder. He was the only one who knew of her love for Yiloch outside of a few of those closest to the Lyran Emperor. The wall of determination went up again. “You need to go now.” He pointed to the door.

She lifted her chin, her throat tightening. “What if I choose not to go?”

“What is he to you?” Caplin snarled, the deep well of anger resurfacing with stunning force. “He used you. He risked your life repeatedly and all you have to show for it is some adolescent infatuation. Do you honestly believe he would hesitate to let you die if your death was all that stood between him and his objectives?”

Caplin’s eyes looked wrong so full of loathing. They were eyes of a stranger and the underlying jealousy she felt radiating off him made her feel more alone than ever. Even those things were better than the malignant twist of doubt in her mind that feared his words were true.

“I must gather some things first,
Prince
Caplin.” She hissed the title and stalked to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

When she returned a few minutes later with a satchel full of things she felt she might need on the short journey across the Gilded Strait and back, he stood watching in icy silence. She set the bag down for a moment to don the gray cloak Yiloch had given her. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. After a few awkward seconds in which neither of them moved or spoke, he took her satchel and led the way down to where his carriage waited, tossing the bag to the footman to be stowed. When he opened the carriage door for her, she saw Serivar waiting inside. One of Caplin’s horses stood saddled and ready alongside the carriage, held by a royal guardsman.

“My carriage will take you to the Kilty docks. I have other duties to attend to.”

She gave a curt nod. “My lord.”

Caplin hesitated, the anger that engulfed him faltering, giving her a stark glimpse of his sorrow, a sorrow as great as that tearing her apart inside. He swallowed, unable to meet her eyes. “Thank you, Indigo. You have my gratitude.”

He strode to his horse and mounted, heading off at a swift trot in the direction of the palace amidst the sizeable retinue of guards. She climbed into the carriage, ignoring the footman’s offered assistance and sat in the opposite corner from Serivar. As the carriage began to move, he met her bitter gaze.

“Indigo, I understand that this is all very upsetting, but we will see that justice is served quickly and mercilessly.”

She pressed back in her seat, incrementally increasing the distance between them. “Have you real proof?”

Serivar looked taken aback by her temper, but he was quick to recover. “Yes. In fact, Kade has already signed a confession. He burned the queen and her son to death from the inside,” he shook his head, grimacing in disgust. “We’re confident that Sine and Galyn helped him get in and out without being detected given their skills, though they haven’t admitted to anything yet. It makes sense that Ferin may have been involved in some way since he was here in a supervisory capacity and has a diverse set of skills.”

“None of them strong,” she defended.

“Perhaps, on our trip over, you might take a little time to consider whose service you are actually in. Your time assisting Lyra is through. You belong to Caithin now.”

Resentment swelled. “I belong to no one,” she said, biting off each word.

Serivar said nothing. His emotions turned cold to her, which was just as well, she no longer wanted to talk to him or anyone.

The deep, empty ache of loneliness was growing inside her like an unchallenged weed. She rubbed her temples to fight the accompanying ache in her head and turned to stare out the window into the street. In such a short time, she had developed an attachment to the three adepts, not to mention a strong affection for Ferin. The depths of her feelings for Yiloch went far beyond that. Could she face this miserable turn of events with her heart torn asunder as it now was? The king and his family were dead and, if they found the three adepts guilty beyond doubt, Ferin may as well be, unless Yiloch could convince them of his innocence.

Yiloch, how could you?
She breathed deep, fighting back tears.

How could Yiloch betray the alliance he’d only just secured? How could he betray her love and trust? She ran ascard in a caress over the ring he had sent her, feeling the power woven into it. Had he given it to her because he knew this was coming? Did he expect her to side with him and need extra protection as a result? If so, perhaps it was time to rid herself of the burden.

She reached to her hand, her fingers pausing on the ring. No, she couldn’t take it off yet. She had to give him a chance to explain. Somehow, he would make this right.

She felt the tears she had been fighting begin to stream hot down her cheeks.

“It has been a hard day,” Serivar offered, his tone gentler now.

She continued to ignore him.

“The trip will be over quickly,” he said, as though such a thing should reassure her. “We have a fast ship waiting and two of the King’s Order will be accompanying us who can use ascard to speed our passage across the Gilded Straight. We should arrive before news of the successful assassinations reaches Yiroth.”

She tried to manifest interest in his words, but her heart felt stifled and cold. She managed a soft, noncommittal sound in response and he said nothing more. Perhaps he believed that she was broken up over the loss of the king, which she truly was, but the sense of betrayal she felt toward Yiloch was as strong and somehow more devastating. Tears continued to flow as they made their way to Kilty.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

 

 

Yiloch blocked Adran’s attack and pushed him back, using ascard to add to the force of the push. Adran staggered away, sprawling on his back when he couldn’t catch himself. Yiloch was already spinning back to face Leryc, using ascard again, this time to hasten his movement. He parried Leryc’s blade and drove forward, forcing the other man to back away under a hail of swift blows. Adran was on his feet again and Yiloch caught a glimpse of him moving in for another attack. Timing his moment, he waited until Adran and Leryc had both committed to their next attacks, then he swapped himself with ascard in the air behind Leryc. Their opponent gone, the other two men’s blades collided, and Yiloch chuckled at them from where he stood, now out of harm’s way.

From the balcony overlooking the sparring circle, Auryl and her following of ladies, a couple she had brought with her and the rest from wealthy houses in Yiroth, applauded him. Their praise, something he might appreciate under different circumstances, grated at his nerves. In three weeks, he and Auryl would be married. He didn’t feel ready to wed, but it was necessary. Lyra needed the stability in order to grow strong again.

Adran and Leryc were both frowning at him with mock severity and Yiloch smiled. “Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting that?”

Leryc was rubbing his arm and grimacing, though the sparkle in his eyes was still jovial enough. “Good thing you escaped that blow, my lord,” he commented. “I only got part of it and I think it nearly broke my arm. I suspect Adran was trying to knock you into the next country with that one.”

Adran shrugged and grinned, his cheeks picking up a hint of extra color.

Yiloch laughed, forgetting the rest of his audience for a pleasant moment. “Shall we go another round?” He still had a lot of frustration to burn off.

“Of course, your highness,” Leryc replied. “What better way to spend an afternoon than to be pummeled into unconsciousness by my emperor and his best friend.”

Yiloch and Adran both laughed, as did the ladies watching from the balcony above. One of them laughed a little too loud, her cheeks flushing bright when Leryc glanced up at them. Yiloch winked at his new captain. “I think someone has an interest in you,” he suggested in a low voice.

Leryc flushed, his gaze jumping to Adran for a few telling seconds, a hint of color rising in his cheeks now. “I certainly hope not.”

They stepped apart then and moved into fighting positions, each eyeing the others for the instant of inattention that would leave them vulnerable. Yiloch rarely used ascard when practicing one on one. With more than one opponent, however, he used it liberally, despite the fatigue it caused. There was little point in having developed combat skills with ascard if he never practiced using them. Such skills needed to be automatic and flawless in actual combat. The growing fatigue also helped to drive other thoughts from his mind, though Indigo’s ring, still a cool circlet of memory pressing against his skin, undermined those efforts.

Leryc and Adran attacked in unison and Yiloch had to enhance his speed significantly to meet both attacks. As he spun to meet another attack from Adran, he felt a familiar gentle touch within him and paused, lowering his sword. Adran managed to pull his attack, but Leryc didn’t react as fast. At the last second, Yiloch hardened an ascard barrier over the skin of his arm and the practice blade shattered when it struck.

Movement from the balcony caught his attention and he looked up to see Auryl standing, her lips rounded in an O of surprise, fingers clenching the rail. Yiloch met her gaze for a moment, conflicted by the equal parts resentment and sympathy he felt whenever he looked in her eyes. The door under the balcony flew open and Ian strode into the yard, the animation and bewilderment in his face confirming what Yiloch already knew, but couldn’t quite believe.

Ian glanced up at the balcony and stepped close to Yiloch, keeping his voice low. “She’s here.”

Yiloch nodded, tossing his practice sword to Adran who managed to catch it despite the lack of warning.

“If she has the ring, she should have been able to give us far more warning than this,” Yiloch said, striding toward the door. He wanted to be angry with her for the lack of notice, it would be easier to find his composure now if he’d had time to prepare, but the charge of excitement and worry burned away any glimmer of anger. Was something wrong? Why else would she return so suddenly?

Ian fell into step beside him, his long legs matching stride easily. Adran and Leryc hastily stowed the practice swords, leaving the remains of Leryc’s sword in the ring for a servant to clean up.

“Perhaps she didn’t want to give too much warning,” Ian suggested, his tone tight with the same excitement and unease.

“Indigo?” Adran queried when he and Leryc caught up with them.

“Yes.”

“Your betrothed didn’t seem pleased with your sudden departure,” Adran remarked pointedly.

Yiloch gave him a warning look. “This business isn’t her concern,” he snapped.

“It will be soon enough.”

Yiloch clenched his jaw, biting back several bitter retorts. Adran was right, and, as usual with this subject, he hated it.

“She’s very close,” Ian commented.

Yiloch nodded. He could feel her through the link she had placed in him, which meant she wanted him to know she was coming. Given how close she felt, she had chosen not to give him much time at all to prepare. If she intended her visit as a pleasant surprise, he wouldn’t have expected any warning at all, but this last minute alert had an air of foreboding about it. It was possible she had come to take him up on his offer of a position as one of his personal adepts, though, in that case, he would have expected some prior contact. Indigo was careful, she would have sent ahead to ensure her welcome remained open.

The anxiety he felt could be the Suac’s fault considering the ominous warning the man had given him that still nagged at his thoughts. Most likely, there was no need for concern.

He glanced at Ian, not comforted by the troubled look on the young creator’s face. “Can you tell if anyone is with her?”

“I hadn’t checked yet,” he replied, his strides slowing as his eyes unfocused.

Yiloch stopped, allowing Ian to stop and put all of his attention to his ascard inquiry. They waited for several minutes before Ian nodded to himself.

“There is someone with her. I recognize the ascard signature from our visit to Caithin. It’s the headmaster of the Caithin Healers Academy, Lord Serivar. They’ve arrived at the inner wall.”

“I remember him being a pleasant fellow during the negotiations. So supportive of the alliance,” Yiloch commented with a sharp edge of sarcasm. “Ian, greet them and bring them to the east sitting room. Adran, go appease Lady Auryl before she runs to her father. Please,” he added in response to the other man’s scowl. “Leryc, you can return to your other duties. Perhaps some training would do you good.” He managed a teasing wink for the young captain.

Leryc grinned good-naturedly. “Yes, my lord.”

Adran still looked irritated, but after a moment’s hesitation, he bowed his head and strode off down the hall. Ian had already trotted off in the other direction. Yiloch went to his chambers and discarded his sweaty clothes, rinsing in the washbasin before allowing an attendant to dress him in clean clothes as appropriate as possible for a formal meeting of uncertain nature. The attendant ran a brush through his long hair while he took over fastening the cuffs of his jacket. When the reflection in the created mirror was satisfactory, he went to the east sitting room to await his surprise visitors.

For several minutes, he sat in one of the elegant chairs, considering what it would be like to see her again. Eager anticipation pulsed through him, heady enough that he had to work at focusing his thoughts on anything else. The headmaster’s presence suggested official business. That also indicated that her visit might be under orders rather than by choice. If only he could be sure of her intentions. Her touch within him revealed nothing, though he knew from experience that it could be quite expressive if she wished it to be. Leave it to Indigo to stand behind mystery. Of course, she might be as anxious and uncertain as he was, which would explain the reserved contact.

Anticipation and apprehension warred within him until Ian arrived in the doorway and bowed.

“Emperor Yiloch.” He stepped aside and bowed less deeply to the two figures behind him. “I present Lord Serivar Lithanus, Headmaster of the Caithin Healer’s Academy and honored member of the Caithin High Council, and Lady Indigo Milan.”

BOOK: Exile
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