“They’re not the creatures we know. None of them look the same,” the old man said, face paling. His hands trembled with age as he gesticulated. “Our sentries on the road said they battled a monstrous one. A mottled combination of many different animals put together. And it was . . . not easy to kill, Your Grace. The rumors are making people nervous. I, myself, have never heard of anything quite like this. More seem to be appearing all the time. Some of them appear, uh, slightly human—”
“Sounds like Nevandian nonsense to me,” Silex said, shaking his head. “It’s probably highwaymen dressed up in silly outfits. Nevandians will do anything to survive, including submitting themselves to such embarrassing theatrics.”
“Kill them,” Rayghast stated. “It doesn’t matter what they are. Beasts or Nevandians, dispose of them. Don’t bring this matter up again.”
“My King, these creatures . . . they sound magical, do they not?” Rhia asked, her tone steely. “More abominations and devils that must be destroyed. Lord Cronhold, please tell our soldiers to be cautious. If they are indeed magical creatures, they must be exterminated. Don’t let any survive.”
Rhia didn’t often voice opinions, especially to councilmen in Rayghast’s presence, but this was a subject she never hesitated to speak on. His wife detested magic.
If she knew what lurked in the room with her now.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Cronhold said, bowing the best he could with rickety limbs.
Rhia put a hand on his bony arm. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Lord Cronhold.”
The old man flashed his queen a gap-toothed smile. He never looked at Rayghast that way.
Simpering old fool.
“Lord Silex, allow me to, uh, take those chests off your hands. If you’ll follow me, please.”
Cronhold hobbled off down the hallway; the boy at his side barely able to hold him up. Silex followed, chin in the air, with his retainers.
Whispered voices caught Rayghast’s attention. His head snapped towards the sound down the hallway. Two servant girls stood tittering to each other, staring at Rayghast. The second they noticed his attention, they squawked and dashed away, back to work.
He was used to stares and whispers, but usually people were more secretive than that. Those servants were bold, indeed.
Rayghast turned to his wife.
“Come.”
He stalked to his private office near the council chamber. He hardly heard the gentle scuff of his young wife’s slippers on the stone floor. Rayghast prowled over to his desk and hastily scratched out a message. He handed the paper, covered in his bloody fingerprints, to Rhia.
“Send this to your father.”
The Jade Emperor of Varana, a puppet in Rayghast’s pocket. After Tacorn’s attack on Chiojan five years ago, Emperor Suli had gifted his daughter to Rayghast in order to curry favor. But he’d been pushing back recently, ignoring Rayghast’s letters about establishing Varanese soldiers in Nevandia. Perhaps he wouldn’t ignore correspondence from his own daughter.
Rhia stared at the letter, the red stains, dark eyes tearing across the page.
“You ask him to ready his troops,” she stated. “Have you decided to strike Nevandia? Is it finally time?”
Rayghast gazed out the window, across the ancient gray-stone city of Dul Tanen and the flourishing moor beyond.
“This war must end. I’m tired of waiting,” he said, squinting his eyes as if he could see the city of Kellesar in the distance, the throne of Nevandia in its halls. It was nearly his. Nevandia had once been part of Tacorn, and Rayghast intended to be the king to finally reunite the two kingdoms. He scratched the rough, graying beard at his chin. “We’ll rally our troops, prepare for battle, and take down Kellesar, with or without its prince.”
Rhia folded up the letter with a nod. “I look forward to the day. What do you require me to add in this request to my father, Husband?”
“Tell him to send your sister.”
Rhia froze. Her face, already as pale as snow, grew whiter, still. “Eriu? You want her to come here now?”
“She’s to be wed. I want her at court immediately so we can get the matter settled.”
“Whom will she be marrying?”
“She’ll be strengthening ties between Tacorn and Varana. That’s all you need to know.”
“But why Eriu? Couldn’t we arrange a match between nobles? I have a cousin—”
“I’d use my own child if I had one,” Rayghast growled at her. “But since you’ve so far been unable to produce an heir, your sister will act as surrogate.”
He would never admit it, but Rhia was not at fault for the lack of a royal heir. Thanks to a wicked old faerie crone, Rayghast had been cursed. He would never sire children. His previous three wives had all died during pregnancy, and while Rhia continued to have her monthly bleeding, the same would eventually happen to her. Rayghast was doomed to go through wives as a peasant might wear out a pair of shoes. All the more reason to conquer Nevandia now. Rayghast had little time to secure his legacy.
“And remind your father that if he doesn’t follow through with his end of the deal, the first stop on my conquest will be Varana instead of Nevandia. Tell him to remember Chiojan.”
Rhia swallowed, then bowed low. The letter in her hand trembled.
“As you wish.” Her gaze stalled on an unfolded letter upon Rayghast’s desk. “What is that, Your Grace?”
The letter was written in a foreign language, consisting of sharp lines and circles, a kind of code Rayghast was unable to crack. Everyone on Astye spoke and wrote in the common tongue, as had been established for two hundred years.
“It was intercepted on its way somewhere east of Dul Tanen. We’ve discovered dozens of these within the past few weeks.”
He didn’t want to admit that he had no idea what the letters said and who their recipients were, but Rayghast guessed these notes were intended for Nevandia or Varana, and might even have something to do with Emperor Suli’s sudden silence.
Rhia took the letter from the desk and examined it. “I’ve never seen such writing before. Is this, perchance, a Nevandian sabotage tactic?”
Rayghast snatched the letter from her fingers. “Are you suddenly a linguistics expert?”
