Excerpt: The Emperor's Gift

Prologue: Journey into Ylva

The chill air coming down from the mountain teased at the riders’ faces, pinkening cheeks and noses and causing a few to curse and rub their hands together for warmth. The imperial caravan boasted fifty mounted guards positioned to the fore, rear, and sides of the three carriages they protected.

Not, the guards thought, that all three needed real protecting. The front and middle carriages, of course, were to be treated with care and defended with their lives. In the first carriage rode Ambassador Ricart Nik’Baldrik and his entourage; the ambassador was the emperor’s third son by his first wife and a venerated war hero. He was rumored to be terrifying with the sword and a brilliant military tactician; though the imperial guardsmen may have wondered why he had been assigned a diplomatic post, they knew better than to ask.

In the second carriage rode the real treasure they guarded, however—the beautiful Princess Zandra Nik’Alaric, eldest daughter of the crown prince. It was said that the emperor so doted on his first granddaughter that he had allowed her the choice of her husband. Fortunately, she had made an appropriate choice; rumor had it that the princess and the crown prince of Ylva had formed a love match when the prince had been fostered at the imperial court one year before. But the guards didn’t dwell on that much; the imperial court was always full of intrigues and gossip. The princess rode with her ladies-in-waiting, and the guards had seen that the ladies were mere shades less beautiful than the princess herself. If they rode a little closer to the second carriage than they did the other two, neither the princess nor their captain remarked on it.

The guards tended to give the last carriage as wide a berth as they could without breaking formation. They were grateful that its two occupants spoke to each other in murmurs and never conversed with them; they did not know what they would have to say to either one. They were part of the princess’s dowry, given a year early while the princess was getting to know her knew home. The rest of the dowry would come with Crown Prince Alaric when he would journey across the Javin Mountains to witness his daughter’s marriage to the crown prince of the kingdom of Ylva. Many of the guards wished that the emperor had waited until then to give all his granddaughter's dowry to the Ylvan royal family. Then they would not have had the regrettable duty of having to guard (and guard against) the two individuals who sat in the third carriage.

* * * * *

Alixia stared across the short distance of the carriage at her brother. His face showed no emotion, but that hardly surprised her; of the two of them, he had always been the better at hiding what he was feeling. Perhaps because he always kept his thoughts to himself. But then again, they both did. Darius just never had to work as hard at it as she did. She thought it might be a consequence of his age; he was, after all, three years her senior. She hoped so; that would mean she might develop as good a mask as his. She wondered if that would change when they were well-ensconced in Ylva.

Alixia hoped that they would be assigned to the princess’s guard duty; for some reason, the princess had taken them under her wing from the beginning of the trip. Alixia knew better than to hope that she would have some say on her duties, but she nevertheless hoped that things would go as she wanted them to. The princess had been exceedingly pleasant to them, and she had made a point of including her in meals and even some conversing with them, though Alixia could tell that the ambassador did not approve. That was no surprise, however. Alixia wondered if the princess would continue to be cordial with them when they arrived in Ylva.

She frowned. She wasn’t sure exactly what would happen when they reached Ylva. General Finton had told them that they were to be given to the kingdom of Ylva as part of the princess’s betrothal contract with the Pheric, the crown prince of Ylva. She had been surprised since none of their cultural classes on Ylva had mentioned that the kingdom had ever before employed assassins. When she had put the question to Darius when they had first set out from the capital, some two weeks past, he had merely said that just because Ylva had never had assassins before, it did not mean that its king did not want them. It was, she thought, a rational supposition. Still, she found it odd. And having never left the constraints of the military before, she couldn’t help but continue wonder what life would be like for the both of them. She said as much.

“It will be what it will be,” Darius said inexplicably. “If you wondered less and waited more patiently, you would be a much better soldier, and I would enjoy our journey more.”

Not that it looked as if he was particularly detesting or enjoying their travels, though neither she nor Darius had ever had assignments so far west before. She traced the edge of the wrist sheath for her throwing daggers with a finger; it was a thoughtful gesture, and one her brother recognized. He unwound enough to give a sigh of mock irritation.

“Alix, if it makes you feel better, it is in the contract that while we are to devote our services to Ylva for the rest of our lives, we at least answer directly to the kings or princes of Ylva and cannot be ordered to act against the empire.”

She smiled at him. “I know that, Dare, and I know that makes you feel better. I just wondered if perhaps they might let us buy ourselves out when we have served long enough and proven ourselves.”

Darius thought, as he had many times in the past, that his sister should never have been an assassin, for all her skill at the death arts. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I bought myself out,” he said, wondering why he even bothered making the argument he’d had with her for years and years, once she’d been old enough to stop training long enough to wonder why she was training at all. “I don’t think you would find life to your expectations if you bought yourself out, either.”

“You may be right,” was all she said. Darius hoped that she would be satisfied with that for the remaining week that they had to travel. He didn’t much care what would happen when they reached Ylva; he was just glad that they had been assigned together so he could keep an eye on her. He watched her rub her wrist sheath and made sure that neither the affection nor the frustration he felt showed on his face. No, Alix should never have been made an assassin.

* * * * *

It was nearly sundown a week later when the entourage crossed the border between the Azarian Empire and the kingdom of Ylva and arrived at the town of Karal, at the base of the Javin Foothills. They were met by Ambassador Phedra Nik’Rordin, who had, in preparation for their arrival, reserved all the rooms of the town’s only inn.
Lady Phedra, a cousin to the emperor, had been the Azarian ambassador to Ylva for over thirty years, and she was mostly relieved to be meeting Prince Ricart, who would be taking over her post, though she didn’t know yet that she wanted to return to Azaria to live out her retirement being waited on in Valere. She certainly didn’t envy Ricart his debut into the Ylvan high court; she doubted her cousin could have sent his third son off to this post with any more pomp and circumstance than he had. A royal betrothal, indeed! And the bride was the apple of her cousin’s eye and beautiful enough to pull the moon down, if rumors were to be believed. And Lady Phedra made a policy of believing things when she saw them.

So she found herself looking forward to making her young cousins’ acquaintance with a great amount of amusement and curiosity.

She watched avidly from the doorway of the inn as the three carriages came to a halt and the guardsmen—she thought fifty was a bit excessive, but Baldrik had never been one to do things in halves, so she wasn’t much surprised—fell into position. The captain of the guard opened door of the first carriage, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out with as much grace as she was sure a full day’s travel would permit.

He was dark-haired, which came as no surprise since all of her family was either blessed or cursed by the fair skin and dark hair some long-forgotten ancestor had so strongly bestowed upon them. But his tan was a little startling, though she knew he had been in the military before accepting a diplomatic position. She herself had never managed to tan beyond a pale gold, even the summer she had spent overseeing the construction of the Azarian embassy, back when she had first come to Ylva.

Ricart straightened, then turned and walked with a cadence that bespoke his years in the army to the second carriage. The captain had already opened the door, so Ricart had only to hold out an arm for the princess. Lady Phedra watched as a small gloved hand took the big man’s arm, then the princess emerged from the carriage.

Her black hair shone with flecks of red in the last lengthening rays of sunlight, and Lady Phedra wondered that she had appeared without a veil. Males of the Azarian imperial family were ever possessive—they liked to say protective, but most of their females knew the truth of it—of the princesses and ladies, and she knew her cousin Baldrik was among the worst of them. When Ricart, frowning, leaned down to murmur a comment into his young niece’s ear and she stuck her tongue at him, her blue eyes mischievous, Lady Phedra almost laughed aloud. The barely-seventeen-year-old princess was ridiculously beautiful and obviously strong-minded. Phedra didn’t pity Ricart at all for his role of running herd over a stubborn princess; she was just glad her cousin knew she was too old to be doing it herself.

Yes, Lady Phedra thought with amusement, this is the perfect time to retire. And I do believe I’ll stay on a bit longer to watch the uproar that’s sure to happen once little Zandra starts turning things topsy-turvy.

Then the princess did something that surprised the old ambassador thoroughly. Zandra released her uncle’s arm and positively skipped toward the third carriage. The captain of the guard had not opened the door to this one, and knowing who was in it, Phedra was not surprised. The soldiers belonging to the Azarian Order of Shadow Blades were the stuff of bogeyman tales, and they were feared by even the generals who commanded them. And the third carriage held not one but two of them, if her spies were to be believed. (Phedra always kept spies in both the courts she served; her cousin was too fond of crafting intrigue, and the Ylvan king was too fond of crafting surprises, and together, they kept her on her toes. She thought Baldrik must have sent them to guard his son and granddaughter; she wondered whether Gerian would accept the presence of a pair of Shadow Blades at his court.)

The princess stopped not a yard from the carriage, and Phedra wondered at her foolhardiness, for Zandra called out, “Well, are you coming in, or what? We’re not supposed to be waiting on you, you know.” Phedra was shocked. She hadn’t imagined that the assassins would be coming in with them. She had steeled herself for the prospect of sleeping in the same inn as them, but she had not expected to meet them. She watched Ricart’s indulgent frown turn severe, and she wondered in a panic exactly how one was to officially greet a pair of the scariest people on either side of the Javins.

Phedra thought it might be best to greet the prince and princess while the assassins had not yet exited their carriage, so she stepped forward at the same time that the third carriage’s door swung open. And was shocked to see a boy with the face and coloring of her cousin the emperor step out right before a girl a few years his junior who looked to be the princess’s younger sister.

Gods above! Phedra thought, struggling not to gape. My cousin has sent me not one grandchild, but three! And two of them fledged in the military’s nightmare order! She was suddenly very, very glad to be retiring.