Seas of Crimson Silk (Burning Empire Book 1) Page 3

  He was a beast of a man with skin tanned by the sun, silver loops sparkling in his ears, and head shaved so close it looked as though he couldn’t grow hair at all. Muscles bulged from every part of his body, but he moved with surprisingly light feet. Every person in the room had gasped when he placed his life in the boy king’s hands.

  It took a strong man to put himself in a situation where he might die. It took a stronger man to give that power to a child.

  Even then, Nadir had known this man was worthy of being a captain. Despite his advisors’ complaints, he had offered the role to Raheem in that moment. Not once had he ever regretted his decision.

  Nadir sighed and pushed away from the column. “What do they want now?”

  “I suspect it has something to do with the raid you ordered.”

  “How did they find out about that so soon?”

  Raheem shrugged a large shoulder. “Did you mention anything to your wife?”

  He had forgotten about his wife. Nadir sighed and rubbed a hand against his shoulder. “I might have mentioned something while in her presence.”

  “Then that’s how they know.”

  “A conversation between a man and his wife should remain private,” he grumbled.

  “But she’s not just your wife.” A bright flash of a grin split the darkness in two. “She’s also your most esteemed advisor, and the guardian of Bymere.”

  Titles and semantics. His entire life was based upon them.

  Rolling the tight muscles in his shoulders, Nadir pushed past his most trusted friend and stalked down the halls of the palace. He had words for his wife. Words for his advisors.

  Hell, if he could have screamed at the gods themselves he would have. This was supposed to be a quiet night of revelries as he rejoiced in the bloodshed of his most hated enemies. Why couldn’t they all let him be?

  The flashing of burning torches caused an ache to bloom behind his eyes. Great swaths of gold fabric billowed from the windows as the winds stirred to life. Moonlight chased the air, spearing light across the endless halls and reminding him that no matter how much wealth he had, Nadir was still very much alone.

  Every step set fire to the simmering anger in his breast. She had told them all about the raid? She dared to tell others something said in private. In his own bedchamber! Was there no sacred place left?

  He pressed a palm against the door to his advisors’ hall and shoved so hard it slammed against the wall.

  Six people jumped, spinning on their heels to stare at him with wide eyes. They knew to be worried when the sultan grew angry, and in this moment, he was furious.

  “You dare to summon me?” he growled, stalking towards the center table. “In the middle of the night, my advisors dare to summon me?”

  His wife stepped forward, the golden hoop in her nose gleaming. “Nadir—”

  “Sultan,” he snarled. “In this room, I am sultan. You overstep your bounds, wife.”

  The color drained from her cheeks. Perhaps now she understood his anger, his embarrassment. He knew it was his wife who had bandied his secrets so freely.

  Nadir wished he could say she had no right, but she did. This was the punishment he must bear for marrying a woman who was also an advisor. For falling slave to the harpy who had seduced a young king and become the most powerful woman in the kingdom.

  It was a pity he still loved her.

  Another of his advisors stepped forward, an aged man with a trim white beard and a frown. Black linen stretched over his broad shoulders, gold embroidery emphasizing the latent power his age hid. Abdul liked for others to think him aged. Nadir knew better.

  If there was anyone in the kingdom who could battle against Raheem and Nadir, Abdul was the only one who could put up a fair fight. He had started countless battles, won them, then brought their severed heads home as trophies.

  Nadir always watched his back when Abdul was in the room.

  “The raid upon Wildewyn was not something we spoke of, Sultan,” Abdul began, his voice calm and serene. “Perhaps, it might have been better to consult with us before wasting our resources.”

  “Wasting? I was unaware it was a waste when attacking the neighboring kingdom that murdered my brother.”

  Nadir’s hands were shaking, the dream too close to the surface, making it difficult to think. Stalking toward the table, he brushed aside Abdul and shifted a small figurine forward on the table, where a map of their world was painted.

  He jabbed at the vellum. “This was the last remaining stronghold for Wildewyn. All others already have spies, and now we have an entire force of trained assassins at the ready. At my order, we can take the entire kingdom.”

  Saafiya cleared her throat. “They’re all dead, Sultan.”

  He chuckled. “The Earthen folk? Of course they are. That was the point, wife.”

  “No, husband. The assassins you sent to Wildewyn. They’re all dead except for one man who returned. He told us a tale before he breathed his last.”

  “Dead?” Nadir shook his head. “No, that’s impossible.”

  She reached out and stroked a hand down his arm, trying to calm him down. “The survivor spoke of impossible things. We think it likely the Earthen folk poisoned him, like your brother.”

  His head was reeling. He couldn’t hear her words over the ringing in his ears, couldn’t see past the haze of red obscuring his vision. “How? How did they die?”

  The advisors hesitated a moment before Abdul responded. “The soldier claimed that women wearing the shape of animals ripped them apart.”

  “Women?” he scoffed.

  “He said they were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. Like angels falling from the sky and growing talons that ripped out his brethren’s eyes. He only returned, because one woman allowed him to.” Abdul cleared his throat. “He said she was made of iron, and that she was pale as a ghost.”

  “Impossible.” Nadir shook his head. “Magic no longer exists here. We’ve destroyed every lingering bit.”

  “Not all of it.” Saafiya pointed to a small corner of the table, indicating a small portion of Bymere they all liked to pretend did not exist. “There are some who still survive.”

  “I will not speak of them.”

  “Not even now? If Wildewyn has creatures such as that—”

  “Silence.” His voice boomed in the Council Room. “I’ll hear no more from you.”

  Abdul trailed his fingers along the edge of the table and made his way towards Nadir. “There is much we can do to prepare, but I fear you have broken any alliance we may have made with Wildewyn.”

  “Why would we ever want to ally ourselves with the people who killed your king?”

  Saafiya reached for him again. “If they have beasts who can turn themselves into creatures of legend, then we must consider that they are a dangerous enemy best held close.”

  Her perfume clouded his mind. The scent of clementines and apricots reminded him of days when he hadn’t worried about bloodshed and violence. They had spent his first few years as sultan wrapped in each other's arms. She knew how to twist him around her beautiful fingers far easier than she should.

  Nadir sighed. “How would you propose to do that?”

  It was not his wife who responded, but Abdul. “We offer them peace and in return, they give us their greatest treasure.”

  “What treasure do I not already have?”

  “A woman made of iron, who controls their armies of beasts.” Abdul picked up a small female piece from the map, pressed his thumb against her head, and snapped it off. “Cut the head off the snake, but save her venom for later.”

  Something felt wrong about the plan, but he couldn’t think straight. Smoke filled the Council Room, cloying and making his mind whirl. Was it the right choice? If his advisors said so, then it had to be. He wouldn’t know what to do without their esteemed advice.

  Nadir shook his head but relented. “Reach out to the Wildewyn king. See what you can do.”

  Ab
dul bowed low. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  His advisors shared a look as they left the Council Room. Perhaps, they thought he wouldn’t catch the sly glance, but they never gave him enough credit. Their fault was thinking that Nadir didn’t understand they were controlling him. In reality, he just didn’t care.

  He placed his hands on either side of the table and stared down at the map of his homeland.

  Nadir had never wanted to be sultan. This land deserved someone better. It deserved his brother, a man who had devoted his entire education to knowing exactly what Bymere needed to prosper.

  Under Nadir’s rule, the cities floundered. They feared him rather than loved him. When he tried to bolster their confidence, they ran. When he tried to convince the traders to lower their prices, the kingdom assumed the royal coffers ran low. Repeatedly, he failed as a sultan.

  Hakim would not have failed his kingdom.

  “Sultan?” Raheem murmured from the shadows. “What plagues your thoughts?”

  “Have you heard of these beastly women?” he asked. “Are the rumors true?”

  “There is always merit in stories.”

  “But have you heard of them?”

  Raheem hesitated and then spoke the words Nadir needed to hear. “I have heard of them, but they are little more than myth. When I was last in Wildewyn, a trader told me a story. He said he had gone to the castle Greenmire and was asked to bring jewels to secret rooms beneath the castle. He said the king kept the most stunning creatures he’d ever seen locked away as if they were animals. But they seemed happy, and they loved his gifts.”

  “That doesn’t reek of magic to me.”

  “Women turning into animals? What other explanation is there?”

  Nadir did not have an answer for his friend, but his mind grew troubled. He lifted a hand and waved away the captain of his guard.

  While the rest of the palace slept, Nadir stared at the map until the lines moved on their own. They formed patterns he couldn’t recognize as if someone was reaching out to him from afar.

  What would one of these beast women say to him? Would they fear him? Unlikely, for what did a beast have to fear from a man?

  And then there was their leader. A woman? Unusual, but not unexpected. Wildewyn was progressive in their practices. He couldn’t say it surprised him that their magic came from the fairer sex.

  He clenched his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles against the table until the grooved lines remained engraved on his flesh.

  Nadir vowed to discover the truth. Perhaps meeting the Sultan of Bymere would strike fear into the heart of this mythical iron woman.

  Sigrid

  “Have you heard?” Camilla asked, her voice echoing in the quiet chamber.

  “I’ve heard many things today.”

  “Sigrid.”

  “I’m not a mind reader, Camilla. You must be more specific.”

  Her sister let out a long-suffering sigh. She had little patience, even in times like these.

  Sigrid knelt on a small cushion deep beneath Greenmire castle, her gold dragon mask in her lap. She was already dressed for battle as many of the Beastkin were. A metal corset covered her entire torso, hammered edges blending into the heavy brocade of her midnight gown. Dark beading embellished the lines of her hips and accentuated her hourglass form.

  They sat within a spider web of tunnels, each extending into the heart of the earth itself, so deep that all sound ceased to exist. It was here Sigrid found her greatest peace.

  At least, until her sister found her.

  Before them was a small statue, barely noticeable nestled in the stone wall. The first matriarch had carved a dragon and woman intertwined. They remained here for any who lost their way, in body or mind. Sigrid wasn’t certain which one she had lost.

  “The councilmen have summoned representatives from Bymere to explain the attack.”

  Sigrid’s fingers curled around the edge of her mask. The metal bit into her fingers with the sharp edge of frustration and anger. “Why?”

  “Politics. They wish to stop the war, which we all know won’t happen, but that’s not the exciting part! You’ll never guess who is coming with the Bymerian advisors.”

  “Camilla, I’ve little patience for this.”

  “The sultan!”

  Sigrid whipped around to stare at her friend, the mask tumbling from her lap to land on the ground with a dull thud.

  “What did you say?”

  Camilla’s dark eyes flashed with excitement, but her expression remained hidden beneath her silver owl mask. “The entire sultanate, including the sultan himself is coming to our doorstep, sister.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Perhaps, he truly desires to end this war.”

  “He started it,” Sigrid spat. “He desires the bloodshed, and will stop at nothing to avenge his brother’s death.”

  Camilla’s excited expression fell.

  Her sister had always hoped that the war would end. She saw beauty and kindness even in the darkest times. And while Sigrid admired that trait, she also knew how damaging it could be. There was no light in war.

  “No one proved him wrong,” Camilla murmured. “The poison that killed his brother was derived from a plant native to Wildewyn.”

  “Don’t you think someone would have come forward by now? They would be a legend in Wildewyn. The hero who tried to end the villainous line of Bymerian kings. Why wouldn’t they tell any of us what they had done?” She shook her head. “The assassin wasn’t from Wildewyn.”

  “You think it was his own people?”

  “I think it might have been one of ours who now lives there. It might be someone close to him or his brother. It could be anyone, but it wasn’t one of the Earthen folk. They wouldn’t have taken such a grave risk.”

  Wildewyn was not known for adventurous people. They liked to stay in their routines. Rise in the morning, tend the fields and flock, then return home to their safe beds where they could relax. They were predictable folk who enjoyed being predictable.

  They were not murderous by nature. She had yet to meet any Earthen folk who would not have been wracked by guilt and then come forward.

  The Beastkin were another story. Her own people could murder without guilt as their animals took over in times of blood and anger. But she would know if one of her sisters had killed the king. They shared even their deepest thoughts with Sigrid.

  Camilla waved a hand in front of Sigrid’s face. “Enough contemplating. Let’s go and see the sultan!”

  “When is he arriving?”

  “Right now. That’s why I’m here. I thought you wouldn’t want to miss the spectacle of the century. Do you think he’ll ride in on an elephant?”

  “I don’t think they could get an elephant through the mountains.”

  “It’s happened before.” Camilla grasped Sigrid’s elbow and tugged her to standing. “They rode elephants in the first war between Wildewyn and Bymere.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The murals depict giant beasts with tusks larger than a man. I would very much like to see them in my lifetime.”

  So would Sigrid. Though she was uncomfortable in the presence of humans, she found the company of beasts much easier. She would like to meet the animals that made even the strongest of men tremble.

  She was jealous of them in a way. They were free to be who they were, without question. She hid behind a mask for most of her life, because the Council refused to allow her freedom where others might see.

  What would people think if they saw a dragon in the flesh? They would run, then riot, then hide their families, and the entire kingdom would fall into ruin. Sigrid must keep her true nature hidden, but threaten the possibilities with her mask. They would only allow her freedom if the war became so dangerous that they must beg the dragon to save them.

  A small part of her soul hungered for war, if only for a few moments of freedom.

  Sigrid stooped, lifted her mask, an
d fastened it back to her face. Heat burned in the back of her eyes as the dragon rebelled for a moment before the cold metal pressed against her skin.

  With the weight of her self-imposed prison settling on her shoulders, she followed her sister out of the winding tunnels. They slid along the intricately carved white marble walls of Greenmire Castle, and up into one of the towers that always made her dizzy.

  “Quickly!” Camilla called out. “If you don’t hurry, we will miss him.”

  “We won't miss him,” she grumbled. “They'll drag us in front of him like prized pets.”

  She despised the ritual but knew the Council would insist upon it. Sigrid would stand in front of important figures, allowing them to look her and talk as if she wasn’t in the room. Then one of her sisters would transform.

  Dignitaries wanted to see something pretty. A peacock, a sparrow, a lithe cat who twined between their legs. They didn’t want to be frightened. They wanted a show.

  Sigrid reached the top of the tower and let the wind shove at her back. She tilted her head, enjoying the cold bite of Wildewyn wind.

  “Look,” Camilla pointed off into the distance. “See, I told you he was coming.”

  Sigrid narrowed her gaze and frowned. He didn’t ride an elephant as her sister had so desired to see, but still, it was hard to miss him.

  He rode ahead of his army, a vibrant spot of scarlet against the waving green tops of trees. His horse was a brilliant white and nearly blinded her as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds to illuminate his journey. Arrogance played across his shoulders, both broad and too straight.

  He was posturing, she realized. Like a male peacock trying to impress a mate, he had puffed his entire body out until he looked ridiculous.

  What looked to be the entire kingdom trailed after him. Countless armored men, horses, and square boxes carried by slaves. Were there people inside those flimsy things?

  She arched a brow. “Well, that’s not a sight you see every day.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Camilla sighed.