Mistress of War: Book 2 (EBOOK)

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ONE

Kaeto

LOATHE AS I WAS to admit it, there was something dangerously addictive about soaring through the clouds on dragonback.

My early experiences on the back of the fearsome amethyst-colored beast that answered to a slip of a barbarian girl had been… less than ideal. And certainly, I had no wish to be fleeing my homeland in ignominious defeat as my snake of a brother coiled on my throne in the Alyrion capital of Amarius.

Here and now, however, I had an armful of the first woman who’d ever truly stirred me. I had the wind in my face, cold but clarifying. And, perhaps most importantly, I had a plan more realistic than hurling myself at Bruccias’ mercenary forces and hoping for the best.

King Rathanii of Utrea commanded the largest force of battle dragons in the world. While such a title no longer held quite the same prestige as it had decades ago, when the beasts were plentiful, it was still no small claim. If Utrea supported me against my treacherous brother, Bruccias would be hard pressed to maintain his grip on power.

I had visited the Utrean capital of Safaad as a boy at my father’s side, before his failing health had limited his travels. It had been many years since I’d seen the slender towers and beaten metal domes of the city built into the living rock of a mountainside—and never from the air. Even in the distance, it was unmistakable.

“Escorts coming in!” Darra shouted, the words reaching me through the whistle of wind whipping past my ears.
Unsure what that could mean in the present context, I craned around, searching for answers with watering eyes. And… ah. Of course.

Approaching from the south, several Utrean dragons in a variety of jewel-tone colors cut through the air, approaching us fast. As they grew nearer, I began to make out the dragonriders clinging low to their mounts’ backs.

I could do nothing but take my cue from Darra, who seemed unconcerned. One assumed that if an airborne war of flames was imminent, I would have felt her tense in my arms. The fact that she made no move toward evasive action must mean that this interception was expected.

While it’s likely that they would disavow me if asked, I do, in fact, have connections to Utrea’s ruling family, Darra had said, while trying to convince me to flee to King Rathanii’s territory. The nature and depth of those ties remained to be seen, but it made sense that Utrea would not allow strange dragons to approach its capital city without a response.

“It’s all right!” Darra called. “They’ll guide us down to the palace weyr!”

I cast a glance to our left. Aelio and the injured Eburosi priest Valeph clung to the back of the huge copper-colored dragon with a missing front leg. Beyond them, the warrior woman Orlene rode the smaller white dragon, her red hair streaming behind her, half-free of its customary braids. Aelio met my gaze, confirming all was well as the six escorts surrounded us—four arrayed around us in a diamond pattern, with a fifth flying above us, and a sixth flying below.

In that way, we approached the shining city in the rocks. Safaad grew larger and larger, its true scale becoming evident the closer we got. It was an ancient, winding labyrinth of a place, built to follow the contours of the mountain it clung to, rather than the whims of some long-ago architect.

As the dragons banked for the final approach, they straggled into single file so as not to land on top of each other. The necessity grew even clearer when it became obvious where we would be landing. Rather than an open training field like the one we’d used in the Alyrion river port of Heleva, the leader of our escorts disappeared into a gap that had, at first, appeared to be a shadowed part of the mountainside… but which was, in fact, the opening of a massive cave.

I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip around Darra’s waist as her dragon deftly swooped past the cave entrance and flapped hard to slow itself. My first experience with landing on dragonback had not been pleasant either, to put it mildly. This time, I was somewhat more prepared for the jarring double thump of the beast’s hind legs hitting the packed earth floor, followed almost immediately by its front legs.

As it turned out, landing was made somewhat smoother when the dragon in question hadn’t been instructed to shake you off its back immediately afterward.

The sudden cessation of movement after hours of buffeting wind was disorientating. Darra and Orlene, who seemed not to suffer from the onset of vertigo, both made to dismount. I released my grip around Darra’s petite waist as she slung a leg over the dragon’s spiny back and slid down. Like me, Aelio and Valeph appeared less inclined to immediately leap to the ground.

Although, in their case, that might have had more to do with difficulty standing upright under their own power than concern about our reception.

Several armed guards had already poured into the huge cavern, and while they weren’t currently aiming weapons at us, the threat was certainly there. Darra and Orlene remained supremely unconcerned as they approached a man who appeared to be in charge. It was that which convinced me to dismount, taking care not to snag any clothing—or body parts—on the vicious spikes jutting from the dragon’s back.

“… and we’ll need an audience with the king and queen as soon as it can be arranged,” Darra was saying. “We have news of vital importance. Orlene, can you stay here with the dragons?”

“Sure,” Orlene replied. “Particularly if it gets me out of having to play court politics.”

The man Darra had been speaking to dipped his head in a shallow bow that looked suspiciously obsequious for someone dealing with a random Eburosi maiden, and left after a few low words of agreement.

Darra turned to me, wearing that faintly wary expression she’d been prone to displaying ever since the night we’d shared in the barracks in Heleva. I put memories of that night, and the questionable judgment that had come along with it, out of my mind in favor of practicality.

“Well?” I asked. “I assume we’re not to be immediately escorted to the dungeons, then?”

Her lips twitched—irritation or amusement, I wasn’t certain which.

“They’ll be bringing a physic and some attendants to help Val and Aelio to the infirmary,” she said. “Orlene will stay here with the dragons, while you and I take a little trip to the palace to visit my aunt.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Your aunt?”

“Yes. My aunt.” She looked oddly resigned as she continued, “You may know her better as Queen Frella, King Rathanii’s consort.”

I quickly schooled my expression into neutrality. “Ah. Well, I suppose that explains much. ‘Connections to Utrea’s ruling family,’ indeed.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “As you can imagine, I’m putting them in something of an uncomfortable situation with my actions.”

“Your actions?” I swallowed a snort. “Which ones? Spying in the Amarian palace, kidnapping the Alyrion emperor, or setting fire to an army outside a foreign port city?”

She scowled up at me. “Bringing you here, mostly.”

As enjoyable as it was to bait her, I was well aware of the truth of what she was saying. And, had there been any other feasible alternatives, I would have preferred them to throwing myself on a rival ruler’s mercy.

King Rathanii—then a prince—had already been exiled in disgrace when I’d visited Utrea with my father as a child. All of our dealings since my ascent to the throne had taken place through intermediaries. He was nearly two decades my senior in age; known as a fair but canny ruler, not prone to compromise.

The idea that I would have to confront him as a penniless supplicant, possessing little more than the clothes I stood up in, made something unpleasant twist in my gut.
Darra must have seen a hint of this in my bearing, because she dredged up a tart smile for me.

“Don’t look so glum,” she said. “Aunt Frella has a soft spot for me. And Uncle Rayth has probably forgotten by now about the time Xael and I accidentally burned down half of the royal orchards when I was sixteen.”

“Wonderful,” I said.

* * *

As it turned out, we weren’t left waiting long. In fact, we were whisked away to the royal apartments without even being given a chance to change out of our stained traveling clothes and into court clothing.

Not that either of us possessed any court-appropriate clothing to change into.

Aelio had protested vigorously at being hauled away for medical care. I had insisted, though. Unless the King of Utrea harbored unexpected resentment at the long-ago loss of his orchard, I was safer here in his palace, in the company of his niece, than I had been since leaving for Heleva with my heavily armed imperial retinue. Had it been mere weeks ago?

It felt like an age.

Ignoring the nagging aches and pains of my various injuries, I forced my spine straight and my shoulders back as we were escorted into an informal receiving room furnished with fine fabrics and deftly wrought furniture. Habit had me scanning the room for threats, but aside from a pair of soldiers stationed outside the double doors, the royal party appeared to be unguarded.

Four people awaited us—three men and a woman. The queen, a short and curvaceous person with spun-gold hair and laugh lines around her eyes, came forward immediately and enveloped Darra in an embrace, without even a hint of formality.

“It’s so good to see you, Darra!” she said in lightly accented Utrean. “Good, but unexpected. Are you and your companions well?” Eyes the color of the sky moved to me, radiating curiosity. “Speaking of which…”

“Yes, about that,” Darra replied. “I’ll get to my companion’s story in just a moment. Let me say hello first.”

The three men in the room had also fixed their gazes on me. The craggy-faced man with dark hair going gray at the temples was quite obviously Rathanii, flanked as he was by the other two. One, a hulking, dark-skinned warrior, tore his attention away in favor of catching Darra in his huge arms as she flung herself at him.

“Heya, pipsqueak,” he rumbled, and I raised an eyebrow, filing the nickname away for possible future use during an argument.

“Heya, Eldris,” Darra murmured. “Keeping the others in line, I hope?”

“As much as I ever do,” he said, before letting her go.

The third man had foregone the happy reunion in favor of keeping his sharp gray eyes fixed on me. Aristede of Utrea was King Rathanii’s foremost diplomat, and his appearance was memorable. At perhaps forty years of age, his long, straight hair was beginning to show some gray, but a pure white streak swept back from the left side of his forehead. His patrician nose proclaimed Alyrion blood in his ancestry, despite his loyalty to his present monarch.

I had found him, in our previous dealings, to be silver-tongued and occasionally too clever for his own good.

“Forgive me,” he said. “As delightful as it is to see you again, Darra… perhaps you’d care to explain why you’ve brought the supposedly deceased emperor of Alyrios with you on your visit? No disrespect intended, Your Imperial Majesty,” he added quickly, lowering himself into a graceful bow.

The king, the queen, and the massive Kulawi warrior all froze in place.

“You what, now?” said the dark-skinned man, who was clearly not as schooled in court politics as his slender companion.

I stepped forward, even as Darra parted from her family to return to my side.

“Erm… yes,” she said. “This part’s a bit awkward. King Rathanii, may I present Emperor Kaeto. As you may have gathered, reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated. And… now he’s here to request asylum, after his younger brother staged a coup and attempted assassination to take control of his throne.”

It nearly broke my neck, but I forced myself to lower my chin in deference. “King Rathanii. Your assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated, and once I am returned to power, I will most certainly make it worth your while.”

Rathanii was silent for a long moment.

“Well,” he said at length. “You have me at a disadvantage, Your… Majesty. I will admit that the royal augurs failed to see this coming. Particularly in the wake of our other visitor from Alyrios.”

The queen and the royal advisors exchanged a look I couldn’t decipher.

“What other visitor?” Darra demanded, saving me the indignity of having to ask myself.

Rathanii lifted both eyebrows, a look of intense interest settling over his sharp features. “As it happens, we are also hosting your mother, the Dowager Empress Stasia, here at the palace. She arrived two days ago with her retinue, ostensibly to open diplomatic relations with Utrea on behalf of her younger son—the purported new emperor, Bruccias.”

End of excerpt