A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,98

Veturius, I might have sent a platoon or two.”

Thank the skies Livia is Empress Regent, because if I were, Kinnius would be attempting to reattach his head right now.

“But you didn’t send a platoon, did you?” Livia’s smile vanishes, and I am reminded that she survived the murder of our family. She survived Marcus. She survived giving birth in the midst of a war.

“Instead,” she says, “we won Antium with the aid of the Scholars, who conducted themselves with far more bravery than you. Do not mistake me, Kinnius. We are not so desperate for allies that we will tolerate the insults of a man too weak to fight for his people. If you wish to discuss your support for Zacharias, the rightful emperor, then remain. If your fear of Keris is so great that you’d rather spout horse dung, my Blood Shrike will escort you to the city gates.”

And you can crawl back to your bitch of an empress, I don’t add.

“I hear, Shrike, that the people hailed you as Imperator Invictus.” Kinnius turns to me. “Could it be that you wish to take your nephew’s throne for yourse—”

I have a knife to Kinnius’s throat in two seconds. “Go on.” I draw a bit of blood. “Finish that sentence, you cowardly pissant.”

“Shrike,” Livia says sweetly. “I’m certain Lord Kinnius regrets his hasty tongue. Don’t you, Kinnius?”

Kinnius opens his mouth and closes it, nodding frantically. I step back, and Livia levels her smile at him again. I see it hit him like a punch in the face. She steps down from the throne and takes his arm.

“Walk with me, Kinnius,” she says. “See the city. Speak with the people. Once you learn the truth of what happened here, I believe you’ll have a different opinion.”

My hands shake, even as Livia guides Kinnius to the door. Quin gives me a long look, and he is not the only one. I remember what the jinn said to me weeks ago.

You do not love the child. He is your blood, but you’ll see him dead and yourself upon the throne.

But I’d die before I let anything happen to my nephew. That is a truth I know in my marrow, and nothing will change it.

Harper remains in the palace, and I follow Livia and her guards out, trailing them through the city.

Despite the rain, the bazaars are full, and children run past with barbecued kebab skewers and bread slathered with honey and ice plum jam. Dozens of merchants who have returned to the city call out their wares. Scores of people greet Livia and me with flowers and smiles, while glaring at Kinnius with hard suspicion. He has the decency to at least look chagrined.

When I’m certain Livia has the man well in hand, I return to my quarters in the palace. They are small and east-facing, unlike Livia and Zacharias’s expansive rooms, which, though only a few minutes away, face the Nevennes. The drop from their windows is a sheer fifty feet, while I’m on the ground floor. But my doors are unguarded, while Livia has four Masks outside hers.

“Why,” Dex says when he finds me a few minutes after I arrive, “do you not have guards at your door?”

“We need city patrols,” I say. “And the Empress Regent requires a full complement. I can handle myself. What news?”

“Our spy has returned from Adisa,” Dex says. “He’s outside, waiting to deliver a report. And this arrived from the Tribes.” He hands me an envelope. “Also, Darin of Serra has requested a private audience.”

“Send him in,” I say. “And find Musa. I promised him if I heard from Adisa, he’d be the first to know.”

Darin enters after I’ve heard from our spy and read the message from the Tribal lands.

“Laia contacted me,” he says. “She needs aid, Shrike. And I’m going to her.”

I briefly consider protesting—we still require more weapons. Armor. But the glint in Darin’s eyes tells me that he will not be swayed.

“I requested that you wait until we had taken Antium,” I say. “You waited. I won’t stop you. But I will ask that you go with the troops I’m sending.” I hold up the missive I’ve just received. “I heard from Laia too. The Tribes have agreed to support Emperor Zacharias in exchange for a renegotiation of their tithes and our military support. Five hundred men and two Ankanese sappers.”

“That’s quite an escort, Shrike.”

“If anything happens to you, it’s my throat your sister will tear out.”

Darin laughs. “She will indeed.”