Blood and Betrayal

Epilogue

When Amaranthe walked onto the beach, water sloughing from her drenched clothing, the men were arguing. She would have preferred someone be standing watch, but, given the topic of conversation, she could understand how they wouldn’t find security the priority.

“He’s not the emperor?” Maldynado asked. “What’re you talking about, Basilard?”

Amaranthe ignored the flurry of hand signals in favor of squeezing water out of her hair and re-tying her bun. She didn’t want the rehash. Out in the water, Sespian had finally started swimming toward shore, though he was angling for a landing spot farther up the beach. Amaranthe wanted to talk to him eventually, but he needed time to digest what, in his eyes, must be an extremely unpalatable meal. There was still no sign of Sicarius. They’d come ashore near the cliff underneath the hot springs, and she watched the trees near its base, expecting him to stroll onto the beach at any moment.

“We don’t know that those Forge yokels were telling the truth.” Yara propped a boot on a log.

She’d retained her footwear, though not everybody had. Akstyr was wandering around in sandy socks, gripping his injured shoulder. Maldynado had lost his shirt. Though that might simply be an excuse for him to show off his physique in front of Yara.

“Did the emp-Sespian say anything to you out there, boss?” Maldynado asked, and all eyes turned toward Amaranthe. “Did he know anything about this?”

“Nothing.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t want to discuss this. Not with them, not now. She eyed the trees again.

“Has all our work been for nothing?” Maldynado asked. “This was all about helping him. And getting our names cleared. Cursed ancestors, boss, he won’t have the power to remove your bounty now, will he?”

If he brought up his stupid statue, Amaranthe didn’t think she’d be able to keep from smacking him. Wasn’t anyone else concerned that Sicarius hadn’t reappeared? He’d saved all of their lives before. They owed him more than disinterest. She caught Basilard looking around, a hint of concern in his eyes. That was something at least. And Maldynado didn’t mention the statue. Maybe he was genuinely more concerned about her and her bounty.

“What are we going to do now?” Akstyr asked. “If he’s not the true emperor, do we even care who’s on the throne?”

“We care,” Books said, joining the conversation for the first time.

Amaranthe remembered the look he’d given her up on the ledge. He’d seemed to know about the Sespian-Sicarius link.

“We want someone in charge with the foresight and wisdom to manage the future’s changing currents in a manner that will empower the people, not impoverish them.” Books glowered at Maldynado, as if he, because of his older brother, was responsible for Forge’s scheme.

Maldynado lifted his hands, pointing a finger at Akstyr. “He asked, not me.”

Now that it’s possible there are choices, Basilard signed, are we certain a nineteen-year-old boy is the person with the ‘foresight and wisdom’ of which Books speaks?

“Perhaps not,” Books said.

Akstyr scowled at Basilard, perhaps objecting to the notion that young people couldn’t have foresight and wisdom.

“Let’s not abandon him yet.” Chin up and back stiff, Yara appeared miffed at how quickly people were dismissing Sespian.

Amaranthe shared the feeling, though she wasn’t sure it mattered. Would Sespian want anything to do with the throne now that he knew he wasn’t the rightful heir? What if he simply walked away? Though she didn’t know him well, she had a hard time believing he’d do that. Even if Sespian knew he couldn’t be a part of the ruling future, she thought he’d want to try and thwart the Forge and Marblecrest scheme. Besides, he still had a claim to the throne, albeit a muddled one.

Books came over and touched Amaranthe’s shoulder.

“Wait,” Maldynado said before Books spoke, apparently in response to Basilard, “who is Sespian’s father? Does anybody know?”

“Some kitchen boy, probably,” Akstyr said.

“Don’t be crude,” Yara said.

When Amaranthe didn’t speak, Books’s eyebrows rose. “Are you going to say anything?” he asked.

“How long have you known?” she murmured.

“I’ve had a hunch it was something like that for a while, but the exact puzzle pieces didn’t snap into place until Sicarius threatened Maldynado if he didn’t keep the emperor safe.”

“Ah.” At least she hadn’t been the one to give it away. Right, Amaranthe told herself, you can keep secrets from friends, just not from enemies.

“I have been working on ideas,” Books said, “for a new form of government.”

“A new government?” Amaranthe had only ever wanted to help Sespian retain his position. Now Books was proposing… she didn’t even know what. Revolution?

“It was only an exercise until this information came out,” Books went on, “but the antiquated notion of an empire might not be what Turgonia needs as it goes ahead into modern times. So much of the strife between the old warrior caste and the new entrepreneurial class is born out of mutual resentment, which never would have been a factor if land and power were not hereditary, gifts given to those loyal families who have been willing to support totalitarian rule over the centuries.”

Maldynado strolled over, and, for once, Amaranthe was glad. She wasn’t ready to think about spearheading a revolution.

“What are you two discussing?” Maldynado asked. “Some sort of… ” His gaze shifted over Amaranthe’s shoulder.

Sicarius strode out of the trees, as grim and deadly as ever. Relief flooded Amaranthe, though, with so many witnesses present, she didn’t run to him. He wasn’t looking approachable anyway. He wasn’t wet, so he must have found a back way out, but Amaranthe wished he were wet, as the water might have washed the blood stains off his hands and out of his hair. She’d seen him gore-covered before, but, given Sespian’s new knowledge, she wished he looked less like a soldier straight from the front lines. An assassin, she thought, not a soldier.

Sicarius spotted Sespian further down the beach, and a hint of the starkness faded from his eyes, though an uncommon stiffness accompanied his gait. It might have been an injury or simple tension.

“Glad you could join us.” Amaranthe forced a smile. She didn’t want to open with accusations, but she had to know what he’d done down there. “Did you, ah… ”

“There was a translucent barrier further protecting their meeting area,” Sicarius said. “I found another way around, but they sent their bodyguards to delay me. I dealt with them and was catching up with the Forge people when the tunnel collapsed.”

“Tunnel collapse?” Amaranthe asked, her heart sinking.

“There were several after an explosion sounded.” Sicarius looked at her, as if he knew she’d been responsible. And why not? Who else did he know that was crazy enough to blow up tunnels from within? “Water flooded inside, causing structural damage. I reached the docking pool too late to retrieve our vehicle. I had to find another way out.”

A swollen bruise on his temple made Amaranthe wonder if, for once, the blood spattering him didn’t belong to someone else. Dust caked his black clothing, and numerous scrapes abraded his hands.

“Sorry about that, but you did choose to take an alternative route out.” Amaranthe felt like a heel implying that he would have been safe had he stuck with her-she’d nearly gotten her entire team killed-but wandering off to stalk Forge people had been his idea, and she refused to pity him for the bruises he’d obtained. “You said you made it to the submarines. Do you know if, ah, did all of the Forge people get out?”

Sicarius hesitated. “Unknown.”

That uncharacteristic hesitation made Amaranthe probe deeper. “Truly?”

Sicarius clasped his hands behind his back. It wasn’t the first time she’d received silence in lieu of a response, and she’d learned to read some of his silences. He was protecting her. Her actions had resulted in deaths. Not all of the Forge people had escaped in time. Amaranthe stared at the ground, stung by the cosmic unfairness. She’d accidently achieved what an assassin had wished but failed to do. Sicarius stood there, stained by blood, while the water had washed any such stains from her. Visible stains anyway.

A few meters away, a boot crunched on pebbles. It sounded loud on the quiet beach. Amaranthe hadn’t realized how still it had grown, or how many eyes had been turned toward her conversation.

Assuming one of the men was simply moving about, Amaranthe didn’t turn to see who it was. Only when Sicarius’s hand dropped to his dagger, halted halfway there, and hung in the air, did she turn.

Sespian stood there, a loaded pistol in his hand. Aimed at Sicarius.

Stunned, Amaranthe could only gawk.

“Uhm,” Maldynado said, summing up her thoughts.

Amaranthe had expected a reaction from Sespian, but not this reaction. She lifted a hand and stepped toward him.

He skewered her with a hard gaze so similar to ones she’d received from Sicarius that it stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t move.” Though Sespian spoke to Amaranthe, the pistol never wavered. Its muzzle pointed straight at Sicarius’s heart. When Sespian looked at him again, anger seethed in his eyes. “How?”

Sicarius lowered his hands, not toward his weapons, but to his sides. He didn’t say anything. He did glance toward Amaranthe, and she cringed, knowing she bore all the responsibility for this moment.

“How did it… ” Sespian took in several deep breaths that did nothing to lighten the tension bunching his shoulders. “Did you rape her?”

The blunt accusation startled Amaranthe, but she abruptly understood the pistol. In case Sicarius was going to answer with silence again-silence that might be misconstrued as an admission of guilt-Amaranthe said, “No,” for him.

Ignoring Sespian’s earlier warning, she walked toward Sicarius. She didn’t lunge to protect him, fearing a quick action would surprise Sespian into shooting, but she strode across the intervening distance and planted herself in front of him. Sespian moved the pistol so it didn’t point at her, but he didn’t lower it.

“Your mother chose him,” Amaranthe said, keeping her eyes toward Sespian, though she was aware of the slack-jawed stares from the rest of her team. “Raumesys got rid of his first wife for not producing an heir. Your mother intended to make sure she wouldn’t suffer the same fate. She could have seduced some kitchen boy, but she wanted you to inherit athleticism and intelligence.” She looked at the pistol in Sespian’s hand and over her shoulder at Sicarius, who ought to be saying something by now. “ Some intelligence, anyway.”

That earned her a brief slit-eyed look from Sicarius. She tilted her head toward Sespian, implying that Sicarius could take over the explaining any time.

“How does the boss know so much about this?” Maldynado muttered to Books.

Amaranthe didn’t hear the answer. She was focused on Sespian. He was doing a good job of being just as stony and hard to read as Sicarius.

“That’s the story he gave you?” Sespian finally asked. “And you believe it? Without any proof?”

A grimace wanted to find its way to Amaranthe’s lips, but she forced herself to smile and keep her tone light. “If you had any idea how much prying I had to do, you wouldn’t doubt that I’d finagled the truth out of him.”

“You’re wrong. My mother was a good person. She never would have slept with a psychopathic murdering monster.” Sespian threw the pistol down. “If you want to protect him, fine, but I want nothing to do with him or anyone who chooses to be around him.”

Sespian sent a dismissive glower toward the others before turning his back and stalking down the beach. Not down the beach like someone who needed time to think, but down the beach with the determined stride of someone who never planned to come back.

Amaranthe sighed. At least, with nothing except rowboats left un-crashed, he couldn’t go anywhere quickly. She faced Sicarius, whose expressionless facade was firmly affixed. “Please note, for future reference, when someone asks you if you’ve raped someone else, the appropriate answer is a prompt no.”

Though Sicarius’s expression never changed, Amaranthe was close enough to catch the long, soft exhalation. It had a deflationary effect on her as well as him. “Saying something would not have mattered,” Sicarius said. “He would not have believed it.”

Probably true. With no peers and so few allies growing up, Sespian must have loved his mother a great deal. Imagining her as someone who had willingly sought out a man that he considered a monster couldn’t be easy. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to do it at all. No, Amaranthe couldn’t accept that. Sespian might never come to care about Sicarius, but he would know the truth. After all the times Sicarius had saved her life and backed up her silly schemes, she owed him that.

“Don’t worry,” Amaranthe said, “I’m not giving up.”

She gazed out over the lake. The serenity of the water belied all the craziness that had gone on beneath the surface. She didn’t know what she’d say to Sespian, but she had best go after him before he found a way off the island.

“No,” Books said, in response to someone’s murmured comment. “Sociopath is more applicable than psychopath, though I don’t believe either is wholly accurate.”

Amaranthe rubbed her face. Leave it to her men to focus on the inane and unimportant. Sicarius didn’t seem to have heard. He was gazing in the direction Sespian had gone, his face-to most-unreadable, but Amaranthe sensed the bleakness beneath the mask.

“There are enforcers out there,” she told the team. “We need to leave soon. Please gather whatever gear might be useful from the steamboat. Oh, and that money too.” She had a feeling they’d need it to fund… She wasn’t sure yet. “I’m going to talk to Sespian.”

“Where will we be going when we leave?” Books asked.

“I’m not sure. I need time to think of a plan.”

Amaranthe heard Akstyr saying, “I hear the Kyatt Islands are nice in the winter,” as she walked away. She might have to do some extra persuasive talking to keep everybody from going their separate ways now that they knew backing Sespian wasn’t a path to having their dreams fulfilled-or bounties lifted.

After several minutes of searching, Amaranthe found fresh footprints on the sandy beach near the dock. They led to the boathouse. She paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. She expected to find Sespian readying a canoe or rowboat, but he was merely sitting on the worn wooden deck, his face resting in his hand. He must have heard her walking in, but he didn’t lift his head.

Amaranthe sat on the end of an upturned canoe. “I don’t know if you know this, but that day in Stumps when we first met, it brought me to Hollowcrest’s attention. I guess you mentioned me in a… romantic light.” She watched Sespian for a reaction, and thought there might have been a wince, but his face remained covered by his hands, and she couldn’t be certain. “Since he thought I would be an inappropriate choice, he figured he’d deal with the matter by having me killed. He created a ruse of an assignment, sending me off to kill this notorious assassin and promising me a promotion should I succeed. I was uncomfortable at the idea of assassinating anyone, wanted murderer or not, but I didn’t think I had a choice. Who refuses the Commander of the Armies?

“Well, I wasn’t as clever as I thought, and Sicarius saw me coming. He was a split second away from killing me. Literarily. He had his hands around my neck-but he stopped just shy of breaking it.”

Though Sespian didn’t lift his head, his fingers shifted, so he could see her.

“You see, this young man had given me a bracelet. For luck, he’d said. And luck caused that bracelet to slip free of my sleeve at that moment so that Sicarius saw it. That’s what made him pause. He knew it was something you’d created, and he figured I must mean something to you if you’d given it to me.”

Amaranthe paused for a moment, to see if Sespian wanted to say anything. He didn’t.

“I can’t claim to know everything that’s in his head,” she went on. “You’ve probably noticed he’s a slightly reticent man. But I know he wants a chance to know you. And for you to know him. I’m sure he doesn’t expect any sort of loving, hugging father-son relationship-” that finally drew a reaction, if only a snort, “-but your mother forbade him from having anything to do with you, and he regrets that you grew up fearing him. I know you think he’s a monster, and I’m not going to try and defend what he’s done in his life, but I believe that’s entirely a result of how he was raised. He’s only given me glimpses into what had to have been a nightmarish childhood, but I’m sure the dastardly details are there in Hollowcrest’s old office somewhere if you were ever inclined to search for them. Given what he went through… ” Amaranthe winced, thinking of Pike and wishing that she could burn him from the pages of her memory. “ Knowing what he went through first-hand,” she amended, “even if I only had to experience it for a week, I find it remarkable that he’s capable of caring about you or anyone else.”

Sespian shook his head stubbornly.

Amaranthe prodded at mold fuzzing a crevice between two boards and reminded herself that they weren’t staying long enough to need to clean anything. Though she would find this conversation easier if her hands had something to do.

“Whatever your opinion is of him,” Amaranthe said, clasping her hands in her lap, “Sicarius is very professional and practical about his… career and the way he lives his life. I know you’re thinking I have no way of truly knowing what happened with him and your mother, but he’s not a rapist. Had he been raised by a couple of nice, loving parents, I sincerely believe he would have been a good man.” She felt it important to mention that, even if Sespian wouldn’t believe it, because he was probably thinking his own blood was somehow tainted now-as if Sicarius could be any worse than Raumesys, a man who’d apparently thought nothing of hiring Pike as his master interrogator. “From what he told me, I inferred that your mother chose him much like you’d choose a stud for breeding a hound. You must grant that he’s exceedingly skilled and gifted at what he does, and they’re the same traits that would have made a superior soldier or athlete or even the type of emperor Turgonians are used to.” The corners of her mouth quirked upward of their own volition. “I guess your mother wasn’t counting on there being an artistic bent in there.”

Sespian had been patient, or at least silent, thus far, but at this he rolled his eyes, looking every bit like a teenage boy for a moment. “Oh, please, you’re not trying to tell me I got that from him.”

“Ask him to draw something sometime.”

“He does not draw.”

Amaranthe couldn’t tell if there was any curiosity behind the flat denial. She decided not to admit that Sicarius’s only interest in art had apparently come from a cartography class where some tutor had suggested that an assassin ought to be able to draw maps of areas he’d spied upon. Instead, she smiled again and asked, “Who do you think drew the ranmya designs for our counterfeiting scheme?”

“Tracing isn’t drawing,” Sespian muttered. “Though… I suppose the engravings would have to be in reverse… ”

At least he seemed thoughtful over the idea. Amaranthe wouldn’t try to elicit promises or ask for his opinions, not at this point. If she’d started him thinking that his mother had chosen Sicarius, and that there might have been good reasons for that choice, that was enough. She had a feeling she couldn’t do much more anyway. If Sespian and Sicarius were to have any sort of relationship at all, Sicarius would have to figure out the rest.

“We’ll be leaving soon if you want to come,” Amaranthe said.

“To what ends? I’m not the legitimate emperor. As soon as the Forge people get the word out about that, it’ll be true in all senses. And… I would not wish to live a lie, regardless.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that… ” Not really, but she needed to start. If they were going to oust Ravido Marblecrest and keep Forge from implementing their new money plan, they’d need some sort of alternative to push forward. She thought of Books’s words. Creating a new government was a little more comprehensive of an alternative than she’d meant to push forward, but maybe… Maybe the idea had merit. Knowing Books, he’d designed some sort of republic or meritocracy, so there’d be a lot of opposition from those entrenched in the warrior-caste way of life, but all those up-and-coming entrepreneurs would surely love a system where one could reach the highest levels in society and government no matter to whom one had been born. And perhaps a radical change in government might assuage some of the anti-Turgonian sentiment out there from those the empire had conquered or otherwise mistreated over the centuries.

Audacious, girl, she thought. Was she truly contemplating going back to the capital and trying to change a seven-hundred-year-old form of government? Whether it worked or not, it’d probably get her that place in the history books she craved. She chuckled. The men would accuse her of being a megalomaniac. They’d say she was crazy, and this time they’d be right. Maybe she could blame Books. He’d started her ore cart down this track.

“It looks terribly entertaining in there,” Sespian said.

“What?” Amaranthe forced her mind back to the moment.

“In your head.”

“Oh.” This time, her chuckle was more self-conscious. “It’s, uhm, a fascinating place for sure. At least I think so.” Amaranthe stood, extending her hand. “You better come along. This is going to be interesting.”

Sespian regarded it thoughtfully for a moment before accepting it. “Promise?”

“Oh, yes.”