To Bind in Blood

Chapter 11

Jurion managed to find Lord Talo and himself trapped in conversation with the amiable General Pan, joined by a few more men whose ranks he did not know. Despite the flow of conversation, his attention was pulled toward the balcony where he had left Wrell. He wondered if perhaps he should have remained there for a bit longer. She had been joined by another figure, this one belonging to the empress.

"You seem distracted, Great Lord," Pan said. He followed Jurion's gaze, and his brows raised. "Ah, our illustrious empress deigns to speak with your servant. Have you had her for long?"

"She has been with me for a short time." Jurion glanced at Lord Talo standing beside him, noting the subtle crease in the man's pleasant expression.

"She is young."

"She is capable."

The general folded his hands in front of him, his smile friendly yet somehow pretentious. "There are many here who are suspicious of your country's practices, Great Lord. My fellow generals included. I, however, see the advantage of these bloodbinds. I hope you will be generous in sharing your knowledge of the practice."

He was not sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, Talo was swift to jump in with a smooth reply that was neither a promise nor denial. Bloodbinding was something of a sacred ritual in Quelle, and Jurion was loath to share information about it freely, especially with the current foreign sentiments about it.

His attention drifted over General Pan's shoulder to the opening leading to the balcony. He tensed when he saw Unus Agripa, that Minister of Justice, there, standing close to Wrell. The empress was gone. From the spiteful look on the minister's face, Jurion could guess what abuses the man was heaping down upon his poor guard. Wrell was as stoic as ever, but the set of her shoulders clearly showed her discomfort. She said something. The minister lifted a hand before she could flinch, delivering a swift slap to her face. The sound could be heard even above the noise of the mingling crowd, bringing several of the conversations to a halt. Heads turned toward the balcony.

Blood nearing a boil, Jurion excused himself from a bemused General Pan and the rest of their companions. He stalked across the courtyard and to the balcony, forcing himself to remain composed. "What do you think you are doing?" he asked the minister, stepping between the two.

The man pedaled backward, surprised by Jurion's sudden intrusion. "Great Lord. I—"

"Striking my guard—have you no decorum, Agripa?"

"She is but a servant, my lord."

"Yes, she is under my employ, and therefore mine to deal with."

"She is disfigured." He spoke as if it were an excuse. As if Jurion should have known better.

"Minister Agripa." Footsteps carried the empress toward them, flanked by General Aelider and Lord Talo. Disapproval emanated from her as she took in the minister standing in front of Wrell and Jurion like an abashed child. The empress's tone was clipped. "Why did you strike her?"

The minister lowered his head at her arrival, but there was rebellion in his eyes. "She spoke out of turn, Your Imperial Majesty. I was merely putting her in her place."

The empress stared at the man for a moment, her lips pressed together as if considering what he'd said. Her concern for Wrell, however disguised it was, was . . . unexpected. That she had stepped in to rebuke her minister herself was unexpected as well.

"Empress?" Agripa said, his voice warbling like he knew a punishment was due.

Without warning, Nadeina seized the minister's arm, dragged him a few short steps to the edge, and hurled him off the platform. Agripa went over with a hair-raising scream. A collective gasp rose from the onlookers, and then a hideous crack came from below. Agripa's shriek cut short.