Heir Apparent

Chapter 3

Jade

Thea was good on her word. She delivered my tray for my evening meal, setting it on a desk I had shoved near the hearth and left, leaving the silent room to me. I lounged in a worn, but comfortable chair I confiscated from another room down the hall that was not upholstered in flowers, a poker in one hand turning a log over, and a chalice of red wine in the other. My food, I barely touched.

I let myself just sit, not thinking, just being. The last few weeks of preparation, battle, and victory settled around my shoulders, pressing me down until at last they slid away, melting into the floor. Perhaps it was the second glass, or was it three?, of wine, or perhaps the comforting cackle of the fire. Regardless, it felt good to sit alone. I could finally mourn everything.I could finally take a deep breathe

A tear slipped down my cheek without my permission. I dropped the poker with a thud to hastily wipe it away. The men and women who died did not do so for a leader who sunk into tears. They didn't fight for someone who mourned her loss of freedom. They fought for someone they thought could change everything, even though I did not want to admit that I was the person.

What would wait for me on my desk tomorrow? More paperwork on the trade lines? More lords and ladies clambering for my favor so they could grow more powerful and gain more wealth? I took a long sip of the wine. I had fought and bled for this, but it didn't feel like victory. I swirled the cup around, spinning the liquid inside.

The door banged open, bouncing off the wall. I was on my feet in an instant, poker in hand and not a drop of wine spilt. Gil was standing in the doorway, breathless in just his tunic and trousers, the only soul brave enough to defy my orders to be left alone. He looked pale, and the vein in his jaw was visible. I dropped the poker again. "What is it?"

"The Golden Dragon," he stepped into the room, "they've been ambushed. Massacred by hired hands from the Wastelands."

A chill slipped down my spine. I set my chalice on the fire mantel. General Merien's precious Golden Dragon were the best fighters our empire had ever seen. Some had even been trained by the famed mercenaries from the Wastelands. In the hardest battles of the war, they had barely lost a soul, and cut through enemy lines like a hot knife through butter. To be simply cut down? My breath slipped away from me.

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"Does Merien..."

"Yes."

We stared at each other. I could feel the blood draining out of my cheeks and my fingers felt cold. The Golden Dragon were our idols as young knights. How had it come to this? Had the Lords of the Capital so ignored their duties in the North that our enemies had enlisted the Wastelands? That seemed extreme for a mere border dispute. The North had always been poking at our borders, an endless cycle of skirmishes and political treaties. Where moments before I had been cold, a sudden rush of fire blazed through my veins.

Gil saw the change. "What is it?"

"Wake the Lords of the Capital. Every single one of them. I don't care how they are dressed but they will be in that room within the hour or I will have them dragged here." My jaw clenched as I whirled around and snatched my sword belt from the trunk at the foot of the bed, strapping it to my waist. I saw Gil begin to mirror my own anger. "And ask General Merien to speak with me before."

"I am already here." He took up the space in the doorway where Gil had barged through, already in his leather armor, sword at hip. A small, rolled piece of paper was still clenched in his fist.

"They lied to us."

"They did, Empress."

"Gil," I turned toward my friend, "summon Thea. I want my armor. My battle armor. Let them see who they are dealing with."