stung, however unintentional the insult. He could not know she was a bastard. “I thought it was traditional for emperors to sire bastards.”
“If by
traditional
you mean commonly done, yes. But they foul up the succession. Did you know my great-grandfather was a bastard?”
“No.”
“He murdered his half brother, the rightful heir, and claimed the throne for himself. I suppose I should thank him for it; it’s because of him that I’m emperor. But it’s dangerous to have too many potential heirs. People start having fatal accidents.”
“Your father ended up needing all three of his heirs.”
Lucien smiled wryly and glanced, perhaps unconsciously, at his missing leg. “Only because he was a sapskull, sending me and my brothers to Riorca all at once, where the assassins had easy access to us. And, yes, I am offering you a position in the palace. I’ll confer with my advisors about payment, and they’ll present you with a formal offer when we get back.”
“Thank you, sire.” A job in the Imperial Palace! Now she had more time to carry out her mission, if for some reason she was unable to perform it on this trip. She sipped her wine and watched the workmen swarm over the campsite.
The site was a large, grassy field, which had clearly been used for this purpose before. Large, circular bare patches told the story of fires once laid, while holes in the ground marked the locations of former tent pegs. Lucien’s staff was raising tents, some of them small, others immense. Farther away, in a separate field, cavalrymen were untacking and airing their horses and putting them on hobbles to graze.
Remus approached them and bowed. “Sire.”
“Yes, Remus?” said Lucien.
“We’ve had another message from Tasox.” He glanced sidelong at Vitala.
Lucien sighed. “Very well. Is my tent up yet?”
“Partly, sire. It’s usable.”
“Miss Salonius.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’ll send for you later this evening.” He rose and limped across the field.
Vitala rubbed her arms and shivered, then scooted closer to the fire. She was glad to be rid of Lucien for a while. It was stressful being around him; she feared she would slip up and say the wrong thing. Gods, he’d offered her a job. A part of her was tempted to forget her mission entirely and just be the imperial Caturanga instructor.
Which was ridiculous. While she idled away her days in the palace, her people would be starved and massacred.
Still, what an opportunity to pass up. She needed another way to make a living. She’d thought her visions had stopped, but they hadn’t. The door guard had triggered one simply by resembling the young soldier who was the subject of her nightmares. Lucien resembled him too, just not as closely. It was sheer luck that only the door guard triggered her visions, and not Lucien himself.
She wasn’t the first Obsidian Circle assassin to experience visions, and she wouldn’t be the last. But the others had all been removed from field duty. It could strike at any time; it made an assassin unreliable. And who could replace her? No one, not even Ista. No one else could gain intimate access to Lucien. She’d kept her problem quiet and spared her handlers from making a decision they wouldn’t want to make.
Maybe after she killed Lucien, she would tell Bayard. But it seemed a shame. She had only one official kill, not counting the practice ones, while Ista had nine. At least Lucien would be a spectacular kill; an emperor was a more impressive target than the minor government officials and military officers Ista had gone after. Perhaps afterward she could step down and take a service role. Weapons trainer or something.
She sniffed. Gods, who was she kidding? She’d be lucky if she got out of this alive.
• • •
“It’s all right, Vitala,” soothed Bayard. “He can’t hurt you.”
Vitala stepped closer. Of course the soldier couldn’t hurt her. He was tied to a chair. He strained
“If by
traditional
you mean commonly done, yes. But they foul up the succession. Did you know my great-grandfather was a bastard?”
“No.”
“He murdered his half brother, the rightful heir, and claimed the throne for himself. I suppose I should thank him for it; it’s because of him that I’m emperor. But it’s dangerous to have too many potential heirs. People start having fatal accidents.”
“Your father ended up needing all three of his heirs.”
Lucien smiled wryly and glanced, perhaps unconsciously, at his missing leg. “Only because he was a sapskull, sending me and my brothers to Riorca all at once, where the assassins had easy access to us. And, yes, I am offering you a position in the palace. I’ll confer with my advisors about payment, and they’ll present you with a formal offer when we get back.”
“Thank you, sire.” A job in the Imperial Palace! Now she had more time to carry out her mission, if for some reason she was unable to perform it on this trip. She sipped her wine and watched the workmen swarm over the campsite.
The site was a large, grassy field, which had clearly been used for this purpose before. Large, circular bare patches told the story of fires once laid, while holes in the ground marked the locations of former tent pegs. Lucien’s staff was raising tents, some of them small, others immense. Farther away, in a separate field, cavalrymen were untacking and airing their horses and putting them on hobbles to graze.
Remus approached them and bowed. “Sire.”
“Yes, Remus?” said Lucien.
“We’ve had another message from Tasox.” He glanced sidelong at Vitala.
Lucien sighed. “Very well. Is my tent up yet?”
“Partly, sire. It’s usable.”
“Miss Salonius.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’ll send for you later this evening.” He rose and limped across the field.
Vitala rubbed her arms and shivered, then scooted closer to the fire. She was glad to be rid of Lucien for a while. It was stressful being around him; she feared she would slip up and say the wrong thing. Gods, he’d offered her a job. A part of her was tempted to forget her mission entirely and just be the imperial Caturanga instructor.
Which was ridiculous. While she idled away her days in the palace, her people would be starved and massacred.
Still, what an opportunity to pass up. She needed another way to make a living. She’d thought her visions had stopped, but they hadn’t. The door guard had triggered one simply by resembling the young soldier who was the subject of her nightmares. Lucien resembled him too, just not as closely. It was sheer luck that only the door guard triggered her visions, and not Lucien himself.
She wasn’t the first Obsidian Circle assassin to experience visions, and she wouldn’t be the last. But the others had all been removed from field duty. It could strike at any time; it made an assassin unreliable. And who could replace her? No one, not even Ista. No one else could gain intimate access to Lucien. She’d kept her problem quiet and spared her handlers from making a decision they wouldn’t want to make.
Maybe after she killed Lucien, she would tell Bayard. But it seemed a shame. She had only one official kill, not counting the practice ones, while Ista had nine. At least Lucien would be a spectacular kill; an emperor was a more impressive target than the minor government officials and military officers Ista had gone after. Perhaps afterward she could step down and take a service role. Weapons trainer or something.
She sniffed. Gods, who was she kidding? She’d be lucky if she got out of this alive.
• • •
“It’s all right, Vitala,” soothed Bayard. “He can’t hurt you.”
Vitala stepped closer. Of course the soldier couldn’t hurt her. He was tied to a chair. He strained
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