Chronicles of a Falling Empire [Bloodstained, Bloodshed]

in shadows cast by flame, she deals
her cards are shown, her trades revealed.
each soul's a piece, each life's a pawn
Time grows old, and Fate plays on.

"The Soul Trade," Verse six

"No offer of yours can tempt me." That's Bard's voice. Low, firm. "Whatever sway you may have once held ended the day you betrayed your vows to L-DAW."

"This has been blown out of proportion," Leómadura says. "Last time I checked I was still a three-titled denmaster, sixth in line to the royal throne. I may have been ousted from L-DAW—"

"You raped a student!"

"He was a Whoreson, and I paid what he was owed." Leómadura barks out a short, harsh laugh. "More than that, probably. Worth four francs and I tossed out seven."

I'm pressed against the door. It's as if their words have turned me to stone. My breaths come in quick, raspy gasps, and I force myself to slow my breathing in fear they'll hear me. There's no space for fear—not here, not with the lanista on the other side of this door. My fear turns to anger, and my anger to hate. There's no way I'm leaving now, no matter what Hiley might think when she looks up and sees I've left my seat.

I have no idea how Leómadura was able to leave the dungeons, but eff him and the horse he rode in on if he thinks a couple of coins make up for thirty-seven minutes of hell.

"Get out," Bardic says. "Guards—take him back to his cell."

I almost retreat, but judging by the vitriol in Leómadura's response, he has no intention of leaving anytime soon. "Hear me out."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Listen, then. How many times have we played the mirror game together, Bard? If I was a reprobate—if I ever touched a student at L-DAW before this—it would've been brought to light during our bouts. I made a mistake with the Whoreson boy. I fell to the sin of my Lady. To Lust I may be damned, but it was hardly an act of treason as Killián alleges. It was a one-time thing, I assure you. We've known each other since we were boys. Surely you'll speak to the general on my behalf."

"Ko's the only one?" Bard asks. "Tell."

"Don't put me on trial."

"You're on trial." Bardic's voice is cold. "For all we know, you've been using your position of authority to groom grunts since you began your tenure at L-DAW. I don't trust you, Leó."

"Let's do a mirror bout," Leómadura says. "I'll walk you through my sin. We'll have fun."

Mirror bout—what the eff does that mean? Marix mentioned it when I was in the God King's court—the Ladies know what you are capable of, even if the living lords do not…your conduit potential will be our little secret, Ko…until you learn to play the mirror game. Marix is oddly quiet now, even as I reach for his voice. What's the mirror game? I think, but he doesn't respond. What's a mirror bout? Did Leómadura assault L-DAW students before me? Was I the first?

Whore codes being what they are there can't be assault—I get it, he paid. What was I supposed to do when he offered me that drink? Throw it in his face?

I should've thrown it in his face.

Marix remains silent and entirely unhelpful.

"He's a fruitwhore," Leómadura says, "and as I've told everyone who's had the audacity to hound me about getting off with pretty-boy, I paid him what he was owed. Why are you negging?"

"He didn't seem to appreciate your advances."

"I say again, I paid what he was owed!"

"He tested into the academy." There's bitterness in Bardic's voice. "He has Killián's favor—the general intends for Brid and Ko to wed, even now. Between the coming death duel with Jebah, King Audrin's animosity toward Lady Death's Guard, and how unfavorable the never-ending war has become with the people of our realm, Killián has never been in a worse position. Ko's birth stratum was overturned when he won his bouts in Bathune. He was a guardsman for Lady Death, and you violated him. I heard his testimony myself, and I want nothing more to do with you."

"Then I beseech you to think of your duty to Lady War," Leómadura says. "Fight for peace—is that not your family maxim? The state of our realm has never been more precarious. The Xobrites bear down on us from three sides of the state. King Audrin spends more time with his paintings than with his son. General Killián faces a coup from his brother, one he cannot win without the strength of youth. Your father, the Lord of War, is old and ailed. Lord Galtero of the church of Hope lost most of the Fourth Circuit to eastern raids from Xobratic forces. Lefe, Lord of Fate, has lost his mind, the Lord of Life cares more for money than borders, and there has never been a Lord of Loss. L'Anglimar is falling—you think the end of the seven Ladies' reign will bring peace? There will only be bloodshed."

"Killián will defeat Jebah and end the never-ending war."

"You think too much of him."

"He has plans!" Bard's voice is filled with fire. "We've won more battles since he inherited Yosif's scythe than we did in the last one-hundred years of warfare. This death duel with Jebah is a formality— Killián will prevail."

"And if he doesn't, you'll lose everything you hold dear," Leómadura says. "Fight for peace, dear Bard—fight for me. Sixth-in-line I may be, but Galtero and Ra'mes will never forsake their titles as Lords of Hope and Life to take the kingship. They've chosen different Ladies, and that makes me fourth-in-line to Lady Love's throne. First-in-line to temporary kingship until Prince Lucian comes of age, as none of my nieces and nephews are older than 12. Should something happen to our beloved King Audrin, I am all that stands between our realm and anarchy. And yet, you seek to keep me in the dungeons."

"I'm finished with this conversation," Bard repeats. "Guards—take him back to his cell. I won't ask again."

The door flies open suddenly—I fall back against the sandstone wall and find myself face-to-face with Bardic. He towers over me in his white healer's cassock, his long brown hair pulled back into a braid. He stares at me in shock for a second, then glances backward into his chambers. I pull myself up into a salute.

"Medic Bardic." My voice is stilted. "I'm…ah…looking for a healing poultice."

It sounds more official than painkillers, but in truth, my broken arm and maimed hand are an afterthought. All I can think about is the man in Bard's office, the man—bound in chains at his wrists, with two gray-clad guardsman looming over him—who appears in the doorway overshadowing Bard…

"Ko." Bard's voice is quiet. "Why don't you come in? Leómadura was just leaving."

Leómadura gives me a hard look as he passes, gray-green eyes dark and unreadable. I meet his gaze, keep all semblances of weakness from my expression. I will not look away, I tell myself, and I don't—not until the guards have escorted him past the curtain that hangs at the end of the hall. Only then do I turn back to Bardic, and I follow him into his office. It's a sparce room, tastefully decorated, with only a desk and a painting—there aren't even additional chairs to sit in. The portrait depicts Lady Death and Lady War intertwined on the back of a horse. Death is skeletal and rotting; War is a beauty, with flaming red hair and iron armor.

There's a coalpot on the desk. Bard sets a kettle on it, then begins rifling through a cabinet stuffed with herbs. "Healing poultice…for pain?" he asks. "Is your arm troubling you, or is it your hand?"

"Both."

He nods. Silence curls, festers. There's nothing to say. He knows what I heard. We both know what fruitwhore means. Leómadura said his piece and there's no defense for me. I hate it, hate him, but I'm not going to let Bard see it rip me up. I keep my face impassive.

"We're old friends," Bardic says quietly. "At least, we were. Hard to believe Leó fell this far."

"I get it. It's a mess."

He nods.

"King Audrin's on his side. What's keeping him in the dungeons?"

"Our general. There's an investigation." Bard looks at me, pity in his gaze. I squirm beneath it, uncomfortable and hot. I'm acting like a child, I know, but this entire situation has made me enormously uncomfortable. I want Akeeva, not Bardic—maybe I shouldn't be here. A thought occurs to me suddenly, as tempting as it is forbidden: ditch the rest of the school day, and head straight to Baumé's palazzo to visit my sisters. I want to do it more than I've wanted anything in living memory, obligation be damned. My return to L-DAW has been nothing short of horrific, and I want out.

Maybe returning to the First Circuit was a mistake. I'm not sure if I can do this, any of this.

Have strength, Marix murmurs in my mind, and I want to scream. A thought that isn't my own, inside my head, feels like an additional intrusion. When will it end?

"Drink this—poppy should take the edge off." Bardic hands me a steaming mug. "Was it PT?"

There's no chair to sink into—nowhere to sit. I drink it standing, setting the mug down on his desk once I've drained it.

"Thank you," I say.

I get a pleasant smile in return.

"I want to visit my sisters," I tell him. "I haven't seen them since I was discharged."

"Understandable." Bardic's expression is sympathetic. "You've been through a lot."

"I don't want to ditch, but…"

"Ko—I get it." He pauses. "Perhaps you should've waited to return to L-DAW until after Veneer Break, but we wanted you to discuss makeup assignments with the academic lanistae. If you get your coursework from them at some point today, missing one additional day of classes shouldn't be a problem. Why don't you invite your sisters to dinner tonight as well? We're having some people over to celebrate the beginning of the hols—the more the merrier."

"We wouldn't want to impose."

"No imposition—you and your sisters are always welcome at the di Vivar palazzo." Bardic extends the invitation like it's his house, not Killián's. "We'd love to have you."

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"Thank you." I pause. "Can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"What's the mirror game?"

He thinks that over for a long time before answering, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"It's a highly addictive game of memory, played inside the time web," he says at last. "Royals have engaged in it since the titans were alive—it's a good way to gain leverage over allies and enemies, the dead and the living alike. Official seats in the Septemvirate—even lordships—have been won and lost during bouts. It's a good way to gain power—or to go insane."

A pulse pounds in my temple. "You played with Leómadura?"

"I was wondering how much you heard."

"Enough. Too much. The mirror game?"

"It's natural to be interested in such things." His expression grows distant, and he glances out the window. "Audrin, Galtero, Ra'mes, and Jebah play as a team, if you must know. It's difficult to go against them. Impossible, really—they almost killed Staffmaster Torrense when he was our fourth player, and the bouts we've played against them are a large part of the reason Lefe's gone mad. Killián and I needed someone who could withstand Galtero's power. Leómadura follows Lady Love. He could hold his own in the time web."

"Marix said I'd be good at it."

"You shouldn't be talking to Marix," Bardic says firmly. "Titans have their own motivations—old grudges that live on after death. Marix is no exception. He'll use you up if you let him, then discard you like a soiled cloth once you've lost your mind. Or worse, your life."

"Apparently I only have a week to live."

"Between your birth caste and your inexperience with the game, pitting you against anyone in the Septemvirate would go badly." he says. "I expect Killián will teach you to play if Fate lets you live, but I would advise against it. Mental fortitude takes years to build, and without it you'll be ripped apart. It's an important part of politics, but it's also deadly. My advice is to stay away from it for as long as you can."

The tea helped—by the time I leave Bardic's office, the pain in my right arm and left fingertips has receded to a dull throbbing, muted by the poppy. The assurance that it's okay to visit my sisters helped equally as much. I wave at Billi as I walk around the perimeter of the quad—she's sparring with Osyrus, both holding long lances. Kempe catches my eye as I walk toward Colçon's tower.

I turn right at the keep and start the long trek down Royal Road. After fifteen minutes I pass the Lord of Life's magnificent palazzo, a five-story mansion with gleaming pillars and a flock of peacocks grazing in the front gardens.

Baumé's palazzo, home to the Lord of Fate, is next along the street, another ten-minute walk from the castle's main complex. Stone gargoyles of menacing spiders line the walkway to the wraparound front porch, taller than I am, their legs twice the length of mine. Their carved eyes follow me as I hop from paved stone to paved stone. Someone left a pumpkin at the base of the steps. A knife is sticking out of it, and there's a note wedged beneath the blade. I step over it, climb to the set of double doors, and pound the brass knocker.

Akeeva answers the door, and I do a double take.

She's wearing an elegant blue dress that brings out her eyes. It falls to the ground, and the sleeves and neckline are made of lace. Her blond hair is held back by a beaded clip, artfully coiffed atop her head. She'd look like a noble if thick Valenèsian kohl didn't line her eyes—whore paint, they call it on L-Street.

"Ko," she says, and throws her arms around me. She's smaller by at least a head, but still, I stumble under her weight. Her words are rapid. "I didn't know how to contact you once they told me you'd been discharged—thank Yosif you're here. We were so worried about you."

"I'm still alive," I say, and sink against her. "Barely."

"Come in." She pulls back. "Lord Lefe and Ila are in the glass forge behind the house. Felicity and I are entertaining a guest."

"That reminds me. Bardic invited me to dinner tonight and suggested I bring along my sisters. Are you free?"

"Of course," she replies.

I follow Akeeva into a magnificent entrance hall. Two curved staircases line the perimeter of the room, winding up to a second story. The carpets are lush and blue, decorated with golden swirls that are clearly meant to mimic a spider's web. She leads me down a hallway that opens into an ornate sitting room. Plush couches line the walls, and a large boozer makes up the entire left half of the room. Behind the bar are shelves of wine bottles—reds and whites, all with beautiful calligraphed labels.

Felicity and—I stop walking, shocked—Lady Death herself, the fallen Brid Naya'il, are seated on barstools in front of the boozer. They look up at us. Felicity wiggles her fingers at me, and her lips twist into the barest of smiles.

"Hello, little brother," she says, swirling a glass of red. "We were just talking about you."

Brid Naya'il shifts uncomfortably on the stool. She doesn't meet my eyes. Curvy, with dark hair and darker eyes, she's clad in black leathers and seems almost translucent in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her lips are red as blood. She looks just as beautiful as she did in the medi-center when I was borderline delirious.

"My lady." I dip my head. "It's an honor."

"It's funny," Felicity says, although she doesn't look the slightest bit amused. "She's asking all the same questions as General Killián did when he came to our apartment on Main Street. All the same questions. I would've thought the time for a background check had passed, but clearly not."

"Please, sit." Brid Naya'il gestures to the other barstools—there are four in total. "I'm glad you're here, Ko. There are matters that require our attention—disturbing matters."

Akeeva and I exchange a glance, then move to the stools. I take the one between Felicity and Brid Naya'il, grasping my sister's hand in greeting as I sit. She's never been one for hugs, Lissy, but she squeezes me back when I touch her. I turn my attention to Lady Death, wondering what she could possibly want with me. I swore myself to her last night—I'm not allowed to refuse her anything. She orders, I obey.

I dip my head.

"You have such lovely sisters," she tells me. "They listen to me."

Once again I feel a stab of pity for her, killed so young. How can I help you?" I ask.

Her huge, almond-shaped eyes meet mine. "Your soul is missing."

That doesn't sound good.

"It should've passed from Lady Loss to Lady Death when you changed your allegiance," she says. "It didn't. Marix claims he has a piece of it, but the other two pieces are nowhere to be found. That's not a good thing."

So souls have three pieces? "I'm confused."

"I won't have control of your essence when you die," she says. "In other words, you could go anywhere. We must find it before the prophesy is fulfilled. You have a week left in the Lands of the Living. Maybe less."

"What prophesy?" Akeeva asks.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, and I'm the last person to judge the way her dice roll." She waves a flippant hand. "There is one other matter I need your assistance on: I want revenge."

So she's just going to brush over the whole my soul is missing thing—that figures. Clearly I need it back, but she's already moved on. So much for having a Lady to watch your back.

"Who do you want revenge on?" I ask.

"The person who murdered me."

I frown, trying to remember the story Linden told me when we were descending from the mountains into Zaranea. She was killed in the Colosseum during her spear bout, all her friends and family looking down at her. Her opponent drove a spear through her heart, and she was dead before the medics reached her.

"I thought Jebah avenged you," I say. "Didn't he tear your opponent apart with a feathered pen or something?"

"I don't believe Casor was acting alone." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I think he was paid off."

"Why do you think that?" Felicity asks.

"He was a peasant dressed in the finest leathers," she says. "Did you know King Audrin married his sister barely a month after I was laid to rest? We were engaged. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

So she wants revenge on the king of the effing realm? That's a lot to ask from two Whoredaughters and a Whoreson. I exchange a glance with Akeeva over the boozer. Her lips are pursed in polite concern, and her hands are folded on her lap.

"We'd be honored to help in any way we can, my lady," she says. "But—with all due respect—why us? What exactly are we supposed to do?"

"I don't trust easily," Brid Naya'il says. "Politicians are all the same. Killián only bothers with me when he needs something—he doesn't listen. His men are puppets who care more about social climbing than justice. The rest of the lords are as corrupt as they are cruel. I have no friends in this life or the next one."

"What about the other Ladies?" I ask. "You're a divine entity who can walk the four worlds at will, and you have six sisters. Can't they help you?"

"Adelaide and I had a falling out," she says. "She changed when she became Lady Love incarnate—she went from being my best friend to my replacement as Audrin's wife. Lady War still resides with the living, and there's a world between us. The same goes for Lady Hope, and Lady Life has never been an ally to the church of Death. And as for Lady Fate…well. Your sister can tell you about her."

Akeeva looks as if she's swallowed something unpleasant.

"Genevieve came to me at the almoner's when I was working in Valenès," she says. "She offered me twenty éclats to help her kill Lord Lefe."

"What?" I demand. Never mind the outrageous amount of money—that's a pretty big bone to pick with one's ex-husband. "Did you tell him?"

"Of course," Akeeva says. "There's something strange going on with the church of Fate, Ko. I'm not convinced as to Lefe's sanity, but he's good with Ila, and I want nothing to do with his death. Also, Genevieve scares me."

"Bard says she threw you an orange when I was in the medi-center."

"I didn't catch it." Akeeva examines her folded hands. "Not like you did."

"Linden told me she's trying to make things as chaotic and miserable as possible," I say. "If Lefe remarries, she loses her power."

"Lefe's not going to remarry," Akeeva says. "Have you met the man? He can barely hold a conversation with a woman."

"I'm sure there are plenty of women in the First Circuit who want to be Lady Fate."

"Maybe." Akeeva looks thoughtful. "We're getting off topic. Lady Death wants vengeance, and she's asking us for help."

"Also, your soul is missing," Felicity says. "How are we not still talking about that?"

"So you'll do it?" asks Brid Naya'il, eyes bright and terribly wide. "You'll avenge me?"

"I wouldn't go after Lefe, and you want me to take on the king himself?" Akeeva shakes her head. "We're not certain he had anything to do with your death, my lady."

"There's an easy way to find out," Brid Naya'il says. "It could help Ko figure out what happened to his soul as well. He must play the mirror game."

"Bard told me to stay away from that," I say. "And given our family business, I don't want to subject my sisters to it. Doesn't it rely on memory? They don't have a lot of good ones from L-Street, my lady."

"I'm not asking them to play," Brid Naya'il says. "I'm asking you."

"What does it entail?" asks Akeeva.

"Secrets and blackmail," Brid Naya'il says. "Past and present. Ancestors and descendants. The living and the dead. All are tied together by the time web, and all can be accessed with the help of malloweed. If you could get through Audrin's defenses, you could find definite proof that he wanted me dead. You have the conduit potential, Ko—all you must do is challenge him to a bout. I'm your lady, and I'm not asking."

A hard knot wedges itself in my throat. "This doesn't seem like the way to make friends in the Septemvirate."

"You're a Whoreson," is her reply. "You were never going to make friends here."

"He already wants to burn me at the stake."

"Lady Fate has seen visions of you opening the gates of Hel to unleash an army of larvae upon the First Circuit from the Lands of the Dead, and she has relayed these dreams to her brother," Brid Naya'il says. "Audrin fears you—whether you live or die, you are a threat. And make no mistake, Ko—you are going to die. Killián knew what he was doing when he christened you Diable. Play like the devil."

Everybody dies, I guess, but it reminds me of something Lady Fate said when I dreamed of the God King's courtroom: His dice rolled. Within a week, he'll be in the Lands of the Dead. As it is said, so be it done. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, and I certainly don't understand it now. All I know is a lot of people are talking about my imminent demise, and it's making me more than a little uncomfortable.

"That's insane," I say, instead of saying any of that.

"That doesn't make it any less true," Brid Naya'il says.

"He's the king of L'Anglimar," I say. "He has no reason to indulge me."

"Give him one," she says. "Do as I bid, and bring him down."

"It doesn't sound like you're giving me a choice."

"Audrin is my enemy, which makes him yours as well," she says. "Or were you jesting for sport when you swore me your allegiance?"

"I thought Lady Death's guard was meant to protect the realm from Xobrites, not stage a coup." I'm getting more desperate by the minute—panic presses against my chest, hot and heavy. "Do you even realize what you're asking me to do?"

"Realize your potential," she says without hesitation. "I'm not asking."