Chronicles of a Falling Empire [Bloodstained, Bloodshed]

the final player, Lady Loss
bets for all and bets for naught
the road to Hel is paved by sloth
without ambition, all is lost

"The Soul Trade," Verse eight

"Ko!" exclaims Ila when I enter the dining room. "You're out of the hospital!"

I beeline around the table to ruffle my little sister's hair, then pull her into a hug. She's seated between Lefe and Akeeva, with Felicity on Keev's other side. Lefe makes a face and moves his wine glass when I lean in, kissing both Ila's cheeks—it's been so long since I've seen her. She's grown at least an inch since I saw her in Bathune during my final bout, and she bats me away when I try to kiss her again. She looks like a little lady, clad in a flowy pink dress with ruffles around the sleeves and neck.

It seems like I'm the last to arrive—I wrote three pages of my Marix essay and didn't depart from the Knowledge Center until late—and the room is packed. Killián sits at the head of the table with Bardic on his right. Opposite from him, at the other head of the table, is a gray-haired, older gentleman. To the left of Killián is Belén and Rowan, then Torrense, then Péri, then Lefe and my sisters. Billi's seated to the right of the gray-haired man across the table from Felicity, and next to her is a stern-faced woman who must be Péri's wife. On the other side of her is Kempe, then an empty chair that must be for me, then Linden, then Miro and Brid—then we're back around the table to Bardic on Killián's right-hand side.

I take the seat between Linden and Kempe—she's the one who let me through the gate and led me up here, and she's already sat down. Lefe's directly across the table from me, dressed in a royal blue cassock so starched I can see the pleat lines. A black widow spider is embroidered on his chest, and beneath the folds is a black tie.

"Ko, this is my father, the retired General Médéric." Killián's voice is slightly strained, and he gestures with his wine glass to the man at the opposing head of the table. "Father, this is Lieutenant Ko, the newest edition to Lady Death's elite guard."

"Second newest," says Kempe through a mouthful of bread. "He got his black leathers before me."

"You'll excuse me if I don't shake your hand." Médéric's voice is low and curt, and the table lapses to silence when he speaks. "Palsy."

I dip my head in respectful submission. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"I wish I could say the same." There's something mocking about his tone. "Interesting additions to Lady Death's elite guard, Killián. Very interesting indeed."

"If you have something to say to me, Father, then say it."

"I dare not." The mocking edge hasn't left his voice. "You might sic your child soldier against me—what would I do then?"

Akeeva and Felicity exchange a glance over Ila's head, and I busy myself dishing up roast chicken and garlic bread. When I look up, I find Médéric is still looking at me. He has Brid's tawny, almond-shaped eyes, precisely the same shape and color, but the resemblance stops there. He's a pallid man with a sharp brow, and the flesh seems to hang off him like a layer of snakeskin. He's not nearly as tall as Killián, and much less broad. When he reaches for his bread, his hands tremble. I avert my gaze.

Linden taps my arm. "How are you doing, brother?" he asks.

"It's been a day," I say wearily. "Any news from the frontline?"

"Xobrites are assembling en masse in the Córdoba foothills." He rips a hunk of his bread. "Scouts and spies have heard rumors they may attempt to storm Valenès."

"I do hope they wait until after the spring hols," Péri says from across the table. "I'd hate to deploy during Veneer Week."

"We may not have a choice," Killián says. "Xobrites haven't occupied the Second Circuit's capitol since Yosif's time, and I'll be damned if I let them seize the territory while I still hold his scythe."

"Which you may not have for much longer," Médéric says. "Your death duel with Jebah is scheduled for next Monday, unless I'm mistaken."

Killián's face is impassive. "You should know if he takes my life and claims this house, his first move will be to evict you."

"Perhaps a change in leadership is what this army needs." Médéric's eyes drift over Kempe, then me. "Out with the old guard, in with the new."

"Don't take it personally," Torrense says, making eye contact with me. "He's not overly fond of anyone in Killián's guard."

I suppose that makes sense—I know the story. When Killián, Bardic, Torrense, Lefe, and Péri were in their final term at L-DAW, they usurped and killed most of Médéric's elites. Segolé, Belén, and Reign survived the turnover, but the rest of them were killed after Killián's death duel with Médéric for Yosif's scythe. I don't know how—or why—Médéric didn't die with his men. Either way, Lady Death's Guard was forever changed. We haven't studied all the policy differences in Médéric and Killián's guard, but I know same-sex coupling between soldiers was punishable by death before the revolt. The penalty for desertion changed from tarring and feathering to jail time. To hear Billi tell it, it also wasn't a great time to be a female fighter—Belén and Reign really struggled under Médéric's regime.

I take a moment to examine the feast laid out before us. A massive bowl of pot-au-feu is directly before me—a meat and vegetable stew. There are carrots, parsnips, turnips, and potatoes seasoned with herbs. A salad with wild greens and edible flowers is laid before Akeeva. Next to that is a cheese plate that boasts an assortment of soft and harder, aged molds. Bowls of lentils and beans are aplenty, and there's a jar of something that looks suspiciously like pickled salamander—a delicacy in the First Circuit, and one I've never seen before. There are also plates of pastries and tarts spread at various intervals across the table. I've never seen so much food before in my life. Akeeva meets my eyes—I remember when I was a kid and she tried to convince me the salted oats served at the food distribution center in Valenès was the food of kings.

"Before we get further into this meal, there are matters we need to discuss," Killián says. "Ko, Torrense has a degree in legal studies from Lady Love's Academy of Science. He'll be your representation as we navigate this budding troth. Do you have any questions for him?"

"Troth?" Billi demands from somewhere to my right. "Ko's getting married?"

Akeeva's fork drops to her plate with a clatter, and her face goes red. Felicity is staring at me with an expression of horror on her face, and Ila looks confused.

"What's a troth?" she asks.

"Perhaps I should've led with this," Killián says. "I've decided it's in the best interest of our family for Brid and Ko to wed when she comes of age. He's young enough for this to be a suitable match, and he has the titles necessary to succeed me. Does anyone have any objections to this proposal?"

It's hard to hear what anyone is saying over the chaos of intermingled voices, but the shock and disbelief are palpable. I sink into my chair, warmth crawling up my neck and cheeks. I can't see Brid—Linden and Miro are between us—but I don't hear the screamed objections I would've expected from her. Belén's voice is the first I'm able to make out.

"I had hoped Rowan would marry Brid when she turns sixteen," she says, stern and loud, and the table lapses into a sudden silence. "He'll earn a second title when he graduates from L-DAW, and there's no doubt in my mind that he'll be able to earn a third on the frontline thereafter. Not only is he a legacy elite by my line—his mother, my son's wife, is one of King Loïc's bastards. He has Darkbloom blood."

"I'd rather be hamstringed," Brid pronounces. "Oh—no offense, Rowan."

"But you'd marry Ko?" Miro asks.

Her response is vehement. "Da—tell me you're jesting for sport."

"Perhaps you should've had this conversation with her in private." Bardic's voice, a murmur, is loud enough to be audible. No one is eating—no one is moving—and the silence is more oppressive than the earlier pandemonium. "As I suggested."

"I assumed she'd behave like a lady if company was present," Killián says wearily. "Brid, you know you must marry someone for the sake of our family—I cannot allow you to enlist. You like Ko—you've told me as much. This is our best course of action."

"He told me I'm a friendless ne'er-do-well who deserves to die alone and get eaten by cats!" Brid says.

"Ko." Akeeva sounds reproachful, scandalized. "You said that to a child?"

"Because friendless ne'er-do-well absolutely sounds like something that would come out of his mouth," Felicity mutters.

Everyone is looking at me. Everyone. My face has never felt so hot, and I find myself wishing I'd rejected Bard's invitation. How could Killián have brought this up in front of everyone? I thought this was a thing of the distant future, something I wouldn't have to worry about until I graduated from L-DAW at least. Judging by the reaction of the room at large, Killián's the only one who thinks this is a good idea. I feel like he's strung me up on a cliff of rocks surrounded by vultures and left me to fend for myself. More than that, I feel bad about what happened with Brid—when I left school, I said some pretty harsh things to her. I was beyond fucked in the head, but still. Clearly the apology when I returned didn't cut it.

"I told you I didn't mean it," I say, beyond uncomfortable. "I'm sure you have friends, Brid."

"Girls like me don't have friends," she says scathingly. "Those were your words verbatim."

"Ouch," Miro says. "True, but ouch."

"Miro, that's enough." Killián's staring at me with an impassive expression on his face—I can't get a read on it. "Ko, have you apologized?"

"Of course."

He speaks slowly, clearly choosing his words with care. "This was directly after you made the decision to depart from L-DAW?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I want to die. I actually want to die. "Yes."

"Did you tell Brid why you were leaving school?"

He cannot possibly be doing this to me in front of everyone.

"Ko was under an exorbitant amount of stress when he had that conversation with you," Killián tells Brid. "I wouldn't take it personally, nor should you see it as a reflection of his character. He's a respectful young man who cares about you and, apart from that incident, has treated you with nothing but kindness. You could do worse in a potential suitor."

"What's your patronymic?" Médéric asks me.

"Diable," Killián says before I can respond.

"Don't be cute, General Killián." Belén's tone is equal parts cold and cruel. "He's a Whoreson, Médéric, and he had the audacity to speak to a vestal with such disrespect."

"Has the job addled your mind, Killián?" Médéric lets out a huff of disgust and turns to Akeeva. "You're the woman who raised him? I assume you're a tart."

I expect her to close off, but instead she raises her head, expression defiant. "I worked on L-Street. Do we have a problem?"

"You shouldn't be allowed to look at me, woman, let alone speak in my presence." His face twists into a snarl as he turns away from her. "We're dining with whores now, Killián?"

"Apparently we're marrying whores," Miro says. "Sorry, Ko—nothing personal. For what it's worth, I think this is hilarious. Apparently I'm such a botch that you're my competition for the scythe."

"I thought you wanted to be a writer," Billi says quietly.

"I do, but still. Damn."

"How far does this family have to fall before you admit you've run our legacy into the ground?" Médéric demands, his tawny gaze fixed on the general. "Bad enough when the servant boy joined our table, but this?"

"Lefe earned his place at this table, as did Ko," Killián says. "Any person from any caste can overcome their birth stratum by enlisting. Lady Death does not discriminate when she welcomes fighters into her guard. Why is no one eating?"

"Hang on," Segolé says slowly. "We've got a problem, General. There's something I haven't told you. A prophesy from Lady Fate."

Lefe looks at him sharply. "We should not reveal our Lady's dice to those unable to read their patterns."

"She was pretty clear about Ko's future," Segolé says. "He's marked for death."

Well, shit. I already knew that—kind of—but it sucks to hear Segolé say it out loud. I don't care what Lady Fate has to say about it. I survived L-Street, the Colosseum, the frontline, and torture. I'm not dying just because the Lady who threw fruit at my head told Segolé my dice have rolled.

A good fifteen seconds of silence follows. Akeeva is the first to break it.

"Isn't everyone marked for death?" she asks. "I mean…there's this finicky little thing called mortality that we're all cursed with?"

"Sure," says Segolé. "But Ko's got a week. Maybe less."

"I don't believe it," Felicity says.

"Our Lady is never wrong," Lefe says. "Ko will die. How, we do not know. But it's not a matter of if. It's a matter of when."

"Can't you walk the time web and figure it out?" I ask. "I thought future-reading was supposed to be your thing."

He scowls at me. "You're not my problem," he says. "Not my church, not my subject."

"Enough." Killián pounds a hand against the table. "I will not allow cryptic prophesy to alter rational decisions, and no more will be said about it. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Segolé—it's a problem for another day."

"My visions do make sense," Lefe says thoughtfully. "Ko—by Killián's hand, you will die."

"To die is to transform," Killián tells me.

Well…shit.

The dinner resumes. I help myself to a bean dish with tomatoes and herbs. Linden puts a pickled salamander on my plate and wiggles his eyebrows at me. His expression is amused. I remember suddenly a conversation we had in the mountains when we were sharing a tent. He told me he was too old to be Killián's protégé. I asked him—too old for what? Not for what, he said. For who.

I understand what he meant now.

Brid leaves as soon as her plate is clear. The door that leads out to the balcony slams behind her with force. Killián and Bardic exchange a look. Akeeva shoots me her no-nonsense, pursed lip expression of disapproval, then angles her head toward the door. I shake my head. She nods. I shake. She nods.

"Please excuse me," I say, defeated. The air outside is chilly, and the seats where I sat with Brid and Miro while we waited for Segolé to read my fate are abandoned. I walk down a stone staircase that leads down to the back garden and find myself in an herb and vegetable plot, neat rows of raised beds. It's a cloudless night, and it's easy to see the surrounding terrain in the silvery light cast by the moon. Fruit trees line the orchard—squinting, I can make out apples, pears, and cherries. Surrounding a small fountain are flower beds, stone benches woven between them. I walk past a statue of Yosif the Great mounted and take a stone pathway through a blooming field.

At the back of the yard is a pergola, and I find Brid beneath the arbor. Wisteria and ivy climb the wooden sides, releasing a sweet scent into the air.

"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the bench beside her.

Her gaze is fixed on her hands. "Do as you will, soldier."

I take a seat beside her and examine the palazzo's outline. Imposing stone walls border the garden, ivy and climbing roses partially covering them. Balconies and terraces are visible on every one of the castle's five floors, jutting out from the rock like prongs from a mace. A faint buzzing surrounds us—a beehive from a nearby tree. Aside from that and the whispering wind, it's quiet.

"If we marry and you stray with Sabilli, I'll gut you like a fish and feed you to the pigs. I know you got the friendless ne'er-do-well thing from her—she says it all the time. Men take lovers on their combat tours, and that's fine, but not her. Never her. Promise me."

I did actually get the girls like you don't have friends line from Billi—just thinking about that quadruples my guilt.

"I wouldn't cheat on a combat tour," is all I can think to say.

"Torrense is cheaty," she says. "Da always makes him come clean, so he's been through three wives. Péri probably is too, although Jasiel doesn't know it. Even Segolé had a woman in Draguilun when he was younger, and his wife Reign was effing touring with him. It happens. Soldiers can't keep their swords in their sheaths."

I don't know how to respond.

Her voice grows scornful. "Miro and I exist, which means not even Da could stay faithful. He and Bard have loved each other since they were boys, and if someone like him could cheat, I don't see you keeping a marriage closed."

How could Brid not know that Jebah is her biological father—isn't Killián's whole thing honesty? I open my mouth, then close it—I don't see any way I can handle this conversation with tact.

"I don't want to let you down," I say.

"But?"

"I've never taken an interest in women."

It's harder to admit than I think it will be.

"The quality every lass dreams of in a husband," she says. "You like men?"

"That's not it either."

"I don't understand."

"I grew up as a backroom boy in a cathouse," I tell her. "Painting eyes, filing nails, surrounded by naked women. Trying to stay away from grabby johns and knowing any one of them could have me for four francs when I turned fifteen. You're a goddamn vestal, Brid. You don't understand my caste and you never will. Killián's torturing me with the possibility of a future that doesn't involve sexual servitude, but the fact of the matter is I've already been there. This is a joke and I'm sorry I can't protect you from it."

Ignore the voice crack, Brid, for the love of Yosif ignore the voice crack.

"Do you want to marry me?" she asks, voice small.

Damn it, Brid, don't make me say it.

"Lefe married Torrense's sister, you know—Genevieve," she says. "Apparently he wouldn't consummate with her—he was so repulsed by the thought of intimacy that eventually she drugged him with voidweed so they could conceive. He passed out and didn't even remember it. I'd never do that to you. We won't have children."

"Brid?"

"What's Da going to do, stand over our bed with a scythe?" she asks. "I don't want to die in childbirth, you've never taken an interest in women. This could actually work."

"You could enlist."

"Da would never let me."

"We could find a way."

"Don't tease." There's raw, genuine pain in her voice. "Please, Ko. Don't tease."

"It's what you want."

"More than anything."

"Then we'll get you there," I say. "I'll help you. Whatever I can do."

She looks at me for a long, hard moment. She's still in her finishing school dress, but she left the beaded shawl inside—she's shivering. I tug off the jacket of my leathers and drape it around her shoulders. I half expect her to reject the offering, but she slides her arms through the holes and hides a smile behind her closed fist. I nudge her with my shoulder. She nudges me back.

"I saw your aunt earlier today," I say.

"Oh?" She pauses. "What did she want?"

"My soul is missing."

"Better find that before you die."

No shit. "She said someone paid off the guy who killed her in the Colosseum," I say. "I guess she wants my help proving it was King Audrin."

"Auntie B's been on that for a while now," Brid says. "Da won't listen. I advise you do the same."

"What do you think?"

"All my respect to our king, but it's a gross move to marry your twin sister." She shudders. "Thank Yosif it's not Miro Da wants me to wed—that's all I can say."

"She said they married…what, a month after she died?"

"Yes, and Da's never forgiven King Audrin for it." She taps her chin with a finger. "Or Queen Adelaide, but she killed herself after Princess Madeline was born. The lass came out with dark hair, if you know what I mean. Prince Lucian is blond like his parents—he's the heir."

"What do you know about the king and queen?"

"They were best friends with Jebah and Brid Naya'il when they were in finishing school and lordheir academy," she says. "Two sets of highborn twins around the same age…apparently the four of them were inseparable. Audrin and Adelaide had a bad home life—I don't know if you've heard stories about what King Loïc was like, but Da said he makes Grandfather look loving and permissive by comparison."

I stay quiet.

"Grandfather's grandfather, which tells you everything you need to know about Loïc," she says. "Anyhoozles, when Da usurped and ousted the old guard, the di Vivar palazzo became a place of refuge for Audrin and Adelaide. They spent all their time here—Audrin was engaged to Brid Naya'il, and Jebah to Adelaide. King Achille was their oldest brother—he succeeded Loïc, but he was worse than his father. Audrin killed him in a death duel shortly after Brid Naya'il was slain. Audrin had other older brothers, of course—Torrense included—but Audrin was the challenger and victor, so he got the throne. He married Adelaide the next day, and Lucian was born six months later. They were seventeen when all that went down—same age as Da when he took the scythe. Some say the Darkbloom's death duel was inspired by Da's usurpation."

"What's he like?" I ask. "King Audrin, I mean."

"Nice," she says. "Quiet. A good father and a decent king. He's always been very kind to me. Sends me chocolates every yearday."

"Do you think he paid off Brid Naya'il's killer?"

"Audrin loved Brid Naya'il," she says. "That's all there is to it. Got any other questions?"

Just one, from Lanista Brodrick. "Do you know how to build a fire?"

"There's a pit by the greenhouse." She grins at me. "Let's light some shite up!"