Wolves of Empire [EPIC DARK FANTASY] [Book One Complete]

Sixteen

Sephara

Empyria, the Imperium

11th of Tournus

The Praevin's headquarters crouched in the opulent depths of the Myriad District, in the Empyrian Tower's shadow. It was one of the most fortified buildings Sephara had ever laid eyes on, boasting defences befitting of the Palace District itself.

The main complex squatted in the centre of an exposed expanse of stone, encircled by four concentric rings of walls, each twenty feet in height and easily a quarter the thickness. Beyond the dim glow of the torches crowning the walls, she discerned the silhouettes of armed Praevin officers, their arrows tracking her as she paced towards the first of four guardhouses. The guardhouses themselves were stunted affairs built into the faces of the walls and served as the only break in the compound's considerable barriers.

She gave her false name when challenged and asked for an audience with the Praevin Captain-General. She knew Kesa's Paramours entertained Praevin officers regularly, sometimes even coming to the headquarters themselves, and from what they'd shared with her, Sephara had established a vague routine for Dexion's movements. He kept his own quarters within the stronghold and spent most of his free time here, despite owning an estate in the Myriad District itself by virtue of the noble rank his title accompanied. He also moved freely around the compound, interacting regularly with his troops in the manner of a popular general.

It had only been three days since she'd watched him duel her brother and learned he had Novissa's assassin's dagger in his possession. She needed to speak to him again, to take the next step in cultivating an alliance, to build upon the playful friendship they'd started developing. In truth, it had taken her the previous three days to gather the bravery required for what she wanted to do here tonight, what Kesa had craftily suggested she do.

Dexion arrived a few minutes later, donned in the dyed blue trousers of the Praevin and a fitted white shirt that outlined the fierce lines of his muscles. Despite the bite to the evening breeze, his sleeves were rolled up and he looked casual.

"Here to free me from the crushing boredom of my work?" he asked as he offered his arm.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd free me from mine," she replied as she looped her arm through his, the weight the physical contact inspiring a thrill low in her stomach. "My employers are endlessly politicking, now the armies have left and war is being waged. They want me present at all meetings, and it's taxing. I need some respite."

He flashed her a warm smile. "And you choose me. How honoured I am."

He escorted her through the successive three walls and into the main base. Unlike most of the surrounding architecture, the compound was blocky and modern; the Praevin had only been founded a scant few decades ago by the current Caetoran's mother, and their compound had been built for them in the first few years of their existence.

Their destination was an office at the base's peak. In contrast to the compound's bland exterior, the interior of Dexion's office blazed with life and colour. Floor-to-ceiling windows comprised two of the walls, allowing him an eagle-eyed view of his domain. This early in the evening, the canvas of sunset-drenched Empyria, the white stone burning gently orange, was as picturesque as a painting.

Five overflowing bookcases striped the back wall, the spines of each tome bent with use. On the other wall hung an expansive map of the city, separated into its various districts. Dexion had annotated it, his handwriting the neatest and most elegant calligraphy she'd ever seen. Below it, in vaguer detail, was an overview of the Praevin compound itself. She committed as much of it to memory as she could in a brief study.

An immense desk dominated the office's centre. It was made of dark lacquered wood, thick and wide as a rowboat. An opulent set of chairs surrounded it, and several small towers of papers and reports were stacked atop it in disarray, some of them bearing the same flawless handwriting. A bottle of red wine and a half-full glass completed the scene.

Dexion moved to stand behind the desk. He pushed the paper stacks into a more orderly pile, then gestured at one of the seats opposite.

"So, why are you really here?" he said when she took a seat. He produced another glass and filled it, then offered it to her.

She shrugged, trying to make herself look coy and innocent. "I can't come seeking out intriguing company without an ulterior motive?" She took a sip of wine and, though not an expert by any measure, found it pleasant and smooth.

He leaned back in his chair, looking so carefree he bordered on boyish. "Intriguing? Should I be flattered or offended?"

"Definitely flattered." Sephara copied his casual aura, thrumming her fingers along one knee. She glanced around the office, letting an easy silence simmer for a few seconds before looking back at Dexion to find him watching her. She tried to arrange her features into an expression she imagined would allure, calling to mind how easily Kesa Hult had disarmed her. Truth be told, sparring with him at Traian's was far easier than attempting to seduce him, and she worried she fumbled. Then again, the way he'd held her to himself at the very end of that duel had implied interest on his part. All she needed to do was fan that interest.

"I've visited the Heaven's Paramours a couple of times now. Seen quite a lot. Have you ever been there?"

He chuckled. "What answer would you prefer?"

She remembered the potency of Kesa's touch, and her cheeks warmed as if the woman skimmed her knuckles there again. She found herself wondering what Dexion's hands would feel like stroking her face, whether his palms were callused from all his duelling, or whether his would be a soft touch. Though no naïve virgin, she'd never shared herself with someone like the Captain-General before. All her previous lovers had been her age and far beneath her station. Dexion was arguably more powerful, and though still unsure of his age, he was certainly her elder.

She rose slowly from her seat and edged around his desk. His eyes fixed on her, a small smile becoming a knowing grin as she set one hand on his. The intensity of that blue-eyed stare evoked the way he'd looked at her in Traian's, just before she'd danced away to continue their sparring.

"I learned some things there, as well," she murmured.

"Oh?"

She moved in close, bending down and closing the distance between them until they were a whisper apart, his breath warm on her face. He smelled of fresh air and dog-eared old books. "Want me to show you?"

Before he could reply, she grabbed him by the nape and drew him into a fierce kiss, sharp and brief. When she pulled away, he smiled and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Never been seduced before?" she asked.

"Never in so blunt a fashion," he replied.

She pulled him to his feet. "Well," she began. "I can court you delicately if you like. Write you sickeningly romantic poetry, take you on obnoxiously beautiful walks of the city's gardens, wine and dine you in the finest restaurants. Or." She let her hands stray to the hem of his trousers. "We can do it my way."

He angled his head and seared a trail of soft kisses along her neck, one hand resting on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. Not as callused as she imagined, though his touch was gentle, almost wary, as if he feared she'd pull away and leave.

"I like your way," he murmured. "More efficient than the lingering touches and longing stares I planned on continuing to employ."

Ah, she'd judged him correctly, then. The blunt approach had worked because he hadn't expected it.

When they broke apart, he took her hand and led her out of the office and into the darkened corridor beyond. As they headed to his private quarters, she committed the route to memory and tried to quell the bubbles of excitement lifting her stomach. Whatever happened next, she needed to be in control, needed to command the encounter with Kesa's confident ease.

Dexion's bedchamber was cosier than she might've guessed. She'd expected military orderliness, something befitting of her uncle's soldiers in their barracks, but instead she found comfort and warmth and, of course, more bookshelves. It seemed he was as well read as Kesa.

After Sephara shut the door behind her and pressed her back flush against it, Dexion turned to her with a raised brow. "Are you sure about this?"

"Why? Aren't you?"

"I would rather you not regret this later," he said.

She pushed away from the door and encroached into his space, noting with a smile that he didn't move away. "Don't give me reason to regret it, then." She raised a forefinger to his lips with one hand and slipped the other into his trousers, taking him in her grip. He hissed a soft gasp of surprise and pleasure.

"I don't think I'm unsure," she said.

He shifted and chuckled. "No, I don't think you are."

She pulled him back for another kiss, this one deeper, hot with shared desire. She punctuated it with a lazy roll of her hand along his cock, earning a strained groan in reward. A spike of something sharp and shocking ignited in her chest as he smoothed his hands along her flanks and hooked his thumbs into her own trousers.

"Why?" he inquired as they separated for air. His voice faltered for the first time.

"Because I like you," she replied, words heavy with genuine desire. She'd wondered if seducing Dexion would feel hollow, but she spoke the truth; she did like him. He was, after all, a handsome man who wore his authority well, who'd been friendly and mostly open with her from the beginning, and who seemed to be interested in her. Not to mention, he'd embarrassed Kaeso in front of a crowd of thousands, and then intervened in her brother's attempts to hurt her. There were far poorer matches.

She set about unbuckling his trousers with one hand even as she continued caressing him with the other, feeling him harden further against her palm; that he seemed to be letting her lead filled her with an elation she'd never enjoyed before.

His trousers fell free and pooled around his legs as she got to work on his shirt. When he shrugged out of it, the hard muscles of a warrior's chest were revealed, and she offered him an appreciative nod. Before he could respond with a sly comment, she shoved him down onto his bed.

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"You want another duel, is that it?" he smirked, propping himself up on one elbow as he stroked himself with his other hand.

"Of a different sort," Sephara replied as she started unbuttoning her shirt. Dexion watched her fully undress, still pleasuring himself, and she felt white hot fingers of arousal flicker across her naked flesh as his hungry eyes roamed her, snagging on her breasts and then her sex. Any self-consciousness she might harbour about the plain nature of her soldierly body vanished at the sight of Dexion's flushed cheeks and the way he gripped himself harder, his knuckles whitening.

"You are quite beautiful," he murmured.

"Only quite?"

He shifted across the bed and set his head on the pillows. "Come here and I'll show you exactly what I think."

She obliged, hauling herself onto the bed and straddling him, pressing the whole length of her body against his, skin to skin, as she dipped her head down and stole the breath from his mouth. She felt his erection between her legs and ground her hips down, making him groan as he moved to meet her.

When she straightened, he cupped one of her breasts and rocked his hips again, the other broad palm snaking between her legs to tease and scald and prepare her. After a moment or two of enjoying the deft, experienced play of his fingers inside her, she took him in hand, not quite as gentle as before and, trembling with anticipation, lowered herself down onto him with a shared gasp. His first thrust was shockingly delicate, and she locked her legs more firmly around him, drawing him deeper, taking him gradually. A few halting strokes and hip-rocking later and they found their rhythm.

She barely registered anything beyond her own laboured breathing intermingling with his as she leaned over him, and the ripples of hot, hard pleasure setting her entire body aflame. His hands grasped her hips as they moved against each other, urging her to rock faster. She splayed her palms on his shoulders, leaning her weight onto him, her mind lost to her exertions as she acquiesced.

Her final release came shortly after his. He uttered an animal grunt as he finished, and she tensed around him, her fingers twisting into talons, gripping his arms to steady herself. Still trembling, he pressed his hand between her thighs to quicken her climax. It'd been a while since she'd experienced such ardent attention, and she lost control as she buried her face into his shoulder and rode out the waves of trembling sensation.

They remained locked together for some time, panting and sweating, Dexion regarding her with a content smile as she tried to master herself and regain control of a frayed mind and a quivering body.

―

To her great satisfaction, Dexion fell asleep soon after. She hadn't been sure if he'd desire another round or two, or if he'd ask her to leave, as some of her previous affairs had. Instead, he'd held her in his arms, his breathing deepening as he drifted to sleep.

Eventually, when she was sure he wouldn't wake, she shifted from under his grip and climbed off the bed. She hurriedly dressed and called to mind the base's map on his wall; if she could find anything regarding Novissa's or Noster's deaths, it would be in the archives, underground. After a brief search, she found a set of keys in Dexion's trouser pocket.

She hadn't expected the pang of guilt at leaving him asleep so soon after bedding him, having stolen into his confidence with every intention of gaining information she knew he concealed. Despite not knowing him well and coming here tonight to seduce him and nothing more, she liked him. She felt warmed and fulfilled and pleasantly aching from what they'd done, and the memories of it made her smile with pleasure, so that had to count for something.

She encountered no guards as she traversed the compound's darkened corridors. Underground, it was clinically bare, so devoid of life she felt like she walked through a stripped carcass. After two tense minutes of fumbling for the right key, she eventually found herself in a room resembling a library. It was as neatly ordered as she could've hoped for.

At the end of each row of imposing cabinets and shelves sat a desk, illuminated by several failing lanterns that cast the entire room in a low and eerie shade of orange. The cabinets were labelled with dates, detailing, year by year, the entire short history of the Praevin. She found the most recent cabinet halfway down an aisle and set about locating what she wanted.

She learned from skimming over this year's reports that Empyria was a haven for petty criminals. Her brief forays into the Slates had made her aware of this, but to see it all recorded was shocking. From the mundane robberies and sabotage of market stalls, all the way through to the seemingly unprovoked savage murders of strangers and the fallouts of gang warfare in the very depths of the Slates, it seemed the Praevin missed nothing. Nothing except her infiltration of its very heart, of course.

Eventually she separated the murders from the trivial thefts and streets brawls, and then the assassinations from the murders, all by virtue of a pictorial code the Praevin employed for ease of filing.

She stacked the relevant reports on the nearest desk and left the others in reach, where she could re-file them again to cover her tracks.

When she spread the individual files across the desk, she noticed the pages were sparse, as if the first drafts had been written up but taken no further. She'd expected fuller reports, meticulously detailed, a few pages each, at least, from which she could glean connections.

The first was Novissa's, dated thirteenth of Tabus. The high-profile nature of the deceased and the resulting political implications meant her report was bulkier. Sephara scanned it, finding only the same details she already knew.

She pored over the summaries at the top of the other reports:

Noster Seius:

Murdered in the late afternoon on 1st day of Tournus, at Mallian Armoury. Fatal chest wound. Dagger. Not ranged weapon. Assailant disappeared without trace. No reliable witnesses. Office building burned down. Possibly pre-meditated, perhaps careless vandalism or theft gone wrong. Suspect aasiurmancy.

Tullus Gavius:

Murdered in the late afternoon on 4th day of Tournus, at Grand Imperial Library. Fatal chest wound. Dagger. Assassin vanished. No witnesses.

Gaius Cassian:

Murdered in the early evening on 8th day of Tournus, outside his estate. Fatal chest wound. Dagger. Assailant vanished. One witness. Claims shadow attacked victim. Aasiurmancy?

There it was: the vicious ending of lives summarised in clipped short-hand. The same words repeated, the handwriting becoming progressively more scrawled, as if the scribe had tired of the buzzwords.

There were four deaths now, including Novissa and Noster's, all of them too similar for coincidence. Her father hadn't mentioned Gavius or Cassian, the two most recent, nor had she heard about them from Kesa's Paramours.

That a series of strikingly similar murders took place at seemingly regular intervals, without the news being public, at a time of open war, stank of deception. The Praevin not only kept the events quiet, but also neglected to properly investigate, to the point where their official reports provided only the barest details.

And there was the matter of the victims themselves.

Novissa, a Boratorren by blood. Noster, allied to their family by virtue of his connection to Iana Mallian. Tullus Gavius, who she knew to be a Quendinthan noble loyal to the Boratorrens, who always took his cues from Valerian in the Prodessium. It was to the Gavius estate that Kaeso had supposedly been going for dinner the day he'd appeared in Traian's to duel Dexion. Sephara wondered whether the death of their patriarch had been what had exonerated Kaeso from his noble duties. Gaius Cassian, on the other hand, was a Denjini noble who'd invested in her uncle's stonehound breeding programme. If she recalled their allies' details correctly, Cassian was one of the only individuals in the entire Imperium besides Endarion permitted to own a stonehound, and the funds he offered Endarion for that privilege paid almost outright for each new generation of priceless war dogs.

All of them in some way supported her family. Their deaths wouldn't cripple the Boratorrens right away, but the consequences would begin to devour their foundations like wood-rot. What concerned Sephara most was: how long before the family themselves were targeted?

She inhaled deeply, smothering panic. They're not in danger yet. With Uncle as Paramount-General, we're untouchable as long as there's a war.

Despite confirming Kesa's information and her own theories, the reports offered nothing tangible.

Accepting defeat, at least for the evening, she began slotting the reports back into their original places when she saw a prominent lump in the cabinet. A small leather bag, missed because the reports had been hiding it. She snatched it and turned it upside down. A dagger fell into her waiting hands.

The dagger Dexion had mentioned, the one that had ended Novissa's life.

Not a Drasken dagger. To her eyes it didn't even appear to be of Imperium make, as its blade was wickedly curved, like a malicious smile. Its hilt was shaped to fit the hand of its owner. Along the blade swirled a series of engravings she didn't recognise, though nothing like the tower and shield symbol on Novissa's dagger.

She returned it to its leather bag, slid it into her pocket, and was about to rise and return to Dexion when the archive door creaked open to admit someone. Every muscle in her body solidified and her heart stuttered.

A nearby cabinet provided an enviable hiding place, and she waited until the intruder passed before kicking herself into action. She looped an arm around their neck and squeezed, locking her legs into a wide stance so she couldn't be thrown off balance. The intruder, however, boasted some level of combat training, as they lashed out a leg at Sephara's knee at the same time as dropping their head and using Sephara's momentum to throw her down.

She expected her life to end on the point of a Praevin sword, but no killing blow came, and her head remained attached to her body. When she opened her eyes, she found a somewhat familiar figure glaring angrily down at her.

"Lexia?" she managed. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I imagine," Iana's daughter spat in reply. "Minus the part where I fuck the enemy. There are easier ways of getting into a place, you know."

"How'd you get in?"

In reply, the younger girl raised a hand to show a set of lockpicks dangling from one finger.

"How did you get past the gatehouses?"

The other girl snorted. "Climbed under the walls. There are plenty of gaps."

Sephara briskly adjusted her perception of the compound as an impregnable stronghold.

"I know what my father asked you to do," Lexia added.

"How?"

"Kesa," Lexia replied, as if it was self-explanatory.

Of course; Sephara had been foolish to forget Kesa was just as much spymaster as prostitute. Anything Sephara had shared with her that day had probably been passed on to the woman's most trusted allies before she'd even left the premises. Lexia, being the half-sister of Kesa's own son Bekker, would likely be counted among those allies.

"Did you find the reports?" Lexia pressed.

"Yes," Sephara replied, grimacing. "Though you'll be disappointed. They just suggest Novissa's killer is still at large." She handed Lexia the dagger, a small part of her hoping the girl would recognise it. Lexia scrutinised it and shrugged.

"So, it's a plot," Lexia said. "With my father caught in the middle."

"What?"

Lexia handed the dagger back. "Two days ago, at the peace talks at Dujaro, he was almost killed by an assassin wielding a dagger. A shadowmancer, he thinks."

"Two days? How could you know?"

Lexia waved a dismissive hand. "His worldstrider."

Ah, yes. The cavalry-general Endarion had instructed Sephara to contact should she happen across a breakthrough.

"That's not important," the young woman continued. "Did you miss the part where I said my father, your uncle, was nearly murdered?"

So, we are being targeted after all. It's happening already.

"If our theory is correct, one of us was always going to be attacked. It makes sense it would be him. Why is it so important?"

Lexia snarled, looking ready to swing a punch. "I consider it important because he's my bloody father. You should consider it important because it just triggered the war for certain."

"How?"

"Someone tried to kill him, and it's being pinned on this Elerius woman everyone seems to hate."

Sephara considered. "In other words, the Caetoran's assured he isn't a suspect at the same time as nearly getting rid of a primary rival and succeeding in starting a war he's wanted for years."

"You catch on quick." Lexia sneered. "The ploy worked. My father thinks the Baltanos is behind it all, but to my mind the Caetoran's to blame."

"But you're missing the most important part," Sephara said. Before the other girl could protest, she added, "The Caetoran didn't kill these people himself, did he? He has someone, or several someones, doing it for him." She trailed off, then in a hushed tone, added, "It's whoever these immortals are."

"Immortals?"

"Novissa carved the words 'the immortals killed me' onto her dagger. Find out who they are, and we uncover this whole plot. I hope."

Lexia folded her arms across her chest. "What about the Praevin? Are they involved?"

"Almost certainly," Sephara said, though didn't elaborate. In truth, despite seducing Dexion because she knew he harboured several key details, she wasn't entirely sure how deep his involvement went. If he was one of the assassins or knew of them and ensured they went undiscovered, he was being remarkably careless about it. He had, after all, left his keys in his trouser pocket, where Sephara could easily find them.

"Good," Lexia replied. "Then your continued bedding of Mendacium might have some purpose after all."

Sephara snorted. "You make it sound like you have a say in how I investigate this."

"Uh, I do." The girl flashed a self-righteous grin. "You'll be needing my help, and I want to find the bastards that tried to kill my father. I don't like you, don't trust you, but in this we have a common purpose." Lexia thrust her hand towards her in what Sephara read as an attack. "Partners?"

She didn't see a way of dissuading the youth. This girl, whom she'd sorely underestimated, who'd infiltrated the Praevin compound with only a set of lockpicks, who'd used her own contacts with the Paramours to make the same leaps of logic as Sephara had, only much easier.

With a resigned sigh, she accepted the handshake. "Partners."