Word of Gordon's defeat and the subsequent loss of all four of his units reached Trinan very quickly. When word arrived, Albanion and Blaine were meeting with the Prime Duke. Donald himself brought the news to his emperor, and it was not unexpected news to him. Everyone underestimated Tyrian.
He walked into the meeting room and bowed respectfully as those within looked at him. "My apologies for the intrusion."
"What is it, General?" Albanion asked.
"Word has arrived. General D'terio was defeated in combat by the Liberation Army. To spare the lives of his soldiers, he has chosen to fight now on their side. With the capture of Rubentia at the same time, the Liberation Army now stands at eight units in strength. They have one unit in each Rubentia and Lupine to hold them."
"And they have Matthias Goldwind." Albanion drummed his fingers on the table. "And now they have General D'terio. Damnation, Donald, what is wrong with your boy? Why is he causing all this trouble over something so trifling as taxes?"
"Tyrian follows his heart," Donald said. "If he believes what he is doing is right, then he will continue to do it. And . . . the legend of the Kaiten Star is not as new as we believed. I have found some information indicating that the prophecy of a Kaiten Star was first handed down a million years ago. Lady Tanelia herself predicted his birth as a hero meant to save his land."
Hatred flickered across Blaine's eyes as she stared at Donald. How dare he speak that name in her presence? "Tanelia is a senile, reclusive, and pitiful excuse for a sage," she bit out between her teeth. "All those years wearing a Pure Relic have corroded her mind. She knows nothing. Nothing! Never speak her name again!"
"Destiny," Albanion muttered to himself. It couldn't be fought. A prophecy handed down a million years ago was a pretty heavy one. The earlier a prophecy was told, the more important it often came to be. Blaine had seen Tyrian would overthrow the Empire. For many people, perhaps that was indeed being saved. "Are the people siding with him?" he asked.
Blaine curled her hand around his arm and her nails bit lightly into his skin. "It doesn't matter," she purred, though her eyes remained cold. "You know what is best for your people."
He nodded. "Naturally. General Southerwind, send for General Yureny. Perhaps it is time to strike directly at the Liberation Army itself. We know where their base stands. They have eight units. General Yureny commands nine, including two made of magic users. We will take them before they take any more cities."
Donald bowed and left the room. As he stepped into the hall, Annareal stepped out of the darkness. Her eyes looked wide and distressed. "Donald," she said softly, "you must tell me what is going on! You haven't spoken a word to me in months!"
He barely spared her a look. "What you did is unforgiveable, Annareal. I know what happened in those catacombs. If you had truly been trying to protect our son, you would have called Ophelia Goldwind out honorably. That he spared your life is a sign that he is a better person than his father. I can't even be sure I would have done so in his shoes. Who really destroyed his life, Annareal? Ophelia Goldwind . . . or you?"
She slowly sank to the floor on her knees, tears gliding down her face as her husband walked away. For the first time, she looked at what she had done from an objective standpoint. Nausea rolled and her stomach rebelled as she went sick all the way to her soul. She covered her mouth with her hand as she rushed from the palace. She made it to the gardens before the violent retching consumed her. What had she done to her family?
Blaine watched her from the window, disgusted. Such a pitiful and weak woman Annareal was! It was hard to believe she had given birth to the Kaiten Star. But then, Blaine had already seen that Tyrian was much like Donald. She didn't trust the High General's loyalties one tiny bit. She knew his family came first. He would no doubt forgive Annareal now that she had repented.
She curled her hands into fists so hard that her nails cut her palms. Things were getting out of hand. She held no illusions of General Yureny being able to take down the Liberation Army; the Commune Soldier had too much bedrock integrity, just like those other accursed generals.
The feel of blood sliding down her hands made her lift them to see the wounds. She needed something to fight against Tyrian that would not be swayed by reason. Something that would have the power to confront a Pure Relic and not be easily defeated. Something that would kill indiscriminately and be the perfect monster of any army's nightmares.
Something . . . undead.
©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.
