4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Kamir did his best to comfort the grieving, feeling utterly useless and a fraud, as he often did. The first crying woman that had run toward him begging blessings to ensure her husband would be accepted into the afterlife was blocked by the guards and Mansala himself, but Kamir quickly dismissed the order and held her as she sobbed. He went to each pallet and repeated blessings. Some had grieving families, some were alone. He had to see the soldiers first and managed to keep his stomach in check as he saw the horrific injuries many had died from.

Many bodies had been burned beyond all recognition, and there were at least five they were struggling to identify. Veda followed silently behind him, but he knew she missed nothing.

He gave each dead soul the blessing of the goddess, then got to the last pallet and held his breath. He was ashamed of the tiny amount of relief he felt when he saw from the uniform it was a soldier.

“Where are the other bodies?” Kamir asked the attendant as carefully as he could, heart in his mouth. Would he know if the slave was dead? But that made no sense. If he was the dragon, he had apparently killed all these people. Kamir struggled not to vomit and to remain impassive in front of the body attendant.

“Eminence,” the attendant bowed low, and Kamir didn’t react to yet another title. Yet another name. Highness, Eminence, Caliph. He didn’t deserve any of them. “There are five we have been unable to identify, but we think from the jewelry that didn’t burn that none were soldiers.”

Kamir turned and strode from the room, struggling not to heave up what little water and fruit he’d consumed several hours ago. Everything in him screamed that this was wrong, and yet he’d felt the change, seen the slave look up at him, touch his face.

“Brother,” Veda whispered and caught up to him, knowing he was distressed.

Kamir paused, but they weren’t alone. At least three guards and four servants were listening. “I will retire to my private prayer room and seclude myself. You may join me, sister.”

Veda bowed her head and followed him and Mansala. When they got to his chambers, they both disappeared into the small sanctuary. Mansala closed the door and turned to stand guard outside. There were not many that would dare to cross him.

Kamir sank to the floor, his hand flying to his mouth. Veda quickly got some wine from the back and tried to hand it to him, but the smell of the potent red turned his stomach further.

“I can’t bear this,” he said.

“Kamir,” Veda sank down next to him. “I agree that none of this makes sense, but you aren’t capable of killing—”

“But the bodies,” Kamir spat out. Half of them looked burned alive.

“Kamir,” Veda yanked at his hands and held them. “Listen to me.” When she was confident she had his attention, she let go. “You were busy saying the proper prayers and comforting the grieving, but I wasn’t. At least half the soldiers had burns that covered a different wound. There were some where you couldn’t tell, but on others I distinctly made out what looked to be an injury made by a blade.”

“A blade,” Kamir repeated in confusion, but then he shook his head. “But talons—”

“Would rip and tear, not slice cleanly. You would have noticed yourself had you not had so many demands made of you in there.”

Kamir gazed at his sister. “You think they were murdered with a sword then the burns were to cover it up? Blame the dragon?” He thought furiously. “But he can’t be so deluded that he believes we are in any position to wage another war on Cadmeera.” Kamir didn’t have to name his uncle. They both knew who he meant.

“I think it was a poor attempt, yes, but what I want to know is where he has the slave?”

Kamir stilled. “You think he lives?” His heart pounded so hard he expected his ribs to give way. Kamir thought furiously. “That’s why they had to be killed beyond identification,” he said slowly. “So no one would be able to miss a particular one. Were there five slaves brought here?”

“I don’t know. The only way of establishing that would be to visit the pleasure house, and I would expect they were accompanied by at least one master, possibly two.”

“I could send Mansala?”

Veda shook her head. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you unprotected at the moment, and I doubt if even I could slip out, the palace is so locked down.”

Kamir leaned his head back against the wall he had sunk down next to. “Which means he has to be here.”

“The palace is huge,” Veda protested. “There are a dozen places they could have him.”

But Kamir shook his head. “No, they couldn’t,” and he gazed at her. “Think, Veda. Where could they hide him in plain sight, and not have anyone identify him?”

She looked blankly at him for a second, then her lips curved in a grim smile. “You think he’s in the dungeons.”

“But I have absolutely no idea how to find out.” If he even attempted to go down there, the guards would panic and the slave would be killed before he’d even gotten into the anteroom.

They were both silent for a moment, trying to puzzle it out, when they heard a tap on iron bars lining the window, and Veda jumped up with a startled cry. Before Kamir could stop her, she’d unhooked the metal and swung it wide. Kamir gaped at the man who scrambled through before he clasped Veda to him and caught her lips in a scorching kiss. Kamir got to his feet as Veda pulled back. Draul Eryken, leader of the human alliance and wanted in all five kingdoms with a price on his head, sketched a bow.

Kamir rolled his eyes at the feigned deference because he knew that Draul had wanted nothing more than a revolution in Cadmeera until he had met and befriended Attiker. He wasn't wanted in Cadmeera any longer, but he knew His Highness, King Raz'mar, was keeping up appearances for the moment. He wasn’t sure how Eryken felt about Rajpur, but knew he was doing his best to help the revolutionary forces in Abergenny. Abergenny was an even bigger mess than Rajpur. He noticed Veda never questioned how he’d scaled a palace wall without being seen, nor how he knew where they were.

But then Kamir himself had announced it in front of many people half a bell ago.

Veda quickly told him what had happened, and he frowned. “Attiker is waiting for a signal, and I can absolutely guarantee the dragon isn’t Eldara.” He smirked. “Apparently baby number two is on its way and her mate isn’t letting her out of his sight. She visits Attiker but that’s it.”

Kamir ignored the ridiculous statement because he was actually unsure if it was indeed true, but he shook his head. “Eldara isn’t a dragon shifter.”

Draul huffed out a breath. “So just let me check I’ve got this straight.” Veda rolled her eyes but waited. “You were expecting, with our help, to have to escape your kingdom today because you can’t shift into a wolf, which is a requirement, and Daddy was too busy fighting with his neighbors to notice it had never happened before?”

“Well, it doesn’t stipulate a wolf, but yes.”

“Then this pleasure slave appears and bam, you turn into a dragon?”

Kamir winced. “I think so.”

“Uh-huh,” Draul said skeptically, then winced himself when he got a certain princess’s elbow in the ribs. “So then apparently the dragon goes on a killing spree, except it’s likely that your uncle was responsible because of the injuries that Veda spotted, and anyone who actually saw what happened, except you and this pleasure slave, has conveniently turned up dead?”

Kamir didn’t bother wincing that time. It was hopeless.

“But the real problem is you think your uncle is acting shady because he’s got the slave locked in the dungeon, and he doesn’t know which of you is responsible for the dragon?”

“Stop calling him a slave,” Kamir snapped.

“Isn’t he?” Draul challenged and Kamir knew that he wasn’t looking at his sister’s bond mate, he was looking at the human responsible for sweeping a revolution through the entire continent.

“Draul,” Veda almost growled the name, and he held up his hand.

“I know. I know. You can’t take so much as a piss until you get those fancy jewels on your head, let alone free slaves.”

“Why would you want any sort of jewels on my head?” Kamir challenged, and Draul grinned.

“Because a certain pickpocket called Attiker taught me that sometimes I’m wrong, and that I have to choose my battles.” He stepped forward. “I can help, but make sure you don’t let me down.”

“I don’t care about your expectations,” Kamir said bluntly. “I’m too busy worrying about the people of Rajpur.”

Draul grinned. “Good answer.” He turned to Veda. “Remember Tam?”

Veda pursed her lips. “One of Ash’s lads? Flame-red hair? More freckles than anyone has the right to?”

“That’s the one. I’ll make sure he’s arrested within the hour. Petty shit, because we both like his head exactly where it is.”

“But how will he get a message out?” Veda asked.

“Mice.”

“But mice—” Kamir shut his mouth just in time because he was going to say something ridiculous like mice can’t talk. Veda would never let him forget it, and he hoped one day they would all be in a place where she could tease him again like she had when he was young.

Draul’s expression softened. “He has a trick with animals. Don’t ask me how he does it, but if either of you find a mouse in your pocket tomorrow, you’ll know that’s a yes. As in yes, your sl— boy’s in the cells.”

“Then we’ll just have to work out how to free him,” Veda said.

Draul didn’t say easy in a sarcastic tone, but Kamir heard it just the same.

“Actually, I might have an idea about that, but we need to know he’s there first.” Draul bent his head, and they made a plan. It was ridiculous and too many things could go very wrong, but it was a start.

Tsaria was floating in that state between consciousness and wishing he was anything but. The nobleman had summoned him again some time ago and when he hadn’t been able to change his story, he’d been tossed back behind bars. But not before they’d tried to change his mind first. Painfully.

And by the goddess, he’d been so close to breaking. One more hit and he’d have spilled. He knew it. To be honest, he didn’t know why he hadn’t. He knew the second he said the emir had shifted into the dragon, he’d be dead. But at this point, he’d gone from being afraid of death to wishing for it. It would be so easy to make the pain stop.

He roused briefly when there was a lot of shouting and swearing as a new prisoner was flung into the cell next to his, on the opposite side from the child and his mother. He knew he should be trying to do something for those two. The child had cried inconsolably after a few guards had been in there with his mam, but she hadn’t said a word after she’d stopped screaming. He wished he had the strength to comfort him, but if he was right about what might have happened, then nothing he or anyone else could say would make it better.

After a while the guards left them in the dark and Tsaria might have been able to drift if the annoying little shite in the other cell would have shut up. Tsaria’s straw pile was close to his bars, and had he thought for a second that he could actually get on his feet, he would have moved.

“For pity’s sake,” Tsaria moaned. “Do you want me to curse a pox on your whole family?” It was a common curse.

“Haven’t got one left,” the whisper came back. “What about you, dragon-boy?”

And of course, that roused him faster than the threat to drown him in the lake water had done earlier when the guards had to carry him back to his cell.

“Thought that might get your attention,” the whisper came again when Tsaria didn’t reply. He’d come to kill him. The emir—that beautiful man was dead.

“I don’t want fever white before I die.” If he was going to die, he wanted it on his terms.

And the whispers that he hadn’t been listening to stopped abruptly.

“How in seven hell’s did you turn we’re going to get you out of here into we are going to kill you?”

“Because I killed him. I touched him, and then—” But he pressed his lips together because he didn’t want to shame himself further.

“You daft sod,” came back a little too loudly. “Now listen, will you?” And the whispers continued. Apparently Tam, as he was called, had been sent to make sure he was in here and not dead as the emir’s uncle and everyone else was insisting. The emir was very much alive and, according to Tam’s boss, was very keen on getting to know Tsaria a lot better. In fact, his boss might have even used the word smitten .

“I have no idea what that even means,” Tsaria said. He assumed Tam was from Cadmeera, somewhere down by the port, he would guess. Not even the beggars in the Market of Lost Souls had that type of accent.

“They’ll be coming to release me in the morning, probably before you wake.” Release him? No one got let out of here. Maybe Tsaria had taken one too many blows to his head, and he was hallucinating? “Tomorrow the guards will get an order to say you’ve been summoned by that bastard upstairs, except he won’t have sent it. Once the guards get you out of the cells and into the passage to upstairs, there’ll be a little bit of a set-to, which will basically end with two dead guards. The ones that bop the guards will take you the back way and out to the horses.”

He was hallucinating. He was a slave. People didn’t kill guards and arrange mounted rescues for him. “And here.” He felt something like a small stick land on his chest. “Chew it. Tastes like shite but it will make you sleep. Nothing’s gonna happen until tomorrow, and it’ll help if you can at least stand on your own when the time comes.”

Tsaria started chewing the disgusting mouthful and nearly spat it out, but then he heard Tam talking to someone else. “Now little fella,” he whispered, and Tsaria heard the squeak of what sounded like a mouse.

He shut his eyes because he wasn’t fond of rodents, and if Tam was insane enough to talk to one, he might as well try to sleep so he couldn’t hear it.