Chapter 85: Six Days, Six Nightmares

Six days.

Karina had counted every single one of them, and every single one had been a nightmare of a different flavor.

The first day had been blood and chaos. The second day had been funerals.

She had stood in the palace courtyard, dressed in black, as twelve coffins were carried past her. Twelve guards who had died defending her children. Twelve men who had families, wives, mothers, children of their own. She had personally seen to it that each family received compensation, that each name was carved into the memorial wall in the gardens, that each soldier was buried with full honors.

She had wept at every single grave.

The third day had been rage.

She had summoned every guard who had been on duty the night Dorian breached the palace. Forty-three of them, standing in a line in the throne room, their faces pale, their hands trembling. She had looked at them, one by one, and asked a single question.

"How did he get in?"

None of them had an answer. None of them could explain how the madman had slipped past every ward, every patrol, every checkpoint. The shadow, she had realized later. Dorian’s shadow had been the key. It had moved through walls, through shadows, through the cracks in their defenses that no one had thought to guard against.

It was not their fault. She knew that. Logically, she knew that.

But logic had nothing to do with the terror that still woke her at night, the image of Dorian’s claws reaching for her son burned into the back of her eyelids.

She had stripped them of their posts. Not imprisoned, not executed, but banished from the imperial guard. It had been a mercy, and everyone knew it. Aldric had argued for harsher punishment. She had refused.

"They failed," she had told him. "But they did not betray us. They were outmatched by something none of us understood. I will not execute men for being human."

Aldric had bowed his head and said nothing more.

The fourth day had been the nobles.

Gods, the nobles. They had descended on the palace like vultures, their silks rustling, their voices dripping with false concern. Lord Vellworth had demanded an audience, his face purple with outrage. Lady Mira had sent a letter signed by twelve other noble houses, demanding to know why the Empress had not yet appointed a regent to oversee the investigation. Someone had even suggested that the Empress was too emotionally compromised to rule.

Karina had read the letter, folded it neatly, and handed it to Sophie.

"Burn this," she had said. "And inform Lord Vellworth that if he wishes to question my competence, he is welcome to do so in person. I will be happy to remind him exactly who holds the crown."

Sophie had smiled, and done exactly as she was told.

The fifth day had been the healers.

Leonidas was healing. Slowly, painfully, but healing. The wound in his chest had opened again, and was deep. Rafael was already back on his feet, though he walked with a slight limp and complained loudly about being confined to the palace.

The sixth day, today, was the day Cassian and Zarek arrived.

~

Zarek stretched, his long arms extending above his head as he stepped out of the carriage. His spine popped in three separate places, and he let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Three days of hard riding had left his body stiff and his patience thin.

Beside him, Cassian was already moving.

The White Panther Sovereign had healed well enough to travel, though his movements were still careful. But there was nothing careful about the way he was walking now, his long legs eating up the distance across the courtyard, his mismatched eyes fixed on the palace doors.

He felt stupid. He felt so incredibly, monumentally stupid.

If only he had known. If only he had realized that Dorian was not lurking in the mountains of Shadow’s Edge, waiting to strike again. If only he had not spent almost a week recovering, a week waiting, a week doing nothing while the real threat had already been on its way to the imperial palace.

He and Zarek had lingered at Shadow’s Edge like fools, combing through the mountains, following false trails, chasing shadows while the actual shadow had been slipping through the cracks of the Empress’s defenses.

Karina. Karina. Karina.

Her name pounded through his skull with every step. What of Valen, his sort-of nephew? Damn it. I should have known he would immediately go to her.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a woman.

"Ah!"

Lady Joan, one of the Empress’s ladies-in-waiting, stumbled backward, her hazel eyes wide with surprise. She caught herself on the wall, and immediately dropped into a hasty bow.

"Lord Cassian! Forgive me, I did not see—"

"Where is the Empress?" Cassian demanded.

Lady Joan straightened slowly. "The Empress is with the nobles, my lord. She has been—"

Cassian was already moving.

He did not make it three steps.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him backward with enough force to make him stumble. He spun around, a snarl already forming on his lips, and found himself face to face with Zarek.

The Snake King’s pale green eyes were narrowed, his pupils thin slits. His fingers dug into Cassian’s shoulder like claws.

"That is my wife you are rushing to like that," Zarek hissed. "Not yours. Show some respect."

Cassian blinked. Then, slowly, a smirk curled across his lips.

"You don’t say."

"I do say."

"Haven’t we been through this already?" He rolled his eyes. "I was under the impression that the annulment papers would soon be signed. Or have you forgotten that she wants nothing to do with any of you?"

Zarek’s grip tightened. "The papers are not finalized. She is still—"

"Stop it. Both of you."

Cassian turned, and there, standing at the end of the corridor, was Leonidas.

"Leonidas," Cassian said, his smirk fading. "Cousin."

"Cassian."