A Rule of Queens. Morgan RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
to use it again. I did not want to use it. It was as if… it used me.”
Loti continued to look down, not responding, not meeting his eyes, and Darius felt a sinking feeling of regret. Had he made a mistake in rescuing her? Should he be ashamed of who he was?
“Would you rather be dead than for me to have used… whatever it was I used?” Darius asked.
Again Loti did not reply as they walked, and Darius’s regret deepened.
“Do not speak of it to anyone,” she said. “We must never speak of what happened here today. We will both be outcasts.”
They turned the corner and their village came into view. They walked down the main pathway and as they did, they were spotted by villagers, who let out a great shout of joy.
Within moments there was a great commotion as villagers swarmed out to meet them, hundreds of them, excitedly rushing to embrace Loti and Darius. Breaking through the crowd was Loti’s mother, joined by her father and two of her brothers, tall men with broad shoulders, short hair, and proud jaws. They all looked down at Darius, summing him up. Standing beside them was Loti’s third brother, smaller than the others and lame in one leg.
“My love,” Loti’s mother said, rushing through the crowd and embracing her, hugging her tight.
Darius hung back, unsure what to do.
“What happened to you?” her mother demanded. “I thought the Empire took you away. How did you get free?”
The villagers all fell grave, silent, as all eyes turned to Darius. He stood there, not knowing what to say. This should be a moment, he felt, of great joy and celebration for what he did, a moment for him to take great pride, for him to be welcomed home as a hero. After all, he alone, of all of them, had had the courage to go after Loti.
Instead, it was a moment of confusion for him. And perhaps even shame. Loti gave him a meaningful look, as it to warn him not to reveal their secret.
“Nothing happened, Mother,” Loti said. “The Empire changed their mind. They let me go.”
“Let you go?” she echoed, flabbergasted.
Loti nodded.
“They let me go far from here. I was lost in the woods, and Darius found me. He led me back.”
The villager, silent, all looked skeptically back and forth between Darius and Loti. Darius sensed they did not believe them.
“And what is that mark on your face?” her father asked, stepping forward, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, turning her head to examine it.
Darius looked over and saw a large black and blue welt.
Loti looked up at her father, unsure.
“I… tripped,” she said. “On a root. As I said, I am fine,” she insisted, defiant.
All eyes turned to Darius, and Bokbu, the village chief, stepped forward.
“Darius, is this true?” he asked, his voice somber. “You brought her back peacefully? You had no encounter with the Empire?”
Darius stood there, his heart pounding, hundreds of eye staring at him. He knew if he told them of their encounter, told them what he had done, they would all fear the reprisal to come. And he would have no way to explain how he killed them all without speaking of his magic. He would be an outcast, and so would Loti – and he did not want to strike panic in all of the people’s hearts.
Darius did not want to lie. But he did not know what else to do.
So instead, Darius merely nodded back to the elders, without speaking. Let them interpret that as they would, he thought.
Slowly, the people, relieved, all turned and looked to Loti. Finally, one of her brothers stepped forward and draped an arm around her.
“She’s safe!” he called out, breaking the tension. “That’s all that matters!”
There came a great shout in the village, as the tension broke, and Loti was embraced by her family and all the others.
Darius stood there and watched, receiving a few halfhearted pats of approval on his back, as Loti turned alone with her family, and was ushered off into the village. He watched her go, waiting, hoping she would turn around to look at him, just once.
But his heart dried up within him as he watched her disappear, folded into the crowd, and never turning back.
Chapter Nine
Volusia stood proudly atop her golden carriage, mounted atop her golden vessel gleaming in the sun, as she drifted her way slowly down the waterways of Volusia, her arms outstretched, taking in the adulation of her people. Thousands of them came out, rushed to the edge of the waterways, lined the streets and alleys, and shouted her name from all directions.
As she drifted down the narrow waterways that wound their way through the city, Volusia could almost reach out and touch her people, all hailing her name, crying and screaming in adulation as they threw torn-up shreds of scrolls of all different colors, sparkling in the light as they rained down on her. It was the greatest sign of respect their people could offer. It was their way of welcoming a returning hero.
“Long live Volusia! Long live Volusia!” came the chant, echoed down one alleyway after the next as she passed through the masses, the waterways taking her straight through her magnificent city, its streets and buildings all lined with gold.
Volusia leaned back and took it all in, thrilled that she had defeated Romulus, had slaughtered the Supreme Ruler of the Empire, and had murdered his contingent of soldiers. Her people were one with her, and they felt emboldened when she felt emboldened, and she had never felt stronger in her life – not since the day she’d murdered her mother.
Volusia looked up at her magnificent city, at the two towering pillars leading into it, shining gold and green in the sun; she took in the endless array of ancient buildings erected in her ancestors’ time, hundreds of years old, well worn. The shining, immaculate streets were bustling with thousands of people, guards on every corner, the precise waterways cut through them in perfect angles, connecting everything. There were small footbridges on which could be seen horses clomping, bearing golden carriages, people dressed in their finest silks and jewels. The entire city had declared a holiday, and all had come out to greet her, all calling her name on this holy day. She was more than a leader to them – she was a goddess.
It was even more auspicious that this day should coincide with a festival, the Day of Lights, the day in which they bowed to the seven gods of the sun. Volusia, as leader of the city, was always the one to initiate the festivities, and as she sailed through, the two immense golden torches burned brightly behind her, brighter than the day, ready to light the Grand Fountain.
All the people followed her, hurrying along the streets, chasing after her boat; she knew they would accompany her all the way, until she reached the center of the six circles of the city, where she would disembark and set fire to the fountains that would mark the day’s holiday and sacrifices. It was a glorious day for her city and her people, a day to praise the fourteen gods, the ones that were rumored to circle her city, to guard the fourteen entrances against all unwanted invaders. Her people prayed to all of them, and today, as on all days, thanks was due.
This year, her people would be in for a surprise: Volusia had added a fifteenth god, the first time in centuries, since the found of the city, that a god had been added. And that god was herself. Volusia had erected a towering golden statue of herself in the center of the seven circles, and she had declared this day her name day, her holiday. As it was unveiled, all her people would see it for the first time, would see that she, Volusia, was more than her mother, more than a leader, more than a mere human. She was a goddess, who deserved to be worshipped every day. They would pray and bow down to her along with all the others – they would do it, or she would have their blood.
Volusia smiled to herself as her boat drifted ever closer to the city center. She could hardly wait to see their expressions, to have them all worship her just as the other fourteen gods. They did not know it yet, but one day, she would destroy the other gods, one by one, until all