Fallen Page 13

  “New orders, sir?” Despite his fatigued state, good humor infused Cato’s words. “Or did you call us here to gloat?”

  “Ever the pragmatist,” Augustine commented lightly.

  Cato took no offense. It was why he, and not his brother, came with Augustine when the troops were split.

  “Persephone, Adonia, Kolimpri, and the slave girl Seraphime are permanently banned from use for intimate relations of any kind. Any decision to use physical punishment against any of them for infractions must also be approved directly through me.” The hard edge to Augustine’s tone brooked no room for argument. “Clear?”

  “Clear.” Cato and Decimus spoke in unison.

  “Anything else?” It was Decimus that finally spoke.

  “Make it known.” Augustine’s expression was unyielding. Anyone that failed to follow this order exactly was likely to be dealt with harshly. Probably that was a good thing. It would seem their time spent in quasi-exile in rural Galilae had been detrimental to some of the men’s discipline.

  “Decimus, you are dismissed. Cato, stay a moment, if you will,” Augustine said, interrupting Cato’s musings.

  Cato nodded in deference. From the corner of his eye, he watched Decimus do the same toward both his superiors. Cato inclined his head in acknowledgment as Decimus turned on his heel and strode from the room.

  “Wine?” Augustine offered, indicating its presence as soon as the door shut behind his Lieutenant.

  “Gratitude.” Cato poured for himself and silently questioned whether Augustine planned to partake with him. At his nod, Cato poured a second and handed the chalice to his friend before bracing himself against the wall. “There will be immense disappointment about the slave girl. Many looked forward to you lifting the ban on her.”

  Augustine shrugged. “They will live. The princess has a vested interest in her well-being, which means that for now, so do I.”

  “Of course.” Cato agreed. “Curious, is it not? That she cares so for the well-being of servants and slaves.”

  “Very,” Augustine concurred. “I should very much like to have the mystery lifted, but there will be time for such things. I asked you to stay to discuss other matters.”

  “Further orders?”

  Augustine shook his head. “No. Nothing further, yet.”

  Cato tilted his head quizzically.

  “Surely you did not think I would agree to so one-sided an arrangement. You offend me, friend.” In spite of his words, it was clear that Augustine was not, in fact, offended.

  Cato couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “And what else is the princess prepared to offer us?”

  “She agreed to help convince her family to go along with our plans.”

  It was a rare thing to render Cato speechless. If he was silent, it was because he was choosing his words, or he was not prepared to offer them. Not this time; for a moment he’d been completely stunned. It was not very different from how he had felt when Persephone had broken his hold and killed Prodotin. Shocked into immobility. Or in this case, silence.

  Finally, he found his voice. “You told her the plan in its entirety? And she agreed to go along with it?”

  Augustine waved away the concern as though it were a bothersome gnat. “No, I certainly did not tell her the plan. Although, it would surprise me if she does not put all the pieces together in time. She is very clever.” Cato wouldn’t argue with that. “The less she knows, the more compliant I think we shall find her,” Augustine continued. “I will keep her in the dark as long as possible. We will use that time to our advantage, as per our original plans.” Cato nodded. “Were you not the one who instructed me to find a way to secure her cooperation?”

  Cato laughed. “This is not what I had in mind.”

  “Nor I when you suggested it, but I saw opportunity. Thus far, she has only agreed to encourage her family to continue as if naught is amiss. Though, now that I am aware of her leverage points, pressure could be applied further as needed.”

  Amusedly, Cato shook his head. “Remember that a cornered animal will bare teeth, friend, and hers are exceedingly sharp. I would exercise caution in that regard.”

  Smiling in reply, Augustine ran a tired hand over his face. “I’ve no doubt your words will ring true. Though I think we shall find her milder.”

  “Oh?”

  “She knows her politics. She recognized my name.”

  “She need not know her politics for that.” Cato snorted uncharacteristically. “Everyone knows your name.”

  “Still.” Augustine smiled and shrugged. “She recognized my name. Though she hid her response well, it was the first time since our arrival that she looked as though she considered that she might lose. Should have introduced myself sooner; I might have been spared some trouble.”

  “With that one?” he mused. “Not likely.” They shared a laugh. “But hope springs eternal.” Cato raised his glass in a toast. “To your name.”

  * * * *

  Persephone walked in a daze, barely noticing her surroundings as she made her way back to the chambers she was to share with her family for the foreseeable future.

  Augustine Sempronius?!

  She chastised herself for being so surprised by the revelation, simultaneously cursing their fate that it was he of all people who had come to conquer them. It seemed so obvious. If anyone would have been able to so subtly infiltrate their defenses, it was the famed General Augustine Sempronius. Even her thoughts sneered the name.

  But the present tactics were far from his usual style. No matter how she racked her brains, Persephone still couldn’t figure out their endgame. It was the fact that she and her family were still alive that surprised her. Why bother? What purpose were they meant to serve? There was no precedent in any history Persephone knew of that would indicate their ultimate goal, leaving her feeling dumbstruck and more than a little frustrated.

  The palace, and all those in it, were expected to continue normally. The autumn Council session was about to begin, which meant that there would be people in and out of the palace daily for a month. The risk of discovery was great on the general’s part. Would open conquest not have been simpler? Admittedly, Galilae’s powerful navy would have posed a challenge, but once on land the Perdoman army would have squashed them. An unfortunate and discouraging truth. Was that what they were waiting for? Did they plan to bring the rest of the general’s army to the island subversively and just needed to buy time? Even that didn’t fully make sense. They already had the royal family and the palace firmly under their thumb. That, in and of itself, would discourage revolt. Not to mention an army without proper leadership would find itself severely handicapped; something that could scarcely be afforded by any kingdom pitted against a general such as Sempronius.

  With more questions than answers rattling through her head, Persephone barely noticed it when she suddenly found herself in front of the chamber door. At the sound of her return, Persephone’s parents and brother sprang to attention, eager for news. For hope. She had none to give. Her jumbled thoughts and emotions must have read plainly, because her mother rushed to her side. A blow to the head would not have left Persephone feeling so dazed. She could do nothing but stare mutely as her mother’s delicate hands clasped her face. Lips moved, but Persephone did not hear a word spoken.

  Kolimpri lay, still sleeping, in the nest Persephone had built for the two of them to share. To be so young. So assured of one’s security that she could sleep through the commotion surrounding her. Persephone was grateful for Kolimpri’s peace, even as she envied it.

  Growing frantic at Persephone’s listless countenance, her mother began to examine her for injuries, checking first her face, then her arms, chest, back. “Persephone! Speak to me, my darling! Did he hurt you?”

  Muffled as though she was hearing them from underwater, her mother’s words finally penetrated the haze shrouding Persephone’s senses.

  “Did you know?”

  Her mother stopped her agitated minis
trations. Persephone was aware that all eyes in the room were on her. She briefly touched on each of them.

  “Did any of you know?” It changed nothing about their circumstances, but it felt imperative to know if she had been the only one in the dark.

  With her mother holding both of Persephone’s hands in her own, she allowed herself to be led to an ottoman and obediently sat.

  “Did we know what? Persephone, you are not speaking sense,” her mother said, agitation and worry still coloring her expression.

  Persephone desperately wanted to erase the anxiety marring her mother’s beautiful face, but she had neither the energy nor the wits about her to do so. Turning her attention to her father’s disapproving eyes, she addressed him directly. “The general. At any point, did he introduce himself? Do you know who he is?”

  He snorted derisively. “The man usurped my palace in the darkness of night like a common thief. Threatened me. Locked me in my own slave’s chambers. His name will not matter by the time I have had my revenge. None will know or remember it.”

  Even after years of exposure, the level of her father’s arrogance never failed to stun her. It was her anger at his renewed self-importance that jarred Persephone’s brain back to life.

  “On the contrary, Father, his name will long be remembered and renowned while yours will be listed as just another of his many conquests – if it is remembered at all.”

  Her father’s face instantly flushed scarlet. Under different circumstances, she would have found it amusing. Unfortunately, there was no joy to be found in anything related to their dismal situation.

  “Must you always be such a cunt? Truly, I do not know how you turned out to be such trouble.”

  His barbed words hit their mark. Persephone hoped the hurt she felt did not show on her face before she spirited it away. So practiced she was at hiding her emotions, she rarely wondered that something unintentional was seen. But feeling hopeless and vulnerable as she was, her guard had been down and his jab had made it through. A mistake she could not afford to repeat.

  “Husband?! This is our daughter to whom you speak, and though she has an independent nature, she has never been prone to irrationality. If she is upset, there is a reason.” Immensely grateful for her mother’s intervention, Persephone attempted to focus. Without waiting for a reply from her husband, Persephone’s mother turned her full attention on her daughter. “Darling, he never said his name that I heard. Who is he and why are you so bothered by that knowledge? Did. He. Hurt. You?”

  “What?” Persephone answered with a slight shake of her head. “No, Mother. Stop! I am unhurt.” Her mother sagged in relief. It was short-lived. “He is the General Augustine Sempronius.”

  Persephone watched the color drain from her mother’s face and felt more than saw her father stiffen at her side.

  Antaios, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped to stare at the rest of them dumbfounded. “Who?”

  She didn’t even try to stifle her exasperation. “Truly, brother? Did you pay any attention during our politic lessons?”

  Antaios merely waved off her concern. “Who cares what a bunch of old-timers did before I was born?”

  In her astonishment, Persephone’s mouth hung slightly agape before she pulled herself together to correct him. She knew her brother shared their father’s arrogance, but blatantly deliberate ignorance went beyond anything she had imagined. The fate of their kingdom would fall on his shoulders?!

  Although, maybe not after this. Though true, the thought was not encouraging.

  “Our lessons hardly focus exclusively on the past. Even if they did, knowing how past events shape kingdoms and peoples, their relationships to one another, is highly relevant. How can you expect to rule effectively without knowing these things?” Persephone demanded harshly.

  “That is what advisors are for.”

  Feeling only slightly vindicated that both their parents looked just as stunned and horrified as she did, Persephone shook her head in disgust. “Well, brother, you have no advisors with you presently and Augustine Sempronius is not some ghost from the past. I assure you, he is quite real, and he holds your fate as well as the fate of your future kingdom in his hands. So what now, Mighty Prince?”

  He looked as though he was ready to strangle her. “It is just a name and he is still just a man,” he gritted at her from between his clenched teeth.

  “You are, of course, right, dearest brother.” Like their father, Antaios was completely impervious to her condescending tone. His face began to relax and he stood up a little taller. “He is just a man,” she continued. “Just a man who has never lost a battle.”

  The corner of Antaios’s mouth twitched. “Certainly boastworthy.”

  “He is just a man who has squashed countless rebellions against the Finctus.”

  Antaios nodded. “Of course, his fame does seem to be well deserved.”

  Persephone stood and walked towards her brother. “Oh, yes. His in-famy is well deserved. So well deserved, in fact, that he is oft referred to as the Reaper.” Antaios shifted uncomfortably as she continued to prowl towards him. “Do you know why they call him the Reaper?” Antaios shook his head, a barely perceptible motion as he shrank into himself. “Just as I thought.” She smiled sweetly. “They call him the Reaper because his name is a portent of death and destruction. If he and his army have been called to a place, the Finctus does not just wish to conquer a people. They intend to completely crush their spirit. He leaves each place with a collection of broken souls to whisk away to the Underworld.”

  He cleared his throat, fighting his impulse to retreat from her advances. She knew he wanted to, but it would be considered very emasculating to retreat from a woman.

  “Yes, well –” His words stuttered off when she stopped directly in front of him, bringing her face so close they were almost nose to nose.

  “He will not merely kill us,” she whispered. Finally silent, he watched her with growing horror. “We will be tortured. Humiliated. Quite publicly I should think. What do you suppose that does to a people?” He had no answer for her. “You are right, he is just a man. Just a man with a famous name. Now tell me, brother, after our macabre demise, how you think our leaderless army will fare against this man whose famous name they justifiably fear?”

  He swallowed hard. “I think they will honor Galilae by fighting bravely to defend her.” Stated with more confidence than he probably felt. Antaios exhaled his relief as she retreated.

  “Then you are not merely a coward, you are a fool as well.”

  Chapter 2:

  Immortal Deeds

  To be remembered after you are gone from this world is the greatest achievement a man can have.

  – Antaios of House Galanis, Prince of Galilae

  Cato waited patiently next to Augustine in the Small Council Chamber. They had strategically positioned themselves on the far side of the round table so they had a clear view of the door, and so the royal family would have a clear view of them upon entering. It wasn’t long before the Galanis family was escorted into the room. The king and his son led, but both stopped to stand uncertainly just inside the door when they saw the two soldiers. Perhaps they had been on their pedestals for too long, Cato thought. They were far too easily intimidated.

  “Come in. Sit,” Augustine said brusquely.

  While both father and son reddened in the face and glared at Augustine, they also both complied instantly and silently. Minus the theatrics, Adonia followed close behind. Her expression was bland. Guarded. Reminiscent of her daughter’s, Cato noted with interest. Or perhaps it was more appropriate to say that Persephone’s expression was reminiscent of her mother’s.

  Persephone entered the room with Kolimpri’s hand clasped in her own. She held her arm loosely, allowing Kolimpri to swing their arms impishly back and forth as they walked. Seneca and Lucius – the two guards assigned specifically to Persephone – flanked the girls into the room. If Cato didn’t know better, it would appear as t
hough Persephone had wandered in out of boredom, not because she had been summoned and escorted by armed guards. She moved leisurely and slid into the chair next to her mother with poise and indifference.

  It would seem Augustine’s belief that learning his name had somehow subdued her was false. She had never appeared less pliant than she did presently. Not for the first time, Cato found himself questioning whether it was wise – or even possible – to attempt to mold one such as her into the pawn they needed her to be.

  His attention did not escape her notice. She watched him, a wry smile turning the corners of her lips as she lifted her small sister and settled her on her lap. The vitriol in her demeanor and expression were a sharp contrast to her outwardly docile behavior.

  Sensing Augustine’s interest, Cato broke eye contact first and turned his head to meet his superior’s gaze. Augustine didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Knowing him well, Cato sensed the question behind his eyes and tilted his chin subtly to indicate they would speak about it later. Augustine accepted the acknowledgment with a slight nod before both men turned their attention to the royals in front of them.

  “Are you ready to tell us what you plan to do?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Cato caught Augustine’s amusement at Acheron’s huffed question. “How did you sleep, Highness? Were the accommodations to your liking?”

  Looking more like a petulant child than the ruler of the most influential kingdom in the East, the king pouted further into his seat. Still listening to the confrontation about to take place in front of him, Cato returned the bulk of his attention to Persephone. Though silent, she watched her father with thinly veiled repugnance. Perhaps her agreement to help the Perdomans should not have come as such a surprise.

  “You continue to mock me.”

  Augustine chuckled. “You make it very easy for me, High-ness.”