The City's Secrets

By Emily Holloway and Amanda Crowe

As Brannon's nineteenth birthday approaches, the priests in charge of the old religion are more determined than ever to force him to accept his mantle as Emperor. With Tallis' assistance, Brannon researches his history and learns more about the machinations of the men who would put him on the throne. Then one of the few people who could reveal the truth to him is murdered, and everyone in the sacred city is a suspect... including Brannon himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387841073

Book preview

The City's Secrets

The City’s Secrets

By Emily Holloway and Amanda Crowe

Prologue

The dragon that guarded the Imperial family had lost many emperors over the course of his long life. He had lost them to disease, to old age, to accident or war. It was something that he was accustomed to. His job was to guard the royal line. As long as there was someone left in that line to serve, he had not failed.

For some reason, this time he felt as though he had.

The prince, soon to be the Emperor, let his hand drift over the dragon’s burnished scales. Don’t take it so hard, he said, his voice hoarse. There was nothing you could have done.

/ I should have been there, / the dragon said.

The prince sighed. He knew that was what hurt the most. The dragon had not even been with the Emperor when the carriage had overturned, the horse spooked by an animal that had jumped onto the road. It was likely there was nothing the dragon could have done even if he had been there.

My sister came in earlier, the prince murmured, and the dragon nodded acknowledgement. Did you listen to what she said?

/ No, / the dragon admitted. He had been sticking to the prince like glue since the death of his father, as he was the only person currently able to take the throne. Things could be more relaxed when there were multiple heirs, but the prince was currently the only one. However, he wasn’t always focused on the proceedings.

No magic used, no foul play detected, the prince said.

The dragon closed his eyes and rested his chin on the ground. / At least there’s that. /

Yes. The prince hesitated. I know that you’re unhappy, and that you have a right to grieve. I don’t want to trouble you, but may I ask you something?

It took effort, but the dragon held itself more upright than before. He still loved the prince, though they had both faithfully obeyed the Emperor’s commands and had, in fact, barely spoken for the last year. / Of course, little prince. /

The prince tried to smile. During the Council session earlier, were you paying attention then? he asked, and got a sheepish head shake. The advisors don’t think I’m ready for the throne. They want to appoint one of my older cousins as regent, and they –

/ They what? / the dragon asked. / No, we will not be having that. Come on. Let’s go talk to them. /

Let me finish, the prince said, as the dragon nudged him with his snout. I know that you think I’m deserving of the throne. Maybe I even am. But maybe I’m not prepared. I didn’t want this. Not so soon.

/ You are nineteen, / the dragon said. / There have been younger Emperors. There is no reason you should not become Emperor. If the advisors are pushing for a regent, that means that someone is pushing them. Somebody else wants the throne. /

If they want it, let them have it, the prince said.

/ If they want it badly enough to resort to subterfuge before the Emperor’s body is cold, then they are undeserving. /

The prince bowed his head. I know.

The dragon reached out with one talon and gently rested it on the prince’s shoulder. / You will be a fine Emperor, / he said. / Even though you don’t feel prepared. Few do, you know. Come on. Let’s go see your advisors. /

My advisors, the prince muttered, and shook his head. The two of them headed towards the Council chambers. Most of the advisors were still there, taking care of business during the mourning period to which the Imperial family was entitled. Utter silence fell when the prince entered it and took his seat. The dragon settled his bulk behind the throne, and the prince cleared his throat. I have given thought to the matter of declaring a regent, he said, and researched precedent. At the time, I do not feel it necessary. I am ready to assume the throne.

A low murmur filled the room before an argument broke out. The prince sat with fists clenched until he spoke again, loudly to be heard over the clamor. I know that you all have the best interests of the Empire in mind, but the throne is mine by Divine Right. Unless you have some reason you can supply to suggest I not take it, I don’t see how there’s any need for discussion.

His chief advisor rose and gave an obsequious bow. But my prince, surely, your mind will be occupied with the need to find a wife and have a child, to continue the Imperial line. Surely you understand the importance of accomplishing this as soon as possible.

Many Emperors have dealt with that while ruling, the prince replied. I don’t see how it’s of any consequence.

The advisor bowed his way back into his seat.

The eldest of the advisors now rose, running his hand through his long white beard. Long Jin Se, he said, with a bow to the dragon. You have seen dozens of Emperors come and go during your time. What do you think?

The dragon shifted slightly and nodded his head to acknowledge the advisor. / Many have been younger and less prepared, / he said. / The prince has the heart and soul of an Emperor, and the throne is his by Divine Right. What he lacks is knowledge, and that is easily remedied. I see no reason that he should not assume his place as Emperor as soon as the mourning period is concluded. /

The eldest advisor nodded. So be it.

There were a few more murmurs, but none dared speak outright.

The prince looked around. I am very tired, he said quietly. I will rest a bit. Please let me know if you need anything.

We’ll start planning the coronation ceremony, the senior advisor said.

The prince nodded and left the room, with the dragon behind him. He headed up to his chambers and shut the doors behind them, closing out even the guards. The dragon was all the protection he needed. Then he glanced over his shoulder. Change? he suggested.

The dragon’s form blurred and shifted into his human body, tall and strong, with tawny golden hair and golden eyes. He reached for a robe that was tossed over the back of the chair, but was stopped by the prince’s hand on his wrist. He looked between the prince and his hand, and swallowed. Your father was right, you know, he said gently. To separate us. If the Council had any reason to suspect that my opinion of you was colored in such a way, I would have held no sway at all.

I know, the prince said. His hand squeezed down on the dragon’s wrist. "I know, but . . ." Finding words inadequate, he leaned up and kissed the dragon on the mouth. The dragon didn’t move for a long moment, then slid an arm around the prince and pulled him into an embrace. The relief was almost tangible, like the first drink of water after a long thirst.

I’ve missed this so much, the prince finally said, pulling away. If anything good came out of this, at least we can be together now.

We’ll have to keep it a secret, the dragon said. We don’t want any rumors spreading about your ability or willingness to have children.

The prince nodded. I would give up anything for you, he said, caressing the dragon’s cheek. And I’ll do anything to stay with you. Keeping quiet about it seems a relatively simple price. But for now . . . let’s forget all that. Just be with me. The way it used to be.

The dragon kissed him, and the world faded away, for just a little while.

* * *

Chapter One

The city of Kan Shou never slept. Between the Warder Academy, the apartments available for Warders to stay in while they weren’t on jobs, and the lively social circles that surrounded both, there was always light and action at any time of day. It wasn’t helping Tallis’ headache as he trudged through the city streets at half past midnight, dirty and sore and all around exhausted.

He brought his horse into the stable and wearily set about taking off his tack and giving him a thorough grooming. Despite the nightlife, it was too late to find someone to pay to do it for him. Once the horse was groomed, fed, and watered, he headed up to his apartment. He was starving, but the idea of trying to prepare himself something was daunting. He couldn’t even manage the wards on his apartment properly, fumbling with the magic and using one hand to catch himself against the jam.

The door swung open from the inside and he was greeted by a thin young man with shoulder-length black hair and bright blue eyes. Tallis blinked at him. What are you doing in my apartment?

Brannon rolled his eyes. Come in and sit down before you fall down, he said, taking Tallis by the wrist.

As soon as he entered the apartment, the smell of the food that Brannon had cooked, something with ginger and garlic, assaulted his senses. He groaned slightly as he collapsed into a chair and tugged his boots off. Are you sure the future Emperor should be acting as my cook?

Brannon’s nose wrinkled. Your cook and your maid, he shot back. I don’t even want to talk about what I had to do to get this place habitable.

Tallis had the good grace to look chagrined. I don’t have company often.

Clearly, Brannon said, in his usual acerbic tone.

I didn’t know you’d be here, Tallis said.

I got in a few days ago, Brannon said. I asked Kerragan when you were expected. He projected an image of you coming home exhausted, sore, hungry, and pretty much pathetic. Brannon leveled his steady gaze at Tallis. I see that he was correct, he added, and plunked a plate down on the table in front of his friend.

You’re a godsend, Tallis said, in more ways than one.

Brannon made a face at him before getting a plate of his own and sitting down at the table across from him. He began to eat as well, perfectly awake and alert despite the hour. Brannon had always been a night owl. Tallis thought of a dozen more questions, but was too busy stuffing his face to care.

I’m going to take you up on that offer of being Empress, he said, as long as you cook.

Don’t be silly. An Emperor has a staff to cook for him.

Tallis let out a snort. It had been nearly four months since he had last seen his friend, and almost two years since he had last spent more than a few days in his company, the last and only time they had been given a case together. It looked as if Brannon was finally done growing; the top of his head now came even with Tallis’ chin. His shoulders were more broad, but he was still quite slender next to Tallis. How’d you get in? Tallis asked, with his mouth full.

I opened the door and walked in, Brannon said.

But, I mean, the wards, Tallis said.

I know what you mean. In a lofty tone of voice, Brannon added, It’s just that the wards caused so little trouble that they didn’t seem worth mentioning.

Hey, Tallis said, laughing. I guess my wards have never really stopped you, now that I think about it. Still, don’t you have your own apartment to stay at?

No, Brannon said, which surprised Tallis. Most of the traveling Warders either had a residence in Kan Shou or the city they had grown up in. Brannon glanced out the window so he wouldn’t have to look at Tallis, and said, I like Kan Shou fine, but it’s not what I consider home. I got myself a small place in Nuan Huo. So I can be nearby if, you know, I need the Regalia.

Oh, Tallis said. After a moment to consider this, he said, So you decided to come live at my apartment for convenience’s sake?

Pretty much, Brannon said, without remorse. Kerragan said you would only be a few more days. I haven’t seen you in months. I thought that you might appreciate the visit. Not to mention the hot food and tea that were waiting for you. But no, I can see that you –

Tallis flicked a glob of rice at him, which Brannon deftly dodged. Quiet, you. I’m trying to enjoy my dinner.

I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’. What case were you on, anyway, that you got so beat up?

It was ugly, Tallis said with a sigh. There was this mage who had been involved in a gang. She was betrayed by her companions and left for dead. Then she started summoning spirits to kill them off.

Brannon stood up and collected their dishes, putting them on the counter in the kitchen. It upset you.

Yeah, Tallis said. She wasn’t wrong to be upset and angry. I tried to convince her to let me take her in, but she let one of the spirits kill her before I could.

With a sigh, Brannon turned and looked him up and down. Come on, you should get some sleep.

Good idea, Tallis said with a yawn and a stretch, shaking the thoughts of the horrible case off. He pushed back from the table and went into his bedroom, which had also obviously been cleaned. Tomorrow, let’s do something fun.

Sure, Brannon said. He waited until Tallis was in bed before he blew out the lantern and turned to go back into the living room. It’s good to see you again, he said softly.

Tallis’ snoring was his only reply.

* * *

The door to the small shop jingled, and Maris looked up as a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair came in. He was wearing dark red robes with yellow trim that were vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place their origin. She smiled brightly and said, Welcome, sir, what can we do for you today?

The man walked over to the counter and eyed the array of herbs and powders behind it. Is Petrus in?

Maris arched an eyebrow. He’s in the back working. I can assure you that I’m fully capable of –

Oh, I’m sure you are, he assured her. I would never assume otherwise. But it’s personal business. You must be his wife, Maris. He’s mentioned you. I’m Jaron. We’re old friends.

Maris’ hands paused in their tapping at the counter. He’s mentioned you, too, she said evenly. And I think you’re being optimistic.

Most likely, Jaron agreed with a smile.

I’ll tell him you’re here, Maris said, and pushed aside the curtain that went into the back of the shop. Petrus was sitting by the open window with several piles of herbs and a mortar and pestle that he was using. He glanced over at her as she pulled the curtain shut behind her. You heard that, I presume, she said, speaking in a low voice so Jaron wouldn’t hear.

Petrus nodded.

Maris sighed. You don’t have to do this.

He leaned up and kissed her on the cheek. Yes, I do. Show him back.

All right. Maris touched his shoulder briefly before going back out into the main shop. She gave Jaron a hard look. Let’s get one thing straight, she said. I don’t like you being here. I don’t like the fact that Petrus is going to leave and come back depressed, because he always does. I tolerate it because it’s his choice. But I don’t have to like it.

It’s for the greater good, Jaron said quietly. Petrus knows that.

Maris sniffed angrily. Then she beckoned for Jaron to come around the corner and go past the curtain. Jaron did so with a slight nod to her. The inner workroom was quite warm, baking in the summer sun, and he pulled off the outer layer of his robes, hanging it up just inside.

Long time no see, he said.

Petrus held up one hand to signal for him to wait, measured out a small portion of another herb, and went back to grinding it with his pestle.

Is that anger management? Jaron asked.

Sit down, Petrus said, not answering. I’ll get us some tea.

Thanks.

It was far too hot for freshly brewed tea, but Petrus had a glass pitcher that was slowly steeping on the windowsill. He poured them both a glass, then said, I’ll be right back, and left the workroom without another word. Jaron sipped his tea and waited for him to return, looking around the small room. It was cozy and well-maintained. He liked the way it looked.

He didn’t like the way his old friend looked. Petrus was tired and careworn, more so than Jaron remembered him being. He was troubled, and Maris was acting defensive of him. Something was wrong.

Petrus came back a few moments later, carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. He sat down and began to unwrap it, still not speaking to his friend. Finally, he tossed away the fabric to reveal a thin, strong katana of excellent make, its hilt and sheath done in silver and blue.

You came for this, I assume, he said, one hand resting lightly on the hilt.

Jaron sighed, then nodded. He’s nineteen now. It’s time.

A slight smile touched Petrus’ lips. Tell me again about the look on Howell’s face when he realized I stole the Sword on my way out.

Now Jaron laughed. He’s never forgiven you for that, you know, he said, watching Petrus balance the back of the sword against his wrist. You had no right to do it, and so on, and so forth.

I kept it safe, Petrus said. Just as I promised.

And a good thing, too. I staked my reputation on the fact that you would. Howell wanted to hunt you down and take it back. He only let it go because I swore to him that you’d keep it safe. Jaron watched Petrus closely. And that when it came time, you’d return it, to give to Brannon.

Petrus flipped it abruptly and offered the hilt to Jaron. And? he asked. Exactly how do you plan on getting the little atheist to accept his place?

I’m sure Howell has a plan, Jaron said, accepting the sword and resting it on his lap.

Mm hm. Three months in prison didn’t humble him any?

Not a whit. It only made him angry. Jaron looked away. Things haven’t been good in Bai Miao since then. People looked to me to lead in his absence. When he came back, his power base wasn’t secure. The only chance he’s got now of being the power behind the throne is if he finds a way to force Brannon to accept it.

That ought to go splendidly, given that Brannon hates his guts.

Jaron sighed. "Yes. And no one’s happy. Howell can’t figure out how to do it