The rebellion had done none of that. Athena looked forward to showing them how it was done.
The stones of the tower were thick, the door to her ludicrous excuse for a cell a good inch of bog oak. Even so, Athena had found herself more than capable of listening in on the conversations others had around her. It had become something of a pastime in the days since the rebellion had stolen her hard-earned throne.
She’d learned of some of the guards’ hatred for her and all “her kind,” which was an emotion Athena could at least respect. She’d heard how some of them wished they could just burst in and make it look as though she’d killed herself, held back only by their rather foolish sense that it wouldn’t be right to disobey Ceres.
She’d heard other things too. The petty concerns of the commoners. She’d heard them talking about their lives or the lives they hoped to build. She’d heard one of the maids joking with the guards about what they might do if they got married. She’d heard a couple of the servants talking about how much better things might be now that they’d been able to squirrel away some of the money taken from the nobles.
Now, though, Athena could hear different sounds. Sounds that made her back away from the door and clutch the small eating knife from her meal as if it could defend her. A well brought up noblewoman did not bother with weapons. She had people to wield them. Even so, Athena held it carefully hidden in her sleeve.
From beyond the door, she heard the sound of a conversation, rising to a challenge. She heard a scream from somewhere below, and the metallic crash that meant swords striking against one another. It was quick, the screams cut short, the sounds of violence only lasting a few seconds. Even so, Athena felt her heart pounding as she moved to one side of the door.
The sounds of violence moved closer. There was a shout, and then something crashed against the door. Someone, Athena guessed, judging by the impact of it. She heard voices arguing, and the scrape of a key in a lock.
“Hurry up,” a man snapped from beyond the door. “You think they won’t have heard us?”
“They’d better not, or we’re all dead.”
Athena heard the lock on the door click, and readied herself behind it, with her tiny blade held ready in her hand. She had no illusions about being able to fight off assassins, but she wasn’t going to let them kill her without at least trying to break free.
Of course some of the rebels would want to go beyond the orders of their leader. Of course they would want to kill her. It was only the sensible thing to do.
“Queen Athena?” one of the men called.
They stepped into the room. Two men dressed as guards, a young woman who was apparently a servant, and a young nobleman.
Athena picked one of the guards, darting forward, her blade pricking at his throat. The knife was so blunt it probably wouldn’t break the skin, but Athena was willing to make the effort.
“Your majesty,” the nobleman said. “Please do not be afraid. We are here to rescue you.”
“Do I look afraid?” Athena demanded. She pushed away her hostage. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”
Athena strode to the door. She couldn’t afford to appear weak, now or ever. “Did my son send you?”
The nobleman shook his head. Athena struggled to remember his name. Har something… Har of Slidemarsh, that was it. A foppish boy who fancied himself a playwright, if Athena remembered correctly, and who paid for the best players to put on his “creations,” at least partly so that he could host outrageous parties.
“Forgive us, your majesty, but Prince Lucious has not been seen since the rebel uprising. The rumors are that he made his way to Felldust.”
That was like Lucious. Run at the first opportunity, thinking of nobody but himself. Certainly never think about his own mother, regardless of the danger she might have been in.
“We have come to save you because we are loyal,” Har declared. “Loyal to the Empire, and loyal to our true queen!”
They would see. For now, it was enough that she was free. On the stairs, she stepped past the bodies of the guards, and saw the crumpled form of the serving girl who’d been so incompetent. Athena shrugged. Peasants died.
“You’re safe now, your majesty,” Har said.
Athena doubted that. Even given the little she had seen of the city through her arrow-slit windows, she doubted that. War was coming, as war so often seemed to be, which meant that merely escaping wasn’t going to be enough.
It was time for Athena to take back what was hers.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Thanos waited in the swirling dust, watching with increasing tension as figures came from it. With each shadow that resolved itself into human form, his hand tightened on his sword, only to loosen again as it became clear that they weren’t Lucious.
One by one, they made their way through the dust to the inn across from him, lit by lanterns that flickered behind blue glass in the evening light. Thanos could hear the sound of off-key music from within, distorted by the rushing wind that blew dust past the mask he’d wound around his face, stinging his eyes.
When Lucious finally shuffled from the dust, Thanos didn’t believe it.
A lot of it was the sheer amount of time he’d been waiting now, the number of times he’d readied himself to fight. Some of it was the fact that after crossing a sea and hunting around a city for days, he’d finally found the one person he’d been seeking.
More of it was how Lucious looked.
Thanos had always been struck by the way Lucious looked like some storybook prince, yet behaved like the worst of despots. Now… if Thanos hadn’t spent so long with thoughts of Lucious’s face burned into his mind’s eye, he wouldn’t have recognized his brother.
The figure who came out of the dust-filled streets looked more like a madman than a prince. His clothes were filthy and torn, stained here and there with what was obviously blood. His hair was unkempt, while both bruises and the beginnings of a beard made him look a long way from his usual perfectly maintained appearance.
Lucious kept staggering, kept talking, kept waving his arms as though gesturing to some unseen audience.
Lucious surprised him and suddenly veered away and stepped into the inn, which left Thanos with a choice. Did he stay or did he follow? If he followed, he could be walking into any kind of danger inside, and with Felldust, Thanos got the feeling that there was always danger. If he stayed, there was a risk that Lucious might decide to stay in the inn for days, or that he might leave it by some other way Thanos couldn’t see.
That decided it for him. His brother wasn’t getting away. Not again.
Thanos walked into the inn, and it was dingy even by the standards of the city. It stank of unchanged straw, blood, and vomit. A chained musician played in one corner, missing notes as the patrons threw empty mugs, and very occasionally coins, in his direction. Slaves walked among the tables, carrying mugs that seemed to contain everything from ale to fermented ox milk, spirits to the drug-laced concoctions some of the dust tribes were said to favor. The same blue lanterns that lit the inn outside lent a ghostly glow to the interior, and made those within look even more sinister than they managed by themselves.
By the bar, Lucious seemed to be trying to get anything he could, to no avail. The barkeep just kept polishing a tankard, a club swinging at his belt as though waiting for Lucious to cause trouble.
“I’ve told you,” the man said, “if you don’t have the coin, you don’t drink.”
“And I’ve told you,” Lucious countered, “I am the rightful king of Delos. I have been sober way too long now. And I have the coin and more in my treasury!”
Thanos could have stepped up to his brother and killed him then easily. Lucious’s attention was on the bottles and small kegs behind the bar. It would have been easy to end this…
…and it would have been wrong. Thanos wanted to look Lucious in the eye. He wanted to know that his brother understood all the things he was dying for. So Thanos stood a little way fr
om Lucious, taking a spot in the middle of the taproom floor.
“You’ve got other debts to pay, Lucious.”
Thanos watched as his brother turned, leaning against the bar. Again, he seemed to be speaking to thin air.
“Yes, I can see him. Yes, I know! He was always your favorite.” Lucious blinked, and for a moment, he seemed himself again. “Thanos, fancy seeing you here. Come to buy me a drink, have you?”
“I’ve come to stop you,” Thanos said. “I’m going to stop this madness once and for all, before your invasion. Before any more people get hurt.”
He heard Lucious laugh. “Oh, Thanos, haven’t we tried this before? As I recall, the lovely Stephania pulled us apart last time before we found out you didn’t have the stomach for killing. Who will it be this time? One of the slaves, perhaps?”
Thanos drew his sword, feeling the weight of it and looking around at the inn’s other customers in case they decided to interfere. It seemed that they were more interested in watching the entertainment though.
“There’s no one to stop us this time,” Thanos said. “You’re going to get what you deserve.”
“What I deserve?” Lucious echoed. “What I deserve? Did you hear that? What I deserve is the throne that should always have been mine. What I deserve is respect. Power. For all these idiots to fall to their knees and beg to serve me like the worthless scum they are. Instead, I had my revenge stolen. I was cast out! What I deserve is to watch you die, brother.”
He kicked up straw from the floor at Thanos’s eyes then, lunging forward with a blade in his hand. Thanos had to jump back to parry it. He blocked another stroke, and heard Lucious laugh. It was the laugh of a madman, apparently unconcerned by the risk of Thanos’s answering stroke.
Before, it had always been easy to beat Lucious, yet Thanos could feel that this city had changed that. He’d always been a coward, shying away from the blade in a way that always left its own openings. Now, there was a desperate, uncaring edge to his swordplay that seemed a lot more dangerous.
Lucious had lost none of his old trickiness, either.
Thanos parried a blow, and Lucious spun away to grab a flagon from a waiting patron. He took a swig from it, then spat the contents at Thanos. As Thanos flinched away, he struck again, and Thanos had to roll to get away from the blow.
“Gold to anyone who grabs him for me,” Lucious said.
A lumbering man started forward, grabbing at Thanos. Thanos had to kick him away, and in that moment, Lucious’s blade sliced across his thigh.
Thanos stepped back, and the inn’s patron started forward again.
“He doesn’t have any gold, Bor,” one of the other drinkers there called out. “Sit down. You’re spoiling the entertainment.”
Thanos saw him shrug and move back, and in that moment, Lucious lashed out again. Thanos barely parried in time. There was an opening he could have taken, but doing so would have left him open in turn.
The truth was that Thanos didn’t want to die. He wanted to get back to Delos. He wanted to see his home. He wanted to live to see Ceres.
That need to see her again lent him strength. Thanos caught Lucious’s blade against his, shoving into him and throwing him back. Lucious crashed into the bar, sending flagons in every direction.
“Hey! Watch it!” the landlord called, then ducked as Lucious spun to strike at him. Thanos tried to step into the gap that left, but Lucious turned back, his sword slashing down drunkenly. He threw a tankard with his free hand, and Thanos dodged back from it.
“No,” Lucious snarled, and again, Thanos didn’t think his brother was talking to him. “I don’t care what you say! I’m going to gut him!”
He lunged forward, and Thanos parried, trying to trap the blade with his foot as he forced it down. Lucious’s head cracked forward to catch him in the face, and Thanos expected him to follow up with another blow, but Lucious danced away from the thrust he had waiting for him.
He shoved one of the serving slaves there at Thanos, and Thanos barely dragged his sword out of the way in time. When Thanos pushed the woman safely to one side, he found a sudden pain along his flank, and Lucious’s sword came away bloody.
“You always did care too much about other people,” he said as he ran his finger through the blood there. He held up the results and grinned.
Thanos attacked. He struck out overhand, then sideways, hard enough that his hands rang with the impact every time Lucious parried. He punched with his free hand, catching Lucious in the face, then lifted his sword as Lucious fell back.
“No,” Lucious snapped to some unseen figure. “He’s not better than me. He was never better than me. Watch this!”
Thanos braced himself, ready to find a way past Lucious’s next swing. Instead, his brother grabbed a bottle from the table beside him, and Thanos just had time to recognize Southlands heart liquor before Lucious flung it at the lamp nearest to Thanos.
Thanos flung himself flat, feeling the heat of the flames wash over his back, feeling his skin burn with agony as the fire hit. His sword was jarred from his hand as he hit the floor, and Thanos groaned as he rolled to his back.
He saw Lucious standing over him, sword raised for the kill.
“You were never as good as me,” Lucious said. He stamped down on Thanos’s hand as Thanos reached for his sword. Thanos felt the sharp burst of agony as something snapped.
“You were never as ruthless,” Lucious said. “You could never… no. No, I’ll not have you ruin this for me!” He looked up at a spot to his left, where there was nothing Thanos could see. “I’m better than him! Admit it, you old fool! Admit it!”
Thanos didn’t know what Lucious was doing, but he knew this was probably the last chance he would get. He reached up, snatching for the knife that sat in Lucious’s belt. He dragged it clear, not caring that it caught on the scabbard.
Then, as Lucious started to turn back to him, Thanos thrust it up into his brother’s chest.
Lucious’s sword clattered to the ground. He stood there as though he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.
“But you… can’t…”
Thanos found himself catching his brother, lowering him to the ground. He should have felt triumphant in that moment. He certainly shouldn’t have felt sorry for Lucious.
Then Lucious began to laugh. Not much of a laugh. Certainly not the cruel laugh Thanos remembered from back home, or even the mad laugh from before. This was little more than a series of gasps, one after the other, only recognizable for what they were because of the amused look in Lucious’s eyes.
“Oh… now Father is quiet,” Lucious breathed. “Typical.”
Thanos stared down at his brother. “Lucious, you’re not making sense.”
“I don’t… make sense?” Lucious countered. “You… with your honor… and your protecting people? I don’t make sense?” He laughed that wheezing laugh again. “Maybe I should come back and haunt you… I think you’d be a lot more fun mad.” His smile turned cruel then. “And I’d get to watch what happens next.”
“Nothing happens next,” Thanos said. “It’s over, Lucious.”
This time, Lucious laughed as though he might burst. Thanos could feel the blood pouring from his brother’s chest.
“Over? I told you, Irrien stole what should be mine. He stole my invasion. And here you are, killing me, too far away to protect any of them.” Lucious’s eyes started to flicker shut. “I even heard that Stephania was here, looking for something special for your beloved Ceres. I thought about finding her and having some fun, but it was more interesting to watch.”
That made a burst of fear rise in Thanos’s chest. If there was an invasion coming, and if Ceres was in danger…
“No,” he said. “This was meant to stop it.”
“Stop it? It’s just beginning, brother.” Lucious smiled then. “Brother. I wonder what it would have been like, hearing that word growing up. Do you remember when we were small? We used to raid the kitchens together, and
pretend we were barbarians attacking a village while we stole cakes.”
“I remember,” Thanos said, and just for a moment he found himself thinking of the child Lucious had been, rather than the man he had become. How had Lucious gone from that to this?
“Irrien won’t settle for cakes,” Lucious said. “It won’t end until everyone… you love… is dead.”
Lucious’s eyes flicked closed. The hardest part was that, despite everything, at least one person Thanos loved already was.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Akila was proud of his men as he stood on the flagship of his stolen fleet. They had done more than he could ever have asked of them, they had fought and they had died, all in the service of a land that wasn’t theirs.
As for all they’d done since then… Akila wouldn’t have believed it possible, but that was what could happen when people were ready to fight for their freedom.
They’d taken the Empire’s fleets, both the ones they’d sent against Haylon and the one they’d had ready to defend their capital. They’d freed the slaves chained to oars in the galleys, and they’d made free sailors out of those who wanted to stay. They’d set the ships to patrolling, the bulk held back near the harbor, the smaller, faster vessels heading out to make sure no enemy slipped unseen through the waters further out.
It was one of those small ships Akila saw from his spot on the command deck, approaching with the jerky gait of an injured bird through the water. As it got closer, he could see that one of its sails was down, and several of its timbers had been blackened by fire.