The sun was threatening the edge of night when we descended into the cells beneath the palace.
Eight of them lay in a neat row on the stone floor.
Kastiel stood over them, his arms crossed. The low witchlight flickering on the cell wall playing off the sharp angles of his dark features. Kastiel crouched next to one of the bodies, turning the man's head to the side to he could get a better look at the mark on their neck.
"Well, Qasim always had expensive taste." Tyreal rose to his feet.
"The Forsaken?" I ask.
"Looks to be," Tyreal said as he wiped his hands on his britches. "Kas…could you not have just taken them captive?"
"Well now that wouldn't have been much fun, would it?" A half grin split Kastiel's handsome face.
To look at the bodies, it was clear my brother had enjoyed himself a great deal.
Tyreal sighed. "This isn't going to sit well with their Brotherhood."
Kastiel shrugged. "Good. It's been centuries since we had a good beef with the Forsaken. Maybe it's time to thin their numbers a little?"
I didn't have to see it to know Tyreal rolled his emerald eyes in response. "I think you may have thinned them enough already," he replied dryly.
The Brotherhood of the Forsaken were amongst the most elite assassins and swords for hire in the realm. Founded some thousand years ago, if you really wanted someone dead, you took on the services of one of their own. If one could afford it, that was. This little adventure would have cost the Empire's coffers quite a pretty coin.
They were also known to be a rather vengeful bunch, and did not take kindly to the killing of their own.
"Alright," I said. "Then what are we going to do about this? It's not like Qasim to give up easily. He'll try again. There will be more where these came from."
"Extra guard on Zahir at all times. One of us, minimum" Tyreal said immediately. "As for the princess, we tell her father."
"Not a bad approach," I said. "The Dragon King is too old to not see through this human stain. Kharr knows Qasim for exactly what he is. He will have brought sufficient guard to keep his household safe, but a heads up wouldn't hurt."
As good as the Forsaken might be, a well trained Dragon Guard was better. Especially if they knew to be aware. The Dragon Princess would be safe in their hands.
"And Qasim?" Tyreal asked.
Kastiel's smile went sharp. "I know exactly what I'd like to do."
Normally, I would have been content to just thwart Qasim. Mortals' lives were fragile and fleeting things, he'd rid the world of himself sooner or later. But then Azralyth's face flashed through my mind and the thought of Qasim getting his hands on her made something clench in my chest. She'd only be safe with him dead.
"As much as we all wish…" Tyreal had started before I cut him off.
"We kill him." I stated, plain and simple.
Both Kastiel and Tyreal looked at me with something akin to surprise. Tyreal opened his mouth once more to respond, but found himself cut off once more, this time by Kastiel.
"I call dibs." His tone was light, almost cheerful. "This one's mine."
Tyreal shot our younger brother a look before his gaze returned to mine. "Alright, but how do we do this without the fallout? This God King king might not be too fond of his second son, but even he won't take kindly to his death. And if it ever got traced back to our hand, we all know what he will do to our mother."
We had rebelled before, as was the right of passage for anyone, immortal or not. But the God Kings knew our weakness. Controlled it. They never punished us. No. Instead he would punish what we held most dear.
Silence settled over the cell as we all reached the same conclusion.
"Dammit!" Kastiel sighed. "Vythros always gets the fun jobs."
"We both know that's not true, Kas," I said dryly. "But we need finesse here, not your usual approach."
"That's bullshit. I can be just as sneaky as that little shit."
Tyreal snorted. Vythros stood a full head shorter than Kastiel, who was only an inch shy of Akyreal, making the comment almost funny. But their builds matched how they fought. Kastiel used his size to end things quickly and brutally. Vythros disappeared into crowds and came out of shadows.
"It needs to look natural," I said.
Kastiel pouted like a child denied his favorite toy, but didn't argue further.
"Fine." He pushed off the wall. "Well, we'd better go tell him. The sooner he gets it's done, the better."
I spent the next few days shadowing Zahir while he walked Ishtari through the palace. At just over a hundred years old, she'd visited An'Shar before, but decades had passed since then. Our Crown Prince played the gracious host, pointing out changes, explaining customs, giving her time to adjust.
The Draci weren't ground dwellers. They built their cities into mountain heights, all open air and endless sky. Even a palace as grand as An'Shar would take getting used to. But both of them seemed determined to make it work.
When Kastiel finally came to relieve me, I went straight to my chambers. Bathed. Changed into clean clothes—dark linen tunic and pants. No armor. No blades. Just myself.
Tyreal raised an eyebrow when I reached the Star Garden. My brothers weren't used to seeing me out of armor.
"New shoes," he remarked, opening the door. "Very nice."
He said nothing else. He might have known where she was, but he didn't offer. If I wanted to find her, the effort should be mine.
I was grateful for that.
As it turned out, she was surprisingly good at hiding.
It took me half an hour to find her tucked into the branches of a tree overhanging one of the smaller ponds. I should have checked here first. I'd planted this tree myself, brought it back from the Vhengal Forest outside Vraycia as a gift for my mother after the conquest.
The irony wasn't lost on me. A Vraycian noblewoman hiding in a Vraycian tree, both of them transplanted here as trophies.
I almost left her there. She looked peaceful in the branches, stretched along a limb with her back against the trunk, golden eyes lost in whatever book lay open in her lap.
But as I turned to go, my new formal shoe, not the leather boots I was used to, slipped on moss. I went down hard, knee cracking against stone. A curse escaped before I could stop it.
Pain shot through my leg. Daeude, I'm getting old.
Then I heard the splash.
The pain vanished. I spun just in time to see her break the pond's surface, gasping for air, arms flailing above her head.