Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (35 page)

Turning her gaze again, Bithia caught the eye of Helton, Kasmiri’s father and head of the palace guard. Dressed in a rich black suit, he looked proud to have Kasmiri at his side. Sterlave was near, but not too close, his obvious dislike for Helton clear even from this distance. When her gaze locked on Kasmiri, Bithia glanced away before her sister noticed her looking but she was too late. Sharply aware, Kasmiri left her father’s side and moved gracefully to Bithia’s side.

Unable to retreat, Bithia prepared herself for a conversation she did not wish to have.

“What troubles you so, my sister?”

Touched by the way Kasmiri offered out that simple word, sister, and all the loving connotations the endearment carried, Bithia discovered she desperately wanted to tell her the truth and seek her counsel. After confirming none were near enough to listen, Bithia said, “What you told me, of our mother’s account?”

Kasmiri nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“It is worse than that. Not only am I without personal funds, but the coffers of the entire empire are utterly bare.”

Bithia could tell that Kasmiri wanted to react, but she held her features immobile as if they discussed nothing more than fashion. “How can this be?” Her hand cupped her belly, her concern clearly focused on what kind of a world she might bring her child into. In that moment Bithia wanted to relent; why tell her sister painful news she could not change when so much already pressed upon her? But Kasmiri’s concern, her pleading gaze, compelled Bithia to confess the full.

“Ambo took everything and skillfully concealed it all. None have any idea where he placed his ill-gotten gains. What little he’d left in the spacecraft was barely enough to cover the guards’ wages and the palace staff for another quarter cycle.”

To conceal her shock, Kasmiri sipped her drink.

“And still it is worse.”

Kasmiri seemed reluctant to ask, but softly she whispered, “How?”

“Ambo borrowed from many powerful worlds that Diola now owes.”

With a wince, Kasmiri cast her gaze at the lavish display around them. “How has all this been paid for?”

“At the moment, the empire survives on the graces of those other worlds, but soon, far too soon, that generosity will cease, and the bill will fall due. I have no way of paying them. Even if we export what few goods we have, it’s not nearly enough . . .” she trailed off, knowing that her half-sister quickly grasped the crushing depth of the financial nightmare. Fury at Ambo consumed Bithia, briefly, but holding a grudge against a dead man served no purpose.

Bithia and Kasmiri’s mother, Empress Clathia, had given all her personal funds to Ambo. Clathia had done so to bribe him into silence about Kasmiri’s illegitimacy. In doing so, Clathia had drained the royal funds. As Bithia stood gazing about at the excess displays of the elite, she realized part of her annoyance was that she had no funding of her own to compete. Worse, she didn’t want to compete so much as she feared a hostile takeover when the other Houses realized her inability
to
compete. Having the funding necessary to display vulgar wealth was one the most basic parts of being the empress. Crimson House had displayed affluence for centuries. The fact that Bithia no longer had the wherewithal to do so because of her mother was devastating. She hadn’t realized that everything she’d been given to wear was a hand-me-down from her mother or her half-sister, which now explained the constant need for alterations. The only thing holding the Houses at bay was the fact that Bithia had been so eccentric since her arrival. They looked upon her lack of display as charmingly unsophisticated. Bithia would do anything to keep that consensus going.

Her predecessors, her ancestors, the longest line of empresses in the history of the Onic Empire, had built up a massive royal account that Clathia drained in one short lifetime. Her mother left Bithia destitute. In fact, the empire Bithia had been tricked into claiming was now deeply in debt to mighty worlds with almost unlimited resources. No wonder her mother had committed suicide once she’d passed the empire on to Kasmiri. Her hugely pregnant sister had also vacated the throne. Unwittingly, Bithia stepped in. As proud as the title
Empress of the Onic Empire
might sound, the lofty label possessed little in the way of actual clout.

Now that she knew the magnitude of the problem dumped into her lap, Bithia wanted to wrench off her dress, fling her symbolic crown to the ground and return to the peaceful world of Beserrah.

As she considered the garish display around her again, she felt an aching sadness for them. They had no idea that all of this, the pageantry, the parade of obscene wealth, would all crumble to dust within nine days unless Bithia found a way to save their way of life. When that happened, they would not blame Ambo, but her. As much as she wished to run, she would not take a coward’s way out. She would stay and fight for her empire. The only problem was she had no idea what to do.

Kasmiri placed her hand gently over Bithia’s. “If there is anything I or my bondmate can do, you know we are at your loyal service.”

“I thank you.” After a squeeze, she let go. “Just telling you has lifted part of my burden, but I am sorry such has weighed you down.” Bithia glanced to her belly. “When you are already so fully burdened.”

Rubbing her belly, Kasmiri, said, “Do not worry over me, Bithia. Better to know and plan than be oblivious.”

“Yes. But—”

“I will keep this to myself and my bondmate. I will tell my father nothing.”

Bithia sighed. With a slight nod, she silently thanked her for her discretion. “Please, do try to enjoy the rest of the evening.” She didn’t add that tonight might very well be the last good time Diola would ever see.

Kasmiri left her then, her stride amazingly smooth despite her ponderous belly. All at once Bithia envied her and feared for her. Too much responsibility crushed her. Telling her sister had helped, as had telling her loves, but telling did not solve the problem.

Her gaze sought out Drahka and Viltori. Just as she glanced over, Viltori set an empty glass on the table next to him, grabbed another drink, and tossed the liquid back. Why was he drinking so heavily? Was it the news of imminent collapse? But there had been good news too. Although, that was probably meaningless to him now. If there was no empire, what did it matter that they could now all be together in full of the Harvest prophecy?

“They seem quite engaged with one another.”

Bithia turned. Beside her stood an elderly man, dressed in bronze, with a shockingly dark and thick brown mane. The richness of his hair contrasted sharply with his melted features. Deep-set eyes, a flattened nose, drooping lips; he seemed as if at one time he’d been very large, then suddenly lost most of his weight. And his height. The top of his head barely came up to her shoulder. After sipping his drink, he gestured to Drahka and Viltori.

“I have never seen two
men
so enamored of one another.” His voice was casual, but the meaning behind his pointed words was not. Whoever this man was, he did not approve of their relationship. “It seems to me a woman would be most unnecessary to men like that. Unless they were using the woman for some gain.” On the verge of calling for her guards, Bithia hesitated when the man lowered his voice to whisper, “I know what your mother did. And I know why. But I know something you don’t know.”

Swirling the red liquid in her cup with a gentle motion of her arm, Bithia dared to ask, “And what do you think you know? Make it good, old man, or I will have you put to the stone like Ambo.”

At that, he smiled, displaying amazingly straight and white teeth. In the next breath, the smile fell, as if it just couldn’t bear to lift the slack skin of his face. “Ambo was a fool. He took all those funds from your mother and wasted them on his lusts. Food and women and perversions.” The man shook his head, disapproval etching deep brackets around his mouth. From the way the lines settled, Bithia determined this man often cast his face in censure. “But what is worse is your mother’s stupidity.”

As furious as Bithia was with her mother, she wouldn’t allow anyone to denigrate her. “Speak of my mother that way again—”

“And I’ll be executed. Yes, my lady.” He bowed without conveying any respect. “I heard your threat the first time, but I do not fear it.” He paused and daintily sipped his drink as if it were the last liquid in all the land and he would make it last. If Ambo had been a glutton, this man was the opposite. “You will not kill me, not when my death would expose so many of your secrets.”

Bithia took and held a deep breath. After slowly releasing the air between tight lips, she glanced at Viltori and Drahka, still deep in conversation, and then turned her attention to— “What was your name?”

“Eld, my lady. I am the overseer.” A sneer wrinkled up the flesh of his face around his nose. “Everything you see, I control.” He lifted his hand to the great hall. “I am responsible for the servants who cook, clean and decorate your pompous palace.”

With every breath, he insulted her. In the back of her mind lurked a perverse joy that he would soon find himself the master of nothing. “You try my patience. Either say what you will or depart.”

Glaring up at her, Eld shook his head. “Your mother never wanted you.”

“My mother didn’t even know I existed.” Despite knowing that his accusation was false, it still hurt the child inside, the young woman convinced her parents didn’t love her, the wide-eyed innocent who had always felt second best.

“Not at first, but eventually she did.”

Eld played a dangerous game. Should she choose to do so, Bithia could have him taken into custody, questioned in detail, and then executed. However, Eld wasn’t a fool. He must have something planned for that very occurrence. Biding her time, Bithia suffered his insolence and listened to his accusations.

“How would you know anything about what my mother knew?”

“Because I’m the one who told her.”

Bithia’s heart skipped a beat. “And how would you know?”

Angling his face up, Eld grinned in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m the one who created you.”

Clutching her drink in her fist, Bithia forgot to breathe for several moments. Shocked, she simply stared. Trapped in his gaze, she realized his eyes were gray, like storm clouds gathering. His eyes were the color of the ominous winter clouds that gathered over the Onic Mountains and they carried all the threat of a violent storm.

“The difficult part was finding a woman to carry you. One who could keep her mouth shut.” Smugly he sipped his drink. “Death is a remarkable silencer. And no one missed one worthless slave.” He cast his gaze around the gathering that grew louder as the night wore on and the drinks flowed more freely. “What do you think they would make of an empress birthed by a lowly servant?” He laughed without mirth. “Moreover, what would they make of a ruler without funds?”

Bithia couldn’t find her voice. She didn’t doubt his words for a moment, not with his insufferable self-satisfaction. If she asked, he would provide proof, but doing so would only rub salt into her freshly wounded heart.

“But do you know what’s really sad?”

She didn’t, and she didn’t want him to enlighten her, either. But as she tried to move away, she found she couldn’t. No matter how horrible the information, there was a part of her that simply had to know the truth. Regardless of how awful that knowledge was, she had to learn the secret to her existence.

“Your mother knew about you and still she did not want you.”

His words hit like a physical blow. Bithia literally slumped forward and almost spilled her drink. Determinedly she stood upright, casting her gaze surreptitiously about to confirm none had witnessed her momentary lapse of control. Sweet, merciful Datanna but the elite were too far gone into their own revelry to notice her.

“I’ve always wanted to be the magistrate. Watching that power wasted on Ambo grated my sensibilities. Therefore, when your mother came to power, I decided to create some leverage, for as you know, the eldest daughter is the one who ascends to the throne. So I made you. That way, no matter how many children your mother had, I would have the eldest.”

He spoke as if what he had done were the most clever scheme and perfectly normal. Bithia literally felt sick to her stomach.

“But my mistake was waiting too long. I didn’t know your mother was a
yondie
spreading her legs for Helton.” Eld snorted. “Another insufferable fool. All he had to do was let go of his pride and become her consort, but no, Helton couldn’t lower himself to be second-best. Worse, he created a
pharadean
, your illegitimate half-sister Kasmiri, which gave Ambo all the leverage he needed. So Ambo started with his demands. More and more bribes he took. When I found out, I went to your mother and told her about you. I asked for only a modest sum, and do you know what she did?”

Bithia shook her head.

“She laughed in my face. Even though I proved to her that you were legitimate, she still dismissed me.” Fury turned his pale face burnished red. “I told her I would bring you forth and she said if I did she would have you put to death.” He looked at her then, his hooded eyes so cold they burned. “When I told her I would go to your father, that is when I discovered the truth. She didn’t want to give your father the satisfaction of having a legitimate child. Because he
knew
Kasmiri wasn’t his. If you came along, he would have some power, and Clathia was determined your father would remain powerless.”

Wavering on her feet, Bithia tried to understand why her mother would hate her father so much. Had there ever been a time they were happy? “You never told my father?”

“I did.”

She waited breathlessly, but the cruel
cratifan
was going to make her ask.

“And?”

“He didn’t want you, either.” Eld shrugged. “Here I was offering him a legitimate daughter who would ensure his position, and he rejected you too. Said that would make his whoring ways impossible. With Kasmiri ready to take the throne, and your mother playing the wounded empress, he was free to do as he pleased. Having you around would have messed up everything.”