Sitara paused in the concealing darkness and listened. She pressed her hand lightly against the wooden panel of a secret door blocking her way and carefully probed the room beyond with her mind.
Empty.
A gentle push on a hidden latch swung the door open. Sitara slipped from the narrow passageway into Emperor Tegnazian’s lavishly decorated bedroom.
The door swung shut behind her with a soft click while she surveyed the room with her natural eyes. She struggled to calm her nerves and slow her breathing. She had ventured through the secret passage several times before, but only once without knowing in advance who she would be eavesdropping on. That venture had nearly ended in disaster.
On that occasion, Bajaran had seemed very agitated when he asked her to take the risk of listening in on the council chamber in the emperor's inner tower. Despite not knowing who would be in the room, he had urged her to come, with one warning.
“Sitara, use extreme caution. If Harafin is there, get out. Get out immediately.”
His desperate need had given her the courage to go. She had done it for him, and she smiled at the memory. She had been strong, for him.
It’d been the least she could do. He had given her so much, taught her so much. He’d opened her eyes to a vision of what the world could be, of the peace all would enjoy when the pair of them ruled together.
For the revolution to succeed, she risked her life to gather critical information. Should she ever be discovered, she would hang.
Death was the punishment for treason. Bajaran had warned her they would call it treason to eavesdrop on the words of the emperor as he sat in secret council. They were wrong. His throne was a sham, an appointment made by a king who sought only the greatest political advantage for himself. Such power belonged to those better suited to rule.
The revolution would sweep the corrupt, complacent fools from power. When Bajaran took his place at the head of government, with her by his side, the people would know true leadership. What she did wasn’t treason but the truest form of patriotism.
To think, at eighteen, she would soon rule the empire. The thought gave her confidence and helped focus her thoughts on the dangerous task at hand.
After listening for another long moment, she crept forward through the silence. She crossed the huge bedroom with no more than a passing glance at its opulent furnishings.
Like a flickering shadow, she slipped out of the bedroom and down a short hallway. After another pause to listen, she crept into the private dining room and hurried across. This was the most dangerous part, the most likely place to encounter someone. As usual, she held her breath until she reached the small closet cleverly concealed under a polished wooden staircase that spiraled up into the emperor's tower.
The closet was the key. She slid a barrel and a stack of linen out of the way and crawled into the tiny space behind them. A panel of wood slid aside under her fingers, revealing a small opening just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Anyone not possessing her petite frame would find it far too narrow.
Sitara paused in the cramped space that smelled of dust and stale air and cast a thought, ever so gently, up to the next level. She'd practiced the maneuver with Bajaran until she could float a wisp-thin thought past his shielded mind without alerting him to her presence.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to keep her breathing calm. It had seemed so easy in the comfort of the bedchamber where they used to meet. Crouched in the darkness, not knowing who might be waiting for her above taxed her limits. She bit her trembling lip and used the resulting sharp pain to focus.
In her mind's eye, the walls and furniture of the council room, situated one level up, looked ethereal. She didn’t dare expend the extra power necessary to draw them into sharper detail, for any other gifted mind in close vicinity would surely sense her presence.
The council room stood empty, meaning the emperor would be meeting at the very top of the tower, in his private study.
Why can't it ever be easy?
The winding stair circled the tower all the way to the top floor. Doors opened into each level so staff could move up and down the tower without disturbing the emperor or eavesdropping on him. It also provided the unseen passage for Sitara's secret infiltrations.
Sitara opened her soul to her gift, allowing only a tiny spark of power to seep into her torso. She directed that power into her hands and feet, and concentrated on what she wanted.
Her hands tingled and glowed softly green. Sitara hated the sickly color, but it was the only light she dared allow as she carefully ascended the underside of the staircase. Her hands and feet, coated with a thin, sticky substance Bajaran had taught her to conjure, easily gripped the rough wood.
After three steps, Sitara pushed through her first cobweb and barely stifled a shriek. She cursed herself for being a fool, even as she fought to calm her racing heart.
I hate spiders.
If only she could send fire boiling up through the recesses of the stairwell and cleanse it from those disgusting creatures. Of course, that would guarantee discovery, but every time she crept into that dark world the tempting thought arose.
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Instead, after another mental sweep of the area, Sitara concentrated, hardening the air around her body and forming it into a tiny layer of armor to repel spiders. That saved her from feeling them creep along her skin, but she'd found one in her hair after her last mission and nearly screamed.
Sitara resumed climbing and quenched her gift after sealing the armored air around herself. It would last for twenty minutes and, unless a sentinel was actively searching for her, no one would sense the miniscule amount of power she consumed.
Three minutes later, Sitara pulled herself up to the top level and slipped her slender frame under an enclosed reading bench. She then focused on the mind-clearing exercise Bajaran had taught her. She couldn’t shield, for any sentinels with the emperor would sense her shields the next time they swept the room.
Instead, Sitara calmed her mind and body and drew around herself layer after layer of mental illusion. She filled herself with dark, musty air, dust, and even a wooden support beam. Any sentinel's thoughts would be gently diverted around her, seeing her as nothing but empty space.
As long as she did nothing to alert them to her presence, she would remain virtually invisible. Of course, once alerted, an active search would peel away the layers of illusion in seconds.
Sitara listened.
A moment later, voices sounded from the emperor’s study. At first, they were muted and difficult to make out. This was as far as she had penetrated the last time she ventured here without knowing who the emperor was meeting with.
That time, just as she had crouched to listen, the emperor had spoken, “Harafin, my old friend. Thank you for coming.”
Harafin. That name had plunged an icy dagger of fear into her heart. He was one of the most powerful sentinels alive. He would undoubtedly have discovered her and unleashed terrible vengeance had she remained hidden.
A master sentinel, Harafin was lauded as one of the greatest defenders of the empire and its people, but she knew the lies behind the façade of his nobility. He used his power to guarantee the emperor and other corrupt leaders remained in power. He would never allow peace with their Grakonian neighbors to the west, for war and aggression kept the masses distracted from the real evils that governed them.
Harafin would have to die, as would everyone else who stood in the way of progress. That had been a difficult truth for her to accept, but Bajaran had been patient in explaining it. Over time, she had come to see the necessity of cleansing the empire of these enemies of peace.
But the time was not yet, and instead she had fled for her life, keeping her mind void of all thought so as to not draw his attention. She had returned to Bajaran so shaken that he’d put her into a deep sleep, calming her so she wouldn’t make a mistake and give them away.
Now Bajaran was gone. He had left several weeks ago to strike the first blow for the revolution. He hadn’t told her any specifics, only that she would know when it was done. Everyone in the empire would know. From the deep forests of Hallvarr to the wide plains of Einarr, the news of his deeds would shake the empire.
Today she’d heard rumors of disaster, of some dire threat to the empire. It had to be him. She was so proud of him.
He embodied everything she considered a great man to be. He was handsome and noble, and sometimes when he looked at her, her devotion to him burned so hot, it threatened to melt her soul. Powerfully gifted, he dedicated his life to bringing much-needed change to the world.
So she took the risk to find out for herself, to find out before anyone else save the emperor. It was the best way to share his victory, since he could not return until the revolution destroyed the emperor. Then Bajaran would come in power and glory, and all would bow before him. He could finally declare publicly their love, the love they had kept secret for so long.
“Sentinel Felix, thank you for coming so quickly.” Emperor Tegnazian’s voice reached her clearly.
Sitara cringed and began to withdraw, her heart pounding so loud she worried they would hear. But she paused, her need to know about Bajaran struggling against her fear. Curiosity finally won out.
“Any news of Antigonus?”
She nearly jumped in shock, for the emperor’s voice sounded from directly above. He must have sat on the very bench underneath which she crouched. Sitara pressed herself to the floor, willing herself to complete silence.
“In his last report, Harafin said they were headed to Ingolf.”
“We should inform King Leszek and mobilize the legions, Your Excellency,” spoke someone with a deep voice she didn’t recognize.
“No, Ankur,” the emperor said. “We don’t know yet what has happened, and without clear information rumors will spread. We could create a panic if we’re not careful.”
Field Marshall Ankur? What else but Bajaran’s revolution could draw the supreme commander of the empire’s legions at this hour of the night?
“If we react too late?” Ankur pressed.
“What is the worst-case scenario?” the emperor asked.
“Antigonus has indeed been attacked, or even killed,” said Sentinel Felix.
“And Tia Khoa stolen,” added Ankur gravely.
“The very possibility makes me shudder.” Emperor Tegnazian said it so softly that, had she not been lying at his feet, she never would have heard.
“You must consider it,” Ankur said. “If it should come to pass, our mightiest weapon might fall into the hands of the enemy.”
“And doom would lie at the door,” Sentinel Felix added.
Tia Khoa? So that was Bajaran’s mighty blow. Sitara had never imagined anything so bold, but immediately understood the audacity of it. She could think of no greater victory for the revolution than acquiring the powerful weapon.
Its very name made her shiver. A talisman of unmatched magical power, it had been the centerpiece of the empire’s defenses for over two hundred years. Wielded by exceptionally gifted sentinels, it United the Six, which was a force never defeated. Their power had broken every attack by enemies of the empire, and protected its people from being overrun.
Or so the story was told. Sitara knew better.
Tia Khoa was used neither for good nor for defense, and always it brought death and destruction to the nations neighboring the empire. And Bajaran had stolen it! The boldness of his action overwhelmed her, and she very nearly forgot where she lay. The emperor’s voice startled her back to awareness.
“That will never happen,” he said forcefully. “Harafin himself is accompanying Gabral's force, which we dispatched to investigate Antigonus’ alarming message.”
“Very true,” Felix said. “I myself offered to help, but Harafin insisted he go.”
“If anyone can find out what happened and prevent Tia Khoa from being lost, it’s Harafin,” the emperor agreed.
A stab of fear once more chilled her: fear for Bajaran. He was in terrible danger if Harafin hunted him.
Run Bajaran! she thought fervently. Be swift, my love.
The men continued talking about strategies and eventualities, but she had heard enough. She scampered back down the staircase to the hidden closet, replacing everything as it had been. Every second she spent close to that sentinel increased the chances that she would be discovered.
She paused, struck by the magnitude of Bajaran’s actions. They were no longer talking of revolution in the comfortable darkness of the bedchamber where they met. It was no longer merely a distant eventuality that thrilled her with the promise of romance and adventure.
With his action, Bajaran had risen in open rebellion against the empire. He had crossed a line of no return. He must either achieve victory, or die.
She would share his fate.
Feeling chilled and a little sick, she left the closet, crossed the parlor, and stepped into the hallway leading to the bedroom and the secret door.
Someone stood in the hall directly in front of her.