After one extremely painful session that left Sev sweating and dizzy, Hestia gave him a heavy dose of sedative and left him to his spiraling fears that he’d be no good to Rolan without his arm, and that he’d be discharged or locked in jail to serve out his remaining years owed to the empire.
Sev couldn’t let that happen. He needed to be here, where he could be useful for the Phoenix Riders. Commander Cassian had asked for evidence, proof that Lord Rolan had planned the attack on the Riders and employed a spy of his own—an apprentice named Elliot—after kidnapping the boy’s sister to blackmail him for information. If Sev wasn’t near Rolan, he would be utterly useless, and he would have handed himself back to the empire’s military for nothing.
As the medicine had dragged him toward sleep, Sev closed his eyes and thought of Trix and Kade until the darkness closed in.
That had been several days ago, and now Sev waited inside his rooms for the governor himself to arrive. For his fate to be decided.
A servant knocked before opening the door and announcing Lord Rolan, governor of Ferro.
Sev pushed a slow breath out through his lips. No matter the role he played or the things he might be forced to do, he would remember who he truly was and what he was fighting for.
After another painful treatment session that afternoon, Sev had been ordered by Hestia to remain in bed. He felt foolish and uncomfortable as Lord Rolan strode in, wondering if the man would think him lazy if he didn’t get up and salute. But as Sev moved to stand, Rolan quickly waved him off.
“The healer has informed me of your condition,” he said, pausing at the foot of Sev’s bed. The servant who’d announced him rushed forward to draw a chair from the adjoining sitting room and place it next to Sev’s bedside. “Some wine, Bertram,” Rolan added, taking a seat. The servant bowed and backed out of the room.
Lord Rolan was probably in his forties, fair haired and light skinned, though his cheeks and forearms were a ruddy golden color, which told Sev this councilman spent a lot of time in the sun. He had crow’s-feet around his green eyes, and despite the fact that he smiled, his gaze was hard and cold as he settled into the chair next to Sev.
His clothes were dusty and travel worn, but clearly expensive, and Sev got the impression he’d leapt from his horse and come directly to this room. That was a shocking amount of courtesy from a governor of the empire to a lowly foot soldier.
Before Rolan could speak, the servant, Bertram, returned with a decanter of wine and two cups, leaving them on the side table before bowing out again. Rolan poured two cups, then handed one to Sev.
“Nothing like a long day’s ride to drum up a thirst,” Rolan said, downing several gulps. Before Sev could take more than a sip—it was the best wine he’d ever tasted—Rolan had finished his cup and put it back onto the tray. “It’s Sevro, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone businesslike.
“Yes, Lord Rolan, sir.”
“I want to thank you, Sevro, for your service and for sustaining such a wound while in my employ. The province of Ferro—and the entire Golden Empire—is in your debt.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, my lord. I was only doing my duty.”
Rolan nodded, but he looked pensive. “I’m afraid that duty is not yet done. We did not accomplish what we set out to do in Pyra, and now we must consider our next move. I have called a Grand Council meeting to address the Phoenix Rider threat, and in the meantime I will shore up our defenses along the border and prepare for a counterstrike.”
Sev blinked. Were the Riders planning a counterstrike? He felt suddenly, laughably underinformed. He knew that was the point—he was a spy, after all, and if he were found out and questioned, the less he knew, the less he could give away. But if the Riders were planning on attacking anyway… Sev had to wonder if his goal here—finding proof of Rolan’s attack—was still relevant.
“A Grand Council meeting, sir?” Sev asked, adopting his slow, simpleton voice.
“Oh, it’s just a meeting of the entire council—some fifty members, when last I checked—in which a member may present an issue to be discussed so that a course of action might be determined.”
Sev’s mind raced. If Commander Cassian was hoping to bring proof of Rolan’s attack to the council as a means of undermining the governor, it seemed Lord Rolan was one step ahead. Surely Rolan wouldn’t willingly face the council if he knew he was subject to punishment for attacking Pyra without their consent? Something was off here.
“And you called it?” Sev pressed, brow scrunched up, as if trying to understand an extremely complex concept. “To ask for help, sir? For your next move?”
Sev knew he was being too curious, speaking out of turn and asking for information that he, as a lowly foot soldier, had absolutely no right to. But Lord Rolan was refilling his cup and seemed distracted enough that he answered without much thought.
“I’ll need their help if I’m to wage war. If I cannot eliminate the Phoenix Rider threat on my own, I will entreat my fellow governors to put soldiers and resources toward the cause. Of course, I must convince them there is, in fact, a threat—but that is another matter entirely.”
How could Lord Rolan convince the council that the Phoenix Riders were a threat if they weren’t?
Sev’s heart sped up to match the pace of his thoughts. He was missing something, some important piece of Rolan’s plans. But knowing about the Grand Council was at least something he could report back to Commander Cassian.
“Now, for the issue at hand,” Rolan said, snapping Sev out of his thoughts. Something in the man’s tone made a trickle of foreboding slip down Sev’s spine.
“Of the surviving soldiers, you are only the second from Captain Belden’s regiment.”
The second… Only two soldiers had survived from more than two hundred who’d first set out? The shock of it made the blood drain from Sev’s face. It shouldn’t have surprised him—Trix had intended to poison them all—but it was strange to speak of it here, in this cozy room, miles away from the blood and carnage.
“Who else?” Sev asked, his voice hoarse.
“Officer Yara,” Rolan said, head tilted as he studied Sev. “She was unharmed, and I have taken her statement. While the majority of my soldiers died in the fighting, many were sickened—and some killed—by the antics beforehand.” The botched poisoning. “But as she was attending Captain Belden for much of the night in question, her information is limited. And I need to pass down judgment.”
“Judgment, sir?” Sev asked faintly.
“Only two soldiers lived, but there were some bondservant survivors as well. Officer Yara escorted them back to the province with the help of soldiers from the other regiments as they fled after the fighting.”
Sev’s stomach clenched so painfully he lurched forward. Bondservant survivors?
“And so I will need your help identifying them—separating the loyal servants from the traitors. I’m afraid my store of animages has been drastically depleted. I’d hate to waste good help.”
Waste. That meant death. Sev’s blood turned to ice in his veins as he realized what Rolan was asking. He might have to point the finger at his fellow conspirators or lie and risk his own position in Rolan’s good graces.