the house?”
“No, Domina.” Vasilisa only used Taisiya’s former title when she was certain no one would overhear it.
Taisiya rolled her shoulders, tension dissipating. If Vasilisa’s recognisance were to be trusted, a shadow mage spy answering to the Praetor Nicephorus had been watching them from the shadows. One day, Taisiya would allow Vasilisa to track down the spy and dispose of him, but not until it was safe to do so.
It was a pity there were so many things she needed to be patient for. And grateful for.
It was a small mercy that Taisiya hadn’t yet been reduced to enduring the month-long carriage ride back to the estate of the newly appointed Magistra Zoe Jade, their sponsor and the empress’ bosom ally. A teleportation mage had seen them to the entrance of the compound, once the seat of another traitorous magister before he too had been slaughtered by the crown. Taisiya’s father hadn’t been alone in his ambitions. Two other magistri, Sapphire and Diamond, had joined the conspiracy, their daughters used as fodder for the ritual. Those daughters had been similarly discarded by the crown once their traitor fathers and brothers had been killed. The former Sapphire and Diamond women lived in equally reduced circumstances on the grounds, while Magistra Zoe Jade had been gifted control of the former Sapphire Province and the responsibility for seeing to the welfare of the traitors’ families.
Not that she’d done much.
Taisiya hated this place, a constant reminder of failure and death. Thalassa Keep was a hideous fortress of imposing grey stone, ringed with a murky moat of dubious liquid, made malodorous in the summer heat. Taisiya and her family lived in one of the cottages to the East. She and Vasilisa approached it, their leather shoes crunching the gravely, tree-lined, path.
“The spies haven’t been by for months. The praetor was quick to give up his suspicions.”
“We’re all the better for it. Imagine if he knew…” Taisiya replied.
“Tizzy-tiger? Is that you?”
Milena, her youngest sister, opened the window of the cottage and leapt from the sill. Her unbound, auburn hair framed her pale, freckled face and a cheerful smile. Lavender eyes sparkled with mischief as she raced, completely unladylike, and jumped on top of Taisiya for a hug. Taisiya caught her and crushed her in a tight embrace. Milena had volunteered to be the first to lend her power to their father for the ritual but had paid for it dearly, left in a comatose state until he’d died and her magic and soul had been returned to her. She’d recovered with remarkable speed. Father had ensured she was cared for both day and night so that her body wouldn’t suffer unduly. If only he’d been as thorough in all his plans.
“So? Has the first plan gone well?” Milena asked.
“Very. Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it,” Taisiya replied.
“Domina, if you’ll excuse me.” Vasilisa curtsied.
Taisiya nodded. Her closest friend preferred to wander the void when she could. Vasilisa smiled and slipped into a shadow in the blink of an eye, gone from this world into another.
Taisiya pushed open the door, as servants only came in the mornings to clean and drop off food. Walking into the atrium, she sat down at the thick, scarred, wooden table as Milena gathered their other sisters. A kettle hissed one room over. She ran a finger along the largest trough in the table’s surface, holding back a grimace as she surveyed the surroundings. Every item was more than two decades out of fashion, and every piece of furniture showed signs of mending or wear—castoffs from Magistra Jade’s servants, no doubt. While the magistra’s keep was ugly outside, Taisiya had walked its halls. Only the finest of decorations, fresh flowers on every spare surface, and toadying servants in every hallway, all due to the immense natural wealth and overflowing coffers of the newly-minted Jade Province. But in Taisiya’s humble cottage, there were no mosaics here, no rich tapestries, only simplistic, painted scenes on a few key walls, and all faded and chipping at the edges.
Yet the real treasures of the Jade Province sat before her. Milena hopped into her seat, agile as a cat, Daria poured the tea and settled into her seat without a sound and Sonya tossed back a strand of her hair. All fair-skinned redheads with purple-hued eyes, just like Father. And just like Father, they were natural-born schemers.
Daria posed in her seat so stiffly that the family swore they could use her posture to judge the straightness of a line. It lent her an air of imposing formality. No matter their reduced circumstances, not a single burgundy strand on her head was ever out of place, and her faded purple gown had nary a crinkle.
Milena was happy to discard formalities for comfort, her legs tucked under her, always fidgeting with her skirts, preferring instead the short tunics that allowed her freedom of movement. In another life, Milena might have commanded her own army, damn the opinions of lesser men.
Sonya, with shining rose-gold hair, never let an opportunity pass to put herself in the best possible light and strike a captivating pose. Even now her beauty and charm radiated, a woman meant to be a princess in a legend of old, making even the simplest gown appear fit for court.
Though they differed in temperament, they were all of them Magister Grigori’s children, and equally dedicated to his grand plan. Taisiya loved them fiercely, and she would do everything in her power to see to their happiness and wellbeing. It was her duty, after all.
Taisiya cleared her throat and laid out her scheming.
“The bitch has agreed to introduce us to the emperor’s cousins, and the praetor has assured me that a suitable occasion to showcase us favourably has already been planned. In only a week’s time, several groups of foreigners will be arriving on our shores to commence diplomatic relations. The magistri, their heirs and a great many other nobles will be invited to attend. I’ve been assured the royal couple will introduce us personally to prospective husbands. I have a preliminary list with me, drawn up by the praetor himself.”
Taisiya pulled a small, folded piece of paper from the pocket of her gown and smoothed it out on the table. Daria took it first and perused it with her usual icy affectation. Satisfied, she nodded curtly and placed it before Sonya.
“They’re adequately close to the emperor in terms of bloodline,” Daria pronounced.
Sonya hemmed and hawed over the list. She could ferret gossip out of even the most tight-lipped of servants and had acted as their window into the outside world since their banishment from society.
“Two must be struck from the list. One is a gambler and the other beats his mistress.”
Taisiya nodded, grabbed a pen and ink and did just that. Milena sighed, grabbed the paper and looked over the names.
“No one on here sounds like any fun.”
“Here we go.” Sonya rolled her eyes.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to live on a ship and kill pirates with a bolt of lightning?”
Taisiya held back her own sigh. Milena had set her sights on Admiral Zephyros, a wind mage. The eldest son of Magister Opal, Dominus Zephyros Opal rarely made landfall long enough to do more than resupply before he escaped his familial duties and was back at sea. Unless Zephyros were commanded by the emperor himself, the admiral was unlikely to ever sit still long enough to consider marriage. He and Milena had met briefly when they were children, and again when he’d brought troops to the door of their ancestral keep to evict them. Despite the grim circumstances, Milena had only praise for the handsome admiral. She was determined to have him. Taisiya feared she would never be able to dissuade her.
“It wouldn’t be the worst idea to have a military man in the family. And Father always spoke of the importance of having a bolt hole or two,” Daria said, ever the peacekeeper.
Daria was right, of course. If the continent ever became inhospitable, the Opal islands, with their penchant for grudging tolerance of imperial norms and customs, would be a safe haven for their family. And a man with a navy under his command would be a fine prize to garner for their greater plans. But could a man so close to the imperial family really be trusted?
“I suspect the admiral will be present at the delegation, given the emperor will need his insight on the feasibility of overseas trade routes with the foreigners,” Taisiya added cautiously.
Milena’s eyes sparkled. She stuck her tongue out at Sonya.
“If you want him, then you’ll have to ask the strategos to force the introduction,” Sonya pointed out.
The mood in the little cottage immediately dimmed. The strategos, Lethe’s top military commander, had rendered their thirteen-year-old brother unidentifiable with his mace when Dimitri and Father had tried to escape the imperial dungeons before their executions. Dimitri, wicked and pitiless though he’d been, had been their younger brother nonetheless. Only the family crest on Dimitri’s ring had allowed Taisiya to confirm their younger brother’s identity after his brutal death. There had been so much gore. Taisiya swallowed back bile at the memory.
“We’re all going to have to do distasteful things to see this through. If we let that deter us, we’re not fit to be Father’s children,” Taisiya said into the silence. “Having to manipulate and flatter our enemies is a small price to pay in comparison to what Dimitri suffered.”
Sonya, chastised, nodded.
“What about Theodore?” Sonya asked.
Theodore, their older brother, was absent, working as he did in the imperial bureaucracy. He was innocent, knowing nothing of his sisters’ treachery. Theodore was the only one among Grigori’s children who was kind and sweet to a fault. He was no more capable of deception or cruelty than he was of growing a second head. As such, he was to be protected through ignorance.
“Theo should marry for love. Father sent him to be part of the bureaucracy for good reason. I think it best he remains innocent,” Taisiya said.
Daria and Milena nodded.
“To the Amethyst line.” Daria held up her chipped teacup.
“To the Amethyst line.” Milena and Sonya did the same.
“If you are going to honour our family, then at least use our real name, not the one that bastard emperor forced upon us when he killed your grandfather.”
The four of them turned to see their mother, the former Magistra Oxsana Amethyst, standing by the balustrade on the second floor. Draped in her mourning robes, she descended the cracked steps of their little cottage with the same regal grace and dignity that she would have down the grand, polished staircase of their former home. Taisiya’s eyes widened at the sight.
Upon learning of her husband’s demise, Magistra Oxsana had salvaged as many family records, artefacts and wealth as she could before the imperial army had come to pillage it all. Even now, it lay hidden in secret caches, ready and waiting to see the light of day.
When the magistra had told the invading soldiers that the servants had made off with much in the night, they hadn’t bothered to think that it might have been on her orders. Oxsana had held her head high until they’d been settled elsewhere, but as the months dragged on, she’d become a recluse, with nothing to sustain her but grief. She’d all but haunted the second floor of their cottage, either refusing to leave her bedroom or spending her days running her fingers over the few meagre belongings packed away in the storage rooms above.
As she approached their little table, her amber eyes sparked with light and cunning for the first time since Taisiya had woken screaming from the return of her soul and her magical gift. Not a hair on her mama’s greying blonde head was out of place, her posture perfect from a lifetime of practice. A small part of Taisiya’s tattered heart was mended by the sight. Though she’d stepped into the role with grim determination, Taisiya hadn’t felt ready to lead their family so soon after her father’s death. Now she wouldn’t have to do it alone.
“Mama,” Taisiya breathed.
Oxsana grinned in her ruthless way and poured herself a small cup of tea before she sat down and raised her cup.
“To the Dragonsblood line,” she proclaimed.
Their grandfather’s name. The name of every king and queen of their former homeland, stretching back into the days of myth and legend. A homeland Taisiya and her sisters would one day reclaim from the empire, transforming it from a lowly province back into a kingdom once more, just as their father had spent his life trying to do. The same as any properly-raised Dragonsblood would.
After all, they were born to rule.
“To the Dragonsblood line,” Taisiya replied, grinning with her little act of sedition.