Yorbel wondered if the emperor-to-be would have him executed for bringing such news. Certainly, others had met such a fate for far less throughout Becaran history. He fidgeted as he waited in the corridor for a guard to escort him in. He told himself that he had nothing to fear. Dar was reasonable and, more important, his friend. Friends don’t execute friends.
Stay calm, he told himself. Professional. Kind.
He hadn’t sent a messenger wight to Dar, or to anyone in the palace. The only one he’d sent was to the temple, for assistance in arranging transport for himself, the kehok, and the others to the old royal stables. In that message, he’d explained that he’d been asked to recruit kehoks to reestablish the royal stables, so that the emperor-to-be could sponsor racers in this season’s Becaran Races. It was not precisely a lie.
To Dar, he’d tell the full truth, of course.
And he would pay whatever cost he must. His soul was already paying for the falsehoods and deception that it had taken to come this far. Soon, though, that would be over, once the truth was out, and he could begin to make amends.
“His Excellence will see you now,” a guard informed him, and then opened the door.
Cautiously, Yorbel stepped inside, as if Dar would strike him down on sight. But Dar was at his desk signing papers. “One moment.”
Yorbel stood silently. He waited, and then he wondered aloud, “Why spend the time signing? Your signature carries no weight until you are coronated.”
“But once I am, there will be no delay for those who are in need.” Dar signed three more papers, and then stood up and faced Yorbel. “My brother will be found. The high council has informed me that they have doubled the number of augurs searching. And now that you have returned from your fruitless search, you can join them.”
There was a stiffness and formality to him that Yorbel had never seen. He’s afraid of what I’m here to say, Yorbel realized. And I’m about to make his fears come true. I’m sorry, Dar. “Can you ask your guards to sing?”
His face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
He sank back into the chair as if his legs failed to hold him anymore.
“Ask them to sing,” Yorbel begged. “Please.” His friend deserved the dignity of receiving the news in private, before the rest of the empire learned of it.
Dar shook his head. “Can’t stand their harmonies.” Then he mouthed: Be careful.
Either he didn’t trust his guards anymore, or he’d overused the singing-guard trick and knew it would alert the spies that something important was being discussed. Or both.
Yorbel chose his words carefully. “I believe the people will be thrilled when they learn you are reopening the royal kehok stables and sponsoring a racer in this year’s race. It is a wonderful way to connect with the people and show them you wish to be their emperor.”
“Neither my brother nor my father involved themselves in the races. You don’t think a break with tradition will upset people?”
If he were merely asking about the races, the answer would be no—it was Dar’s father who had broken with tradition. But he wasn’t asking about that. Yorbel considered how to respond. If the people found out the late emperor had been reborn as a kehok, there would be outrage, sorrow, denial, fear, all of it. Yorbel hadn’t devoted much time to worrying about the ramifications beyond saving his friend’s life. “Some will be upset, yes.”
There would be backlash against the augurs, of course, for failing to read the emperor properly—the augurs would be blamed for not alerting people that a monster was ruling the empire. And for not saving his soul before it was too late. Also, a pall would be cast over Dar, and people would question the state of his soul.
But the truth must come out, Yorbel thought.
It would shake people’s faith in augurs for a little while, but not forever. Once the truth was known, the people could begin the process of healing. The empire could move forward. Dar could be coronated, and whatever unrest Gissa worried about would end. The important thing was that the vessel had been found! The empire could weather this if it meant saving Dar’s life, couldn’t it?
“We must be careful how we announce the news to people,” Yorbel cautioned.
Dar nodded. His face twisted, as if he wanted to cry or rage but knew he dared not do either, and Yorbel wished he could say or do anything that would help. He was acutely aware he had caused this pain by bringing this news.
“It would be best to wait until we’re certain of the correct course of action,” Dar said.
“Indeed.” Yorbel hesitated, trying to formulate his next question. “The royal stables are in a state of disrepair. Perhaps you would like to visit them and meet the racer that I have procured on your behalf?”
“Yes!” The word came out like an explosion, and then Dar contained himself. Yorbel felt a burst of both pride and aching sympathy for this boy who was being forced to grow up so fast. “Yes, that is an excellent idea. As it happens, I am between duties now.” He shot a look at the stack of unsigned papers that remained. “Please lead the way.”
Raia coaxed the black lion into a stall and bolted the door after him. It seemed sturdy enough, and Tamra had pronounced it suitable—whichever emperor had commissioned it had poured plenty of gold into its original construction.
Beneath all the cobwebs and sand, the stable was still beautiful. Lady Evara’s servants were scurrying all over the grounds outside, cleaning the viewing area first, where Lady Evara might wish to sit, as well as the exterior of the stable, exposing the murals.
Guess I should make myself useful.
She darted out and helped herself to a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. Across the track, she saw Trainer Verlas with Lady Evara, greeting a contingent of guards. She hoped they’d come to help clean. Regardless, she knew Trainer Verlas would handle it.
She started with her kehok’s stall door, wiping it down while staying out of reach of his claws and jaws. He paced inside. Now that they’d arrived, he seemed to be growing more and more restless. “You want to be running,” Raia guessed. “Me too.”
Soon, she was sure, Trainer Verlas would have them out on the track. She wouldn’t want to waste much time—she wasn’t the type who cared about the aesthetics of a place. Lady Evara could keep neatening and prettifying as much as she wanted, but Raia knew her trainer’s patience for that would wear out quickly, which was good.
“We have to win next time,” Raia said.
The lion snarled, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to her. She found a sink near one of the adjacent stalls—the fanciest sink she’d ever seen, with multiple faucets and a wide basin of black stone. She carried a bucket over to it and, after the pipes finally started spewing clean water, filled it and then lugged it back over to where the kehok could reach it.
Outside the stables, she heard a commotion, and without thinking, she ducked into the adjacent stall. As soon as she was hidden, it occurred to her that she didn’t need to hide. She was supposed to be here. This was her racer.
Then she heard Augur Yorbel say, “Your Greatness, it would be safest to view the kehok while he is secure in his stall.”
That can’t be . . . She peeked between the slats and saw the doors open. Sunlight flooded inside, silhouetting about a half-dozen guards who marched together into the stable. In between them was a taller figure, a man. But he was too shielded by guards for Raia to see his face.
She stayed hidden.
Filthy from the journey here and from scrubbing the filth from the stalls, Raia did not want the emperor-to-be of the Becar Empire to see her this way. Or at all.
Inside the adjacent stall, her kehok began to rage. Screaming, he fought his shackles and threw his body against the walls, as hard as his bindings would allow.
Steady, she thought at him. Calm down!
Beyond the stall, she heard Trainer Verlas boom, “Silence!”
The lion whimpered but continued to struggle quietly. Raia shifted so she could see him, drawn back into one corner. He looked as if he were in pain. She wished she dared go to him.
One of the guards asked, “What is agitating him?”
Another replied, “It’s a monster. They’re always like this.”
“Your Greatness,” Trainer Verlas said to the emperor-to-be, “it’s most likely your soldiers. No doubt their swords remind him of when he was captured. It’s a common reaction in kehoks.”
Lady Evara hurried to say, “I promise that his rider has complete control over him on the track. Let her demonstrate! Where is that girl?”
Raia knew that was her cue to expose herself, but she hesitated. She wasn’t certain she could control him when he felt so cornered, and she didn’t want to fail in front of the emperor-to-be of all Becar!
In that moment of hesitation, the emperor-to-be spoke. “I will view him alone.”
“Your Excellence . . .” a guard protested.
“He is secure, as you can see,” Prince Dar said. “And there is no threat here. Guard the door. Outside.”
Reluctantly, the guards shuffled out of the stable.
“Alone, I said.”
Raia saw her trainer, the augur, and Lady Evara bow and exit.
She’d missed her chance to come out. Now it was too late. She was hiding in the presence of the emperor-to-be. There was no way this could be construed innocently. His guards would immediately think she was a threat. I’ll be arrested. Accused of being a spy or an assassin from Ranir . . . Motionless, she watched through the slats.
The emperor-to-be approached the kehok’s stall. He knelt, which put him eye level with her, and she had a clear view—which meant that if he turned his head, he’d see her too. She didn’t dare move.
He was young, not much older than she was, with a thin face, as if he wasn’t eating enough, and deep circles under his eyes, as if he wasn’t sleeping enough. He wore intricate gold necklaces tight around his neck, and his hair was braided and pinned with diamonds and rubies. But his face looked so ordinary, framed by all that wealth. And so very sad.
“Tell me it isn’t true,” he whispered.
She almost flinched, but he wasn’t talking to her. He hadn’t even glanced her way. All his attention was focused on the black lion.
The lion was still whimpering, but he wasn’t fighting anymore. He was merely looking at the emperor-to-be with his golden eyes, which Raia thought also looked sad.
“Zarin, this can’t be you,” Prince Dar whispered.
Suddenly, Raia felt as if there wasn’t enough air to breathe. What did he call him? She had to have misheard.
“Please, Zarin. Do you remember me? Do you know who you were?”
No, she hadn’t misheard. Zarin. The late emperor.
Even in all her running and hiding, she’d heard people gossip about how his soul’s new vessel hadn’t been found, about how they thought the new emperor-to-be was delaying the augurs because he didn’t want to be coronated, about how they were losing gold every day because there was no new emperor yet, about how they feared an attack by Ranir when they were at their most vulnerable . . . She’d heard them blaming the emperor-to-be and saying the augurs should work faster and look harder.
It didn’t make sense.
And yet it did.
This was why Augur Yorbel had come to their stable, why he had bargained so badly to buy a kehok, why the palace hadn’t seemed ready for them when they arrived.
“You were good,” Prince Dar said. “You were good to me. How could this—You didn’t deserve this. Did you? How could you have hidden such darkness from me? How did I not know? I knew you!”
His voice was barely louder than a breath. He sounded as if he were breaking in two. She knew how it felt to be betrayed by the people who were supposed to love you, to discover they weren’t who you thought they were. She remembered the day she’d been ejected from the temple and how she’d felt when her parents had raged at her failures. This had to hurt even worse. She at least had caught hints of who her parents were before that moment.
It sounded as if he’d had no idea.
“It could be a mistake,” he said. “Yorbel could have read you wrong. You can’t be him.”
Raia wasn’t skilled enough to read a kehok’s aura. She didn’t know what the augur had seen, but surely he wouldn’t go through all this if he wasn’t certain. It was too important for mistakes.
Prince Dar seemed to agree with her unspoken thought. “Of course, Yorbel is never wrong. But how could this have happened? How could the augurs who read you when you were alive not have seen—” He cut himself off as his voice broke.
He curled a fist and bit into the side. She knew the look on his face—he was trying desperately to hold himself together so the men and women outside wouldn’t guess at his emotions. She wished she dared to comfort him. Just one word . . .
But she said nothing.
At last, Prince Dar pushed off his knees to stand. He smoothed the silk beneath his golden necklaces. He stilled his face. Only a second later, the stable door opened. “Your Excellence?” a guard asked. “Is all well?”
“This kehok will make a fine racer,” the emperor-to-be said, in an entirely different voice. He sounded pleased, even jovial, and Raia felt as if she were hearing herself, the voice she’d used when she told the other trainees at the temple that of course she was fine, everything was fine, when everything was falling apart.
She stayed hidden as he left the stable and the door closed behind him.
She didn’t move for a long time.