XX. SKY AND SEA

  Asho staggered back towards the dias and flopped onto the indigo cushion next to his cousin. “You look grumpy.”

  Admrilia side eyed him. The Governor set his glass down and turned cautiously towards the Conqueror. He appeared nervous. “Tell me, how is General Hortus faring in Aegtrys?”

  “I’ve been pleased.” At the expectant look from the dias he continued. “The general writes that the Senate is contained and the people are content. It has allowed me to mentally focus on the training of my heirs. Argenti shows great promise.” His lips twisted into an expression Asho faintly recognized as praise. “You surely heard of her victory over the silver islands this summer.”

  Mynos stroked a hand through his beard. “Quite the accomplishment.”

  Admrilia offered the Governor a shark-toothed smile. Asho felt his ears grow hot as the Conqueror gave an agreeable grunt. “Yes. Her efforts will allow us to move into the region and get rid of the infestation once and for all. The silver alone…” The Conqueror trailed off. “And she has shown comprehension of the wyrd.”

  “Incredible.” Ditas said expressionless. He turned to Asho as he was attempting to eat his envy. “And you prince, how is your wyrd training progressing?”

  The olives turned to oil down his throat. The Conqueror’s mouth sealed. This was an expression was very, very, familiar with: disdain. “It’s going.”

  When Asho did not elaborate, the governor beckoned a kerai servant over to refill the glasses. He waved away the attendant. “I’m sure you will be a prodigy prince, just like your father. Skytops he saved the empire at the Battle of the Pines.” The Governor raised his glass to the table. “To Ashen! A great man!”

  “I never knew him.” The admission was out before he could chase it back. Asho quickly popped another handful of olives in his mouth to silence himself.

  “The loss of a son is a small price to pay for the security of the empire.” The Conqueror brooded.

  The symposia ground to a halt. Asho’s chewing suddenly too loud. His ears burned. Mynos’ ancient eyes carried profound sadness. “Skytops, you know that better than anyone, old friend. The sacrifices you have made.” The governor turned back to Asho. “Well, I can see the resemblance. You have his eyes.”

  “Thank you.” Asho whispered. Only his mother ever said that.

  “The eyes are windows to one’s wyrd. And to gaze upon ocean eyes such as yours, well, how could the Stormlord not destined you for greatness?”

  Warmth washed over him. Asho leaned back on the couch, snacking on cheese and olives as the symposia grew tired. Asho lazily fed the hounds scraps under the table while he watched the dancers. A centori approached the dias nervously, and Asho was immediately on edge. The guard whispered in the Conqueror’s ear, handing him a missive. The Conqueror unfurled the papyrus and read quickly, the frown lines around his mouth deepening. The Conqueror turned to Mynos. “End this.”

  Mynos stood. He raised his hands in the air and waited for the court to hush down. “Friends!” He boomed. “Our illustrious Conqueror thanks you for dining with him this evening. The time has come that his majesty wishes to retire. Please leave at once.” The room mingled for a moment more before sensing that there was no way for them to remain. The court filed out of the great hall. The Conqueror’s council waited patiently on their couch, seemingly conditioned for the Conqueror’s long contemplation. When they were at last alone, the Conqueror placed the golden letter slowly next to his untouched plate of food.

  “I am drawn in two different directions.” The Conqueror said slowly. “I have matters to attend to in the north, and a grave urgency in the west.” Those gathered dared not to interrupt. The Conqueror had once had a senator’s tongue ripped out for cutting him off. “We have just received a grave warning from the Governor of Ker regarding suspicions of an uprising in the region.”

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  “An uprising? We must root out such a rebellion and extinguish it at once.” Advisor Clavo leaned forward.

  “Agreed advisor, but there is more. Legate Xur has been assassinated. His warnings must be heeded.” The Conqueror’s abyss-like eyes dug into his heirs. “Yet I must continue to Iornore.” He frowned, displeased as he contemplated his decision. “Very well. We shall split our forces. The prince shall attend me to the Iornoak and the Argenti shall take command of the first neptor. She shall sail to Ash-Kai and represent the crown’s interests in my absence.” The Conqueror pointed at Admrilia. “You shall find this rebellion and destroy it. We shall converge later and continue the Triumph.”

  Asho sat in a mystified stupor as the council discussed the logistical matter of splitting their forces. Advisors Khispen and Clavo where to travel with Admrilia, along with some of the Conqueror’s centori. Asho sat as they talked over him, well aware his input was not wanted. The fading brazzers hiding his burning cheeks.

  The great droplets were a welcome distraction as Asho ran down the rain slicked steps of the hill to the beach. He collapsed onto the soaked boards of the dock, staring up at the cloudy sky for the stars. His mind simmered with self-resentment. He had been carted around Kinos and treated as a guest needing watching at all times. He was nothing but a second rate legionnaire next to his cousin’s tactical brilliance. He was so untrustworthy that he was being kept under the watchful eye of the Conqueror instead of being entrusted with the empire's interests.

  And worse, the Conqueror had made the correct call. He was immature and childish and too interested in the finer pleasures of life to be considered worthy for the task. And yet—

  How could you not be destined for greatness?

  Asho rolled over and covered his face in frustration. THe rain continued to pelt at the back of his skull. Footsteps approached and then paused as they noticed him. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” Asho said, propping himself up on his elbows.

  Silence greeted him. So they had been drawn to the same spot. Fitting. Of course they wanted the same view to contemplate the destiny that only one of them could hold.

  “Is that why you ran out here?” Admrilia’s voice was tauntingly low. “Are you jealous?”

  “Jealous? Of what? That stick up your ass?” He hiccuped and rolled onto his haunches. Of course he was jealous of his cousin. Admrilia had everything he never did. She had two parents who loved her, siblings who adored her, a crew who respected her. Asho had nothing but a dead father and a mother drowning in too much grief and wine to be present in his life. The thought filled him with envy. Asho frowned as he stood. He gazed up into the rainclouds. “I will be the next emperor.” The words tumbled out quickly then. “I will rule this empire, and I will not let anyone get in my way.”

  Shadows obscured his cousin’s face, but he knew Admrilia caught his words’ bite. The ugly resentment, the growing hatred. Asho tightened his fist as he admitted the truth to himself. He wasn’t just jealous of Admrilia. He hated her.

  “If you are so tied up in destiny Asho.” Admrilia’s voice was colder than the air of the shoreline. “Then look up at your precious constellations and tell me if we are to be rivals.”

  His stars were obscured by the torrential downpour. “Only one of us can be his heir.” He intoned. “That, by its virtue, has made us rivals since birth.”

  Admrilia took a step forward and Asho finally saw her thunderous face. “Do you know why Pi-Yenja is in such chaos? Their nation is constantly broken into a thousand shards because of their traditions. Do you really want to be reduced to an ascension?”

  An ascension was a Pi-Yenjan tradition where all of the Emperor’s sons fought to the death for control of their country. The disputes could last for decades.

  “And what would you rather me do?” Asho snapped back. “Let you become a general so you could throw a coup? I know you Admrilia and you are power hungry.”

  “You act as if you would ever be Emperor.” Admrilia scoffed with disbelief.

  “I will be.” Asho said fiercely. He stepped forward until he was a step away from Admrilia. “I am the son of the hero who saved the Empire. You are nothing but the half-blooded daughter of a coward!” Admrilia’s stony mask slid as Asho pushed onward. His words as sharp as any sword. “It is a good thing we are splitting up. The Conqueror may trust you to represent him in Ker. But I know you will betray him. It’s in your treacherous blood.”

  “You’re delusional.” She whispered.

  “No. I am destined.”

  “Destined to drink yourself blind in Iornore.” admrilia crossed her arms. “Is this it then? You are declaring me dead to you?”

  “Yes, cousin.” Asho straightened his shoulders. He hardened his gaze: like the Conquerors; like the Stormlords. Asho lowered his voice to just above an icy whisper. “It’s over. I disown you Admrilia. When I see you again, make no mistake, you will be my rival.”