Imperial

48. Roshani

Roshani sat at a desk in Kasra's nursery, idly watching the child play with Katayoun while she read the pile of letters and reports before her. There were updates from every corner of the empire every day. Just keeping up with it all was going to make Roshani lose her head one day, she was certain.

It had had been weeks since Roshani had returned to the capital.

Her troops continued to occupy the seat of House Varaz, a location which gave them a perfect perch with which to control all of eastern Sazia. The wheels of fate were turning once again, and they were moving in her favor.

She had played her cards and won. Esfandar and Soraya were both weakened from fighting while she had grown stronger.

Yet instead of joyous victory, she felt only a simmering anger in her gut. She had been betrayed. Again. It was shameful, humiliating to admit. Why did she let this happen over and over again? Hadn't she learned by now?

No, this time she'd made a mistake. Unwittingly, she'd allow Farah to worm her way past her defenses and become her friend. She'd never had a friend before, not truly. Esfandar and Soraya had always been distant from her, and the noble children who'd followed her around like puppies hardly counted.

Farah had been different though. Memories surfaced unbidden. She recalled how Farah had smiled at her with that clever glint in her eyes, how it felt to speak to someone who truly understood your burdens and troubles. The fury in her rose like a wave. Fury at herself more than anyone.

A high pitched peal of laugh broke Roshani from her thoughts. Kasra seemed to have found one of his grandmother's funny faces particularly amusing.

Katayoun looked happier than Roshani had seen her in decades. Released from prison and permitted to dote upon her little grandson, she seemed to be content with her life. Strange, how the former empress who had once been the most powerful woman in the Sazian Empire looked happy despite how far she'd fallen.

Katayoun caught Roshani looking at them, and the smile on her face sobered. She dangled a toy in front of Kasra but spoke with a grim tone.

"More of the same?" she questioned.

Roshani let out a noise of frustration. "Yes. There are more disturbing reports from Turan every day. Cities vanishing into the desert, caravans assaulted by unnatural creatures, fire arcing through the sky like lightning. It sounds like the stuff of nightmares, yet it's real." Roshani closed her eyes and massaged her temple. She had no choice to believe it, no matter how much she wished it were otherwise. In the past weeks, refugees from Turan had poured into Nishapur. The desert people were fleeing the sands that they called home and bringing panic to an already frightened city. First a few hundred had trickled in. By now that number had risen to the thousands. With so many people confirming the stories, scared enough to abandon their homes, how could she pretend that it was all false? The empire needed an empress wise enough to accept difficult realities and strong enough to face them. She would be that empress, no matter what.

"And what will you do?"

Roshani paused. Before she had the chance to answer, the door to the nursery doors were violently pushed open. Roshani and Katayoun both snapped their gazes toward the door while Kasra put down his toy and tilted his head in confusion. A palace guard ran inside, immediately kneeling toward Roshani. She stood to her feet.

"Speak."

"There's been attack," he said quickly. "In the Lotus Pavillion, your majesty."

Roshani and Katayoun exchanged glances. Then Roshani nodded to the guard and he rushed out of the chamber with him leading the way. Outside of the nursery, Roshani paused.

"Double the guards stationed outside the prince's chamber," she ordered the men standing outside. They bowed in acknowledgement, and then Roshani was running toward the Lotus Pavillion with a dark expression on her face.

The Lotus Pavilion was one of several leisure places of the palace. The delicately designed building was surrounded by decadent gardens and flowering trees, an attempt by the architect to mimic the building after such natural beauty.

But beauty was the last thing on Roshani's mind when she finally arrived at the pavilion. A crowd had gathered in the gardens in front of a display of pale blue orchids. A mixture of servants, officials, and lords, they all gaped in horror while shouting over one another. A few were crying.

Royal soldiers shoved them aside to create a path for the empress. As soon as Roshani's presence was noted, the crowd instantly lapsed into silence. Roshani strode forward to see what exactly had dared to cause such chaos in her palace.

The corpse of Lord Mukhar of House Suhren was sprawled across the mosaic tiles. His stern gaze was unseeing, his magnificent golden robes stained with dark crimson. The thick scent of blood mingled with the fragrance of the flowers.

Roshani had always disliked Lord Mukhar. She was not sorry for his death, but she felt no satisfaction in it either. However ambitious and contrary he had been, he had been a Lord under her service. An attack upon him was a deliberate attack upon her rule, her authority. She felt the eyes of the gathered crowd upon her back, watching with bated breath.

There was no confusion about what this meant. Someone within the city was targeting members of Roshani's court. High ranking, powerful members like Lord Mukhtar of House Suhren.

Roshani hid her clenched fists in her wide sleeves where no one could see them. She recalled the recent assassination attempt on Kasra, as he slept soundly in the nursery. Just the memory made her see red beyond the blood staining the ground at her feet. That assassin had been killed, with no opportunity to gather information from him. The assassination had happened in the middle of the night, with few witnesses, and had been easy to cover up.

There was no chance to hide this. House Suhren and all their supporters would be enraged, demanding that the perpetrator be found. They would accuse her of letting the assassin escape. They might even accuse her of sending the assassin herself. Whatever the reaction, this assassination could only serve to undermine her grip on power in the palace.

Roshani took one last glimpse of the body, her expression holding nothing but contempt. Then she turned on her heel with a flourish of her skirts.

"Deliver the body to House Suhren," she ordered the palace guards. "And scour this palace for any witnesses. No crime committed under my roof shall go unpunished." She let her cold gaze drift over the assembled crowd. "Whoever has committed this crime will soon be found."

The gathered men and women bowed deeply at her words, but it did nothing to temper Roshani's irritation.

For the palace was too well guarded for any assassin to make it all the way to the Lotus Pavilion without being seen, and there was only one other plausible explanation.

The culprit was already within the inner court.