Kelita felt like her world as she knew it was imploding.
One of the things she had been looking forward to as regent, was the power to make Tigrita as miserable as possible and force her to leave the palace. The further from her husband, the better.
Never one to control her temper, Kelita had flown into a rage and thrashed the imperial bedroom when she discovered that her husband had sneaked the bitch Tigrita onto his ship for the voyage. She would never have believed her husband capable of such deception. But he was.
While Sheba prowled outside the door and prevented anyone from disturbing her mistress, Kelita had smashed the mirror, dumped Moutassim's clothes and armour out the window and taken a knife to the bed they shared.
It took hours before she had finally calmed down. Kelita had sat in a corner, seething in jealousy, until a scream and Sheba's loud growls roused her from her dark thoughts. She had gotten up and made her way through the feathers on the ground to the door.
When she had opened it, it was to find a terrified servant girl curled up in a ball against the wall, with Sheba growling menacingly in front of her.
"Down, Sheba, down!" Kelita commanded. Licking her chops, Sheba had slinked away. The servant girl was crying now.
"Oh for God's sake, stop crying and tell me what you want!" Kelita snapped, all patience forgotten. She just wanted to be left alone, to nurse the anger and hurt she felt. Nurse the fear of being replaced.
The servant girl scrambled to her feet and wiped her nose. She looked around fearfully, but Sheba sat some distance away, a distinctly bored look on her face.
"It's... It's news from Bremon, your majesty. The... the Princess has run away. No one knows where."
Kelita stared at the girl. Sahelia had run away? Where? And in a flash, she connected the dots. Sahelia could only be in one place.
Screaming in frustration, she attacked the servant girl. The girl was still preoccupied with the lioness and so was unable to defend herself against the onslaught of blows.
"Out! Out! Leave me!" Kelita screamed at the cowering servant girl, who scrambled backwards. Sensing her mistress's distress, Sheba stepped forward. Turning, the servant girl ran.
Kelita pushed her shaking fingers through her locks. She needed to think, to form some kind of plan. To be alone. But clearly, the universe had other plans for her because Morabi suddenly turned the corner. Sheba moved close to her, hackles raised and brown eyes fixed on the lanky Chief minister.
Morabi came to an abrupt halt when he saw Kelita and her lioness in the corridor. He raised his hands, but the sight of the gleaming cane made Sheba growl.
"I don't want any trouble." Morabi said, staring at the lioness.
"There will be if you don't leave me alone." Kelita said, her voice shaking.
"I'm sorry if now is a bad time, but all the representatives are demanding a council meeting. I myself would strongly recommend you immediately call a council meeting."
"I am the Empress regent, Morabi," Kelita snapped. "I call council meetings when I feel like. And right now, I don't feel like calling one."
"No, that is where you're wrong," Morabi said evenly. "You call council meetings when matters of state must be discussed. That's what your husband always did. That is what he would expect you to do. The situation in Bremon must be discussed. Your sister's flight has left chaos, one that her unit cannot handle without her."
Kelita wanted to scream at him, for being so logical, so rational, when she wanted to vent. But she closed her eyes.
"Summon the meeting for this afternoon then." She said finally. Morabi nodded and quickly retreated.
🇬🇾
Votrek had already decided on war with the empire. A strategy was half-formed in his mind for how to launch the campaign. And he was king now, so he had no need for the permission of his father's old council of state.
And yet, he thought to himself as he strode to the council room, those old fools saw fit to demand his presence at a council meeting they called. The mere fact that they had called the council meeting in the first place enraged him. Only the king called council meetings.
Otho came round the corner, saw him and ran to his side.
"What does it all mean?" Otho panted, struggling to keep up. "Who gave them the authority to call this meeting?"
"I don't know," Votrek muttered. "But I will show them that I am king now, not my father. I will teach them a lesson."
Votrek motioned to two hulking guards armed with halberds to follow him. They fell into step behind them.
"My king," Otho spoke up again. "We must talk about my niece. She fights with her husband, the whole castle knows and it does not reflect well on the family."
"Correction," Votrek said. "Your niece dominates her husband and the whole castle knows. Whether it reflects well on the family or not, I'm not getting involved in their bedroom squabbles. Khalid is a grown man. He must act like it. He doesn't need my protection."
They were silent the rest of the way, up two flights of stairs The two brothers finally came to the council room doors. Votrek pushed the doors open and strode in like he owned the place. Which he did.
The four councilmen were in the middle of an argument, but they immediately fell silent when Votrek and his companions entered the room.
Lord Ruthven was the shortest of the four, a grey-haired grizzled old campaigner. He, like Lords Corber, Setty and Bran, had been Bandhu's friends, hunting companions and advisers since day one.
Ruthven was also the boldest of them. He stepped forward now.
"Your majesty," he said. "We've called this meeting because we've heard disturbing reports that you've been getting supplies together for the army. Food, weapons, armours, horses."
"It is my right as King to do that, Ruthven," Votrek said softly, circling. "Would you have questioned my father, if he did likewise? Would you have dared usurp his authority to call this meeting?"
Ruthven's three friends stepped back slightly from him. But undaunted, he stared up defiantly at Votrek.
"As a councillor and your father's chief advisor, it is my duty to know whatever happens in this court. And to advise accordingly. Your father would never be making plans like if he's going to war and not tell us..."
"My father is not the king!" Votrek shouted in Ruthven's face, the veins in his neck bulging. Everyone, including Ruthven, took a hasty step back. But Votrek did not stop. With each step he took, Ruthven took a step back until he was braced against the window, with nowhere else to go.
"If you all must know, I plan to invade Adrega and the imperial capital of Kalli, through Bremon. I will be emperor. Sieberon will be the new centre of the empire," Votrek turned. "Does anyone have any objection to that?"
"Yes!" Ruthven cried out, stunned. "It's madness! Sieberon is going good as it is, why should we start a war and throw the empire in chaos, for the sake of your vanity?"
Votrek looked back at Ruthven, his lips a thin line of disapproval. Old men. They were so washed up, tired. No energy, no vision, to forge a new empire.
"Ruthven, do you remember? All those years ago, when I was just a boy? When my father kicked me down into the mud? You were there. Taking him away from his family to hunt and whore. Like you always did. And you were laughing."
"What?" Ruthven narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I can't remember."
"Of course you can't," Votrek smiled. "You are an old, useless relic after all."
Votrek's hand shot out, grasping Ruthven by the throat and lifting him clean off his feet. The old man gasped, desperately trying to pry Votrek's fingers loose. But he was no match for the younger man's brute strength.
Behind him, Lord Setty took a half-hearted step forward to help his comrade, but one of the guards shook his head and blocked his way with the halberd. So Setty swallowed and stepped back.
Votrek bent him backwards over the edge of the window. It was a two-story fall. Ruthven looked down, then looked at Votrek, his eyes wide with terror.
The King shoved Ruthven out the window, the old man's scream cut short by a dull thud as he hit the cobblestones down below. Votrek looked out to make sure the job was done. Ruthven lay facedown, motionless, with blood rapidly spreading from his body. Two guards hurried to him, but when they looked up and saw the king they continued on their way.
"My lords, a new day dawns on Sieberon," Votrek said, turning away from the window. "One where we can take our rightful place and forge an empire in our image. Now you can follow me to wealth, land and power or," he inclined his head to the window. "You can follow him to your deaths. You decide."
Corber was the first to kneel. Bran followed him. Setty, a lanky bald-headed old man with a white moustache, hesitated. He looked at Otho, sighed and knelt.