Read Online Harbinger by Philippa Ballantine - Free Book Online Page A

fear.
    “General Beshan?” The Emperor shot the name over his shoulder, and the old man, with his salt-and-pepper beard and battle scars, snapped to attention.
    “Imperial Majesty!”
    “How long before we reach Sousah?” Despite the speed of the airships, they did not move as fast as Kaleva wanted. It made him more than a little irritable. He wanted to experiment with the tinker’s contraption immediately, and it would be a nice example for the rest of the rebel Princes; when they saw what he could do, they would scamper back into line.
    “Another few hours,” the general muttered through his mustache.
    The Prince of Sousah had declared for this Pretender, this sister of Raed Syndar Rossin. Many principalities—most in the west—had declared for her. They claimed the Conclave of Princes that had summoned Kaleva across the ocean to rule was invalid, and that they had been pressured to agree to his appointment. Instead, they wanted a scion of the Rossin house to rule over them. The very thought of that family made Kaleva grind his teeth together. The Rossins had been tainted right from the very beginning thanks to that geistlord. They were abominations and traitors to their race.
    If certain of the Princes of Arkaym wanted a Rossin back on the throne, that did not matter to Kaleva; he had taken the crown, and he most certainly was not going to give it up. To spur those Princes that did remain loyal to him onward, the Emperor had promised that they could add any principalities they took in his name to their own. It had brought many Ancient enmities to fresh vigor, as they scrambled to fight over the bones he was throwing on the ground.
    “Hold your course, I am attending my wife downstairs,” the Emperor said shortly, before striding off the deck and going down the polished wooden stairs to the stateroom.
    He could hear her weeping long before he reached the door. Ezefia, Empress of Arkaym was wailing as though her life depended on it.
    The Emperor could tell by their pressed lips and pale expressions that the screaming and wailing was bothering the two guards stationed at the door.
    For too long, Kaleva had realized, in the burning remains of the Mother Abbey, he had been in everyone’s shadow; first his draconian father, the King of Delmaire, then later his martial sister who everyone had feared and respected. The Deacons, with all their twisted, demonic magic, had at least shown him that much.
    He had to be Emperor. Alone and singular as it was meant to be. However, he would require an Empress and children to follow. The question was, would it be this one?
    Kaleva pressed his hand against the door and listened to just one more sob. When he pushed the door open and stepped inside, her weeping stopped as abruptly as if it were attached to a string.
    She was a great beauty even with tears, Ezefia of Orinthal; dark eyes, a heart-shaped face, and warm full lips. She was also a liar and had made him a cuckold.
    The man, who had concealed himself in the Imperial Court, called himself Lord Vancy del Rue, and had given Kaleva so much useful advice, had also been the lover of the Empress herself.
    Now Ezefia was trussed to the chair she sat on. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she was the daughter of royalty and pride kept her from weeping in front of her tormentor.
    Kaleva smiled and shut the door quietly behind him. Ezefia was not gagged, but she did not say a word as he approached. So he spoke instead.
    “We shall be over Sousah soon, and then I shall show them the power of an Emperor unleashed.” Kaleva tapped the top of her head sharply. “I shall make sure to bring you up on deck for the fireworks. Perhaps, if we are lucky, your lover is down there.”
    Ezefia’s head came up at that. Her stunning green eyes were brimming nearly over, as she stammered, “My lord, it was not by choice. He cast a spell over me, enamored me. It was like I was trapped in my own body, howling to get out. He did things to me,