Read Online The Forgotten (The Lost Words: Volume 3) by Igor Ljubuncic - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Igor Ljubuncic
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accusingly, at him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
The princess seemed to weigh his words, then flicked her wrist. The soldiers filed out, their armor clinking. The priestess lingered. Sergei felt his anger rise. He pointed toward the door. Sniffing, the woman rose and walked out. Some nameless servant closed them in from the outside.
“What is this about?” Sasha asked, sounding annoyed.
“The hangings,” he told her.
Sasha frowned. “What about them?” But then she rose and walked to the nearest fireplace.
Sergei took a deep breath. “You will not gain love and sympathy from the Athesian people if you keep murdering one of them every day.”
Sasha snorted. “When they surrender Amalia to me, I will order the hangings stopped.”
The king looked up at the rafters wrapped in banners.
Amalia
, he thought. No one knew what had happened to the empress in the attack, but her body had not been found insidethe Imperial Manse. Most people assumed her killed and forgotten somewhere, left to rot, but Sergei did not share their sentiment. He believed she had fled the city. But then, why hadn’t she revealed herself to her people? It bothered him.
She could not gain anything from silence. Every passing day, her influence waned a tiny bit more, the former loyalty of her subjects eroded another grain. All the while, her half brother gained more support, becoming the focus of the Athesian uprising.
With Amalia alive, her people would have a compelling reason to fight against the Parusites. The rebellion in the north would grow. She could marshal support against him. Only she had vanished completely.
Sasha thought she was hiding somewhere, biding her time, preparing a counterstrike. If not by force, then through subterfuge and treason. Sasha believed the Athesian loyalists controlled the city in spirit and were waiting for a signal to rise against the invaders. Sergei’s spies reported nothing of the sort, and he only ever saw worried, somewhat frightened, and cautiously optimistic people trying to secure a better future for their children.
He wanted to put Amalia behind him, forget about her. But his kingly duty did not allow him that. This chapter of his life story would not be over until he saw Adam’s blood eradicated. It just had to be done. The future of Athesia depended on it. There could be no two royal lines.
Amalia’s uncertain death gnawed at his conscience. Every day that passed without him glimpsing her grave made him feel incomplete and restless.
His sister had taken a more pragmatic approach to the problem. She was punishing people for abetting a traitor to the Crown. Every day, she ordered another citizen executed. So far,she was killing the Athesian soldiers, those still held in the city jails. But eventually, she would run out of prisoners and have to turn on the baker, the glassblower, the woman who sold dried fruit at the corner of Yellowleaf Street. Sergei would not have cared if not for her blind icy-blue eyes. She might not be able to see, but those eyes followed him every time he rode by.
Sergei was worried by his sister’s harsh policy. He had promised the people of Roalas that they would not be harmed if they swore fealty to him. Indeed, most had, and in return, he had kept peace and restored refugees to their farms and homes. He made sure the city had law and order. Slowly, he was gaining Roalas’s trust, as much as he could with armed men at every corner and mandatory prayers at dusk and dawn. But it was a small price to pay for hot porridge for the children and a roof above their heads.
His three months of reign in occupied Athesia had been largely uneventful. Most of the towns had gone back to business, selling overpriced ale and potatoes to tired Eracian and Caytorean merchants. The fields rippled with fresh crops. The winter was not worse than any other.
He exacted a harsh but fair justice whenever it was needed, tried to avoid segregating the two nationalities, tried to make
“We need to talk,” he said.
The princess seemed to weigh his words, then flicked her wrist. The soldiers filed out, their armor clinking. The priestess lingered. Sergei felt his anger rise. He pointed toward the door. Sniffing, the woman rose and walked out. Some nameless servant closed them in from the outside.
“What is this about?” Sasha asked, sounding annoyed.
“The hangings,” he told her.
Sasha frowned. “What about them?” But then she rose and walked to the nearest fireplace.
Sergei took a deep breath. “You will not gain love and sympathy from the Athesian people if you keep murdering one of them every day.”
Sasha snorted. “When they surrender Amalia to me, I will order the hangings stopped.”
The king looked up at the rafters wrapped in banners.
Amalia
, he thought. No one knew what had happened to the empress in the attack, but her body had not been found insidethe Imperial Manse. Most people assumed her killed and forgotten somewhere, left to rot, but Sergei did not share their sentiment. He believed she had fled the city. But then, why hadn’t she revealed herself to her people? It bothered him.
She could not gain anything from silence. Every passing day, her influence waned a tiny bit more, the former loyalty of her subjects eroded another grain. All the while, her half brother gained more support, becoming the focus of the Athesian uprising.
With Amalia alive, her people would have a compelling reason to fight against the Parusites. The rebellion in the north would grow. She could marshal support against him. Only she had vanished completely.
Sasha thought she was hiding somewhere, biding her time, preparing a counterstrike. If not by force, then through subterfuge and treason. Sasha believed the Athesian loyalists controlled the city in spirit and were waiting for a signal to rise against the invaders. Sergei’s spies reported nothing of the sort, and he only ever saw worried, somewhat frightened, and cautiously optimistic people trying to secure a better future for their children.
He wanted to put Amalia behind him, forget about her. But his kingly duty did not allow him that. This chapter of his life story would not be over until he saw Adam’s blood eradicated. It just had to be done. The future of Athesia depended on it. There could be no two royal lines.
Amalia’s uncertain death gnawed at his conscience. Every day that passed without him glimpsing her grave made him feel incomplete and restless.
His sister had taken a more pragmatic approach to the problem. She was punishing people for abetting a traitor to the Crown. Every day, she ordered another citizen executed. So far,she was killing the Athesian soldiers, those still held in the city jails. But eventually, she would run out of prisoners and have to turn on the baker, the glassblower, the woman who sold dried fruit at the corner of Yellowleaf Street. Sergei would not have cared if not for her blind icy-blue eyes. She might not be able to see, but those eyes followed him every time he rode by.
Sergei was worried by his sister’s harsh policy. He had promised the people of Roalas that they would not be harmed if they swore fealty to him. Indeed, most had, and in return, he had kept peace and restored refugees to their farms and homes. He made sure the city had law and order. Slowly, he was gaining Roalas’s trust, as much as he could with armed men at every corner and mandatory prayers at dusk and dawn. But it was a small price to pay for hot porridge for the children and a roof above their heads.
His three months of reign in occupied Athesia had been largely uneventful. Most of the towns had gone back to business, selling overpriced ale and potatoes to tired Eracian and Caytorean merchants. The fields rippled with fresh crops. The winter was not worse than any other.
He exacted a harsh but fair justice whenever it was needed, tried to avoid segregating the two nationalities, tried to make
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