Scáthach was no longer Gáe Bolg’s chosen, but it had spared her from its curse, and it was just as powerful as it ever was. She had hoped the Spiritblades might show mercy on Liz in the same way, but Hiro did not look optimistic about the possibility.
“It’s only a technicality that she could even try. An unintended by-product of the Spiritblades having wills of their own. Forced servitude isn’t the same thing as loyalty.” Hiro’s shoulders slumped with a tired sigh. “Besides, the curse can pass down to future generations. Liz might not suffer, but there’s no guarantee her children would be so lucky. And it can take all kinds of forms. Someone might not even realize they have it until it’s too late. Even the Spiritblades don’t fully understand how it works. Or at least, they don’t have the capacity to be discerning with it.”
Scáthach frowned. “I understand that you fear this curse. What I don’t understand is why you are so fixated on destroying the Lords of Heaven. Would it not be enough to force them out of mortal affairs?”
Hiro had not said as much in so many words, but it was evident that he was wary of what the Spiritblades might do to Liz. What was less apparent was why he wanted to use them to destroy the Lords of Heaven at all.
“Are you familiar with the twenty-second emperor? The one who forced Lævateinn into his service to save the empire. You might know him as Vulcan, the God of Arms. Tell me, what was his most distinctive feature?”
“His red hair...”
Scáthach trailed off as she realized what Hiro was suggesting. All at once, his reasons became dreadfully clear.
“After I first met Liz, I started looking into the history of the empire. I spent every spare moment reading through every book I could get my hands on...and one of the things I found was that the twenty-second emperor was born as blond-haired and golden-eyed as Artheus.”
Only one thing could have changed his features so: a Spiritblade’s curse.
“That was the price he paid for Lævateinn. His hair and eyes turned bright red, his lifespan shortened, and he passed away young. You can look it up for yourself if you don’t believe me. I’m sure Fort Towen’s study will have the records.”
Scáthach found herself at a loss for words. She could not deny his claim, but neither was she willing to accept it. No suitable reply came to mind. She could only stare.
Hiro continued, indifferent to her shock. “And that was how I discovered the royal family’s darkest secret.”
He outlined to her the darkness within the house of Grantz that had begun to surface in recent years—the rumor that the royal line had been supplanted after the emperor was slain by Orcus three hundred years ago. Its origins were uncertain and its claims were hard to credit, so it had never risen above the level of hearsay.
“But it’s the truth. Liz is the only living royal with a drop of Artheus’s blood in their veins. Over the past three hundred years, the royal family watched the Spiritblades steadily abandon them. And just as the situation started to verge on crisis, Emperor Greiheit made a fateful discovery.”
“Lady Primavera,” Scáthach said. Liz had spoken a little of how her parents met.
Hiro lowered his eyes, his expression unreadable. “That was when I knew beyond all doubt that the curse was alive and well. Liz’s mother also had crimson hair and crimson eyes, and she also died young.”
Officially, the tragedy of the inner palace had been caused by the first empress consort’s madness. Unofficially, the true culprit was Orcus, although Greiheit’s negligence had allowed it to come to pass, and Six Kingdoms had played its own part. A convoluted web had converged about Liz’s mother, conspiring to steal her away at a young age.
“And if the curse remains,” Scáthach whispered, “then next will be...”
Hiro’s mouth twisted bitterly, but he finally nodded. “I doubt she has another decade. She might not even have five years. I don’t know how, or when, or why, but she’ll die young. It’s fate.”
“But she now wields Lævateinn, does she not? Who’s to say the curse has fallen upon her at all? The sin was the twenty-second emperor’s, not hers. Are you not being overcautious?”
“No. It’s passed down to her, no question about it. And like I say, Lævateinn doesn’t have any control over its curse. I doubt even Artheus foresaw something like this happening.”
It only took a glance at Liz’s life so far to see that death hounded her. Time and time again, she had come close to mortal peril, only to escape by some unlikely twist of fate.
“I think Lævateinn has been trying to make things right,” he continued. “It saw that its own curse afflicted the descendant of its old master and took it upon itself to look out for her.”
“And the Spirit King has been watching over her too,” he added softly, but Scáthach was too busy wrestling with what she had already learned, and his voice vanished unheard into the darkness.
A long hush fell. Silence swirled between them. At last, Scáthach spoke.
“If what you say is true...can the curse be broken?”
Hiro smiled broadly. “I’m doing what I can.”
“And what does that entail? Is there any way I can help?”
“All must be one,” he said, flatly and dispassionately, as if stating the most self-evident of truths.
＊＊＊＊＊
Fort Towen’s study was a room of little note. A cheap desk stood in the center, accompanied by a chair of similar quality. Bookshelves lay against all four walls, each packed to the ceiling. The chamber looked to be tidied regularly, but dust still lingered in nooks and crannies—a degree of inattentiveness that was its only remarkable feature, perhaps speaking to the male-dominated nature of the military world. It was not disorderly, nor was it clean, a perfect middle ground that would satisfy no one. It was in this room that Liz sat, eyes closed with a book in hand. A white wolf slumbered protectively at her feet.
The short figure of Treya Verdan Aura von Bunadala appeared in the doorway. “My forces have just arrived,” she announced. “The officers are integrating them into your army as we speak. Is there anything I should know?”
The daughter of House Bunadala of the western territories, Aura had graduated valedictorian from the Imperial Training Academy and become an aide to the Third Legion at a historically young age. She had proceeded to acquit herself in the Faerzen campaign, impressing then-commander Third Prince Brutahl, who had made her his chief strategist. With the promotion under her belt, she had applied her tactical acumen to devise and execute a series of ploys that had claimed Faerzen’s territory at lightning speed. Overjoyed with her success and the victory she had secured for the empire, Third Prince Brutahl had christened her the Warmaiden, a name taken directly from Mars’s moniker of the War God. Her talents were so indisputable that she had distinguished herself among the traditionally masculine military. Now, she put them to use as chief strategist to Liz, the heir apparent to the throne.
“Liz?” Seeing that the princess did not respond, Aura stepped closer and gave her shoulder a shake. “Liz? Are you sleeping?”
Liz’s eyes opened. “I’m awake.”
Her voice was calm, and she did not seem startled by the interruption. If anything, it was Aura who was surprised, jumping a good two paces back. The stack of books on the desk wobbled as she landed. She saw the danger, but it was too late—the pile crashed to the floor, sending books everywhere. Cerberus looked around in alarm, startled awake by the noise.
“Sorry I startled you.” Liz pinched between her eyebrows. “I was just using my eyes a little...”
“As long as you don’t tire yourself out.” Aura picked up a fallen book. “It’s not like you to read this much. What’s got you so interested in imperial history?”
Both the books on the floor and the one in Liz’s hand were on the subject of the royal family. Liz might have had royal blood, but she had never held her family history in high regard. She considered her father a contemptible warmonger whose absence had caused her mother’s death, and while she did not blame the previous generations of expansionist emperors for his sins, the association had hardly endeared them to her.
“I thought it was time I learned a little about my ancestors. Better late than never, don’t you think?”
“Then I recommend the Black Chronicle. The history of the empire begins and ends with Mars.”
“I’ve already read it to death, don’t worry.” Liz saw Aura reach for her pockets and hurriedly headed her off. “Anyway, I’m sure that’s not why you’re here.”
Aura nodded. “I had some questions about merging our forces. And I wanted to speak to Meteia too.”
Liz breathed a private sigh of relief at successfully redirecting the conversation, but she tried to maintain a neutral expression as she gestured to Cerberus. “Be my guest. She’s right here.”