Inside the opulently decorated building, Sev took a seat at a long wooden table opposite the man they called Commander Cassian. The door closed behind him, and they were alone.
The commander was elegant and impressive—everything that Captain Belden tried to be but failed at. He was tall and imposing where Belden was short and weak, calm and dignified where Belden was impatient and snide, and the finery of his clothes and quarters looked like it belonged there, with him in it, not ill fitting and piled about a tent pitched in the wilderness.
Sev didn’t know why, but something about the man put him at ease. He was no cutthroat or schemer. What he was, he wore plainly, for all to see. Not a sheep in lion’s clothing, as Belden had been, but a lion in lion’s clothing.
A dangerous man, but an honest one too.
Sev could work with that.
“I must formally thank you, soldier,” the commander said, his voice booming with authority, “for your bravery and your courage. You saved dozens of civilian lives, not to mention the future of the Phoenix Riders, and—”
“Pardon me, Commander,” Sev said, cutting him off. He had to admire the man’s self-control—only the barest flicker of his eyes indicated his annoyance at being interrupted. “But I didn’t come here for that. I don’t need your thanks or your praise. I’m one of the lucky ones,” he said, still hating the phrase but knowing it was true all the same. “There were others who died so that I might deliver my message and my burden.”
Sev realized the list of people who had died for him stretched back to his mother and father. Their sacrifice had put Sev in the position to be able to save the Phoenix Riders more than a decade later, helped along by Trix and Kade.
The commander glanced down to the satchel at Sev’s feet. He looked up again. “What, then, did you come here for, soldier?”
Sev swallowed. Now that he was here, getting the words out of his throat felt like dragging his feet through mud. “I want to go back.”
The commander’s face hardened. “You want to return to your post serving the empire?”
“No. I want to return to the empire, but I want the master I serve to be you.”
The commander leaned forward, tilting his head. “You want to be a spy?”
“Did you know Ilithya Shadowheart?” Sev asked.
Commander Cassian settled back in his chair before responding. “Not well, no. The name ‘Shadowheart’ is actually a position of sorts—a title. Spies like her operated in such a way that few knew their true names or their true purpose. Morra, however, was well-acquainted with her and thinks most highly of the woman. I understand she is one of the unlucky ones of whom you spoke.”
“She taught me . . . ,” Sev began, his throat constricting. “She showed me the value of . . . of someone like me.”
We’re not popular, people like us. Too many deceptions, too many whispered secrets and mysterious missions. But we’re useful.
“I’m a lousy animage,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, “and a worse soldier. But I’m made for work like hers. So yes, I want to be a spy. Surely you have need for one, given what’s just happened.”
The commander bristled slightly, as if Sev were criticizing his operation. “The problem with spies, soldier, is that information goes both ways.”
Sev thought of the boy from the courtyard—Elliot, they’d called him, the informant Trix had spoken about.
“Then you don’t have anything to fear from me. I know nothing of this place”—Sev waved his good hand—“or how you run it. At least, nothing that the rest of the survivors won’t know and report as soon as they make it back. Some must have escaped your sweeps.”
The commander’s brows descended into a frown. “We have only yours and Elliot’s rough estimations at how many the empire sent here, so yes, most likely there were survivors.”
“Then I’ll return with them and pick up where I left off—as an animage hiding in the empire’s military. I’ve even got a wound to show for my participation in the battle. No doubt Lord Rolan will want to speak with me.”
Before Sev finished speaking, the commander sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “You report to Lord Rolan specifically? Not the Council of Governors?”
Sev was taken aback by his reaction—the man had been so serene and measured up until now. Apparently this was something Elliot hadn’t known or hadn’t yet revealed. “Yes, sir. Well, I reported to Captain Belden, who was my commanding officer, and he reported to Lord Rolan. I trained in his Aura Nova compound. When the mission was announced, Captain Belden called it a special assignment for Lord Rolan. He made no mention of the council.”
The empire had a standing army of thousands of soldiers, but they were spread throughout the valley. And each answered to a different governor who acted as general for the troops stationed in their province. They deployed them however they saw fit—to keep the peace in busy cities, to patrol their borders, or to travel with them as they spent time in the capital or toured the provinces. When there was war, their orders came from the king or queen, or in this case, the Council of Governors. Without a monarch who had final say over the council’s decisions, every move they made had to be decided upon by a majority vote. Sev often heard people on the streets of Aura Nova lamenting the fact that the council couldn’t agree on when to take a piss, never mind the larger issues that affected the empire.
“So, this attack wasn’t sanctioned by the entire council . . . ,” the commander mused. “I may be able to use that.”
Sev hadn’t considered the ramifications of this information. If Lord Rolan had done this without approval—and failed—well, the council might decide to punish him when word reached them of this unprovoked attack on a Pyraean settlement. Phoenix Riders might be illegal in the empire, but its laws didn’t reach into Pyra any longer. It had no authority in the Freelands.
“Why would he do it alone?” Sev wondered aloud. “Why risk it? What are the Phoenix Riders to him?”
He didn’t really expect the commander to answer him, but after several silent moments, he spoke. “Beyond a way to gain fame and notoriety?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Lord Rolan received his position as governor of Ferro when I was exiled. When he learned from Elliot that I was behind the resurgence of the Phoenix Riders . . . I think the task of destroying us would have had all the more appeal to him. He and I have a past that stretches back decades.”
Sev felt suddenly out of his depth. These were the empire’s highest politicians, with endless wealth and resources at their disposal. What could he possibly do on his own?