Blood Song

As I had come to expect, Al Sorna showed no outward concern as we waited for the sun to climb to its midway place in the sky. He sat in the lowermost tier, sword resting beside him as he gazed out to sea. A stiff breeze was blowing from the south although the absence of cloud foretold a day free of rain. I wondered if Al Sorna felt it was a good day to meet his death.

The Lady Emeren arrived an hour short of noon, accompanied by two more of the Shield’s crewmen, dressed simply as always in a plain white and black robe, her fine features unadorned by paint or jewellery. But for the sapphire ring on her finger there was no outward sign of her rank, however, her innate dignity and poise were unchanged. I rose to greet her as she strode into the oval arena, bowing formally. “My Lady Emeren.”

“Lord Verniers.” Her voice had lost none of the rich timbre I remembered, coloured by a faint trace of the peculiar lilting accent unique to those raised in the Emperor’s court. I was struck once again by her beauty, the flawless skin, the full lips and bright green eyes. She had long been regarded as the perfection of Alpiran womanhood, as dutiful as she was comely, daughter of a noble blood-line and favoured by the Emperor since girlhood, educated at court alongside his own sons, a daughter to him in all but name. When Seliesen was called to his destiny it was inevitable that they would marry. Who else was worthy of her after all?

“You are well?” I asked. “You have suffered no mistreatment, I trust.”

“My captors have been more than generous.” Her gaze shifted to the Hope Killer and I saw again the expression of cold, fathomless malice that marred her perfect features whenever she spoke of him. Al Sorna returned her gaze with a short incline of his head, his face showing only the mildest interest.

“There are no guards with you,” the Lady Emeren observed.

“The prisoner gave his word to the Emperor that he would meet the Shield’s challenge. Guards were not deemed necessary.”

“I see. My son is well?”

“Very. Happily at play last I saw him. I know he hungers for you return. As do we all.”

Her eyes flashed at me, burning with almost the same flame of hatred she showed to the Hope Killer, and I found I could not meet them.

She always knew, I recalled. Why would she not hate me too?

“When I return to the Empire my son and I will continue to live in quiet seclusion,” the Lady Emeren told me. “I desire no return to court. Nor do I expect any thanks for finally securing justice for my husband.”