The market air, usually thick with the scent of spices and roasting meat, suddenly turned cold. A heavy silence rippled through the crowd as a column of black-armored soldiers marched forward, clearing a path with the flat of their blades.
Sakina's heart performed a sickening somersault, she knew something was about to happen. it was an ominous feeling, and unfortunately she was always right about such gut feels. Walking at the center of the formation was a man who moved with the predatory grace of a leopard, Lord Machiavelli, the Leader of the Cinder Hegemony. He was supposed to be at the capital, miles away from this dusty border outpost.
She pulled her veil tighter, ducking her head, but it was too late. Machiavelli's eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto her immediately. He raised a gloved hand, and the entire battalion came to a grinding halt.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice carrying that cultured, terrifying smoothness. "The stars must be aligned in my favor today. Isn't this the High Lady Sakina? The personal assistant to Her Royal Highness, Queen Aeryn... and, if rumors are to be believed, the acting Regent in her presence?"
Sakina felt a cold sweat prickle her spine. She knew what was coming. He would ask for the Queen, and she had no answer, only a void in answer to where her sovereign should be. She forced her voice to remain steady, layering it with a humility she didn't feel.
"I am no Regent, My Lord," she said, her voice muffled by the silk. "And even more so, I am no personal assistant. I am only a slave. Not worthy of such flashy titles."
"A slave?" Machiavelli stepped closer, the smell of expensive leather and old iron following him. He reached out, his fingers catching her chin and forcing her head up. The contact was ice-cold. "I see. I see. And where is your master, 'slave'?"
Beside her, the guards hidden in commoner's cloaks shifted. The sound of steel sliding against leather echoed, a subtle yet deadly warning. Machiavelli's eyes flickered to them, a smirk playing on his lips.
Sakina caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and snapped her hand up in a sharp, silent gesture. That clearly ordered them to stand down. Machiavelli let out a laughter, turning to the General standing at his right. "Dogs with the slave? Armed protectors for a mere servant? It seems preposterous, doesn't it?"
The General and the surrounding officers erupted into mocking laughter, a sound that sent a shiver of dread through the market. Sakina felt the humiliation like a physical weight, but she kept her gaze fixed on Machiavelli's throat, not his eyes.
"My master is just outside the city," she lied, the words tasting like ash. "She is weary from travel. I am here to restock our rations with these... IMPERIAL Warriors." She emphasized the word 'Imperial,' a subtle reminder that they were still on soil that theoretically answered to the Crown.
Machiavelli's smile didn't falter, but his grip on her chin tightened just a fraction. "Ahhh... I see. I was unaware of Her Highness's proximity. Had I known, I would have personally escorted her back into the city with the honors she deserves."
He released her, smoothing his gloves with agonizing slowness. "But no worries. I know now. And I am a man who prides himself on his hospitality. I shall fulfill my duty immediately. General!"
"My Lord!" the General barked.
"Prepare a royal carriage and an honor guard," Machiavelli commanded, his eyes never leaving Sakina's face. "Since Lady Sakina is so concerned about rations, we shall provide a feast. We will go together, right now, to welcome the Queen. Lead the way, Sakina.... Lady. he smirked, while saying her name and then continued, "I simply cannot wait to see her royal highness, and pay my respects."
Sakina's blood ran cold. The trap had snapped shut. She had bought them a few minutes of life with her lie, but now she was leading the wolf straight to an empty den.
She took a deep, steadying breath, forcing her heart to slow. She knew Machiavelli. He was a man of immense pride and ambition; he didn't just want power, he wanted to be seen as a peer to the throne. If she begged him not to come, he would suspect. If she led him there, she was dead. She had to make him choose to stay away.
She lowered her head in a graceful, sweeping bow, her voice honeyed with a false sense of confidence.
"My Lord, your devotion to the crown is legendary," she began, "and I know Her Highness would be moved. In fact, she spoke only this morning of how the vigorous industrial advancements of the Cinder Hegemony have caught her eye. She was musing that she might shift her Imperial Palace here permanently. If she comes into the city today and sees your progress firsthand, I am certain she will not want to leave."
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air like a silken thread. Machiavelli's eyes narrowed. The Hegemony was his stronghold; the last thing he wanted was a permanent Imperial presence, the Queen herself, overshadowing his rule and monitoring his "industrial advancements" daily.
"But for now," Sakina continued smoothly, "she is focused on the delicate matters of state she has at hand. She would not want to disrupt the flow of your city's productivity with the chaos of a Royal Procession. She might not come into the city gates today... but, if you insist and emphasize your invitation, I am sure she will feel compelled to break her solitude for you."
Machiavelli stood motionless. The gears of his mind were visible behind his dark eyes. To have the Queen here was an honor; to have her move her court here was an occupation.
"The Queen has her duties," Machiavelli said abruptly, his voice stiff. He pulled at his gloves, the greed in his eyes replaced by a cold, territorial calculation. "We have no right to disturb her royal decorum. Who are we to enforce ourselves upon her? We are nothing but her loyal subjects. When the Queen chooses to make her official entrance next time, we shall escort her ourselves with the full might of the Hegemony."
Without another word, or even a second glance at the woman he had just been threatening, he turned on his heel. "General! We return to the inspection. The Queen's peace is not to be disturbed! Offer all assistance to them in all cases! Send a procession to them for their help."
"Yes my Lord!" one of the ministers under him answered.
The black-armored column moved out as quickly as it had arrived, without even stopping to help them for what had just been promised. Sakina stood frozen until the last of the dust settled. Her guards let out audible sighs of relief, their hands finally moving away from their hidden hilts.
"Lady Sakina," one whispered, "that was... a miracle."
Sakina didn't answer. She felt like a glass vase that had nearly shattered. Her knees felt weak, and she leaned against a stone pillar, closing her eyes. She had saved them, but the lie about the Queen's proximity would only buy them a few days at most.
Suddenly, she felt a small, persistent tugging at her silk skirt.
Sakina gasped, spinning around, but it was only a child, a small girl with dirt-smudged cheeks and eyes that seemed far too old for her face. Sakina squatted down, her maternal instincts momentarily overriding her terror. "What is it, little one?"
The girl didn't speak. She reached into her tattered tunic, pressed a crumpled piece of paper into Sakina's hand, and vanished into the crowded market stalls before a single guard could stop her.
Sakina smoothed out the paper. Her breath hitched as she read the jagged, hurried script;
I know where the missing Queen is. Come to the East Street of the Black Fountain, near the brick kiln. Come alone.
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