Page 110 of Revealing Fate

What witless ruler said it was better to be loved than to be feared?

A page boy approached Domitan at a run and dropped to a bow before holding out a sealed missive. The king broke the seal on the parchment, waving the runner away. He scanned its contents. What he read did carve a smile into his features.

Tavene’s recovery had progressed more slowly than he’d have liked. But the mender’s letter said she would be fit to travel in a few days’ time.

Cindamar and its pitiful populace were facing annihilation, and they didn’t even see it coming. By week’s end, his army would march. And Domitan’s conquest, an endeavor long overdue, would begin.

Domitan was returning home much later than expected, but with considerably auspicious spirits. His outings had taken him deep within the military district. The return route was straightforward, but Domitan decided to wander the less-traveled streets of his city, not yet ready to relinquish his time under the encroaching night sky.

The hint of a chill could be felt in the air, the Asterosian summer evening murmuring its first whisper of autumn’s approach. In another month, the Saraat Desert’s suffocating heat would have abated. Domitan would stroll through his capital, the Prima having been returned to fulfill the terms of the prophecy, and another limb having been cut off of the Cozened’s traitorous blight.

Then, Domitan would regroup and go for the head.

Finally, after a lifetime of meticulous ambition and relentless execution, King Domitan, the Head of the Asterosian Crown, would be High King of Ilistaar. Ruler unopposed. Lord of all.

He was still envisioning the breadth of his advancing glory when the outline of a familiar figure snared his attention. Domitan slowed his horse and peered through the shadowed street. He thought perhaps he’d been mistaken, the shadows playing tricks on his sight, but then the figure moved, and there was no mistaking that gait.

What was his attendant doing lurking about after sundown?

Domitan silently hailed a passing guard. “Find me the general,” he commanded. “Be quick and quiet about it.” He could handle his attendant, but he wanted Corstow there just in case.

The guard hastened off.

Domitan dismounted and followed Cinah at a safe distance. Something inside him slithered and hissed, urging him to remain undetected.

Cinah wound through alleys and side streets before entering a well-lit tavern. Domitan concealed himself in an adjacent thoroughfare, wondering if the man had stopped for an ale. But then, only minutes later, Cinah snuck out the building’s side exit. The king barely caught the swish of a cloak in the darkness.

You sneaking swain. What are you up to?

He resumed his pursuit.

Half an hour later, deep within a quieter section of the city, Cinah let himself into a nondescript brick storefront. Domitan crouched in the opposite alleyway. He was moments from stalking to the door when Markain Corstow appeared behind him. He didn’t have to tell the general to keep himself concealed. The man dropped to a squat beside his liege.

“What is it?”

Domitan nodded across the street. “Creed.”

Corstow’s gaze sharpened on the brick structure as though trying to peer through the mortar and stone.

Irritation scratched at Domitan’s insides. “I’m going in,” he growled low.

Domitan’s muscles flexed to stand, but Corstow’s hushed voice paused his movement. “Wait, sire. Look.”

A hooded figure slunk down the street, stopping before the frame Cinah had disappeared through moments before. The figure swung its head left, then right, before rapping a distinct pattern on the door. The entrance cracked open enough for the figure to pass through and then shut again.

Rage, hot and consuming, blasted Domitan. If Cinah had the gall to meet with a secret lover…“I will fucking kill that insolent wretch.”

The last time Domitan had felt such wrath, Cinah had stolen the seal off his desk.

But then he’d branded himself with it, a quiet voice reminded him.

“We should wait, Majesty,” Corstow whispered.

Domitan glared at him. “Wait for what? He’s been caught.” That lecherous, betraying miscreant. Domitan would flay him alive. Dismantle him piece by traitorous piece. He’d been good to Cinah. Too good.

“There may be something yet to gain from this.”

The only thing Domitan wanted to gain was retribution. No. Fuck waiting. No one slighted the King of Asteros and walked away.