Xandre slowly made his way through the stone hall before climbing the steep steps to his strategizing chamber. A light mental touch brushed his mind, making him stop abruptly. He placed his hand on the wood banister and waited. When the touch wasn’t repeated, he continued up the steps.
“One of the Inkna has violated my trust,” he said calmly. At the top step he stalled, not bothering to look back at the member of the Inner Circle following him. “Find him. Put him on display.”
“And if he is powerful?”
“Maim. Permanently. I care only about their minds and their ability to reproduce. Anything else can go.”
“Yes, master.”
Xandre heard only a soft scrape of his man before he felt the presence drift away. Even the soft scrape was telling. Xandre had been in one place too long. His protectors were getting bored. Listless. They needed tasks to keep their minds active and their skills honed. Xandre had to think about that.
He entered the quiet space and grimaced when the heat from the window wafted against his face. He took the large chair at the top of the room, as uncomfortable as it was hideous. A king of old had sat in that place at one time, deep in the recesses of history. And so Xandre sat on it today, proving his claims of power by the symbolism of the grand chair. In his titles and how is minions addressed him. In his brutality over those threatening to rise up against him. All of it was nothing more than show. A needed show, of course. Like the nobles with their silly hats and their expensive finery—they were only actors on a stage. It amazed Xandre every day that nobody saw through it. That a commoner could have all of those things with nothing more than the will to take it, yet the commoner cowered instead.
Xandre sat and surveyed those who were gathered around him, waiting. “What is the latest news?” he asked them.
“The Chosen has her own network,” his leading man, One, replied. “They are springing up across the land, fighting with what little they have. It is becoming a problem.”
Xandre crossed an ankle over his knee. “I did not foresee her efforts taking this long. Time has worn away our effectiveness.” He sucked at his lip. This was a grievous oversight that now could not be helped. He could not rush her. When they met, Xandre wanted her to be at her best. “Continue our efforts as best we can. She is the key. With her on our side, or dead, it will be easy to regain control. Sheep need only a shepherd; any will do.”
He drummed his fingers against the pockmarked wood of the armrest and let his gaze drift toward the arrow slit acting as a window. Putrid-smelling air drifted through, hot and sticky. It was a vile part of the country that unfortunately suited his plans. He longed to return home.
He took a deep, calming breath. Patience had plentiful rewards.
“What of my orders?” he asked, tearing his mind away from distant places.
“They are in the process of being carried out. Our armies are on the move, gearing up for battle. We need to get moving if we hope to meet them before she gets there.”
Xandre smiled to himself, excitement surging. It was finally so close. All these long years he’d waited, and it was all about to come to fruition. “My place is right here.”
Abruptly, he stood from the robust seat in the ringing silence. The soft sound of a foot shifting, of fabric rubbing, caught his ears. Containing the delighted laughter, he strolled to the arrow slit. Sparkling waters glistened in the intense sun, surging toward the base of the cliff far below. Around the front of the castle, hidden from this vantage point, was a crumbling and pockmarked wall screaming of battles waged and inevitably lost. Still, it was easily defendable, overlooking a murky, swampy sort of land that was defense in and of itself. If his immediate plans failed, she would find him, he was sure of it. This was a challenge fit for Shanti Cu-Hoi.
He almost hoped his next attempt did fail. That way he could study her a while longer. He wondered: if she did have to approach him, would she brave the swamplands? Or take to her roots and approach by boat, scaling the treacherous cliff and into Xandre’s borrowed back garden? She was such a fascinating creature. So resourceful. So unexpected. She was the highlight of his dull days.
Turning around to face his Inner Circle, their perplexity hidden behind blank expressions and hard eyes, he clasped his hands behind his back. “You may ask your questions.”
“Thank you, master,” One said. He paused for a second, no doubt collecting his thoughts, hopefully making them as concise as possible. “I am given to understand that we are continuing to gather our troops in preparation for a large-scale battle?”
“Yes.”
One’s lips tightened marginally. “So, we are staying here, and will not be joining the battle.”
“Correct.”
One’s shoulders tightened, annoyance at missing the opportunity to work at his trade and waste away here instead, indefinitely. Yet his mind would never deteriorate. Although boredom coated his thoughts like a heavy film, he would not break and act out of character, Xandre was sure of it. Had tested the theory mercilessly. It was why One gained both his name and position.
Silence filtered through the room again as One processed his thoughts. He was not a quick man to speak, by nature, and even less so in these situations. Xandre’s patience for stupidity could only stretch so far, and all of them knew it. Finally, his head tilted downward incrementally. “Would you lower yourself to hint at your plans, master?”
“She cannot be beaten in a large battle.” Xandre leaned against the wall. “Her people are not like others. Twice I have sought to annihilate them completely. The first time, so long ago in their tiny villages, I was surprised. So I studied. I planned. With the second battle I took the field, yes, but still I did not take the tribe.”
Xandre looked at the ceiling and chuckled. How surprised he’d been. He’d sought the prize of prizes, and when it could’ve been in his clutches, she evaporated like fog in a forest fire. As elusive as a phantom and as delightfully troublesome. “They, as a people, put all their trust in that young woman. Aged beyond her years, powerful in more than just the Old Blood, she was elected to lead her line into the next generation. So wise, her people. They could’ve found no one better. I have found no one better. She is perfection. Look what she did in the Shadow Lands! Genius at work. I couldn’t have achieved more.”
More fabric rustled, Xandre’s explanation not solid enough for their taste. The simpletons that they were, they did not see Shanti Cu-Hoi for what she really was. They thought she had luck on her side—that pinned down in one place, she could easily be beaten with just their ring of warriors.
What fools.
“She will know I am not heading into that battle.” Xandre pushed away from the wall and crossed to the door. Not hearing a command to the contrary, the warriors filed in behind him, barely better than housebroken dogs. “So she will try to ferret out where I am hiding. If left to her own devices, our roles will be reversed. She will become the hunter, and I the hunted.” He smiled to himself, the excitement nearly breaking free again. “Of course, it is my job to maintain the status quo. She will remain the hunted, if you do your jobs.”
They descended the stairs, his heavy tread echoing through the hollowed-out space, and silence behind him. Around the bend, with his footfalls muted as it fell on a plush blood-red rug, he continued to the back garden.
“You have orders for us, master,” One said.
“I do. A small team of you will retrieve Shanti Cu-Hoi and bring her here. Her group are close—your journey will be an easy one. Hopefully the capture won’t kill you all. Should you fail, however, and are still alive, you will report back and we will allow her to find us. You will not be harshly penalized should you fail in this. I almost expect that outcome.”
After a slight pause, in which Xandre was sure One struggled with his irritation at being thought second best, One said, “We have told no one of this place. It will be impossible to find you. She might be moving toward the battle now. Should we not send a messenger to spread a rumor of your whereabouts and bring her back in this direction?”
“Oh my, no.” Xandre waved the suggestion away. “Then she will know I am luring her. No, no. She must discover it on her own. And rest assured, she is headed our way. She has to rescue her people from my blockade. That’ll keep her put for a moment. Just a moment, though. The sands are running through the hourglass.”
Xandre smiled as they stalked to the south side of the castle, where a small outcropping of benches and stone seats faced a crumbling defensive wall. Beyond stretched a gulf, blue as far as the eye could see. If the weather hadn’t been so horrifying, and the swamp so disgusting, the area might’ve been a lovely one, almost like his home.
A scarred man glanced up from a book, his face perfectly blank and his body completely lax, showing no hint of aggression. He’d almost been killed by the Graygual when they had raided his village. Rabid and on the verge of breaking. Xandre saw immediately what the strongman needed—revenge. A summons to the Graygual in question, a sword for the scarred man, a closed-off courtyard, and a gruesome fight to the death had taken the last little shred of humanity the man possessed. What remained could be molded to Xandre’s needs, and with his extremely rare and necessary power, he would keep Xandre safe from Shanti Cu-Hoi’s potent powers.
Xandre nodded at the man. “He’ll go with you, of course. Without him you would be dead before you got within earshot.”
The man glanced up, took in Xandre for a moment, and then returned to his book.
Xandre took a seat behind the man before leaning back. “You had better get working,” he said over his shoulder. “She moves quickly and the whole land is rallying behind her. If you hope to capture her, you’ll have to hurry before she beats you back here.”
“Yes, master.”
“It is so close now,” Xandre said softly. The scarred man glanced his way, but knew not to speak. “And I cannot foresee what will transpire between us.”
Return to OvertakenBuy the Book
