Empire’s Heir
(Empire’s Legacy, Book VI)
By Marian L Thorpe
Publication Date: 30th August 2021. Publisher: Arboretum Press. Page Length: 438 Pages. Genre: Historical Fantasy.
Some games are played for mortal stakes.
Gwenna, heir to Ésparias, is summoned by the Empress of Casil to compete for the hand of her son. Offered power and influence far beyond what her own small land can give her, Gwenna’s strategy seems clear – except she loves someone else.
Nineteen years earlier, the Empress outplayed Cillian in diplomacy and intrigue. Alone, his only living daughter has little chance to counter the Empress's experience and skill. Aging and torn by grief and worry, Cillian insists on accompanying Gwenna to Casil.
Risking a charge of treason, faced with a choice he does not want to make, Cillian must convince Gwenna her future is more important than his – while Gwenna plans her moves to keep her father safe. Both are playing a dangerous game. Which one will concede – or sacrifice?
Excerpt
© 2021 Marian L Thorpe
Cillian, one of the two POV narrators of Empire’s Heir, is travelling from the school he heads in Linrathe to Ésparias, to journey from there to Casil, the capital of the Eastern Empire, where his daughter Gwenna has been summoned as a possible bride for the prince. As the senior prince of Ésparias, by the Empress’s decree, he is determined to arrive in his land in a manner appropriate to his rank.
Late on the third afternoon we approached the guardpost on the Wall. Guardpost was a misnomer now: it had grown with trade and movement across the border. Now it was a small fort, with its own commander’s headquarters, barracks and workshops—and baths. Druisius had ridden ahead, to commandeer those.
In the last dip before the road rose to the natural ridge of land on which the Wall stood, I asked our driver to halt. “Saddle my horse, please.”
“Cillian, no,” Lena said.
“I must. Why else do I ride every week, käresta?” Apulo was already busy at his chest of tinctures and oils. Wordlessly he handed me a cup. I drank it, tasting the bitterness of willow-bark. Lena, her jaw set, turned away to supervise the saddling of my grey gelding. The horse was old and placid, and used to my poor seat and weak legs.
Sorley helped me mount, the bed of the cart replacing the mounting block I used at the Ti’ach. I could tell from his face he wasn’t happy with me either. But what people see influences what they think, and for the same reason I had dressed in a grey tunic trimmed in white this morning, I would ride into Ésparias. I was an advisor to the Princip, and father to the heir. I would reveal no weakness nor infirmity to the soldiers, lest they doubt my mind as well as my body.
The commander was waiting for me, with half-a-dozen soldiers in polished leather holding shining weapons. He dropped to one knee as we approached. A small part of me—the part that would never let me forget I was the bastard son of a torpari girl—wanted to laugh. I kept my face relaxed.
“Captain.”
He stood, a little awkwardly. “Prince Cillian.” He hesitated. “Major. Welcome.”
Gwenna’s advice, no doubt. “Major,” I said, “is my preference. Thank you, Captain—?”
“Farry,” Lena said from beside me. “It is, isn’t it?”
A delighted grin spread across his face. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
She swung down off her horse. “We witnessed a terrible event together. I think I remember every face from that day. Cillian, Farry was at the winter camp, and in the tent with me when Elon tried to assassinate Callan.”
“You served with my father?”
“I was a very junior officer, sir, seconded to his regiment. As all junior officers were for a time, then,” Farry explained. Twenty years and more ago. He’d have survived the Taiva. Why was he commanding a border fort, collecting tariffs and checking manifests? Then I saw his right arm, hanging loosely, the hand shrunken.
I should have known; should have prepared myself to know who the officer here was, and his or her history. I glanced meaningfully at his arm. “The Taiva?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we share more than knowing Lena,” I said, smiling. “My own injuries from that battle mean I need assistance in dismounting, and I do not walk easily. But perhaps my daughter made my requirements known?”
“She did, sir. There is a mounting block waiting, and the baths are ready.”
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ReplyDeleteMary Anne
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