Ivor nods. “It will be done, My Lord.”
I turn my attention to Widow Maker, my war chief. “Ready our forces to stamp out the rebel camps.”
Widow Maker slams a fist to his chest. “With pleasure.”
My focus shifts to Elar next. “You know what to do. Spread whispers, turn the people against these insurgents.”
Elar dips his chin. “Their support will wither on the vine.”
Finally, I pin Aleksander with a pointed stare. “Aleksander, I want you to apply your singular talents to unmasking the locations of the rebel leaders, starting with Keel.”
As my spymaster, Aleksander operates in the shadows, gathering intelligence and secrets that allow me to snuff out threats before they ignite. While his skills are invaluable, even I cannot deny the ruthless edge that lurks beneath his calm facade. He will use any means necessary to fulfill this directive.
“It will be done, My Lord.” Even though he speaks calmly, I know this is one order he relishes. Ferreting out rebels and dissenters feeds some dark impulse within him.
Keel and his ilk threaten everything we’ve built. If blood must be spilled to secure our power, so be it. Aleksander is simply my blade in this matter, cutting where I aim him.
I stop in front of the table. “Remember, I want them alive, so I can question them.”
My council voices their assent.
For too long, I’ve allowed the fires of rebellion to smolder. No more. It’s time to snuff them out for good.
“Go now and make it so.” I dismiss them with a wave of my hand.
Their chairs scrape back as they rise.
“We will not fail you,” Ivor vows.
As their footsteps fade down the corridor, my mind drifts to Annora, as it so often does these days. I’ve tarried too long in the pleasures of her body.
Now, I must don the mantle of chieftain and crush this dissent before it spirals out of control.
Annora will understand.
ChapterThirty-Six
ANNORA
My eyes flutteropen to the pale light of dawn seeping through the windows. I stretch out my arm across the silken sheets, seeking Jasce’s warmth, but find only empty space.
Disappointment lances through me as I sit up and glance around the bedchamber. The dying embers in the fireplace confirm that Jasce did not join me during the night.
I rise and don a simple gown, forgoing the intricate laces and ties of my more formal cotehardies. Lastly, I pull on my veil and settle it around my face.
Did something terrible happen last night?
Is that why Jasce didn’t return?
Apprehension builds inside me as I step out of the bedchamber and wander the labyrinth of corridors. Servants dart furtive glances my way, whispers dying on their lips as I pass.
Rounding a corner, I collide with a solid form. Strong hands clasp my shoulders, steadying me. I gaze up into Jasce’s haggard features, his jaw clenched tight, eyes stormy.
Dread prowls through my chest at his thunderous expression. Something awful has happened, and my husband looks ready to burn the whole city down in retaliation.
“Jasce, what is it? Has something happened?” I ask, my voice thick with worry.
His hands tighten on my shoulders before he drops them to his sides. “There was an attack last night. A warehouse was set ablaze, and our winter stores were destroyed.”
