Wintertide Read Free Page B

person in pain or need. To him, Arista was just the princess , his employer, his job, just one more desperate noble.
    How empty an existence I’ve led that those few I count among my best friends are two people I paid to work for me.
    She wanted to believe Hadrian saw her as something special, that the time they had spent on the road together endeared her to him—that it meant as much to Hadrian as it did to her. Arista hoped he considered her smarter or more capable than most. But even if he did, men did not want smart or capable. They wanted pretty. Arista was not pretty like Alenda Lanaklin or Lenare Pickering. If only Hadrian saw her the way Emery and Hilfred had.
    Then he would be dead, too.
    The deep rumble of stone against stone echoed through the corridors. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Someone was coming.
    Now was not the time for food. While Arista could not judge the passage of time in the darkness, food never came until she feared it might never arrive. They fed her so little that she welcomed the thin, putrid soup, which smelled of rotten eggs.
    The approaching footfalls came from two sets of shoes. The first she recognized as a guard who wore metal and made a pronounced tink-tink . The other wore hard heels and soles that created a distinct click-clack . That was not a guard nor was it a servant. Servants wore soft shoes that made a swish-swish sound or no shoes at all— slap-slap . Only someone wealthy could afford shoes that clacked on stone. The steps were slow but not hesitant. There was confidence in the long, measured strides.
    A key rattled against the assembly of her lock and then clicked.
    A visitor?
    The door to her cell opened, and a bright light made Arista wince.
    A guard entered, jerked her roughly to one side, and attached a pair of iron bracelets chaining her wrists to the wall. Leaving her sitting with her arms above her head, the guard exited but left the door open.
    A moment later, Regent Saldur entered holding a lantern. “How are you this evening, Princess?” The old man shook his head sadly making tsking noises. “Look at you, my dear. You are so thin and filthy, and where in Maribor’s name did you get that dress? Not that there’s much of it left, is there? Those look like new bruises, too. Have the guards been raping you? No, I suppose not.” Saldur lowered his voice to a whisper. “They had extremely strict orders not to touch Modina when she was here. I accused an innocent jailor of improperly touching her and then had him pulled apart by oxen as an example. There were no problems after that. It might seem extreme, but I couldn’t have a pregnant empress, now could I? Of course, in your case I really don’t care, but the guards don’t know that.”
    “Why are you here?” she asked. Her low raspy voice sounded strange, even to herself.
    “I thought I would bring you some news, my dear. Kilnar and Vernes have fallen. Rhenydd is now a happy member of the Empire. The farmlands of Maranon on the Delgos peninsula had a nice harvest, so we’ll have plenty of supplies to feed our troops all winter. We’ve retaken Ratibor but had to execute quite a few traitors as examples. The peasants must learn the consequences of rebellion. They were cursing your name before we had finished.”
    Arista knew he was telling the truth. Not because she could read his face, which she barely saw through her matted hair, but because Saldur had no reason to lie. “What do you want?”
    “Two things, really. I want you to realize that the New Empire has risen and nothing can stand in its way. Your life, Arista, is over. You will be executed in a matter of weeks. And your dreams are already dead. You need to bury them alongside the sad little graves of Hilfred and Emery.”
    Arista stiffened.
    “Surprised? We learned all about Emery when we retook Ratibor. You really do have such a way with men. First you got him killed and then Hilfred as well. You must make black widows jealous.”
    “And the