Maria V. Snyder Collection: Poison Study. Maria Snyder V.

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      “I haven’t seen her.” Thank fate, I thought.

      “Then you’ll need your antidote,” Valek said while moving back to his cabinet.

      Once I swallowed the liquid, Valek headed toward the door. When I didn’t follow, he gestured to me.

      “I have to taste the Commander’s breakfast,” he said, setting a quick pace.

      I huffed along behind him.

      “It’s time you meet the Commander and watch how food tasting should be done.”

      We turned into the main hallway of the castle. Valek didn’t miss a step, but I stumbled and stifled a gasp. The famous tapestries from the King’s era were torn and soiled with black paint. In Brazell’s orphanage we had been taught that each tapestry represented a province of the old kingdom. Hand-quilted with gold threads during the course of many years, the colored silk pictures told a story about the history of each province. Now in rags, they still told a very powerful tale about the Commander’s rule.

      The Commander’s disdain for the opulence, excesses and injustices of the former ruler and his family was well known throughout Ixia. From monarchy to military, the changes in Ixia were severe. While some citizens embraced the simple but strict rules in the Code of Behavior, others rebelled by refusing to wear their uniforms, by not requesting permission to travel, and by escaping to the south.

      Based on the offense, the insurgents’ punishment matched exactly what was written in the Code. No uniform meant two days chained naked in the town’s square. It didn’t matter if the offender had a legitimate reason; the punishment was always the same. Ixia’s people discovered that there wasn’t going to be any guessing about their punishment. No bribing or good-old-boy networking either; the Commander meant business. Live by the Code or face the consequences.

      I pulled my eyes away from the tapestries in time to see Valek disappear through an arched doorway decorated with lavish stonework. Splintered wooden doors hung crookedly on their hinges, but the intricate carvings of trees and exotic birds were still visible. Another victim of the takeover, and another reminder of the Commander’s intent.

      I stopped in amazement just past the broken doors. This was the castle’s throne room. Inside was a sea of desks occupied by numerous advisers and military officers from every Military District in the Territory. The room hummed with activity.

      It was hard to distinguish individuals in the commotion, but I finally spotted Valek’s smooth stride as he went through an open door at the back of the room. Finding a path around the maze of desks took some time. When I arrived at the door, I heard a man’s voice complaining about cold sweet cakes.

      Commander Ambrose sat behind a plain wooden desk. His office was stark in comparison to Valek’s and lacked personal decorations. The only object in the room that did not have a specific purpose was a hand-size statue of a black snow cat. The cat’s eyes glinted with silver, and bright specks of the metal peppered the beast’s powerful back.

      The Commander’s black uniform was perfectly tailored and immaculate, indistinguishable from Valek’s except that the diamonds stitched on his collar were real. They twinkled in the morning light. The Commander’s black hair was sprinkled with gray and cut so short that the strands stood straight up.

      In Brazell’s classroom, we had learned that the Commander avoided public appearances and having his portrait painted. The fewer people who knew what he looked like, the less his chances were of being assassinated. Some thought he was paranoid, but I believed that since he had gained power by using assassins and covert warfare, he was merely being realistic.

      This was not the Commander I had envisioned: burly, bearded and weighed down with medals and weapons. He was thin, clean shaven, with delicate features.

      “Commander, this is Yelena, your new food taster,” Valek said, pulling me into the room.

      The Commander’s gold almond-shaped eyes met mine. His gaze had the sharpness of a sword point. It pressed against my throat and fastened me to the floor. I felt myself being drawn out and examined. When he looked over at Valek, I swayed with relief.

      “From what Brazell’s been hollering about, I expected her to breathe fire,” the Commander said.

      I stiffened on hearing Brazell’s name. If Brazell was complaining to the Commander, I could be back in line for the noose.

      “Brazell’s a fool,” Valek said. “He wanted the drama of a public hanging for his son’s killer. I personally would have taken care of her immediately. It would have been within his rights.” Valek slurped the Commander’s tea and sniffed the sweet cakes.

      My chest was tight. I was having trouble drawing in air.

      “Besides, it’s clearly written in the Code of Behavior that the next to be hanged gets the job offer. And Brazell was one of the authors.” Cutting a piece of one sweet cake from the center and the other from the side, Valek put both pieces in his mouth, chewing slowly. “Here.” He handed the plate to the Commander.

      “Brazell does have a point,” the Commander said. He picked up his tea and stared at the contents. “When does she start? I’m getting tired of cold food.”

      “A few more days.”

      “Good,” the Commander said to Valek, then turned to me. “You arrive with my food and taste quick. I don’t want to be looking for you. Understand?”

      Feeling light-headed, I answered, “Yes, Sir.”

      “Valek, I’m losing weight because of you. Lunch is in the war room. Don’t be late.”

      “Yes, Sir,” Valek said and headed for the door. I followed. We wound our way through the tangle of desks. When Valek stopped to consult with another adviser, I glanced around. A handful of the Commander’s advisers were women, and I noticed two female Captains and one Colonel. Their new roles were one of the benefits of the takeover. The Commander assigned jobs based on skills and intelligence, not on gender.

      While the monarchy preferred to see women work as maids, kitchen helpers and wives, the Commander gave them the freedom to choose what they wanted to do. Some women preferred their former occupations, while others jumped at the chance to do something else, and the younger generation had been quick to take advantage of the new opportunities.

      When we finally reached Valek’s office, Margg was dusting around Valek’s piles of papers on the table. It looked to me as if she was spending more time reading the papers than straightening them. Didn’t Valek notice? I wondered what Margg did for Valek besides cleaning.

      Margg turned a pleasant face to Valek, but as soon as he walked away she glared fiercely at me. Must have lost a lot of money betting against my survival, I thought. I smiled at her. She managed to control her outraged expression before Valek glanced up at us from his desk.

      “Yelena, you look exhausted. You make me tired just looking at you. Go rest. Come back after lunch and we’ll continue with your training.”

      I didn’t really feel tired, but rest sounded like an excellent idea. As I moved along the hallway, Valek’s comment wormed its way through my mind. My pace slowed and I dragged my feet toward my room. I was so preoccupied with the physical effort of walking that I bumped right into two of Brazell’s СКАЧАТЬ