The Lore Of The Evermen (Book 4) by James Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

buys much.”
    “As I understand it a lot of your trade comes from the free cities ,” Ella said. “My brother, the high lord, doesn’t believe Castlemere and Schalberg might fall. He believes they will undoubtedly fall.”
    Silence followed Ella’s assertion. Finally Saran spoke again.
    “That is one man’s opinion. The Empire is strong.”
    “No.” Ella shook her head. She felt heat rise to her face. “The Empire is weak. We’re too fractured to pool our strength and deploy it where it’s most needed. Without your aid, Altura will fall, and if Altura falls, the rest of the Empire will follow. Without trade, your people will starve, this city will crumble, and you’ll go back to being a splintered group of tribes. Eventually, you’ll be hunted down, and even if your people are the last to perish, your days will be numbered.”
    Zohra gasped, and the other men and women at the table looked uncomfortable. Ella hadn’t meant to be so direct, but seeing these men feast and talk when she knew how much work had to be done in Altura upset her. Agira Lahsa didn’t look like a city preparing for war.
    “I don’t see how you can be so certain . . .”
    Ella stood up from her chair. “Please excuse me,” she said. “I have work to do.”
    Ella left the terrace and tried to calm herself as she looked for somewhere she could be alone. Ilathor found her with her hands resting on the rail of a small balcony, gazing out at the desert and inhaling the spicy scent of the city carried forward on the dry breeze.
    “Ella?” Ilathor said.
    Ella turned to the kalif, and rather than avoid him, this time she met his eyes directly. “Ilathor,” she said, using his first name, “can I count on you if Altura calls?”
    “Yes . . . of course. I am the kalif. My men will follow.”
    “Will you promise?”
    Ilathor reached forward and took Ella’s hands. “I promise.”
    “Thank you,” Ella said, letting out a breath. She leaned forward and kissed his smooth cheek.
    Ilathor suddenly put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.
    Ella put her hands flat on his chest. “Ilathor,” she said. “Ilathor! I can’t. I must go. You love your land with an incredible passion. I fe el the same way about mine. I can’t feast here when I know how much needs to be done to protect my homeland. I have to go.”
    “I understand,” Ilathor said. He was breathing hard. “You are a strong woman, and you are resisting your passions, where I cannot. I should take note from your example.”
    Ella chose to ignore the comment. “Your elders know all they need to about the reflectors. Listen to them. I have a long journey ahead of me. It will take time to build the towers and mount the reflectors as I travel back to Altura.”
    “Of course,” Ilathor said. “When you arrive home, will you send word?”
    “I will.”
    “Ella, I . . .”
    “I know,” Ella said, smiling.
    Ilathor returned her smile. “I will send Jehral to take care of you until you reach Alturan lands. I wish you did not have to leave so soon after arriving, but I understand. Fare you well, Ella. Until we next meet.”
    “Farewell, Kalif,” Ella said.
     

5
    Killian wiped at his eyes, feeling the familiar onset of fatigue. He avoided looking at the timepiece high on the wall; he knew the afternoon meeting had run well into the night.
    He still wore the thick clothing he’d worn all season. Though it was supposed to be spring, winter was reluctant to release Tingara quite yet. The wind howled outside the barred windows, and Killian heard the shutters tremble.
    The grim weather echoed his mood. Several weeks had passed since the Imperial Chorum and Ella’s hasty departure, yet still Killian couldn’t get the events of that day out of his mind. Killian had expected Miro’s impassioned plea for more essence for Altura to fail. He hadn’t expected to discover that Ella and Ilathor had once shared a bed.
    Killian was jealous.
    She acted like she