Empire of Dust Read Online Free PDF Page B

palace, even Alex and I won’t be able to keep you safe every moment of the day and night. We must get you out of here. Far away from the queen. She will return.”
    Kat nods, but she doesn’t move from his arms—not yet. Tomorrow, she can plan. Tomorrow, she can be brave. Her tear-stained cheeks are cold as the wind brushes them, its touch as light as a ghost’s caress. She shivers and stares out over the swaying grass.
    Silently, she says: Goodbye .

Chapter Four
    FROM THE WINDOW of the council chamber, Prince Alexander observes a hunched figure riding a donkey across the palace courtyard toward the main gate. Six peasants accompany the boy. One leads his swaybacked mount while the others follow in a ramshackle cart laden with turnips. But if anyone were to examine these peasants closely, he would quickly see that they are too well-fed—and too well-muscled—to be anything other than royal guards. And that the boy is none other than the prince’s younger, slow-minded brother.
    Even though Alex knows he must send Arridheus away for his own safety, his heart twists as he watches his little brother pass through the gates and out of view. An hour ago, he watched Arri’s nursemaid, Sarina, fill his saddlebags with a change of clothes and a travel blanket. She even remembered to pack his favorite shiny buttons while Arri cried about leaving his pet rat behind. Even though he is twelve years old, the age at which most Macedonian boys would be training with the militia, Alex knows that Arri will always have the interests of a five-year-old.
    Worry gnaws on Alex’s heart. He is sure that the Aesarian Lords kidnapped Cynane—despite their heralds’ vehement denials during negotiations for a treaty after the battle of Pellan Fields. As King Philip’s son, Arri would make an even more valuable hostage than his half sister. And despite—or better said, because of—his brother’s slowness, the Lords could set him up as a puppet king, ruling through him.
    It was Kadmus who suggested to the council that they fake a kidnapping. Arri and several royal guards, all disguised as peasants, would ride to Mieza to stay with a family of farmers known for their loyalty to the crown. Once the young prince was safe, the palace and council would announce that the prince had been stolen. Most people would assume the Aesarian Lords kidnapped him, while the Lords would think one of Macedon’s other enemies or so-called allies—the Thracians, the Byzantines, the Persians, or Athenians—had snuck inside during this time of confusion and stolen the young prince.
    â€œHe’s safe now,” Alexander says, more to himself than the council as he turns to face them. Still feeling the pulsing energy of secrets, he begins to pace. “A good suggestion, Kadmus. Thank you.”
    Alex feels Heph’s glower before he sees it, like the burning, prickling rays of a summer noontime sun on the back of his head. He fights the urge to roll his eyes. Heph is acting like a jealous child. He knows that Alex must listen to all suggestions and act on only the best, regardless of whom they come from. Ever since the battle, the distance between him and Heph has pained Alex, but he is a prince acting as a king to protect his people.
    â€œMay the gods go with him,” the minister of religion, Gordias, intones and raises both gnarled, spotted hands.
    â€œMay the gods go with him,” echoes Theopompus, minister of provisions, settling himself on a chair that squeaks ominously under his bulk. The other men in the room take their places with a scraping of chairs. Except for Alex.
    He can’t sit still. Pacing helps him think, helps calm the worry. “What of the Aesarian Lords?” he asks.
    Theopompus tugs thoughtfully at his blond beard, woven with turquoise beads, and says, “The Aesarians seem to be keeping their side of our treaty. They wait quietly at Pyrrhia for their