The Ruby Prince: Book Two of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

both Eleanor and the assassins were listening. “I intend to make the Aemogen queen my wife, claiming power in Aemogen through marriage, and all the resources will go to the empire. I trust my father will concede, once we have returned to Zarbadast for the winter.”
    “You have squandered your advantage, young prince,” the assassin replied. “You have been foolish in your diplomacy.”
    “I have decided to spare the lives of my soldiers, if at all possible.” He looked the Vestan up and down. “We are different men, you and I.” Basaal stood and motioned towards Annan. “Allow my general to personally see you to some accommodations. I’m sure your long journey was taxing.”
    The Vestan looked towards Eleanor again. “I would be happy to join your entourage in returning home,” he said. “Your protection is paramount, and the queen must not be allowed to escape before the emperor can decide her fate.” His words were laced with anything but happiness, and his meaning was clear. The Vestan still held the medallion in his hand, and he tossed it to Basaal. “A reminder of whom you serve.”
    Basaal laughed. “I am the son of Emperor Shaamil,” he said, taking a step towards the assassin. “And you are a Vestan; it is you who needs a reminder of whom you serve. You are dismissed.”
    The assassin bowed, but his eyes held no look of submission as he, followed by the other five assassins, left the tent with Annan. As soon as the curtain had closed, Basaal threw the medallion onto the table. It rang as it circled around itself before shivering to a stop. Basaal bit his lip and leaned against the table, fighting the sensation of having a noose around his neck.
    “You seem to have put yourself in a dangerous position,” Eleanor said, sitting up, regarding him with a curious stare. She made no reference to her own precarious state. Basaal bunched his lips together, as if he had swallowed something bitter, and nodded.
    It was then that Annan returned.
    “Are they settling, then?” Basaal asked.
    Shaking his head, Annan drew his mouth into a line. “They are speaking with Drakta again.”
    Basaal almost smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. “Double the perimeter around my tent, Annan, with only men sworn to me by death,” Basaal said. “Then have the line step away ten paces, and you walk the inside perimeter yourself. I need to speak with the queen without being overheard.”
    The prince waited and listened for several minutes, knowing Annan would fulfill his assignment without drawing any attention to himself. Eleanor sat quietly, her knee tucked up under her chin, a blanket over her shoulders. Crossing his arms before his chest, Basaal paced beside the table, glancing up to study the face of the waiting queen, feeling his pulse quicken at her patient expression, then looking down again at his own feet. Finally, he heard a soft whistle. Basaal picked up a small stool with one hand and walked to the back of the pavilion, setting it down before Eleanor.
    “May we speak openly with one another?” he asked.
    ***
    He sat on the low stool, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, looking intently into Eleanor’s eyes. He was so close she could have reached out and touched his face.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “In short,” he began, “I accepted this conquest because my mother loved Aemogen. Think of me what you will, but I fought hard to buy you six months to surrender, for your sake as much as for mine. If my father or any of my brothers had led the conquest in my place, Mason would have carried the news of an immediate invasion instead of delivering a warning to Ainsley that night.
    “Why the deception?” Eleanor leveled in return. “Why could you not have presented the terms in an open explanation?”
    “What could I have said?” Prince Basaal countered. “After negotiations failed, you would have taken me for a ransom my father would not have paid. An Imirillian force would have come