Despite, the failure of his assassination attempt, Felix's mouth gaped with delight. Never before had Lukan raised a finger in self-defense when his father had beaten him. A drop of spittle ran down Felix's chin. He wiped it away with a quick swipe of his hand.
Thurban's manipulative voice had been a resounding success.
Lukan kicked Mott in the kidneys, something Thurban had suggested more than once that Lukan should do. Raklus tried to protect his liege, only to catch Lukan's boot in the stomach. Mott, knotted up on the floor with Raklus, did nothing but grunt. After landing a final kick to the emperor's ribs, Lukan stormed from the room.
Thrilled with one success-but disappointed that it hadn't translated into Mott's death-Felix leaned against his chenna-stained wall, arms folded, as his brother wrestled to disentangle himself from Raklus. Once on his feet, with a presence of mind that astonished Felix, the emperor strode over and ripped the dagger out of the paneling.
"My mind is made up," Mott announced. "I wanted to wait until Lukan provided me a grandson before I acted, so the succession wouldn't fall to my other worthless son, but I can't take any more chances. Lukan must die. Now."
Felix snorted. This was Mad Mott at his best-also helped along by the skillful use of Thurban's voice. Felix's lips twitched with a smile. Hearing people whisper about Mad Mott's insanity was gratifying payback for his brother's decision to rob him of a place in the succession. And, in the end, it didn't matter how Mott-or Lukan-died, as long as Axel got the throne.
Felix righted a chair and sat in it. "So, the future of the empire depends on that wimp, Tao, with Kestrel. What a lot we have to look forward to after your death. Tao will have given everything away to the low-born before you're even cold in your grave."
Through Thurban's voice, he had tried hard to persuade Mott against organizing a bride for Tao, but his brother had proved stubbornly resistant to that suggestion.
Mott glared at him, then gestured with the dagger to Raklus to right a chair for him to sit on. Raklus leaped to obey. He picked up one for himself, too, but didn't get to sit. Once enthroned, holding his dagger like a scepter, Mott commanded Raklus to leave. Raklus's dark eyes shot to Felix, looking for answers.
Although Felix knew enough of Mott's thoughts to guess what was coming, he shrugged as if he, too, were clueless. While Raklus left the room, Mott ran his fingers down the blade of the dagger, as if testing its sharpness.
Once the door slid closed, his brother said, "Who mentioned anything about Tao living long enough to inherit my throne? I don't trust him any more than I do Lukan."
Felix faked a sigh. "For someone who claims not to believe in the Dmitri Curse, you are unreasonably paranoid about your sons."
"Only someone who isn't emperor of the richest, most powerful dynasty in the world could be naïve enough to make a comment like that." Mott cleared his throat and then added, flippantly, "It's why I've never remarried. At least my bastards have no legitimate claim to my throne and are therefore not inclined to fling daggers at me."
Felix took a moment to think on how to steer this discussion-and Mott's mind. "I foresee problems if you pursue this course."
It was his brother's turn to sigh. "You always do."
"If you slaughter Lukan and Tao, who will provide the grandsons?" Face expressionless, Felix eyed Mott over steepled fingers. "I assume you're hoping Axel will father sons for you to claim as your own?"
Mott snorted. "And have the succession shift to your side of the family? The next emperor will come from my loins, not yours. I will not go down in history as the man who failed to provide a decent heir to a four-hundred-year-old dynasty. My sons are pathetic, but I have a plan to solve that problem."
"I hope you do because the Fifteen will never permit one of your bastards to ascend to power," Felix said.
Mott laughed. "You are too stupid to see the finer workings of my mind. But I don't have the time-or the inclination-to explain it all to you."
Felix smiled inwardly. If his brother realized half of what he knew about his mind, Mott would thrust that dagger into his chest before he got his next breath out.
"So let's just stick with what you can understand," Mott said, voice bleeding condescension. "Once the wedding festivities are over, Lukan will die. That gives him at least two nights to get his seed into the Norin rebel. I hope the bitch is fertile." Mott glared at Felix. "And I don't expect any mishaps with the monitoring of the murdering bastard. You are to watch him, and at the first sign of trouble, you will kill him."
Mott was even more unhinged than Felix gave him credit for.
He resisted the urge to scoff. "Was I the only one who saw the images of Lynx slobbering over Axel?"
A troubled frown settled on Mott's face. "Lynx is certainly willful, given the threat hanging over her family." He paused. "But I'm not without resources. I have already sent Lynx a message. When she's done listening to it, she will believe Axel betrayed her. That will make her despise him as much as she now detests Lukan."
"And that will get her into Lukan's bed?" Felix shook his head, unable to believe the level of his brother's stupidity.
"Oh, I think Lukan's lust will take care of that. He's been drooling for her since the summer. Her skimpy little dresses only increase his desire for the whore." Mott smiled maliciously. "That, and my goading about Axel will do the trick." His brother rubbed his heart, so recently rescued from Lukan's killing blow. "There are few things my son hates more than being compared to his cousin."
Felix strove-and failed-to keep the incredulity out of his voice. "And if Lukan does manage to drag Lynx off to his bed, do you think a couple of pokes will be enough to produce your heir?"
Mott tapped his dagger against his thumbnail. "Possibly not. But it's the risk of the game, isn't it? That's why I insisted on Kestrel for Tao. As soon as she delivers a boy, I'll have Tao's throat slit, too."
Felix shivered, but he pulled his cape around his shoulders to hide it. Even though he had no qualms about murdering Mott and Lukan-or anyone else, for that matter-not in his wildest dreams could he imagine wanting to harm his own children. But it was his brother's cruelty-and an addiction for brain-rotting chenna-that had made him so open to persuasion by Thurban.
"And if Tao can't prove himself useful by providing an heir?" Felix taunted.
Mott looked pained. "Then he will pay for that insolence by dying. And before you ask, I will then have no choice but to take another wife. Perhaps my next crop of sons will be less of a disappointment."
"So that's been your plan all along, to purge your sons?" Felix hoped the question preempted any suspicion that he knew Mott's motives.
"Don't be so crass, brother. Purges are your thing, not mine." Mott's smile broadened. "We'll only have one other death to celebrate this wedding season-Raklus's. A fitting end to a pathetic career, don't you think?"
This was too much, even for Felix. He gasped, shooting forward on his chair. "Raklus? The man who just saved your life?"
"Astonishing irony, isn't it? But yes. He needs to make place for a new Lord of the Conquest if we are to win the war in Treven. And that new lord needs to understand that failure is deadly."
"Axel," Felix said, slapping his hand onto his thigh with frustration. "You intend to kill my friend and replace him with my son?"
"It's called giving with one hand while taking with the other."
"It's called iniquity."
Mott held up his dagger to silence Felix. "Enough, little brother. Let's recall the sequence of events that led to the war with Treven." Knowing what was coming, Felix's body locked rigid. "You were the one clamoring for the invasion-therefore, we could say you are equally responsible for the losses we have suffered."
Felix brushed his wispy hair away from his face. "You know as well as I do that we needed a fresh supply of ice crystals. The biggest reserves in the world are in Treven."
"So you keep telling me, but it seems only fitting that you should offer some sacrifices to pay for your poor counsel."
"And my son and friend are those sacrifices?"
"If you choose to be that melodramatic, yes." Mott grimaced. "But the hard, cold fact is that, right now, Chenaya needs a military leader with balls of steel."