The Spirit War by Rachel Aaron Page A

far as she could see in any direction. Great winds blew in the smell of rain and sodden mud, and though the smell triggered her memories again, Nara did not smile. The storm chewed at the edge of her lands, destroying everything in its path beneath a rain of lightning and the endless booming thunder she knew too well.
    The Empress shook her head. “I cannot banish this storm.”
    The general’s eyes widened. “But surely,” he began. “You are queen of everything. The spirits would not dare—”
    “You question me?” the Empress said coldly.
    The general froze. “No, Empress,” he said, bowing so low that his helmet slipped off. “Forgive me, Empress. Your voice is the only law.”
    She nodded and held out her hand, letting the storm-tossed winds sweep over her fingers. When she felt a particularly strong one, she closed her fist. The wind squealed at first but grew still when it realized what will had caught it.
    “Hail, Empress,” it whispered.
    Nara glanced pointedly at the enormous storm. “What is he doing here?”
    “The Lord of Storm is in disgrace,” the wind said, wiggling in her hand.
    “I can see that,” the Empress snapped. “He’s been in disgrace for weeks, apparently, and wrecking my shore in the process. What did he do that Benehime would impose such a harsh punishment?”
    The wind jerked. Lesser spirits were so obedient that even the mention of the Lady’s name was enough to send them into a fit of reverential terror.
    “He raised his blade against the favorite,” it whispered at last. “The Shepherdess’s wrath was swift.”
    White-hot fury roared through Nara’s mind and, for a moment, she forgot everything. Forgot the storm, the general standing beside her, even the wind in her hand. Time seemed to flow backward, carrying her back to that hated day when everything in her life had fallen apart. The day the Shepherdess brought that boy into her white world.
    She could see him clearly in her mind even now, a skinny, dark-haired thing sitting smugly on Benehime’s beautiful lap as the Lady doted on him. The memory made Nara tremble with rage. That spoiled brat had stolen the Shepherdess’s love from her, and with it everything Nara cared for. All the things that had given her pride—her victories, her legions, her unified country, the fairness and efficiency of the government she had built, the peace she had brought to her people, her loyal spirits, even her great wish of a fair and peaceful world—none of it meant anything when Benehime, her beautiful, beloved Shepherdess, was ignoring her in favor of that hateful, conniving, selfish child.
    Nara bared her teeth at the enormous waves washing over the ruins of her sea towns. How could the Shepherdess love that bratenough to punish the Lord of Storms this severely just for raising his blade? He’d raised his sword to Nara several times, and the Lady had never done anything like this. Was she finally sick of his disobedience? Or was it because she loved the boy more than—
    The Empress stopped that line of thought dead. She could not believe it. The Lady’s love was for Nara alone. The boy was nothing more than an infatuation. He’d beguiled the Shepherdess. What else would explain Benehime’s abandoning her Empress after eight centuries of Nara’s ceaseless devotion? Her undying love? Nara clenched her fists. Den had been right. For eleven years she’d lived in her misery, waiting for the Shepherdess to remember who truly loved her, and all she had to show for it was the suffering of her own lands. She was through hiding, through crying. If the Lady loved her as an Empress, then Empress she would be. She would rebuild her army as never before. An army fit to conquer the rest of the world. And when all the lands of creation were united under her good rule, her wish would be fulfilled. She alone would rule a world without war, without unfairness, a world that was guided by her wisdom alone. And then Nara would take this