Then it became clear. She’d been invited to be present to hear the emperor declare his decision.
She’d never been invited to such an important event before.
Had she somehow proven her worth to her father? That her political opinion mattered? He would do well to take her under his wing as an advisor; she would be far more helpful than both Elan and Dastan combined.
“Princess,” King Gaius said, standing as she took a seat. “You look beautiful today.”
“Thank you, your grace.” Why did men always find it necessary to comment on whether or not a woman’s exterior pleased them? She knew she was beautiful. No need to constantly restate it, as if doing so would earn one points in a game.
The king did look confident today. Did he honestly believe her father was about to agree to his overly ambitious terms?
Felix and Milo stood behind the king, their hands clasped behind their backs. Felix nodded at her, and their eyes met for a brief moment. He, on the other hand, did not look entirely confident today. Was that a shadow of worry sliding behind his dark eyes?
My pretty beast, she thought. Don’t fret. You’ve more than proven your worth to me.
Her attention shifted to her brothers, neither of whom had risen from their seats to greet her. They each drank from golden, jeweled goblets, and she saw that the center of the table was laden with a beautiful display of colorful, fragrant fruit.
The emperor waved his hand toward the guards stationed at the doors. “Leave us to discuss our important matters in private.” Amara watched as they left, noting that Mikah was not among them, and suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen him in several days. Perhaps he was ill.
The guards closed the heavy doors with a loud thud, and Amara’s heart began to race. Today was an important day.
A brand-new day that would either foretell an uncertain future for the Kraeshian Empire . . .
. . . Or a day that would mark the end of the King of Blood’s life.
This was how her father conducted his political negotiations: He either agreed to obviously favorable terms, or he made an annoying problem go away by killing it and everyone involved. In the end, Emperor Cortas always won.
“I have taken time to consider your interesting offer, Gaius.” The emperor remained standing, his lined face somber and humorless. There would be no playfulness today.
King Gaius nodded. “And I’m ready to hear your decision.”
“You wish to become the second emperor of the Kraeshian Empire, to share the power, equally, with me. For this, you will give me the air Kindred and teach me how to unlock its magic. And along with that magic, I will also have your daughter’s abilities of sorcery at my disposal. Do I have this correct, Gaius?”
“You do,” the king said, his tone even, almost as if he were bored.
Amara had to admire the king’s confidence—or was it stupidity? After all, he was nothing but a scavenger, asking a lion to share his meat for free.
However, the king didn’t strike her as stupid. Just the opposite.
He had to have another plan up his sleeve.
The emperor spoke up again. “And I am expected to take you at your word that what you’ve told me about your daughter, about the Kindred, is true.”
“Yes.”
“This is what troubles me, Gaius. You’ve shown me no proof of either.”
“And you will see no proof until we’ve come to an agreement. With respect, your eminence, this is the greatest opportunity of your life. You’re wise, very wise, and I’m sure you must see that.” Gaius took a sip from his goblet, his gaze steady on the emperor’s. “And if you discover me to be a liar, you can have me executed and take Mytica without resistance. With my blessing, in fact. Simple.”
The emperor pursed his lips. “Mytica will be mine no matter how this plays out. It will become part of the Kraeshian Empire, not remain a sovereign kingdom.”
The king blinked. “Very well.”
“And I want another Kindred. If we are to share power equally, it’s only fair that I possess more than just the moonstone orb.”
A thin smiled stretched across the king’s lips. “You ask a great deal, but I will agree to that as well.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and all Amara could hear was the sound of her heart drumming wildly against her chest.
“Fetch the document,” the emperor instructed Dastan.
Dastan got up from the table and returned quickly with a scroll, which he placed in front of the king.
“I was hoping you’d agree to my requests,” the emperor said. “So here is the official agreement. You’ll want to note the caveat there, at the bottom. Essentially, it states that you consent to being killed if you lie to me now or in the future.”
The king scanned the parchment, his expression revealing nothing.
Finally, he looked up. “I will need something to sign this with.”
The emperor smiled. “I won’t make you sign in your own blood, although I did consider it.” He motioned to Elan, who brought over a quill and ink.
The king took the quill in hand and signed the bottom of the parchment below the emperor’s signature.
Men never failed to amuse Amara. Did these two truly think a mere piece of paper equaled a binding agreement?
King Gaius handed the signed parchment back to the emperor, whose lips lifted up to a self-satisfied grin.
“Much gratitude, King Gaius. Now. There is one more matter that may prove troublesome,” the emperor said.
King Gaius leaned back in his seat, his jaw tightening. “Is there?”
“In Kraeshia, power is passed down through the bloodline. This,” he waved at the parchment, “is a legal document between you and me only. Any future rulers of my empire will belong to the Cortas family.”
“That is a problem,” the king said. “And quite frankly, I’m confused. You agreed to my terms, and I feel I’ve been extremely generous and patient with you. And now you’re trying to tell me that my family’s stake in this empire ends when I die?”
Amara would have had to be deaf not to hear the dark threats behind his words.
This was getting interesting.
The emperor nodded at Dastan again. “Send for the palace augur.”
Amara frowned. The palace augur was a religious official who conducted Kraeshian rituals and ceremonies exclusively for the emperor.
“Are you bringing him here to have me swear a religious oath?” the king said evenly. “Your eminence, forgive me, but what does this have to do with discussing my bloodline?”
“This is not that kind of oath,” the emperor said. “This will ease your mind greatly when it comes to the future.”
“My blood is Damora blood—not even magic can change that. It seems we have a problem, your eminence.”
“Not a problem that can’t be fixed,” the emperor said. “You will marry my daughter. Today.”
Surely, Amara had heard him wrong.
She grappled to hold on to her composure, to not suddenly flee from the room. So this was why her father had wanted her here, and it had nothing to do with respect.
He wanted to use her as a bargaining chip.
She felt Felix’s gaze on her, and chanced a glance at him. He studied her with a deep frown.
“This union,” the emperor continued, “will symbolize the joining of our families and the sharing of power between you and me. Is this agreeable to you, Gaius? I know you’ve recently lost your queen and must be ready for a new one.”