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?