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.”
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 . . .