“I should talk to her. After the way she acted at the feast, who knows what she’s thinking?” Amilia stood.
Just as the two moved toward the door, it burst open and Saldur stormed in. The regent was red-faced, his jaw clenched. He slammed the door behind him.
“Here!” Saldur shoved a parchment in Amilia’s face. A few lines of uneven text were scrawled across it. “Make Modina learn this and have her reciting it on the balcony in one hour—exactly as written!”
Wheeling to leave, he opened the door.
“No,” Amilia said softly.
Saldur froze. Slowly, he closed the door and turned around. He glared at her. “What did you say?”
“I won’t ask Modina to lie about Sir Breckton. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” She looked at the parchment and read aloud, “ ‘My loyal subjects…’ ” She skipped down. “ ‘… found evidence… Sir Breckton and Sir Hadrian… guilty of treason against the empire… committed the vilest crime both to man and god and must pay for their evil.’ ” Amilia looked up. “I won’t ask her to read this.”
“How dare you.” Saldur rose to his full height and glowered down at her.
“How dare you?” she retorted defiantly. “Sir Breckton is a great man. He is loyal, considerate, kind, honora—”
Saldur struck Amilia hard across the face, sending her to the floor. Nimbus started to move to her but stopped short. Saldur ignored him.
“You were a scullery girl! Or have you forgotten? I made you! Have you enjoyed pretending to be a lady? Did you like wearing fine dresses and riding off to the hunt, where knights fawned all over you? I’m sure you did, but don’t let your feelings for Breckton go to your head. This is no game and you should know better. I understand you’re upset. I understand you like the man. But none of this matters. I am building an empire here! The fate of future generations is in our hands. You can’t toss that aside because you have a crush on someone you think looks dashing in a suit of armor. You want a knight? I’ll arrange for you to have any knight in the kingdom. I promise. I can even arrange a marriage with a crown prince, if that is what you wish. How’s that? Is that grand enough for you, Amilia? Would you like to be a queen? Done. What matters right now is that we keep the empire from crumbling. I’ve given you power because I admire your cunning. But this is not negotiable. Not this time.
“There might only be a few hundred rioters out there now,” Saldur said, pointing to her window, “but word will spread and in a day or two we could be facing a civil war! Do you want that? Do you want to force me to send the army out to slaughter hundreds of citizens? Do you want to see the city set on fire? I will not have it. Do you hear me?”
Saldur grew angrier and more animated as his tirade continued. “I like you, Amilia. You’ve served me well. You’re smarter than any ten nobles, and I honestly plan to see you rewarded handsomely for your service. I’m serious about making you a queen. I will need loyal, intelligent monarchs governing the imperial provinces. You’ve proved I can count on you and that you can think for yourself. I value such qualities. I admire your spirit, but not this time. You will obey me, Amilia, or by Maribor’s name, I’ll have you executed with the rest!”
Amilia shook. Her lower lip trembled even as she clenched her jaw. Still clutching the paper, she balled her hands into tight fists and breathed deeply as she tried to control herself. “Then you’d better order another stake for the bonfire,” she said, tearing the parchment in two.
He glared at her for a moment longer and then threw open the door and two seret entered. “Take her!”
CHAPTER 17
THE FINAL DARKNESS
Jasper was back.
Arista lay on her side, face flat against the stone. She heard the rat skittering somewhere in the dark. The sound sent chills through her.
Everything hurt from lying on the floor. Worst of all, her feet and hands were numb nearly all the time now. Occasionally, Arista woke to the feel of her leg moving—the only indication that Jasper was eating her foot. Horrified, she would try to kick only to find her effort barely shifted her leg. She was too weak.
No food had arrived for a very long time, and Arista wondered how many days ago they had stopped feeding her. She was so feeble that even breathing took concentrated effort. The coming flames were now a welcome thought. That fate would be better than this slow death, being eaten alive by a rat she called by name.
Terrible ideas assailed her exhausted, unguarded mind.