Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)

The only thing that would please the empress would be for Kyan to finally return from his travels and give her further instructions on how to unleash the powerful being within her water Kindred.

While it was quite unfortunate, the lives of a handful of Paelsians ultimately didn’t matter. And a failed assassination attempt by a former lover didn’t matter either.

Only magic mattered.

Nerissa silently topped up Amara’s glass of wine.

“No execution,” Amara told Kurtis, sliding her fingertip around the edge of the goblet. “They can stay in the pit until I decide what I wish to do with them.”

Chief Basilius had been kind enough to leave behind an ingenious prison. In the center of his walled compound was a large hole thirty feet deep, its sides crafted from smooth sandstone. There was no escaping from it, but Amara had asked for ten guards to keep watch on Felix and Taran just in case they might be able to sprout wings and fly away.

“Pardon me for saying this, empress,” Kurtis went on, “but I must raise my concerns once again about staying in Paelsia much longer. As you witnessed for yourself, despite winning the people over with the promises you’ve made to them, they are very dangerous and quick to violence, like cornered, injured wild animals. And if there are more rebel factions here in Mytica—let alone any who might arrive from overseas . . .” He shivered. “This is far too dangerous a place for you to remain.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as her head began to throb from the sound of his reedy voice. “And what would you suggest, Lord Kurtis?”

“I would suggest that we continue on to Auranos, to the City of Gold and the royal palace there. I assure you that it would be much more suited to your greatness.”

“I know how beautiful the palace is, Lord Kurtis. I’ve been there before.”

“I’ve already written to my father about this possibility, and he enthusiastically approves. There will be a great feast planned in your honor, and the greatest dressmaker in Hawk’s Brow, Lorenzo Tavera, will be commissioned to create a magnificent gown for you to wear to greet your Auranian subjects.”

Amara stared at Kurtis so intensely that he took a shaky step backward.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, still running her finger slowly around the rim of her glass. “What do you think, Nerissa?”

Nerissa took a moment to consider this. “I think Lord Kurtis is correct that Lorenzo Tavera would create a magnificent gown. He is the one who created Princess Cleiona’s wedding gown.”

“But what of the move there?”

“I think that is entirely up to you, your grace.”

“Lord Kurtis.” Amara leaned forward to regard the kingsliege, holding on to the last sliver of patience she had within her. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. However, I’m not ready to leave Paelsia quite yet. You shall go in my place to personally oversee the creation of this gown and the preparation of this feast. And you will leave immediately.”

“What?” Kurtis frowned deeply. “I . . . I meant that we should all go. I am your royal advisor and—”

“And that’s exactly why it’s so important that you are the one who’ll represent me there.”

“But I had hoped to be present when Prince Magnus was finally captured.”

“Of course you had. But as you so graciously pointed out, other matters hold much more importance for me, such as gowns and feasts in Auranos.” Amara waved him away. “You will leave the compound by sundown. That is an order, Lord Kurtis.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment she thought he might actually argue with her. She waited, considering removing his other hand as a penalty for insubordination.

Instead, he gave a firm nod. “Yes, empress. As you wish.”

Kurtis left the room.

Amara gestured to a guard near the door. “Ensure that he does exactly as I commanded.”

The guard bowed and followed Kurtis.

“Well, little empress, it certainly looks as if you have everything under control here.”

Amara’s grip tightened on her golden goblet at the sound of Kyan’s voice, unexpected after three long days of silence.

“You may leave as well, Nerissa,” Amara said.

“Yes, empress.” Nerissa bowed and did as she was told.

If everyone were as obedient, as agreeable as Nerissa Florens, life would be much sweeter and simpler, Amara thought as she watched her lovely attendant leave the room and close the door behind her.

“When will we perform the ritual?” she asked.

“These are the words you greet me with after my travels? I have to say I’m underwhelmed, little empress.”

“I’m not a little empress,” she said, her voice rising. “I am the empress.”

“You’re upset. With me or with the world as a whole?”

“I nearly died while you were away. Rebels attempted to assassinate me—here, where you told me to come. The very place where you promised I would become more powerful than anyone else.”

“Yet you’re alive and look very well. Obviously they failed.”