“Yes, but the question is, do I?” It was the reason she hadn’t celebrated her victory of becoming empress quite yet. Her control felt delicate, like ice newly formed over a lake. There was no way to know for certain if it would shatter the moment it was met with pressure.
All the more reason why she needed the magic released from her water Kindred. The small aquamarine orb hidden in the pocket of one of her gowns in the wardrobe was useless to her now. She had to figure out how to unleash the powerful magic inside.
“Your grace,” Kurtis said, and she couldn’t help but notice that his expression had lightened some since delivering the news Carlos had wanted concealed from her. “I have also heard them speak of Prince Ashur’s eventual return from his travels.”
“Oh? And what of it?” Pain flared from her head wound, radiating in waves. She would like to lie down for the day, to rest and heal, but an empress couldn’t afford to indulge in even the slightest bit of weakness.
“As your older brother, they feel that he will reign as emperor. They believe that your position is a temporary one only. And they feel, once news of your family’s deaths reach him wherever he currently is, that he will return without hesitation.”
Amara took a deep breath and counted, slowly, to ten in her head.
Then she counted to twenty before pushing a small smile on her face.
“Is this also true?” she asked Carlos as sweetly as she could.
The guard’s face seemingly had turned to stone. “It is, your grace.”
“Truthfully, I hope they’re right,” she said. “Ashur certainly is the first in line to the throne before me, so of course I will relinquish my title the moment he appears. We can mourn our lost family together.”
“Your grace,” Carlos said, bowing deeply, his brows drawn together. “Your grief is shared by us all. Your father, your brothers, they were all great men.”
“Indeed they were.”
But even great men could be felled by poison.
Amara had been trying very hard not to feel like a venomous scorpion who lured unsuspecting victims into her lair. She knew she wasn’t the villain in the story of her life. She was the heroine. A queen. An empress.
But without the respect of the soldiers she needed to expand her kingdom, she had nothing. Carlos might not believe a few dissenting whispers were important, but soon they could become the voice of a full rebellion.
For now, despite her title, she had to tread carefully until she had the magic she required to hold on to her newfound power.
One day very soon, Amara Cortas would not answer to any man, not ever again. They would answer to her.
And if they were counting on her brother’s return to chase the girl from the throne she had taken with strength and sacrifice, then they would be sorely disappointed.
After all, one of those sacrifices had been Ashur himself.
“I am grateful that you chose to tell me this,” she addressed Kurtis again. “And if my brother does arrive, please know that I will welcome him with open arms.” When Kurtis bowed, she shifted her disappointed gaze to the guard who would keep the talk of treason a secret from her. “Carlos, what is the status on the search for Princess Cleiona?”
“A dozen men, including the king, are still out searching for her, your grace.”
Less than a year ago, before she was taken in by the conquering royal family and married to Magnus, Cleo had been a spoiled princess who had lived a pampered Auranian life. Amara knew what a demanding and difficult girl she really was, despite the sunny and golden demeanor she might have presented socially.
Last night, Amara had made the mistake of underestimating Cleo and offering her her friendship. She’d quickly come to regret it.
The princess’s drive for survival nearly equaled her own.
“Make it two dozen guards,” she instructed Carlos. “She couldn’t have gotten far.”
Carlos bowed. “At your command, your highness.”
“Actually, I’m sure the princess has frozen and is now three feet under the fallen snow.” King Gaius’s voice stole Amara’s attention from her guard. She looked up to see that the man had entered the hall and was slowly moving toward her, flanked by two of his guards.
Kurtis and Carlos immediately bowed before the king.
Amara swept her gaze over Gaius and her eyes widened with shock. His face was bruised, all banged up with cuts and scratches. There was a sickly grayish pallor to his complexion. His neck was smeared with blood, which was caked in the creases of his hands and underneath his fingernails.
“Carlos, fetch a medic immediately!” she commanded as she rose from her throne to meet the king halfway across the large room.
“No,” Gaius said, raising his hand. “That won’t be necessary.”
Only last night when he’d left to search for the princess, he’d been a handsome man with dark hair and deep, if often cruel, dark brown eyes, tall and strong, but now he looked as if he had crawled up out of his own grave.