I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck, or lose my balance.
“Tell me about visiting Korteria.” His fingers pressed into my back, right over old wounds. I flinched. “Tell me what Brockton said in his final moments.”
“I–I’m sorry,” I said, sweat beading behind my neck.
“Something the matter?” he asked, his aura suddenly predatory.
“I suddenly feel … a little faint.
“From your gryphon-shit pregnancy?” he asked. “You’ve blossomed into quite a young woman. But you will not mind my saying, you’ve not blossomed into a mother. Not yet. I think you feel fine. You’re clearly untouched by that animal.”
My chest tightened. “How would you know?”
He grazed my cheek with his palm, and it took all I had not to shrink back from his touch.
“You’re not bruised.” He looked down the cut of my dress, following the V of the red material to my waist. “Your northern Imperator should’ve known better. Covered you up.” He slid his hands down my arms, holding them out for display. “I can tell. I’ve seen what Kane has done to his lovers in the past. And you’re not one of them.”
My heart was beating too hard for me to respond.
“Just know this,” he said, lifting me again in his arms. He turned in a circle, and set me on my feet. “Whatever Brockton told you in Vrukshire was a lie.”
“Vrukshire?” I shook my head. “I’m confused. He told me nothing. Because I—”
“Enough. I refuse to play this game when we both know the truth.” He nodded, pressing me against him. “You were there. And I know exactly what you did. I know what Rhyan did as well. And whatever my nephew said to you, in his final, desperate moments, was a lie, and not to be repeated.” He pulled back, just enough for his black eyes to bore into mine.
My breath came short, my lips pulling back into a snarl I couldn’t stop. But then I realized—he was afraid. He knew that Brockton had told me about Jules. He knew I carried the Empire’s deepest, most deadly secret. That was what had stayed his hand all these months—that was why he’d sent Tristan to hunt me.
“Now, my lady, you end this farce of an engagement, and come back to the South willingly. Or I will drag you there myself, along with Lady Meera. We’ll have you both bred within a week—your aunt has already given her blessing. And if by some Moriel-fucking chance that that gryphon-shit Arkturion did get you pregnant—or, more likely, that the forsworn-shit Rhyan did—we’ll remove it. We can clean you out. Then we’ll start fresh.”
“Tell me then,” I said seething. “What do you think Brockton told me?”
He bared his teeth. “Nothing at all. Because, as you said, you weren’t there.”
“Exactly,” I gritted.
“Consider carefully. Because, if you had the conversation I suspect you did, you’d be in grave danger. Certain secrets can be shared, but only if you’re willing to accept the consequences. When you know too much, you become a liability. As do those around you.”
“Meera wasn’t there,” I said quickly.
“No, no, of course, not. But Lord Rhyan was.” He glanced over at him again. “And if you think I haven’t figured out exactly how he got there, or how he got you out of the Shadow Stronghold after I locked you in, then you’re not as smart as they keep telling me you are. Your little bodyguard is useless to you—as is his entire Ka. Remember Tristan? Your old hunter? One word from me and he’ll expose Rhyan. And the Palace is the perfect place to do it. The wards won’t let him use his vorakh. It’s the one place he can’t escape. When secrets are under threat of exposure, everyone is in danger. And you, my lady, are trapped.”
The music grew louder, my ears ringing. The Imperator lifted me one last time before dropping me, his hands squeezing my wrists.
“End the engagement and these games, and your true paramour, the one you’re actually fucking, lives. Fail, and you’ll watch him fall alongside your country.” The music ended and he walked away, leaving my heart pounding outside of my chest.
Rhyan started toward me, but Imperator Hart cut him off, reaching for my waist.
“I told you to convince him!” he snarled.
“I tried! It doesn’t matter!” I practically yelled. “He doesn’t care about that.”
“Why? What the fuck did he say to you?” Imperator Hart gripped my arms.
I glared, breaking free from his hold. “He said he’s coming to claim me. And, if I don’t give in, that’s the end of Rhyan. Because he knows. He knows about Rhyan’s vorakh.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
TRISTAN
