I walked back toward the table, unsure if I should sit or stand. The tower began to hum, the floor shaking. I gasped, reaching for a chair, terrified the tower’s entire structure was about to fall. But then the shaking stopped and a door on the opposite side of the room opened. The Imperator appeared. He stood inside what looked like a closet, the floor of which swayed ever so slightly. My eyes widened.
“It’s called a lift. You’ve never seen one before?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back, and willed my hands to remain still at my side. “I have. We have something similar in the Great Library—there is a floor that moves, taking you to the lower levels of the pyramid. But it doesn’t look like yours.” I’d only been in it a few times. It required a mage to move the floor up and down between the library’s levels.
“Hmmm, right. I’ve seen the one you’re referring to. On your little tour years ago. This is different. It’s a human invention—popular beyond the border. It relies on rope. Perhaps the most interesting thing they’ve come up with. There, they have men stationed at the bottom, pulling the rope to make the lift go up and down. But here, the mages can do that with their magic. It allows me to rise and descend from the towers with ease. After all, these endlessly tiresome stairs can be such a bother, especially when you have more important things to do.” He eyed me carefully. “They weren’t too much for you though, my lady. Now that you’ve claimed your magic power?”
I sucked in a breath. “They were fine,” I said.
“Good. We’ll be keeping that quiet, just between us. No one needs to know what power you possess. Hmm?”
I nodded.
“And your room?” he asked, his voice filled with false sweetness and concern. “One of our nicest, of course. Was the bed as comfortable as you’d like?”
I could feel my pulse jumping. I was ready to retort back, to go on the defense. But Imperator Hart never reacted like you expected. So, I took Rhyan’s—and Kenna’s—advice. I looked down, allowing myself to genuinely feel the jealousy and hurt that had plagued me when I’d heard who Kenna was—when I’d woken in Rhyan’s bed. I let myself feel the uncertainty that had washed over me at learning Rhyan had a long-term lover that he’d never told me about.The knowledge that she knew his body. The knowledge that he’d been intimate with not just me, but her. In that very room. On the very bed I’d slept in. For seven months. Fuck. I didn’t have to try too hard to feel upset.
I looked back at the Imperator, and swallowed roughly. “It smells like him,” I said, my voice shaking. I’d spoken the truth.
“Smelled like her, too. Can you stand it?” he asked sympathetically. As if we were in this together. As if either of us had been betrayed. He was the only one wrong in this situation, twisting everything and manipulating us for his own pleasure.
I shook my head. “No. Perhaps, if I am to continue staying there,” I said primly, “the sheets might be replaced, ones without his scent lingering.”
He smirked, and nodded. Good. If he thought he won this round, he’d let it go.
“Of course, my lady. Fresh sheets will be made available to you,” he said, his voice suddenly charming. “I believe we can even procure some Bamarian soap to soak them in. Thank you for joining me for dinner. Have a seat.”
I stared at the table, reluctant to follow any orders. “Why do I not have an escort?”
“I have things to say to you. Things no one else should be privy to. Sit,” he commanded, walking around the table and pulling out my chair.
I kept my eyes on him, trying to remain alert to any hidden dangers or tricks, to guess his game before he won. But I could see nothing else to do but take the offered seat.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, pushing me in toward the table. Then sitting across from me, he made an elaborate display of unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap. His eyes bore into me, his lips tightly pressed together behind his beard, as he waited for me to do the same.
I unfolded my napkin.
“I do like this color on you,” he said, eyeing me studiously. “And this style of dress. It’s surprisingly becoming. You should always dress this way. You look far more proper than you ever did in Bamaria.” He twirled his finger in the air. “This way, you leave a little something to men’s imagination.”
“I prefer it when men have no imagination,” I said. “No matter what I choose to wear.”
He laughed. “We do things a little differently here. Something you ought to get used to.”
“And why might that be?”
“You’re going to be staying here for quite some time. Might as well acclimate.”
The hell I would. But I smiled sweetly. “My Imperator will not like that.”
“No,” he agreed, leaning forward to pour me a glass of wine. “He will not. But I think, you’ll agree that staying here is your best option. I don’t think you’ll have a choice.”
“Did I ever?” I asked.
Wind howled outside, the sound louder than I’d ever heard. The tower shook again.
“You always have a choice, my lady. I can’t say they’re good choices, but they exist. Why don’t you uncover your dinner? You must be hungry.”
I kept my eyes on him, on his dark beard, not trusting him, and far too aware of his hateful aura. It felt visceral in a space this small. But I reached forward, and lifted the lid.
