“You must set them free.”Fiera slammed an open palm against the council table. “It has been long enough.”
“Weeks, it has been weeks,” Tiberus growled. His patience was visibly running thin, the man’s hair a mess from constantly raking his fingers through it. “It’s not nearly enough time to let loose those who called not only for my death, but the death of my men—and perhaps now the death of you, since you are to be my wife.”
“They are my soldiers and would never harm me,” Fiera insisted.
“Like those men on the streets would never harm you?” He arched his eyebrows.
“Those were riff-raff, not my men.” Fiera leaned forward. “All you are doing, Tiberus, is risking gratitude turning into resentment.”
Vi volleyed her attention between the two most powerful people on the continent. Technically, Tiberus’s say was the only one that mattered. But he deferred to Fiera in a far greater way than an Emperor should. She still didn’t know what Fiera felt for the man. But Tiberus’s feelings were clear enough in his actions.
Zira leaned over, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we just walked out?”
“Be my guest and risk it if you’d like,” Vi mumbled.
The whole council had been confined for at least a half hour as the debate raged on. Everyone looked uncomfortable.
Vi caught Deneya’s eyes across the table, but the woman glanced at her for only a second. The fact that it had been a week and she had yet to say anything to Vi, or act out of the ordinary, was a testament to her training from Queen Lumeria.
“You’re being utterly unreasonable.” Fiera threw up her hands. “You were the one who set out to conquer. You can’t expect the rest of the continent to roll over like Cyven.”
“I do not expect the West to handle their change in rulership with the same grace as the East.” It was a low jab from Tiberus, one that made Lord Twintle’s head turn and eyes narrow.
Vi closed her eyes and took in a slow breath. She had to work to prevent it from coming out as a heavy sigh. Fiera was all fire and passion, no doubt playing up those traits because of how easily they got under Tiberus’s skin. Usually, this enabled her to push him in the direction she wanted him to go.
“May I propose a compromise?” Vi asked, allowing the remnants of her years as a royal to seep back into her tone. She couldn’t tolerate this a moment longer.
The Emperor appeared startled she’d spoken up, but Fiera gave her a trusting smile and said, “I’d love to hear it.”
“Thank you.” Vi stood. “Your graces, I think I—we all—understand your respective wishes. My proposal is this: release the confined soldiers in several rounds in the coming weeks. The first round would be soldiers willing to put their skills to use and serve in their new Empire’s army. Also in that round would be the sons and daughters of any nobility.”
She gave a look to Twintle, remembering Luke, who was still trapped in the encampment.
“The next round would be those who do not wish to fight, but have a valuable trade skill. Put them to work and keep their hands and minds busy with rebuilding their city, so they do not think to turn against you.
“The final round would be those remaining.” Vi thought a moment, running the suggestion over a final time in her head. “If any have nefarious intentions, they will likely show their colors as they lose patience.”
Vi finished and glanced between Fiera and the Emperor. The former had gone stony faced and Vi couldn’t discern if the suggestion was pleasing or upsetting. The Emperor on the other hand was far more transparent with his emotions, giving Vi hope when he finally said, “Your new knight speaks wisely.”
“Thank you, your grace.” Vi bowed her head and sat.
“What do you say, my love?”
“It’s a fair suggestion,” Fiera finally relented. “A week between each round?”
“A month,” Tiberus fired back.
“Two weeks.” Fiera’s mouth quirked into a tiny grin. Fondness alighted in her eyes, brought out by the banter.
“Very well.” Tiberus chuckled. “Two weeks, and let none claim that Tiberus Solaris does not bend before his bride.” He stepped away from the table and everyone stood on cue. “Now, may I steal that bride for a drink before dinner?”
The royals departed, and everyone in the room seemed to immediately sit straighter, a weight lifted.
“About time.” Twintle gathered his papers, shoving them unceremoniously into his folio. “Our loyal Westerners have rotted in their prisons long enough.”
“They have been kept comfortable,” Zira said firmly.
Vi remembered her time in the “containment shelter” and how quickly the once-glorious manor house devolved into squalor when crammed with soldiers who didn’t have proper access to something as simple as a bath. She wasn’t sure ifcomfortablewas the right word.
