The rest were unimportant players in a game she had no interest in. If worse came to worst, she’d take Ilith up on her offer to eat them.
Feeling calmer and more assured, Tate marched across the ballroom, Night, Dewdrop and the other two flanking her.
The crowd closed behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. No backing out now.
Tate’s gaze wandered to the man standing on the emperor’s left. An approving glint shone in Ryu’s eyes before his mask snapped into place, leaving only the impartial man she’d once been unable to resist defying.
Tate reached the end of the runner and stopped.
From behind her, Dewdrop raised his voice. “Lady Tate Fisher, Dragon-Ridden, gives her greetings to Emperor Thaddeus Aureous, second ruler of Aurelia.”
Tate bent forward in a bow, catching the others dropping to one knee out of the corner of her eye.
Unable to do the same, Night sat before stretching out to lay on his stomach. He lowered his head. It was the pose Night and Roslyn had settled on yesterday.
As a Veles, there weren’t many precedents in formal court greetings. In this, Night was the forerunner.
The emperor’s boots were the only part of him that she could see. They shifted, one of his feet lifting to rest on his knee as he slouched back in his throne.
There was a pause as the ballroom fell silent. It stretched into an uncomfortable length.
Finally, the emperor spoke. “Lady Fisher, I must say I was anticipating a much more dramatic entrance. No interest in stealing my crown today?”
FIVE
Whispers surrounded Tate and quiet titters filled the air. Of course, he’d bring that up. She’d probably be on her death bed still defending herself against that lapse in judgment.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she have been one of the lucky ones who the emperor dismissed without feeling the need to engage?
“Is that a dare, your majesty?” Tate asked, not lifting her head.
It was probably not the wisest thing to say. Particularly when standing right in front of the throne and the dozen or so guards responsible for protecting the emperor.
Tate simply couldn’t resist. If his intent was to make her uncomfortable, she would return the favor a hundred-fold. See how he liked that.
Sometimes you had to bow, even when it went against your nature. Sometimes you had to return force for force. Backing down would only invite more trouble in the long run.
She couldn’t afford to appear weak—even if it was the emperor in front of her. Too many others would take the first sign of blood as a signal to attack.
She’d rather be considered arrogant than an easy target.
“You may rise,” Thaddeus said.
Tate stood, taking in the emperor in all his glory. Someone had arranged things so a beam of light shone down on him from the windows set high on the walls around them—as if the heavens themselves anointed him as the ruler.
There were two ways to lead people. Through fear or by making them worship you.
The first was easier. Anyone with a lack of conscience could beat down others, making them too afraid to stand against them. The flaw in that method was that you relied on a house of cards to maintain your rule.
Strangling other’s voices never worked out in the end. It only led to corruption and the eventual dismantling of your rule.
The second was far harder. Make your subjects love you. After that they’d follow you willingly. Go to any lengths to ensure your rule.
Of course, even with that method there would always be those who eyed your power and wanted to take it from you. Only that would be more difficult because others would raise an outcry at the first sign of trouble.
The truly smart used a mixture of both methods. The carrot and the stick. Reward and punishment.
Thaddeus’s light silently reinforced the idea he was where he was meant to be.
