“People are starving. Freezing to death in the winter. Desperate. And they don’t see an emperor who cares for them. They can’t see the wars or the treaties. All they care about is if they can find their next meal.”
“I might not lead with that,” he suggests.
We turn down a hall and walk down a flight of steps. I note the large painting of a woman holding a banner with the emperor’s crest. Leading the charge in front of the Night Legion against an opposing force, she is meant to be Tela, the goddess of war. And this painting wants you to believe she leads the emperor’s armies.
I pay attention to every turn and every step. I have to know how to get back here if I’m to kill him. If I ever figure out how to kill an immortal.
Soon, I recognize our route. We’re traveling toward the ballroom. We’ve reached the massive dragon skull and the mural above it when Brevan stops. He presses a panel next to the skull, and a secret door slides open inside the dragon’s jaws.
“We have to walk through its mouth?” I ask.
“Rather dramatic, if you ask me,” he says. “I was terrified to visit him in his quarters when I was a child.”
“I’m terrified now,” I admit.
“Just be the charming woman I know is buried somewhere deep, deep down, and you’ll be fine.” He throws me a cocky grin.
“Thanks for that.” I ball my hands into fists to prevent myself from shoving him into the dragon’s fangs.
We enter into a formal sitting room with a door on each of the other three walls. The entrance we just used closes, melting into the wall. I stare at the empty space. It vanished the same way the secret entry in my bathroom did. Creaking sounds and I turn just as one of the other doors opens, and I catch sight of a bed. The emperor strides out, dressed in a uniform that is not much different from the rest of the Night Legion.
“Your Highness.” Brevan bows.
I curtsy.
“Please, stand. There’s no need for such formality here,” the emperor says.
“Thank you for seeing me, Your Highness.” I rise.
“You’re welcome, Princess. Have a seat.” He settles into a large overstuffed black chair, and I take a smaller wooden chair with silver cushions.
“Brevan told me you had something to ask about regarding Darkfall traditions?” He stretches his arms out on the back of the chair as if he’s a normal man. It’s such a casual move it startles me. Especially considering how young he appears now.
“Yes,” I say. “I saw there was a tradition where the emperor would gift the citizens in the poorer neighborhoods grain and oil or other things that would help them get through winter.”
“That’s true. I did use to do that.”
My face heats. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the fact that he’s been emperor longer than anyone can remember. How many generations have lived and died under his reign?
“Well, I thought it would be something we could bring back. A way to build loyalty,” I say.
“And why would I be concerned about loyalty?” he asks.
“There have been two rebel attacks here since I’ve arrived.”
He chuckles. “If you can call those attacks, but I do see your point.”
I glance around the room, studying it for later. Were there more hidden doors that could be used to enter? Did he have weapons in here in case the rebels ever found a way inside?
“What would you do if I put you in charge of something like that?” he asks.
I return my focus to the emperor and take a breath while I gather my thoughts. This feels like a trap, but I have to answer him. “I would set up several stations around the city to pass out gifts. We’d want them scattered far enough apart that people could only go to one, and we’d need to ensure we have enough of them so that none of them get overrun.
“I would make sure there were more than enough gifts so everyone in line would get some. That would prevent rioting and create trust.”
The emperor moves so his elbows are on his knees, and he leans forward. “That is a good plan, but it’ll take months to set up something like that.”
“I understand,” I say.
