By the time there was a knock, Nina had considered whether becoming a wife meant she could request a window in her room. The lack of sunlight and the inability to gauge time would drive her to insanity, but if all went according to plan tonight, there would be no need to ask.
The strange guard swooped an arm into the hall, and Nina obliged with a sigh. It was better that Kasik wasn’t the one to guide her. Once she killed the emperor, she would have to navigate the maze of halls to find the receiving room and hope that none of the walla stopped her once outside the kancha.
Past the walls, she could find the achipuma enclosure and hope Illari was there to steal, or she could continue on her own two feet. Whatever was necessary. Kasik would have only become another obstacle to overcome. This way, she wouldn’t have to kill him if he tried to stop her.
Because she knew he would. Kasik was rational and intentional, each of his actions and words calculated and carefully construed, and he had proven, time and again, that his loyalties were with his emperor. But then she remembered the feel of his hands pressing into her hips, the way he had whispered into her ear, the words tender yet frantic.
Ask me to forsake every vow I’ve ever made.
Then the kunay had whispered into Kasik’s ear, and for the first time, Nina hoped Kunay Atik was right. She was counting on that power of influence to aid her in convincing Emperor Maicu to remove his achilla. She would keep her thoughts free of harm and focus only on pleasing him until he was stripped of every barrier of protection.
Then she would guide her attay to silently and quickly break his body. With any luck, he wouldn’t be found until morning, and she would be long gone.
The walla guided her through one hall after another, all of them the same color, lit with the same number of torches and dotted withthe same specks of gold. The monotony was maddening, but she used the time to clear her mind, to empty herself of thoughts and plans and desires, until finally the walla stopped at a nondescript wooden door and knocked.
Three heartbeats later, the emperor himself opened the door.
Nina barely had time to consider him before the walla was bowing and stepping aside and the emperor’s hand was extended, waiting for her to accept and be pulled into his room.
She did, with a shaky hand that he soothed with a squeeze.
“Thank you, Taruc,” he said, and then the door closed behind her, and it was just the two of them in a firelit room, the cool air a stark contrast to the warm light.
His room was plainer than she would have imagined. A large canopied bed sat to her right, and directly in front of the door was a sitting area where a cushioned seat large enough for two faced the roaring hearth.
The rug beneath her feet was plush, each of Emperor Maicu’s steps muffled as he led her to sit. A low table laden with food filled the space between the chair and the hearth, and the emperor’s movements were careful when he lifted a golden cup to her.
“Thank you,” Nina said. She accepted the cup but didn’t drink. Emperor Maicu smirked and took a small sip, his eyes on her over the rim of his cup, watching her as if he knew something she did not. A future for her that she could not fathom.
Nina knew what being a wife looked like in the constraints of her own family, and the families in her ayllu. She had attended the ceremonies, had seen the families grow, had witnessed the partnership her mamay and tayta had.
But this was abindingto an emperor. A descendant of a god. A powerful man.
It was too easy to falter under the immensity of that, and Nina had to remind herself that she was powerful as well.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, leaning forward to pluck a juicy chunk of pitahaya from a plate.
Nina was grateful to have his eyes off her for a moment so she could collect herself. “No, thank you,” she lied. Her mouth watered at the sight of all the food, fruits and stewed vegetables and slices of a meat she had never seen before, but it was the emperor himself who made her swallow hesitantly.
It was his bare feet, his breezy pants and loose white tunic, the way his long, dark hair splayed freely over his back and shoulders. His head was free of the extravagant circlet he had worn at dinner, but she saw the outline of a dark cord around his neck and the attached achilla pressed against his chest. He reclined and slung an arm over the back of the seat so that the heat of his hand seeped through the thin fabric covering her shoulder.
Nina had his full attention, and her heart thudded under the weight of it as he swept his gaze first over her features, then over her body. She tried to give the impression that she was comfortable but shy, hoping that she could persuade the emperor to lean closer and let down his guard. That she was nothing but an innocent farm girl enamored with the luxury of all that he was.
Buried deep, her power stirred as if hearing a challenge.
“Thank you for having me, Emperor Maicu.” Nina shifted to face him and tucked a foot beneath her leg, the cup of chicha gripped tight in one hand. Maicu’s fiery eyes watched her every movement.
“Please,” he said, placing the tips of his fingers firmly against her neck. “No need for formalities. Call me Maicu.”
“Are we so familiar with each other?” She kept her eyes on his and breathed evenly, lest he feel the way her pulse skittered from histouch. Everything was going exactly how she had hoped, and yet she was terrified.
Maicu threw back his head with a soft laugh, his bright white teeth flashing in the dimness. “We are going to become more familiar with each other soon enough. Names are a good place to start.”
Nina watched him lean forward and pluck a dark yellow slice of lucuma from a bowl. He handed it to her, and she accepted. She thought the familiar fruit would help to settle her nerves, but they only fluttered under Maicu’s heavy gaze.
A spark at the center of his chest caught her eye. There and gone in a blink, but threads of life and will, nonetheless. She focused on them, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
Maicu thought she was staring at his achilla. “Atik tells me that the people of Limac do not wear the achilla,” he said, tugging on the leather cord so that the stone was on the outside of his tunic.
