“It’s you, all right?”
Yarif stopped pacing. “It’s me, what?” An icy tendril of dread filled the pit of his belly.
“The emperor has decided to put another on the throne.You’reto be their consort.”
Oh, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Yes, Yarif would be allowed to live, but as a figurehead. Teeth clenched, he growled, “And who, pray tell, would he see on the throne?”
Draylon dropped his voice to a nearly inaudible level. “Me.”
“You?” A commander. A military man. Well, the decision made sense. Install his pet killer, and Emperor Soland would have one less kingdom to worry about. Then the other half of that revelation hit home. “What? Marry you!” Which deity should Yarif blame?
“Why not me?” Draylon’s tones held menace but couldn’t match Yarif’s anger.
“You killed my father, for one. I’m not sure about my brother either. How can I marry my father’s killer?”
Draylon braced both hands on the table’s edge. “It was a battle initiated by your father when he sent assassins to Cormir. Assassins I apprehended. When you start a fight, the outcome is not always as you planned. I was victorious. He was not.”
“Soyousay.” Yarif wanted to slap the righteous indignation off Draylon’s face. “You thought I was a traitor.”
“I’m still not convinced you aren’t.”
What? Why the ignorant… “Oh, deities. You agreed to this nonsense, didn’t you?”
Draylon paused before answering, “I obey my emperor’s commands.”
Clarity hit with the force of a slap. “You don’t want this marriage any more than I do.”
Draylon shook his head, lips pursed as though he’d bitten something sour. “I loathe the thought.”
“Why not refuse?”
Draylon rolled his eyes upward, meeting Yarif’s gaze. “One doesn’t simply tell the emperor no.”
Panic closed Yarif’s throat.Breathe, breathe. I must breathe!
Draylon released a long, put-upon sigh. “Look, Emperor Soland decided you should wed. Whether me or someone else, you cannot escape your fate.”
The end of DiRici rule, for Yarif had no illusions about his role, dragged out at parties to show the people,See, I was kind and merciful to your royal family.His voice came out smaller than intended. “What of my brother and sister?”
“They’ll accompany their mother to Cormira as guests of the emperor.”
Hostages to ensure Yarif played nice. “And if I say no?”
Draylon leaned back in his chair. “Then I don’t know. His Imperial Majesty doesn’t like hearing that word. Saying it? Yes. Hearing it? No.”
“I see.” Yarif reached for his wineglass only to find it, too, now lay in shards on the stone pavers.
Draylon offered his own newly filled glass. “I’d give you something stronger if I could.”
Yarif snatched the glass and drained the contents before Draylon could drop his hand.
Something more substantial wouldn’t have gone amiss. “I’d gladly accept if I could.”
The last vestiges of sunlight showed Draylon’s wry smile. Sincere. Self-deprecating. Not one of those court-practiced things. Maybe he was simply a good actor.
Resentment crept into Yarif’s reply. “Congratulations. Quite the promotion, from commander to king.” Forget the lives ruined in the process.
“You probably won’t believe this, but I tried to turn down the title.”
