“Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. Look at you. Here you are, alive and mostly well.” Voice as smooth as his gown, his words sounded melodic. The Phaedra clucked his tongue and nodded at Zayne’s leg. “I hope you aren't in too much pain.”
Zayne lowered his head. “Phaedra—”
The emperor tapped Zayne’s head back up on his way to his bar. “At ease. We’re in my study.” His long black braids rested over one shoulder, bound by a thick golden band. Though he’d been ruling for nearly thirty years, his face was smooth, making him look younger than Zayne knew he was. No one was permitted to know the Phaedra’s age—Gods were timeless—but he looked boyish in the photos of early rule. “There’s nothing between us in here.”
“Of course.”
“I remember like it was yesterday… How you came to visit every day as a boy.” The Phaedra poured a drink for each of them. “That short time between being a child and a man, when you weren’t off in the territories year after year. Now look at you.” The Phaedra flourished his hands. “So close to a promotion. And a wedding. Hopefully, close to fulfilling your family duties, as well.”
The Phaedra expected him to fall in line and start a family like all good Ciondian officers did. Anyone with sense took the Phaedra’s suggestions as commands, and his actual commands like the word of God. It didn’t matter what Zayne wanted. The Phaedra bred obedient soldiers by promoting thesefamily values, which encouraged loyal families to produce plenty of offspring for the empire. The high profile of Zayne's family and the bloodline of the High Generals ratcheted up that pressure.
Mellie gushed about babies, but Zayne refused to hand his children over to the Phaedra. They'd grow up the way he and his siblings did, constant training and studying at the academy under the harshest conditions, responsibility meant for generals forced upon them, precious days off wasted in this study with the Phaedra toying with their minds. Any children of Zayne's would be born to dominate others and slaughter the innocent. Luke saved his daughters from service, but the Phaedra obsessed over Zayne so much that he feared there'd be no sparing his children. Especially not a boy since every High General had been male.
He wasn't sure how to handle that problem in the long-term, but for now, he had an implant and no intention of removing it. Men and women in Ciondooften both kept birth control implants when they weren't trying, making surprise pregnancies almost non-existent.
Zayne didn't want kids, or a wife, or anything the Phaedra planned for him.
The Phaedra swirled his brandy, dipped his finger in it, and lifted it as a single drop fell back down into the amber liquid. “You have such a good future ahead of you. I saw it in you after the North, son. A man who could rule. You loved those men in your squad, yes?”
The film played through his head.
Gray fingers. Red puddles.
“Yes?” The Phaedra asked, voice deepening.
Gray fingers.
“Yes,” Zayne said, focusing like he was in the middle of the battlefield. “Of course.”
“Friends died and bled, and yet you didn’t utter a single word, not even to say stop. If there’s no greater love than to lay down your life for a friend, there’s no greater loyalty than to lay down a friend for your country.” The Phaedra's expression darkened while he wandered closer. Then he traced his finger along Zayne's collarbone over the body of a snake. “I see the greatness you’re capable of every time I look at your twin serpents.”
The numbness started in his fingertips. There was no room for mistakes today. Dr. Cooper had Kira right now.
“Then why don’t you trust me with my prisoner?” Zayne asked. The Phaedra wanted a war of words, so he needed to stay in the fight.
“Here we go.” The Phaedra tapped his fingers together. “Business. You couldn’t stay away from it.” He sauntered to his desk and opened his cigar box. “You still don’t smoke, do you?”
Obviously not. He rarely drank and certainly didn't allow smoke into his lungs when he needed to stay as sharp as possible for battle. “We’re not here for drinks. You say you want nothing between us. Well, there it is. You’re questioning me. Reminding me that I watched my friends die and that I can kill my prisoner. You're toying with me just like Dr. Cooper did last night.”
“Come now. You’re like a dog that’s caught a stench.” The Phaedra plopped down in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk. The smoke smelled sweet. “Don’t tell your brother we did more than discuss your operation today. You know how fragile his ego can be where you’re concerned. He has every reason to be jealous. Look at the time I’ve poured into you.” He took a puff. “That, ofcourse, is because you’ve taken training, boy. Luke’s a man after my own heart. You’re a man after the people’s heart.”
Zayne struggled to relax his muscles. He had to stay calm. The Phaedra always talked in circles. No reason to get worked up. It may be nothing more than boredom.
“Believe it or not…” Smoke unfurled from the Phaedra's mouth and nose. “I am too… Luke is a mindless machine. It takes more than that to rule at my side. But then that’s always been the problem with you, hasn’t it? You’re no machine. No, my boy… You're strong-willed. You’ve taken work. That's why I want you, not your brother. And that breaks his heart.”
“The Followers are a national security risk,” Zayne said. “I understand what needs to be done.” The twists and turns of this conversation would weave a noose around his neck if he let it happen.
“You will. You’re strong enough to do it. That I don't doubt, as I’ve made clear. But do you really comprehend why it must be done?”
“They aren’t devoted to the Empire.”
“Bah.” The Phaedra waved his hand, scattering ash over the gleaming hardwood floor. “Have I shown you my room? I think it’s about time I do.”
“What?” So much for steering the conversation.
The emperor pushed his chair back and rushed to the end of a hall, where he unlocked a door. “Ready?”
He just wanted to know if Kira was okay. Not see this secret room. “I suppose so.”
