“My twin,” Eonaî said.
Stillness engulfed the room. If they had resembled statues before, now the members of court barely breathed, frozen in anticipation.
“And which of you was born first?” Tallu leaned over, resting his chin on his hand. His face was blank. He might not wear the same paints and powders as his court, but in that moment, he could have been carved by the mountain dwarves of Krustau, his face expressionless and perfect.
“We don’t know. Our mother had no idea. She was in such pain, and the labor was hard.” Eonaî hesitated but then asked, “Is there a reason you ask?”
Emperor Tallu ignored her question, answering with one of his own. “And what did the midwife say? Or your father?”
“The midwife died when we were children and was forgetful. She barely remembered helping in our birth.” Eonaî looked back at me, and I could read a question in the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Our father was not at our birth.”
Emperor Tallu stood, his robe flowing behind him as though he was bringing in a silent tide as he walked. He descended two steps to the floor, four shadows dogging his steps.
I shook my head when they came into focus. They weren’t shadows—they were four men wearing matte-black masks that clung to their faces, carved to look like vicious animals. Their clothes were ashy gray to better hide in darkness. They were the Imperium’s most lethal guards: the Emperor’s Dogs.
Tallu stepped forward, his wine-colored robe turning nearly black up close. Eonaî raised her chin, ready for appraisal. But Tallu moved past Eonaî to where I stood behind her. Tensing, my mind went blank. How could I fight four of the best-trained men in the Imperium? Would I even have a chance?
Tallu put his hand under my chin, raising it so that we were eye to eye. His fingers were so warm that the surrounding air felt cold on my skin. I shivered at the touch, although it was barelymore than a brush of skin on skin. “So, either one of you could be the firstborn of Queen Opûla.”
“What?” I asked, swallowing. “Your Imperial Majesty?”
Tallu’s eyes were brilliant, as though they contained bright red flames that lit the tundra at night. “That was the agreement between my father, Emperor Millu, and your father, King Rimáu. The emperor would marry the firstborn that your mother carried in her belly when the deal was struck. I choose you, Prince Airón of the Northern Kingdom. You will be my consort.”
Two
Around us, the court exploded into whispers, and Eonaî’s expression was carefully controlled, but her eyes were so round that she looked like one of the paintings of the moon goddess.
“Emperor Tallu”—her smile was strained—“my brother is quite handsome and has many fine qualities, but?—”
“I’ve made my decision.” Tallu looked me over, his finger moving to a lock of hair that had fallen loose from the tail at the back of my head. He tucked it back behind my ear, and I was sure that time froze. The feel of his finger was warm, and the scent of him overwhelmed me.
This close, he smelled like lightning, a sharpness that made my nostrils flare. There was something else, but I couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t grasp anything except the way his finger lingered on my face.
Then, he turned back to his throne. The world snapped back into focus, and I realized that everything was wrong. All of Mother’s careful negotiations, twenty years of training and planning, were gone in an instant.
I grabbed at his wrist, my hand closing around silk and delicate bones. He turned to me, and his eyes dropped to my hand.
A cold blade pressed against my throat.
One of the Emperor’s Dogs stood so close behind me that I could feel the outline of his body, the sharp edges of his armor. Tallu didn’t even look at him, flicking the fingers of his free hand.
The blade disappeared.
“I’m deeply honored, Your Imperial Majesty,” I managed, “by your suggestion, but Eonaî has been training to be your empress, and I am merely a northern hunter. I have no desire to be your consort.”
“Are you saying you don’t consent?” Tallu was taller than me, just enough that on the step above me, it felt like he towered, the power difference between us a physical thing.
“I would never dream of challenging you,” I said slowly. “But it is not my wish to be your consort.”
Only your assassin.
“Unfortunately for you”—Tallu leaned in close, purring into my ear—“your consent is not required. Your father made a bargain to save his precious kingdom. Now you must pay, or that deal is undone, and the Imperium’s navy sails for the Northern Kingdom. Yield to me, Prince Airón.”
There were still scorch marks on the rocks that guarded the bay protecting the Silver City. The whales had only barely had one generation since the war. Father told of a time when there were enough to fill the bay, to overturn the massive metal ships the Imperium sailed.
Now, we barely had enough whales to patrol our waters. There was a fraction of their number left. It would take a hundred years for them to recover. Maybe even two hundred.
“Of course,” I said, mind whirling. I had to be smarter. I had to be smart enough to best Emperor Tallu, even when he was able to threaten my home like he was ordering the bedding aired out before summer. “I will fulfill the contract my father brokered.”
