The next day, a large crowd had assembled at the public grounds—a square area of crushed stone, headed on its eastern end by a dais beneath a wooden arch carved with mountain lilies and the faces of the gods.
A drum began to beat, and the crowd’s whispering became louder, more excited. The song of a silver horn sliced through the air, sharp as a blade.
The crowd began to split as the stallions—tall, black destriers dressed in black leather and gleaming silver—moved through the gap toward the dais.
In front, in a formal coat of black and gold that stretched across broad shoulders and was buttoned with gleaming toggles, sat the prince. His coat’s high collar rose nearly to his jawline, and the severity of those lines amplified his already visceral attractiveness. His blue eyes were clear, his body was steady, and he wore an expression of unerring confidence. Not arrogance, but control. He was giving power. He was cause and effect and the might of a nation.
If the crowd’s awestruck murmurs were any indication, theywere buying it. I might’ve picked a dozen pockets as they stared at this emblem of Carethia, son of the Emperor Eternal.
The prince passed us; Galen and half a dozen other riders followed. When they reached the dais, they split and moved along the sides of the stage. The guards dismounted and took a knee.
The horn’s tune became a march now as the prince mounted the dais and faced the crowd.
“Citizens, residents, travelers. I am Cassander Ashketh Nikalos Lys’Careth, and I am honored to serve as the Western Prince.” His voice was strong and clear, his gaze steady as he scanned the crowd, making eye contact with as many as he could.
“As you may now have heard, two men attacked the sanctity of the stronghold from within. They used both humans and Anima, and violated and injured both humans and Anima. Why? In order to build an army and seek to overthrow the peaceful reign of the Emperor Eternal—”
“Forever may he rule!” the crowd interjected.
“—forever may he rule,” Nik solemnly repeated. “But you fought back. You contributed to our enemies’ defeat; you fought bravely against them and helped your fellow strongholders who were injured in the attacks. I am proud of you and all that you have done to protect each other. I commend your bravery and compassion. And I swear, as the Prince of the Western Gate, that I will do my best to keep the Western Gate safe. To help it grow and thrive, so we can all live in peace.”
He took a knee in front of the crowd and bowed his head, as if offering obedience to the entire stronghold. The crowd cheered and applauded and began to chant “Etoris Eni Vistes!,” the Lys’Careth motto.
Another horn rang out, the sound deeper and emitted by a rider on a white horse. He split the crowd like a sharp sword, revealing his surcoat of wine and marigold. A second rider behind him carried a gold banner bearing a clawed eagle.
The Emperor Eternal’s banner. Maybe bringing a reward for the prince?
All attention shifted to the man on the front horse, who dismounted, bent a quick knee to the prince, and approached the dais.
“A message from the Emperor Eternal!” he shouted.
“Forever may he rule!” the crowd echoed again, with a little less enthusiasm this time. Strongholders were very practical people.
Nik waved the messenger forward. He climbed onto the dais, bowed politely, then pulled a wine-colored packet from his surcoat. He showed it to Nik, then the crowd. The packet was wrapped in gold ribbon and bore a gleaming wax seal still in place.
“Go ahead,” Nik said.
“Your Highness.” The messenger broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and began to read to the waiting crowd: “In acknowledgment of the prince’s valiant efforts to secure the Western Gate and bring safety to its people, and to eliminate the scourge of the man who used foreign magic to hurt Carethians, the Emperor Eternal grants upon His Royal Highness, the Prince of the Western Gate, one thousand gold coins.”
Awe spread across the crowd; no strongholder would have ever seen that much coin together.
“The Emperor Eternal also grants to the prince a marriage to the Honorable Serafin Catalaya Lys’Delash.”
Applause erupted across the crowd; royal marriages werefestivals, with food and gifts and parties bestowed on the people. And when Catalaya joined Nik on the dais, the applause intensified.
I wasn’t applauding, and Nik had gone stiff, his eyes flashing with fury.
“Additionally,” the messenger said, before Nik could interject, “it has come to the attention of His Imperial Highness, the Emperor Eternal, that there is a person with significant and unregistered Aetheric power in the stronghold, and that person presents an immediate risk to public safety. That person will be immediately taken into custody by His Imperial Highness’s soldiers for transportation to the City of Flowers and interrogation. She is known”—he looked up at Nik—“as Fox.”
The crowd gasped now, voices united in surprise and disbelief. They actually liked me.
My heart, which had nearly stopped at the first announcement, began beating wildly now. Two messages from the Emperor Eternal. One to secure the prince, one to put me away. And wasn’t that a tidy little combination?
I shifted my gaze to Catalaya. Her gaze was on the prince, and she looked relieved, like a threat had finally been eliminated.
And then I understood. She’d asked the Emperor Eternal to confirm the marriage and had told him I could manipulate Aether.
I knew she hated me, but I hadn’t expected she had authority enough to arrange this. Maybe it had only taken a message; an Aetheric practitioner was a threat, and the Emperor Eternal didn’t like threats. So now I’d be arrested and imprisoned and she’d marry the prince, and her future would turn like the pages in a damned storybook. That the prince might be unhappy in the role she’d written for him was too bad.
