“Indeed.” The emperor bit into the circular ... toasted bread? Pancake? It was covered by a white glob sprinkled with black globules.
The others mimicked him, so I did the same, tasting salt, cream, and tang with a light crunch. Mistake! I tried not to gag before gulping a little too much wine to wipe out the awful flavors.
Careful.Intoxication could blow this entire operation.
Emperor Dolion looked my way, and I schooled my expression into polite interest. “I know my son, Tagin, spoke to you about the gods before his death,” he said as servants removed our plates and left us with small bowls of warm amber soup.
“He did, yes.” No reason to deny it. But where was the emperor headed with this?
As if he needed a moment to prepare himself for the conversation to come, Cyrus interrupted, leaning toward me once again to clarify what I’d be eating. “Butternut squash with sage and brown butter.”
Sounded delightful, and I couldn’t spoon in a bite fast enough. So good. My taste buds welcomed the rich, decadent flavors.
“I’m curious what you think of this revelation,” the emperor said. “It must’ve been a shock to learn the gods live.”
“It was for me,” Giselle piped up, stirring her soup. “Personally, I find Astan’s fight to reclaim his world, and his woman, deliciously romantic. Overcoming eternal slumber to be together.”
“That’s because your heart is so pure, my darling.” He kissed the center of her palm.
“I agree with Giselle.” Felix’s low bass gave the words added weight. “Love is worth fighting for.”
Compassion rose within me. The guy had lost his wife. His beloved.
“I’m still dealing with shock,” I admitted. Perfect opening. “From gods I’d once considered a myth to toxic berries to invisible force fields, everything is new to me.”
The emperor didn’t take the bait before a third course was delivered. Tuna tartare with avocado and sesame soy dressing, according to Cyrus, which was better than the soup.
“Earlier, when Mr. Vyle ushered me to the temple to meet with Cyrus,” I said, trying again, “I noticed your necklace, Giselle. Such a lovely key.”
Cyrus settled a hand on my thigh and squeezed ever so lightly. Oops. Guess I’d bypassed subtle again.
“Isn’t it?” She grinned ear to ear. “Piven gave it to me.”
I waited, hopeful for another tidbit, but she lapsed into silence when a servant rushed over and bent down, seeming to whisper in the emperor’s ear. Though the masked woman made not a sound, unable to speak, he understood the message.
“Excuse me,” he told us. “There’s something in need of my attention.”
Another servant hurried to pull out his chair, allowing him to stand with ease. As he strode off, an idea sprouted.
I gripped Cyrus’s thigh, hoping he understoodmymessage:Cover for me.
His brow wrinkled with puzzlement, but this wasn’t the place to explain. I pulled my attention inward. If Domino could pull my spirit from my body, I should be able to shove it out on my own.
I expected a battle, but it was as easy as slipping a hand free of a glove. One moment I was seated beside my boyfriend, the next I stood within the table.
Cyrus must have recognized the change in me, because he occupied Giselle with talk about baby names. Grateful for him, I whisked along the same path the emperor had taken. It was a relief to discover he hadn’t gone far. I could only be separated and unresponsive for so long before others noticed, despite Cyrus’s best efforts.
The emperor and Mr. Vyle conversed in the sitting room.
“The boy. Miller,” Mr. Vyle said without a speck of emotion. “He was a Soalian. The only one of the bunch. His pritis was much smaller than expected. He must have teetered on the brink of reinfection.”
I pressed a hand over my aching heart. So I’d been right. Miller was the one. I wondered if a smaller pritis explained why I’d sometimes sensed his connection and sometimes hadn’t.
“And the girl?” the emperor prompted, as unconcerned as his executioner. “Winslet.”
“She accepted Astan’s deal.”
Curiosity grabbed and shook me. What deal?
