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Amara smiled. “You know me well.”
“I admire you, Amara. You go after what you want, and you get it, no matter what it takes.”
“My grandmother was determined to make sure I grew up believing that I was every bit as good as my brothers, even if all the men in Kraeshia thought of me as little more than a pretty bit of trimming. I am proud of my accomplishments, yes, but I’m not without regrets.”
“None of us are.”
“Tell me, Cleo,” Amara said as she refilled their goblets. “If I were to convince the king to keep you alive, would you pledge your alliance to me in return? Would you promise to stay loyal to me, from this day forward?”
Cleo froze, the delicate edge of the goblet pressed to her lips. “You would . . . why would you do that?”
“I have many reasons. I’ve also recently come to learn something very surprising about Gaius: his most important decisions are made by his heart.”
“And here I was certain he didn’t possess one.”
“It may be small and dark and cold, but it’s there. He loves his son so much that he’s willing to forgive him for even the gravest trespass of treason. He loves Lucia as well—for more than just her magic.” Amara paused and took another sip of wine, her eyes sly and gleaming. “I also learned something very interesting about his distant past. Something to do with a girl. A girl he loved with a passion that surprised even me.”
Cleo had to scoff. “Did he tell you that? He’s lying.”
“I’m not so sure,” Amara said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. She leaned forward. “Cleo, we could put our pasts behind us. We could work together, secretly, to help prevent any man from trying to steal our power.”
“Our power?”
“My grandmother is old, my father and brothers are dead. I have no friends, no allies I can trust. You’ve been through so much tragedy and loss that I know it’s changed you. Like me, you are beautiful on the outside, but your soul is forged from steel.”
Cleo frowned, feeling more skeptical with every compliment Amara spoke. “You’d put your trust in me so easily?”
“Absolutely not. That kind of trust needs to be earned—on both sides. I know that. But I see enough of me in you that I’m willing to take this risk.” Amara extended her hand. “So what do you say?”
Cleo stared down at Amara’s bejeweled hand for a long moment before she finally grasped it. “I’d say that the future looks much brighter than it did this morning.”
“Excellent.” Amara smiled, then turned to gaze out of the window. “When Gaius wakes, I’ll speak to him. I doubt very much that he’ll put up much of an argument before he agrees to keep you alive. After all, he sees you the same way he sees me: as an object to possess and control.”
“His mistake, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.”
Cleo picked up the bottle, poured more wine into her goblet, and swallowed it down.
Then she smashed the bottle over the empress’s head.
Align with the most devious, untrustworthy, murderous girl she’d ever met in her entire life?
Never.
Stunned, Amara crumpled to the floor.
Cleo rushed toward the door and pressed her ear against it. She heard nothing. The crash of glass and thump of Amara’s body hadn’t drawn the suspicion of any guards.
Still, she knew she didn’t have much time, and if she tried to escape through the castle she’d surely be captured.
Sidestepping the fallen empress, Cleo unlatched and pushed the window open again. A draft of cold air and snow blew into the room.
Was she ready to take this risk?
“Think,” she whispered.
She leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the side of the building and saw something she hadn’t seen before: a frost-covered trellis, partially hidden under the snow.
