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“Duke Valerian of Kenter, Prince Eamon of Kostos, and…” Her father hesitated for just a moment before finishing, “Prince Drystan of the Erdurian Empire.”
“I will never marry an Erdurian,” she snarled. “I will never serve the Empire. Do you expect me to smile and charm Prince Drystan, knowing what Emperor Hyperion did to Mother? Knowing that his orders sent her ship to the bottom of the Tranquil Sea?”
At once, the anger bled from his face, giving way to heartbreaking sorrow. “I understand, my love,” he breathed, gently tucking a stray braid behind Riona’s ear. “Do you think it has been easy for me to face the likelihood of your marriage to the prince? The Emperor took the love of my life from me, and now his son is poised to take my only daughter. It will kill me to watch you leave again, but this is what must be done—”
“For the good of Rivosa,” Riona finished with a sigh. “I’ve heard this story before.”
“I want what is best for you, my love.Neverdoubt that. Do not assume that because I did not speak up today, heated words have not been exchanged behind closed doors. Your uncle and I have fought long and hard about this, but in truth, I see no other route to ending the war without further bloodshed. If this is the sacrifice our kingdom demands of us, we must pay it.” Her father tried for an encouraging smile, but didn’t quite manage it. “Whoever you marry, someday you and your husband will sit on the thrones of the land you will soon call home. And if you are fortunate, you will grow to love him and his people, just as your mother did. That is better than sitting on some council, is it not?”
Better than losing everything and everyone I love, so I can join the court of the man who ordered the attack on my mother’s ship? Who would just as easily bury a dagger in my back?
No. I almost lost everything once before, and I would sooner die than let it happen again.
She lifted her chin, holding her father’s gaze. “I will find another way.”
“It’s not going to work, my love. The suitors will arrive within the week, so consider this matter closed.” He shook his head sadly. “By the year’s end, you will be married.”
ChapterSix
The Liar
Ablade arced toward Auberon’s face.
He knocked it aside and swung his sword low, aiming for Walther’s stomach. Steel flashed in the sunlight as Walther parried, his sword cleaving the air with a shrill whistle. The edge caught the side of Auberon’s bicep, and a thin line of blood welled under the slit in his tunic.
“You’ll have to be faster than that,” Walther taunted, grinning. Sweat shone across his brow, plastering his dark curls to his forehead. “Next time, it won’t be your arm that I hit.”
“Do it again.”
Auberon sank into a defensive position. His muscles ached from sparring, and the cloudless sky offered no reprieve from the sun, blazing even at the end of autumn. His tunic was already soaked through with perspiration—a fact which served only to excite the young noblewomen watching from the pavilion to his left, giggling and whispering to one another behind their lacy fans.
Walther’s sword sailed toward Auberon’s chest. He met the blow with one of his own, locking the blades between them. Auberon’s arms shook with the effort of holding his friend at bay. Walther was twenty-one, only a year older than Auberon, but he was huge—muscle from head to toe.
Without warning, Auberon twisted and dropped into a crouch, pulling a small dagger from the leg of his boot in one fluid movement. He sprang to his feet just as Walther regained his balance and turned, stopping short when Auberon leveled the blade at his throat.
“Not faster,” he said, panting. “Just smarter.”
Walther stepped back, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his arm. “What if my blade were poisoned?”
He smiled and returned his sword to the sheath at his hip, then the dagger to the one in his boot. “Then you’d better hope it was quick enough to kill me before I repaid the favor.”
A steward clad in the crisp white livery of the royal staff started toward them from the far side of the gardens, his hands clasped behind his back. Beyond him, the palace seemed to glow under the sunlight, all pristine white stone and gleaming golden domes. It was a vast, sweeping estate with elegant curves, gilded spires, and intricately carved pillars—the beating heart of the Erdurian Empire.
“Looks like the Emperor has need of you,” Walther said, nodding toward the steward who was swiftly approaching.
“Yes, he no doubt wants to make sure I haven’t forgotten my orders—as if it were remotely possible to forget something of this magnitude. I’ll find you later.”
Walther bade him farewell, and Auberon followed the steward across the gardens, winking at the court ladies who blushed as he passed. They walked through a series of stone archways covered in ivy and climbing roses, then into the southern wing of the palace, their footsteps echoing down the bright, airy corridor. When they arrived at the outer chamber, Auberon sprawled across the settee while the steward poured tea from a set on the low central table. He idly ran his fingers over the scratch Walther’s blade had left in his bicep. It was the first time his friend had landed a blow on him in a week and a half.
“That’s not very princely posture,” Emperor Hyperion said as he strode into the room. He was not a tall man, nor especially well-muscled, but his movements were laced with a regal authority Auberon had always envied. He dismissed the steward with a wave of his hand, his slate gray eyes following the man as he bowed and left the room.
Auberon folded his arms behind his head and grinned. “Oh, but I’m so very good at posturing.”
Hyperion shot him a look that was half weary, half amused, and gestured for Auberon to join him at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the glass, they could see beyond the gleaming white manors of the upper district to the southern port. Large sails emblazoned with the royal crest stretched high into the sky, their gentle flapping giving the double-headed eagle the appearance of flight.
“Everything has been prepared for your voyage to Rivosa. You and Drystan will cast off tomorrow at dawn, and you’ll be traveling with a complement of two dozen guards. Keep them close while dealing with the Rivosans. With the bad blood between our countries, they are certain to see you as a threat.” Hyperion glanced at him sidelong. “Brigham and Osric have apprised you of the task I’ve given you?”
He nodded. “In short, verify that the eudorite mines exist and secure as much of the ore as possible for the Empire.”
