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“I know him. He’s a gunner, isn’t he?”
“That’s him.” Tarron’s bushy eyebrows lift in surprise. He leans forward, his gaze sharpening. “Your Highness, if I might be frank with you…?”
“Go on.”
A deep sigh escapes him. “I can’t think of another person that has what it takes to sit on that throne. There’s only you. The dukes of the Noble Houses are just too damn greedy, and they would favor their own, causing a power imbalance. And your bloody brother has been influenced by the mages of Deignar. I fear he’s lost to the Dark Arts. Rhaegar and Leticia Talavarra have got their hooks in that boy. He’d be a puppet at best.”
My chest tightens. Ansar and I have never been close. There’s an age gap between us, and our parents had always found reasons to keep us apart.
I don’t have many memories of him from childhood. I remember encountering him at formal events; balls and banquets and the like. I was on the cusp of manhood, and he was but a boy.
He was always impeccably dressed, and surrounded by family members from the Talavarra clan. At first, he was quiet and reserved and very well behaved. And he always seemed to have very little to say to me.
It was only when he became older that he started attracting the attention of the ladies of the court, for Ansar Talavarra-Duthriss had apparently becomevery good looking,according to public opinion. He started to gain a reputation for being a wrecker of hearts and a master of wild, lavish parties.
What kind of life has he led since then? I almost regret not getting to know him better.
Maybe, just maybe…
Ansar needs protecting too.
Tarron shifts uneasily. He swallows. Then he takes a deep breath. “Your Highness, we want you to take the throne. The Elite Guard will support you without question. I don’t care if you’ve been touched by magic or whatever, and I doubt most regular people care about that, either.”
My heart starts to beat again. My resolve strengthens.
If this is how it must be, then I can’t refuse it any longer.
A wry smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You’ve been talking to Kaithar, haven’t you?”
I know that Kaithar and Tarron are good friends.
Tarron gives me a cryptic look. “We, er,correspond.”
“Unbeknownst to me, two commanders of the empire have been plotting to install me as emperor.” Irony fills my voice.
“It’s not like that, Your Highness. I merely—”
I make a silencing gesture with my hand. “If you’re true to your word, then swear fealty to me here and now.”
“I will. And here I was thinking you’d never bloody get around to it.”
“Swear,” I command him, rising to my feet, “that you will be loyal to me and no other master. That you will protect what is mine and carry out the duties of a Commander of the Elite Guard with the same integrity that you demonstrated under my father. That at times, you may need to risk your life to fulfil said duties.”
“I know that already,” Tarron growls, also standing. “And I swear it under the name of Eresus.”
I pull out my dagger and make a cut across my palm. “Swear it in blood, Tarron Markanian.”
“Fine. I have no hesitation in doing so.” He unsheathes his own dagger and slices his palm. “ I swear fealty to you, Corvan Duthriss.”
I hold my hand above his, allowing my own blood to trickle into his palm.
“And I swear that I will fulfil my promise to you to become the emperor of Rahava. I will personally eliminate any threat that could undermine the stability of the empire and the safety of its people. I will treat the Elite Guard fairly and reward you handsomely, and as much as you work to protect me and mine, I will use all my power to protect you.”
My blood mingles with Tarron’s, and the cut in his big, callused palm begins to heal.
“Well, that’s something else,” he mutters, his eyes going wide in shock. “I’ve never had a prince of the empire swear an oath to me before.”
“You might be used to my father’s ways, but I do things differently.”
