I woke up from a long nightmare with Nenetl by my side.

The bed was warm, and her feet pressed against mine even more so. My eyes slowly acclimated to the faint sunlight filtered through obsidian windows. While the trials of Xibalba exhausted my spirit in the Underworld, here my body now felt well and truly rested. Since the morning sun had risen, I guessed I’d been asleep for an afternoon and a whole night.

“Morning, Iztac.” Nenetl turned to face me when she sensed me move, her head resting in her hands while she stared at me. “You’re finally awake?”

I studied her face for a very long moment. Though I felt my soul return from the Underworld as usual, I’d half-expected to be facing a third trial now. A mere look at Nenetl’s bright smile and kind eyes reassured me. No Lord of Terror could mimic the genuine, gentle warmth radiating from my consort.

She was the real Nenetl.

“Iztac…” Nenetl smiled sheepishly. “Is, uh… is something the matter?”

“I was just admiring you,” I replied sincerely. After two trials in a row, seeing her again soothed my heart better than any poultice. “You’re beautiful, Nenetl. Radiant.”

Nenetl’s cheeks reddened in a mix of joy and embarrassment. “You really mean that?” she asked me, almost anxiously. “Even with… the hair and eyes?”

“I have the same too,” I pointed out, slightly amused.

“I know, but…” Nenetl bit her lower lip. “They look better on you.”

They didn’t, but I guessed that even simple compliments like mine hit all the harder after a lifetime of being bullied over her ‘cursed’ appearance.

“I love them, Nenetl.” I pulled my arms around her waist and pulled her naked body over my chest. Her startled cry of surprise only emboldened me to kiss her on the neck next. “I could devour you right now.”

* NSFW scene starts

“Oh, Iztac…” She shivered with pleasure as my hand caressed her back and then her buttcheeks. By the time I pressed my lips onto her own, she had already grabbed my manhood.

We were rutting like animals a minute later. I sat on the bed with my lips kissing every ounce of flesh within reach, while Nenetl rode me with her arms around my neck. My consort answered my desire with wild energy, nibbling and grunting and gasping. I had yet to bed a woman with such a bottomless appetite since Eztli. Nenetl hungered for me, for love, and for pleasure.

I had created a monster.

Our Seidr connection was simply abnormally potent too. It usually took a few thrusts for my Teyolia to connect with that of my lovers, but ours joined the moment I penetrated Nenetl. I felt like we were a single soul split into two shells of flesh jumping at any occasion to reunite. The fact we both possessed a totem of our own probably strengthened our spiritual bond.

* NSFW scene ends

Images flashed before my eyes as our minds and flesh melded together in a deep embrace. I watched Nenetl’s face transform into Mother’s through my Father’s eyes, his hands closing on her waist. I vaguely heard cries in the distance, drowned in grunts and sighs of pleasure. The vision lasted an instant before Nenetl and I returned to reality, yet it left me disoriented.

Why did I keep seeing that?

“Iztac…” Nenetl stared at me in confusion as she recovered her breath, her salty skin sweating profusely. My seed dripped down her thighs and on my waist. “That was–”

“Wonderful.” I pressed a short kiss on her lips. “You are wonderful.”

“I… thank you.” Nenetl shifted a bit as my manhood exited her, but her grip on my neck remained strong. “That… that was great.”

I found myself forgetting all about Xibalba, the Nightlords, and everything else. All those considerations paled before the joy of embracing a woman who deeply, truly loved me. I had needed this after suffering through that treacherous play in the Underworld: the reassurance that there was something about humanity worth fighting for.

“Thank you for accepting me, Nenetl,” I said before kissing her on her fresh, inviting lips. “It means more than you think.”

Nenetl giggled lightly. “That’s silly, but… I hope they’ll have our eyes…”

I raised an eyebrow. “Whom?”

“Our kids.” My confusion caused Nenetl to hesitate. “I mean, uh… we had sex and you… you know.” Her smile turned awkward and anxious. “Is that not how it works?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I would have expected the harem’s other women to have enlightened her on that front.

“Kids aren’t guaranteed after sex, Nenetl,” I replied. “It often takes a few tries.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s, that’s good to hear…” From Nenetl’s expression, I could tell that she was looking forward to carnal pleasures. How voracious. “I thought that since it worked for Chikal–”

My fingers tensed on her waist. “Chikal?”

Nenetl’s eyes widened in realization. “I spoiled it…” she muttered in horror before covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh gods, I spoiled the surprise…”

“Worry not, Nenetl,” Chikal’s voice said from behind our bedroom’s curtain. My amazon consort swiftly pushed it aside, causing Nenetl to let out a cry of surprise, get off me, and retreat under the bed sheets. “This was a long time in the making.”

I sat on the bed as Chikal entered the bedroom, closely followed by Ingrid and Eztli. The last time I saw them, one cried while tied to a pillar, one had betrayed me, and the last one had been possessed by a Nightlord.

The three women in front of me couldn’t look any different from my nightmare. Chikal strutted forward with the regal, proud poise of a true queen. Ingrid smiled warmly at me with a gaze filled with a deep and profound affection. And Eztli was Eztli, smirking and mischievous.

She did put a single marigold in her hair, however.

It was a single flower compared to Yoloxochitl’s crown of petals, but it sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless. The Lords of Terror hadn’t lied; they showed me a vision of a dreadful future that would come to pass should I fail. I would need to have a word with Eztli and her mother soon.

Nonetheless, another subject preoccupied me more at the moment. Chikal sat on the side of my bed and met my gaze. She seemed especially pleased today for her joy to break through her composed facade.

“Are you…” The word remained unsaid on the tip of my tongue, like a curse

“I am pregnant.” Chikal put a hand on her belly and beamed with pride. “Your seed has taken root, Iztac. Both Necahual and Lahun confirmed it.”

Pregnant.

Chikal was pregnant.

With my child.

I had another once. He burned with Sigrun in the flames.

I expected overwhelming dread to follow this revelation, especially after learning the truth from the Parliament of Skulls and facing Fjor during the hunt. Instead, I felt a strange, serene kind of grim acceptance. Fathering a child with Chikal had been the price of our political alliance and an inevitability. I’d likely impregnated Necahual already as well, even if I hadn’t received a confirmation yet.

What was bound to happen, happened.

What did Lahun predict? The son of chaos would become the father of terror?

The fear of siring a future vampire or broodmare always hung over me like a cloud whenever I lay with my consorts and concubines. Strange as it sounded, knowing that the damage was already done lifted a weight off my shoulders; the same way I felt strangely at peace after sacrificing a hundred souls to the Yaotzin.

The bridge had been crossed. My descendants would suffer under the Nightlords’ yoke if I failed, no matter their numbers.

The Lords of Terrors’ vision had only reminded me of my precarious position—how a single mistake would lead to me being stripped of my magic and ultimate suffering. The nightmare also hardened my resolve. I knew from within my heart that I would never surrender to the Nightlords under any circumstances.

Chikal was right, I had to consider ways to prepare for the future should I fail to destroy the Nightlords myself. Children could inherit my hatred along with my Nahualli powers. With mothers such as Necahual or Lahun to whisper tales of duty and revenge in their ears, one of them might take up my sword and finish what I’d started.

Besides, the imperial system offered privileges to concubines who bore an emperor’s children. My chosen mates would never know true safety under the Nightlords’ yoke, but they could accrue influence the same way Sigrun did. I could even arrange for my knowledge and secrets to pass on to them.

Eztli, who knew me so well, smiled ear to ear. “Does Your Majesty want more?”

I considered her question and then realized that I had no idea.

Impregnating Necahual gave me such pleasure because it let me avenge myself on her for her mistreatment and Guatemoc for his inaction, and having a queen like Chikal bearing my daughter filled me with a certain kind of masculine pride. My blood stirred with desire when I looked at Nenetl, Ingrid, Eztil, and the others.

But I couldn’t exclude the danger of giving the Nightlords a stable of Nahualli-bred vampires. I suspected they’d selected me as this year’s emperor partly to produce magical offspring they could repurpose for their own uses.

I also had to factor in the possibility that my descendants would either refuse to follow in my footsteps or worse, submit to my captors.

Is that what I am reduced to now? Treating my sons and daughters as resources to be managed and weapons for me to wield? Then again, I’d already used childbearing as a test of loyalty with Lahun earlier. What does that make me?

In a better world, I would have wanted children for their own sake rather than to secure political alliances or take up my cause should I perish. I would have raised them with the same care Father showed me once.

I had to win. I couldn’t abandon my descendants to fend off for themselves on their own like Mother did.

“I would have loved to grow up with a sibling,” I replied, though in truth I only ever aspired to freedom and solitude. I suddenly recalled another matter that I should at least pretend to address. “Speaking of siblings, do we have any news of your sister, Ingrid?”

“The search is ongoing,” Ingrid replied with a tone that could pass for concern, but the impish look she sent me said otherwise. “I am sure my lord’s faithful servants will recover her in no time. I shall pray for their success each night.”

I doubted that. Nonetheless, I took joy in the fact none of us would have to worry about Astrid’s safety anytime soon. I would wait a few days for Fjor to stew in his confusion before approaching him for my plan.

“So shall I,” I said before slouching on a pillow. A plan came to mind. “I have spent too much time fulfilling my imperial duties and not enough of them taking care of you all, my dear companions. Henceforth, this day shall be dedicated to love and pleasure.”

While Nenetl reddened and Chikal raised an eyebrow, Eztli grinned in anticipation. “A day of pleasure?” she asked with a slight chuckle. “I could think of a few pastimes.”

“What of the matters of state, my lord?” Ingrid asked with a strange look in her eyes.

“They will wait,” I decided while waving my hand. “The conception of my first child, though soured by Astrid’s disappearance, warrants a grandiose celebration.”

My predecessors suggested that I follow up on last night’s tension with frivolity to better deceive the Nightlords, and what better waste of time and money than a day of luxurious decadence? I would give them a feast of excess that would shame the gods themselves.

This strategy worked well for Nochtli the Fourteenth in the past, while offering me the perfect excuse to discuss recent events with my consorts and concubines under layers of misdirection. The fact that I confirmed that I could practice Seidr undetected only added more benefits.

“I wouldn’t mind taking it easy for a day,” Eztli said. “Especially since this may be my last day as your official consort before my…” Her lips stretched to unveil her sharp fangs. “Replacement arrives.”

Her words instantly soured many moods, none worse than Nenetl; having nearly died at the Skinwalker’s hands, she didn’t look forward to cohabiting with her as a fellow consort. I could only hope that Chindi would put her acting talents to use to at least fake repentance.

“I have no doubt the goddesses will domesticate that wild beast by the time she comes to us,” I said with an imperious, confident tone.

“If not, I will do it myself,” Eztli promised with a malicious, predatory gleam in her eyes. “A predecessor should personally ensure that their successor lives up to their example, should they not?"

I exchanged a glance with Eztli. Having her keep an eye on Chindi would certainly soothe my mind, if only to ensure she wouldn’t harm or disturb my other concubines. I did wonder what method my consort intended to use to ensure her replacement’s compliance.

“We shall see,” I replied before stretching. “Ingrid, I leave it up to you and Eztli to organize my schedule today. See that everyone in my harem gets their fair share of my valuable time.”

“Does my lord have a peculiar wish in mind?” she asked me back.

I smiled ear to ear. “Quite a few.”

It was time for me to organize my first imperial orgy.

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After some consideration, we decided that I would do a different activity with each of my consorts and their handmaiden; and that no woman may wear clothes in my presence, so that their emperor may bask in their beauty. A most frivolous request that should lull spies into a false sense of safety.

The first spectacle would be a series of gladiatorial combat held in my first child’s honor. Since we remained confined to our quarters for now, my servants transformed our dining room into an arena by removing the central stone table and setting a vast bed of luxurious pillows on which we spectators could rest.

Here I slouched, naked as the day I was born, with one arm around Chikal’s waist and the other around Lahun’s. While the latter arrived only with her fang necklace and feather headband, the former bore a queenly ruby diadem, golden bracelets, and a tight choker which I found most alluring.

“I thought amazons were above such luxuries,” I teased her.

“This is a special day,” Chikal replied as the fighters—an Eagle Knight and a Jaguar Warrior—took position in the makeshift arena. Each of them wielded obsidian clubs, for the fight would be to the death. “Unless you would rather see me clothed in rags?”

“Not for all the gold in the world,” I replied before kissing Chikal on the cheek and earning myself a wry smile from her.

Servants soon served us drinks—though Chikal refused alcoholic beverages on account of her pregnancy—as the fighters took their positions. My dear Itzili returned to me wounded, but alive. He rested at my pillow throne’s feet with bandages around his leg, his reptilian eyes studying the duelists with hunger. I’d promised him that he could eat the losing fighter’s heart.

“Who do you think will win, Lahun?” I asked her.

“I have not consulted fate on this outcome,” the shamaness replied, her hand hesitantly resting on my chest. Being in this position right next to her queen unsettled her at first, but she was growing slowly used to it. “I would wager on the Jaguar Warrior.”

“He does look more experienced,” Chikal noted while stroking her chin. “The other looks fitter though. I will take that bet.”

I chuckled. “You would wager against a seer, Chikal?”

“One must shape their own future,” my consort replied with a knowing smile. “You understand this more than most.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“My lady refused to let me read her child’s fate once we confirmed her pregnancy,” Lahun informed me. “In spite of my best arguments to convince her otherwise.”

“Why?” I asked her curiously.

Chikal shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of tomorrow. I shall face whatever destiny awaits my future daughter and me.”

I wondered what could frighten this woman of stone. I had to admit I found her willfulness and confidence quite arousing.

“Lady Necahual was a wiser listener,” Lahun said as the fighters began to circle one another, waiting for an opening. “She and I have kept each other company and shared mutual advice. She would make a great seer.”

I understood the hidden message. Lahun had begun to teach Necahual her shamanic ways, as I’d ordered her to. Excellent. My coven of witches was slowly taking shape in the background.

“Did you read her fortune?” I asked.

“I did. Her lifeline is weaker than Your Majesty’s, so signs were more succinct. I can recount my predictions to Your Majesty, but I suspect Lady Necahual will tell you on her own.”

“I will ask her directly,” I replied. “Were they good or bad signs?”

Lahun pondered my question for a moment before answering. “Good for her, and bad for others.”

I took this as an excellent sign.

The Eagle Knight suddenly lunged at his adversary upon seeing an opening. Their obsidian clubs clashed in a flash of speed, their blades mutually scratching each other and leaving thin gashes across their chests. Itzili’s head perked up at the sight of droplets of blood hitting the ground.

“Have you thought about us?” Chikal asked in my ear while her eyes watched the duel with rapturous attention. The allure of combat excited her like nothing else.

“Yes,” I replied. I noticed that Lahun listened attentively to our discussion. Good, it concerned her too.

“You have fulfilled your part of the bargain,” Chikal said. “We no longer need to share a bed, should you desire it.”

“Have I left such a poor impression?” I teased her. “How do amazons run things in Chilam? Are fathers involved in their children’s lives?”

“No,” Chikal replied. “As I said before, males are only for procreation. Most believe letting them influence their daughters will result in weaklings.”

Quite the savage take on paternity. “Most?”

Chikal shrugged. “The question does not concern us, Iztac. We will not live long enough to raise our daughter.”

“Of course not,” I replied. Walls had ears, so we had to tacitly pretend to accept our fate in the open. “What of love then? Can a proud amazon rest her head on a man’s shoulder to forget her lonely days?”

“A woman can have a favorite consort,” Chikal explained. “They rarely last long. My own father was around for five years before my mother replaced him with a younger captive, and many considered it an exceptional tenure.”

“What man could replace an emperor, I wonder.” I stroked my consort’s crimson hair. “I trust you, Chikal.”

“I know.”

“No, you do not,” I replied. “I trust your strength, your honor, your wits, and your bravery. Few would have dared join us in our last hunt, and fewer would have dared to fight a Nightkin head on. You possess an unwavering spirit which I admire.”

“Your compliments are appreciated, but unwarranted.” Chikal looked away from the duel long enough to study my face. “Where does this come from, Iztac?”

A nightmare. “The heart. A political alliance no longer satisfies me. I would like to form a deeper bond than an union of convenience.” I lovingly caressed her cheek. “I would like to become your husband in deed and name, if you will let me.”

The proposal amused Chikal. “I would be the first queen of Chilam to have a husband then. This would violate many of our oldest traditions.”

“And they failed to repel Yohuachanca,” I stated bluntly. “If your old ways failed you in your hour of need, then perhaps you ought to change them.”

“True.” Chikal considered my proposal for a moment before shaking her head. “I would not be opposed to deepening our alliance, but I am not certain that I can trust you yet, Iztac. The way you behaved in the forest makes me wonder how much in control of yourself you are.”

“I am the Godspeaker. The heavens speak and kill through me. That will never change.” I would have to keep up this charade for the sake of deceiving the Nightlords. “But I can swear one thing to you.”

I brought my left hand to my mouth and bit my palm so hard I drew blood.

Flames surged from beneath my skin. Lahun stared at them with fascination, while the Jaguar Warrior froze in shock. This moment of inattention cost him dearly, as his foe proceeded to swing his obsidian club for the kill.

“I am a man with fire in his veins,” I declared.

I pressed my burning palm against her buttcheek.

My consort let out a cry of surprise at the sudden heat. At the same moment, the Eagle Knight sliced the Jaguar Warrior’s throat in a shower of blood staining the ground. His head swiftly rolled across the makeshift arena.

My other hand let go of a shocked Lahun and grabbed Chikal by her choker. I pinned her under me with all of my strength before she could regain her bearing.

“I promise you neither cozy stability nor fleeting peace of mind, Chikal.” I didn’t think she sought either. “What I offer is a wild ride to war and eternal glory.”

Chikal scowled and counterattacked. Her right hand grabbed my hair and pulled, while the other tried to shove my burning palm away from her ass. She was strong, but weeks of training and the divine fire coursing through my veins let me hold my ground; I continued to caress her flesh while Itzili squealed in the background upon earning himself a free meal.

“Do you have what it takes to reach the finish line with me? If so, then I promise you this.” I leaned on to whisper in Chikal’s ear while she grunted at my touch. “When I’m with you, we will always be our true selves.”

Chikal met my eyes, her scowl turning into a vicious grin. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Her mask of composure dropped to reveal the true Chikal lurking under the queenly mask. She flashed me a look of pure bloodlust and savagery; the face of a woman who loved to fight and kill as much as I did, who had spent her life carefully controlling it through composure and sharp political skills.

I felt like staring at my own reflection.

* NSFW scene starts

Chikal’s grip on my burning hand tightened and forced my palm away from her skin. So strong were her fingers that I thought she would break my wrist, but she did no such thing.

Chikal instead moved my palm to my manhood and soaked it in my burning blood.

It didn’t hurt me, not in the slightest. The challenge aroused me. I shoved my erect manhood inside Chikal, a grunt of pain and pleasure answering me. My hands savagely grabbed my consort’s waist while her legs closed on my back, her thighs wrapped around my pelvis.

I ignored Lahun’s gaze, the bout’s victor waiting in silence, and Itzili’s noises as he chewed on the loser’s heart. Chikal and I entered a savage rhythm free of thought and concern; an ebb and flow, a constant shifting of the tides slowly increasing into a frenzied dance. The deeper I pushed, the faster our hearts pounded and the stronger her grip grew. Her legs closed on my back with such strength I thought she would snap me in two. Her teeth sank into my throat deep enough to draw blood, as did my nails in her waist. Our pain and pleasure became so closely intertwined I couldn’t tell one apart from the other.

As our thrusts escalated into a crescendo of grunts and gasps, our flesh and souls began to meld harmoniously together. I had spent so many nights trying to form a Seidr ritual with Chikal, to no avail. Our souls never managed to align because she always sought to dominate me, to control and bend me to her will.

I showed her what last night already taught her: that she would never succeed.

Chikal had been raised to see males as tools to dominate. Her relationship with me, though respectful, followed these principles so far. She had hoped to exploit me to destroy her enemies and fulfill her political agenda while holding my leash. Her concerns about the First Emperor were no more than a reflection of her fears of losing her hold over me.

And that was a shadow of her truest fear: losing control over herself.

Such was the understanding that came to me once our Teyolias finally connected into a Seidr ritual. I saw nothing so grandiose as a vision of the past, nor did we share memories. Our souls simply melded in an intimate embrace that gave us insight into one another.

Chikal was a queen, and true leaders did not show vulnerability. She had never let her emotions guide her actions, instead bottling them up with reason’s rule, because any mistake could spell her people’s doom. Chikal behaved like a sleeping volcano, boiling magma swirling under a deceptively quiet bed of stone. Hence why the few times she allowed herself to truly let loose seemed so sudden and shocking to outsiders.

What I offered in our relationship was the same thing I always promised: freedom. Not only from the Nightlords, but the gaze and pressure of queenship. She wouldn’t have to wear a mask with me.

She could be Chikal of Chilam, in all of her pent-up savagery and violent glory.

As our heart-fires split, I caught a final glimpse of a small fire between us. A newborn and flickering flame, so weak and fragile I could hardly see it.

The precious Teyolia of my unborn daughter.

* NSFW scene ends

I returned to reality with aches, bleeding scratch marks all over my skin, and a newfound sense of purpose. Chikal exhaled in the wake of our shared orgasm, the silence in the room hardly filled by Itzili’s mastications.

“Is that a yes?” I teased her.

“For now,” Chikal replied with the same tone. “I am not a prize to be shelved, Iztac. You will have to win me every day of your life.”

A challenge I would gladly take on. I pressed my lips against her own in a ferocious final kiss.

Our political alliance had deepened into a stronger one today.

Chikal released her hold on me after that, allowing me to turn over and look beyond herself. Lahun remained silent as a tomb, as was the victorious Eagle Warrior. As for Itzili, he had mostly finished consuming the loser’s heart.

“You’ve done well, soldier,” I congratulated the victor, my blood and seed dripping on the pillows. “I will see that you join my personal guard once we march to slaughter the Sapa.”

“Your Divine Grace honors this humble warrior,” the man replied with a deep bow, though he could hardly hide the disturbed edge in his voice. Whether it was my savage behavior or burning blood that spooked him, I couldn’t tell.

Either would serve me well. Every new rumor about the emperor’s eccentricities would strengthen my chosen facade of instability, and tales of my miracles would increase my subjects’ reverence.

I dismissed the soldier with a wave of my hand. Itzili belched after finishing his meal, which amused Chikal.

“It seems I won again, Lahun,” she said while cleaning my steaming, dried blood and seed off her thighs. If the burns bothered her, she didn’t show it.

“Your Majesty has always had good judgment,” the shaman replied, though she hardly cared about the battle anymore. She only had eyes for my blazing blood. “If I may…”

I presented her with my bloody hand and the faint flames rising from my palm. Lahun grabbed it almost too eagerly and studied it with fascination. The visions I’d given her during our Seidr union looked almost quaint compared to this obvious, blatant feat of supernatural power.

“The gods smile on me,” I told Lahun. “And those who serve me well.”

Lahun looked up at me with eyes burning with ambition. I could read her thoughts written all over her face. She realized that I didn’t simply wield magic; I was sorcery. Divine power coursed through my veins.

Power which I’d subtly promised to her, should she pay the price I asked.

“I am always Your Majesty’s faithful servant,” Lahun replied. She moved my hand against her chest, right above her heart. The heat of my flames caused her some irritation, but she gladly bore it for the sake of her goal. “My soul and body are yours to use and dispose of as you see fit.”

“Then let me pace myself and sip from a drink,” I declared after snapping my fingers and calling for a servant to bring us refreshment. “I will take care of you right after.”

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Coupling with Lahun proved a much calmer experience than spending time in Chikal’s embrace.

I didn’t mind it. Sex was mostly an excuse to practice Seidr with her, a skill which she showed an excellent grasp on. Now that I had gotten a better hang on Teyolias, I explored its healing properties by voluntarily leaving scratches during lovemaking, which I then healed with a transfer of energy.

When I tried to save Nenetl’s life back during our hunt, I couldn’t isolate which wounds the transfer should focus on. I now believed that Seidr could indeed allow me to heal individual body parts without wasting my heart-fire on other spots. It was simply a matter of controlling how the flow moved through the bloodstream.

I wondered if I could turn the process on its head. I could in theory incapacitate individuals by withering their lungs and hands rather than drain them to death the long, hard way. This warranted further experimentation.

“Continue to serve me well,” I whispered in Lahun’s ear after we finished, “and a greater reward might be just around the corner.”

“Your Majesty only has to ask,” she replied. “And I shall obey.”

I’d primed her enough. I would just need an opportunity to put her through the Mometzcopinque ritual for a test run.

After the servants cleaned up the bones left from Itzili’s meal, I moved on to a warm hot bath in the company of Ingrid. I decided to spend some time alone with her before following on with the rest of the agenda. Officially, I had to show her preference considering her sister’s disappearance; unofficially, I simply wanted to comfort her personally after our harrowing hunt.

“Chikal didn’t go easy on you.” Ingrid traced the scratches on my arm with her hands, her fingers peeking above the bubbles. She sat on my lap in a corner of the baths, the water covering up to her shoulders. “Does my lord like it rough?”

“Sometimes.” Truthfully, I didn’t have any particular preference. I adapted depending on my partner. I mostly saw sex as a tool to accumulate power, whether magical or political. “Would you prefer that I change my approach with you?”

“My lord is doing well as he is.” Ingrid looked away at the nearest wall. “Very well.”

Why did she look so morose all of a sudden? I put my arms around her waist and pulled her to me, her back brushing against my chest. “Is something bothering you, Ingrid?”

Ingrid let out a sigh. “I would like it better if my lord had eyes for me… and only me.”

My jaw clenched and my grip on her strengthened. I could guess her next words.

“I concede that this may sound petty,” Ingrid said with a sigh. “You are the emperor. I always knew I would be one of four consorts, and a single woman among thousands. I would never have you all for myself. Even back when Mother…” She shook her head. “Mother wanted us to work together. She would bear your child, while I would remain available at all times. This way we could hold you by the heartstrings.”

“Ingrid–”

She didn’t let me finish. “I thought I could live with that, until you bedded Mother.” Her nails sank into her arms. “I felt like a side piece. A stooge meant to prop-up another and then be replaced by her newest child.”

I would have loved to say that Lady Sigrun had better intentions, but we both knew better. As much as I’d admired her wits, beauty, and intelligence, she was always the ruthless schemer.

“You will never be a prop to me, Ingrid,” I promised her. “You are the smartest woman I know, and one of the bravest. I need you.”

Ingrid turned her head to better look at me. She studied my expression for a moment before gently grabbing my chin and planting a kiss on my lips. It was slow, sweet, and genuine, with none of Nenetl’s shyness and all of the sincerity. Like all good things, it ended way too soon.

“Can you promise me one thing, Iztac?” she asked me.

Since she used my name instead of ‘my lord,’ I assumed it would be a big favor. “What do you want?”

“Whenever you call me to your bed…” Ingrid took in a deep breath and gave me a bittersweet smile. “Can you be mine alone?”

Ingrid was a trained actress and spymistress in spite of her young age, but I didn’t detect an ounce of deceit or confidence in her words. She looked so frail and vulnerable making such a small demand. She feared I would deny her, because she understood very well where we stood.

Ingrid well and truly loved me. After saving her sister from certain death, I had won more than her trust; I’d won her heart. She loved me not because I was the emperor, but because of my own deeds.

I would be lying if I said her feelings didn’t touch me deeply. We’d gone through many hardships, and it would have been so easy for her to blame me for her mother’s death. We’d faced and triumphed over any tragedy that the Nightlords sent on our way. Our trust in each other had grown stronger than stone.

But unfortunately, Ingrid loved me more than I loved her.

Had I never met Eztli or Nenetl, I could have seen myself dedicating myself to Ingrid the way Father devoted himself to Mother. She was kind, smart, charming, and above all, loyal. Had the stars been kinder on her, I might have cherished her as my only wife.

But I couldn’t set aside all the others for her alone, nor sacrifice the advantages strategic unions could bring me. I wouldn’t let Necahual go should we prevail against the Nightlords, nor would I abandon Nenetl, Chikal, and Eztli.

Ingrid would never be my main priority, and she was painfully aware of it. She understood I would always put my own power and pleasure first.

Worse, she had no idea of what I planned to use her missing brother for…

“I promise you.” I kissed her on the neck, her skin shivering at my contact. “When we are together, you will not share me with another.”

It was a small request born of desperation. A cry for relief and comfort. I could afford to fulfill it.

“Thank you, Iztac.” Her fingers intertwined with mine. “That means so much to me.”

This way, she could lie to herself the same way she deceived many others. She could pretend she was the only one, if only for a brief moment.

I pitied her… but not enough to change.

Ingrid cleared her throat and changed the subject. “If I may, my lord, you may soon join matters of state and pleasure in Zachilaa.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Do you remember that messenger from Ayar Cachi? The one who was supposed to bear a gift on his master’s behalf?” Ingrid sighed when I nodded in confirmation. “It appears the messenger and gift are one and the same.”

I pondered her words for a second. I could read between lines. Ayar Cachi had settled on the most typical way of gaining influence over Yohuachanca’s emperor.

I spent a good minute pondering this turn of events when our first visitor arrived.

I hadn’t seen Lady Zyanya since I arranged her forced marriage to Tlaxcala. As befitting an honored guest, she arrived in a splendid gilded dress, a gemstone necklace glittering around her neck, and golden earrings shining beneath her braided raven hair.

“I thank Your Imperial Majesty from the bottom of my heart for inviting me today,” she said with a deep, respectful bow. “Please let me offer you my most sincere congratulations for your first child’s conception. I am certain Lady Chikal’s daughter will be a blessing upon Yohuachanca.”

“Your words are appreciated,” I replied politely before faking annoyance. “However, I believe you were misinformed, Lady Zyanya. No women may appear clothed before me today.”

Lady Zyanya’s queenly poise wavered a little, her smooth earthly skin paling slightly. I could see the flash of dread in her deep black eyes. To disobey imperial protocol usually spelled death or punishment.

“My deepest apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said with a deep bow meant to hide her unease. “I was not informed."

Of course she wasn’t. Ingrid’s message intentionally left it out. I wanted to test her reaction raw, without preparation nor anticipation.

“I shall have my messenger whipped for their carelessness,” I decided, though I purposefully avoided officially forgiving her.

“Perhaps Lady Zyanya ought to join us,” Ingrid said. “She would appreciate the show I’ve prepared for my lord.”

I pretended to ponder her words for a few seconds before nodding to myself. “You speak wisely, Ingrid. Come to your emperor, Zyanya.”

Not too long ago, I had Lady Zyanya’s husband executed and then forced her into a betrothal with the man’s hated brother. Most women in her situation would have argued, hesitated, or shown some polite reluctance; or at least I would have expected them to react in such a way.

Zyanya Quiabelagayo wasn’t like most women. Her robes hit the floor in an instant, unveiling her nakedness to the world. She then proceeded to adjust her braid far too quickly for her reaction to be spontaneous, giving me an enticing view of her breasts.

I knew three things about this woman: she understood her own worth; she was an opportunist; and she was no fool. She knew being invited to an emperor’s private party without her future husband could mean very few things… and offered special opportunities.

I leered at Lady Zyanya from head to toe, being very careful to make my attention seem more lurid than it truly was. I had to admit that she looked quite the beauty beneath her robes, but after being surrounded by many splendid women since the beginning of my tenure, I had grown jaded to it.

I had a plan in mind for Lady Zyanya’s wedding, but I would need to labor the field a bit in order to soothe suspicions. I would consciously give a few hints that would recontextualize a future decision in Zachilaa; one that would serve as a smokescreen for the Mometzcopinque ritual.

“You wear a new necklace,” I noted.

“A gift from Tlaxcala,” Lady Zyanya replied with a knowing look. “It is yours, if Your Imperial Majesty would like it.”

Was the gift the necklace, or its wearer? I wondered. Tlaxcala shared his wife-to-be’s ambition. He would close his eyes on many things if it meant securing political advantages.

Not that I would bed her today—the strings would have been too obvious otherwise—but I feigned interest in her and beckoned her to join us in the bath. “You are quite the beauty, Lady Zyanya.”

“Your Imperial Majesty is very kind, as are you, Lady Ingrid.” Lady Zyanya slid into the bath with the slow, near-regal poise of a noblewoman. The waters rippled with each step. “May I sit by your side?”

She was quite bold too. This would prove even easier than I expected. I wordlessly extended an arm to allow her to sit by my side, then put it around her shoulders the moment she leaned against me. Ingrid pointedly didn’t step down from my lap and kept the jaguar’s share of the space, so Lady Zyanya wouldn’t grow too cocky.

“Do you consider yourself a good judge of character?” I asked her, priming her for later.

“I would not be so bold as to boast, but I would say I have an eye for treachery,” Lady Zyanya replied. “With my late husband’s exception, of course. My inability to see his treachery was a momentary lapse in judgment born of love and trust.”

“Of course, you are above any reproach,” I replied without meaning it. “There is a woman we will soon meet in Zachilaa. She will likely attend your wedding on her patron’s behalf. I would like you to observe her very closely, since I may call upon your judgment later.”

Lady Zyanya frowned. She could recognize a test when she saw one. “What kind of woman?”

An infiltrator. “An ambassador from the Sapa Empire.”

“I would expect those foreigners to seek a settlement with Your Imperial Majesty,” Zyanya replied. “Or a faction among them to ally with you against other imperial contenders.”

So she did keep an eye on international politics. Sharp. “You will help me ascertain where they stand,” I declared. “But this will be for another time. This is a time for relaxation.”

I snapped my fingers. Tenoch, Lahun, and Atziri soon arrived naked alongside castrated musicians desperate to play for my entertainment.

I spent the next hour relaxing in my bath, chatting with two women while three more danced to the tune of foreign songs for my pleasure only.

It was good to rule now and then.