Slanted pews dug into her lower back. Fractured, colored light cleaved the usual blackness and painted the backs of her eyelids a heavy gold. The scent of grey dust, the sizzling ache in her thighs from sitting upright, even her clammy palms that stuck together from her entwined fingers — none of the discomfort could take away the stillness in her mind.

Jovine opened her eyes, her lips whispering the last of her prayer.

With the heaviness in her chest abated, she glanced up at the white-clothed altar with two candles flickering back at her with warmth. Of all the places she expected Amon to bring her to, the Palace Chapel wasn’t one of them. How did he know this place had been a haven for her? A space she hadn’t been able to retreat to since the work had started. Without asking, he had simply brought her here, wordlessly leading her to the altar and lighting a candle.

Jovine looked to her side.

Sitting with his head bowed, eyes closed, fingers laced together, the Grand Duke rested in the quiet. His large, broad presence didn’t seem to belong in such a humble space, but the reverence in his pose and the tinted sunlight throwing shades of red and gold across his sharp features reminded her of one of the angels etched into the mural windows.

As if he could tell she was staring, a sleek smile tilted his lips, even as he kept his eyes closed. “I admit I also snuck a look…I’m glad I’m not alone.”

She faced away from him as he opened his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Always in denial, Your Majesty.”

“If you say so, Grand Duke Amon.”

Huffing out a warm laugh, something akin to relief rippled through his expression. “It’s good to see the light back in your eyes.”

She raised her brows in question.

“You’ve been overworked. Exhausted,” he said, roaming his gaze across her face.

“I’ll be fine.”

His lips twitched but not enough to hold onto humor. “It’s what you always say, but you don’t have to be.”

A half-smile tilted her lips. “I’m not saying it just for the sake. I say it, because it’s true. In the end, things always fall back into place. I fall back into place,” she muttered. “If it doesn’t — if I don’t believe that it will — then I suppose that is when I’ve truly lost my light.”

With his stare marked on her face, Jovine looked to the divine decals ingrained into the floor-length glass windows that surrounded every corner of the chapel. Portraits of gilded angels with sweeping white wings danced among a field of wind-blown lilies, but as her eyes traveled the length of the scene, it shifted into darker tones of burnt mahogany and a faded image of a hooded figure kneeling on a bed of thorny roses. A frail hand reached to the thundering skies as droplets of blood rained on his misery.

The first time she had seen the masterpiece, a sinister sadness had flustered her. She had been young and almost afraid of the bleak landscape in a place she expected would be the one instance of uncomplicated purity.

Now, however, it was a truth she understood. The angels from a place with no parting, no hurt, no pain, and a being longing for the light. It was poetically tragic.

“There’s always a bit of light left,” she continued to herself. “Even now, I can breathe a little easier. I have you to thank for that.”

When he didn’t reply, his face masked in obscurity and a depth to his eyes that she couldn’t unravel, Jovine wondered if she had needlessly offered him a glimpse into her nonsensical thoughts. It was true she felt strangely weak the past few days, barely able to sleep through the night and feeling like a murky haze was trying to overcome her. Maybe her ramblings were a part of the madness.

Maybe the toll of her journey had finally come to claim her.

However, it wasn’t until she noticed a soft pink tinting the apples of his cheek that she realized he was…blushing.

Jovine had to bite her tongue to suppress her amusement. Contrary to her first impression of the Grand Duke, Amon had a sweetly innocent demeanor to his physical prowess. To save them both from the tension, she moved on.

“Did you know what this place meant to me? Is it why you brought me here?”

Clearing his throat, he replied, “One of your ladies mentioned it in passing.”

“Well, it was thoughtful of you. I’m grateful.”

Noticing the rays of sunlight waning through the colored windows, Jovine took one last breath and stood from the pew, her back begging for a stretch. She wasn’t looking forward to what came next, but too much time had passed already.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And, the Emperor had never been a patient man.

Amon rose with her. “I’d like to walk you back.”

Her immediate response was to politely decline, but she found it hard to voice when he was looking at her with such expectation. She gave an appreciative nod.

As they exited the chapel, it seemed he wanted to say something more. His fingers gently circled her wrist before they could make it down the steps.

“I hope you’re not upset with me,” he blurted.

Perplexed, Jovine frowned. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“I crossed a line today going against your involvement with the rebels,” he carefully admitted. “But I can’t apologize for it.”

She raised her brows. “Well, now I’m upset,” she teased.

He gave a brief smile before facing her with a hard-set tenacity resolved in his golden gaze. “The value of your life outweighs all of this, Jovine. You have to understand that.”

“That’s not —”

“No matter where you stand with him, you are still the crown. If all of this falls, you have to be standing to save it. You have authority…impression.” His voice turned almost bitter. “I’d even say the Emperor is more inclined to you than you think.”

Jovine shook her head. However, even as she denied it, she couldn’t hide the confusion. Richard was acting out of character. He was quiet, save for the numerous callings for her presence, but even at her refusal, he never demanded for her. He allowed Amon on the Council, didn’t object to his proposals, yet banned him from living in the Palace quarters she had prepared. Jovine couldn’t decide if her husband had taken to his own games of manipulation or if he was on a chase.

“Are you wavering?”

Roused from her winding thoughts, she focused back on the Grand Duke, who looked more guarded than anything.

“Is that why you’re not asking for answers?” he asked. “Why you’re not asking me about all of…this?”

This?

Understanding dawned on her when a silver glow emanated from his skin before disappearing in a blink. Along with the light, a soft breeze skimmed her bare arms.

He asked her if she was wavering…

She was. But not for the reasons he suspected.

Since the night Richard had left with his father, she had been chasing down answers, wanting truth, an interpretation, a sense of definition — anything that would illuminate the unknown that plagued both her mind and the Empire.

Yet, now, there was a disturbing sense that made her wonder if the answers she sought would inevitably end in her death. Just as it did before.

She was afraid it would crumble the small illusion of acceptance she had constructed. Her wavering resolve wasn’t for an unfaithful man who only coveted attention as a challenge. It was for her need to survive.

Back in the cemetery, she had settled for ignorance. If the world was laughing at her somewhere up in the clouds, watching her stumble over the bits and pieces of information that led to nowhere and everywhere, she was done.

Knowing wouldn’t sate the burning grievance rushing through her veins or ease the consumption crippling her body. It wouldn’t do a damn thing to keep the people in her life defended.

“You are wavering,” Amon faintly murmured, his face no longer open and a subtle twitch pulsing at his jaw.

“No, Amon. I'm not…” When she found it hard to express her thoughts, Jovine reached her hand out, curling her fingers until she felt that familiar pressure holding onto her. “This ability you have is…fearfully wonderful. You have magic, Amon.” Marveling at the tangibility of this invisible force, she hoped he could see her amazement. “It’s beautiful. And yours. And dangerous.”

Another puff of air leaned against her cheek, a seemingly favorite destination since she first touched it.

“People would go through depravity for a taste of power like this,” she said. “Its very existence — your existence — is a threat and an impulse for challenge. Of course, I am wavering.” Her voice rang firm. “Answers will bring risk, which will then spiral into chaos. Madness. We are storming into the reckoning, Amon. Plunging ourselves deeper can only end in…death.”

If it could preserve the semblance of stability, if it could spare this man of a hardship she knew would come to claim him, ignorance was nothing but security.

“You’re worried for me,” Amon realized.

“Well, yes, but I…” She was suddenly at a loss for words, especially with the way he looked down at the ground, his tongue poking his cheek. When he met her gaze, a silent intensity settled between them. Was it gratitude? Understanding?

Hope?

His next words confounded her the most.

“I wish we had more time,” he lowly muttered, stepping closer as he removed his long, black coat.

“What do you mean?”

Amon perched the heavy cloak over her shoulders, the warmth of the velvet-lined cloth enveloping her in the pleasant scent of green air and musk. His large hands smoothed over her shoulders as he raked his eyes over her with a strange blend of regret and satisfaction.

Before she could question him, he breathed, “It’d make me happy if you could wear this as you go.”

Just then, snapping branches alerted her to another presence encroaching on their small distance of privacy. She swiveled around to find Lord Maximus approaching them with an unspoken apology in his gait.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed. “Please excuse the interruption, but I’m afraid His Majesty…”

He didn’t have to finish the thought. The severity of her delay was apparent in his very arrival. She had kept him waiting too long.

Wrapping the coat around her body, Amon’s abrupt actions now made sense, though she didn’t know how he could hear the incoming intrusion.

“I understand,” Jovine replied to Lord Maximus. “I’ll be on my way.”

Lord Maximus winced. “The Emperor has commanded me to personally escort you. Now.”

Of course he did.

Nodding, Jovine looked back at Amon. “You have my gratitude for today. Truly.” She reached into her bosom, retrieved her embroidered handkerchief, and offered it to him with a light look. Whether he meant it as a kind gesture, a means to aggravate her husband, or even an excuse to come find her, a cloak and a handkerchief seemed like a good a bridge in their newly budding friendship. “Fair trade?”

His throat bobbed as he received her favor, their fingers briefly touching before she pulled back. “Fair trade,” he confirmed, his lips curved into a surprised smile.

With one last look, Lord Maximus walked her to the Emperor’s chambers, an ominous strain weighing on the older man’s reserve.

“Is he angry?” she asked as they clicked through the empty corridors.

Lord Maximus hesitated. “His Majesty is…unsteady.”

She stifled a sigh.

Of all the ways her husband had been described, unsteady was as ambiguous and vexing as it could get.