Jovine stood motionless, stunned.

He wanted to marry her...

Wanted her as Empress…

She felt her head shaking in refusal as she breathed, “Why would you want me like that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he challenged.

Was it not obvious?

If Richard was the crook, Jovine was the one who never stopped him from taking the key. The one who watched as he raided, burned, and thieved. The one who turned away when he freed his malice with her heart on his sleeve.

“The Emperor is not the only one at fault,” she claimed, shame twisting her gut. “I was standing with him. I was devoted to him. I was —”

“You were blinded,” he finished for her. “Am I wrong to assume he no longer affects you?”

Jovine bit the inside of her cheek, looking away from his penetrating gaze. He wasn’t wrong. She was awake, yes. Her husband was buried and any lingering attachment had departed. But, she still found herself shaking her head.

His condition was preposterous. The Imperial Capital could be wherever he wanted it, but she couldn’t be his Empress. She couldn’t be tied to another forced marriage that only brought insufferable affliction and suffocation. And, Amon couldn’t be tied to her either.

“I would be the wife of a deposed ruler,” she faintly began, looking back at him intently and imploring him to find reason. “A ruler you need to exile and brand as a traitor. Any association with me would tarnish your claim. The Empire will already be in a fragile state, and you need a stronger consort to solidify it.”

Amon stepped closer. “Would I not be the Emperor?”

Her heart stuttered at the spark in his eyes.

“If I choose you, no one can deny me,” he said. “Only you.”

It was both an oblivious and ruthless declaration. And one that made it clear the choice would come down to her.

Her head spun as the fierce rhythm of her heartbeats pounded against her skull now. She had died as an Empress. The very seed of her demise was planted when she was chosen to be the Crown Prince’s bride. When she fell in love with the man. When she gave into that wretched feeling for a tyrant Emperor, no matter how much it broke her.

She couldn’t do it again.

“I don’t want the title,” she murmured.

“I don’t want mine either.”

Jovine flinched. Her hypocrisy was apparent. She was selfish to ask for freedom when she was chaining him down to the same fate. But, she wouldn’t be able to endure it anymore. Even now, she barely felt sane. Waking up to know her death was imminent. Hanging onto the anger and fear that gradually chipped away at her crumbling mind. It was enough to rupture her.

Amon’s brows creased as he watched the raging thoughts shadowing her face. His hand slowly lifted, but it dropped before it could reach her.

“The change we want can only see light through authority,” he said. “You may not want the title anymore, but you thirst for reformation. An Empress can forge her ideas into actuality. She will be my partner, a ruler, a mother to the people. I could marry anyone else, yes. But, if her vision for Theolos doesn’t align, can you handle the doubt that things could have been different under your rule?”

His ardent words stoked a fire in her veins.

“If I choose someone else,” he muttered. “Would you walk away with no regrets?”

An unwanted truth resonated harshly within her. Everything he said was precise enough to puncture the part of her that was purely against the idea of enduring the burden again.

He was right.

She wanted reformation. Change. Good. Prosperity.

It was carved into her.

Yet, the sensible side of her reluctance spoke.

“It’s not as simple as that,” she weakly countered. “For this — for us to even work, or even be considered as acceptable, we’d have to…” Jovine faltered, trying to find the right words. “We’d have to be —”

“Lovers?”

Jovine jolted, her startled eyes snapping up. It wasn’t what she was thinking at all. At least not in the radical way he suggested.

There was a very thin line they would have to tread. If her husband, the Emperor, was to be ousted, Amon could use the people’s pity and their hunger for scandal to fuel their union. However, the line between a good story and a treasonous Empress was too precarious. They would have to weave a tale that held no truth.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Would he truly go to those lengths? Just for this outlandish proposal?

She asked him. “You’d have us act as lovers?”

His eyes darkened as he dropped the sacks and stepped a little closer.

“I didn’t say anything about acting,” he said in a low voice. Without their bodies touching, he leaned close until she felt his breath at her ear.

“One word from your lips, and I’d serve at your pleasure,” he whispered. She jumped when she felt the gentlest brush from the skin of his lips.

“Gladly,” he continued softly. “And well.”

A dark shiver shuddered up her spine. Her heart thundered fiercely. She didn’t question it. Amon vel Feyras would be wild and untamed and…

She closed her eyes.

The thought wasn’t unwelcome. It could certainly taste sweet enough. What would it feel like to spite her husband by touching another man? One who was as beautiful and impressive as the Grand Duke.

But, the fact of the matter was that she wanted to be free from the confines of intimate attachment, not strung into another one. The only man she had given herself to was Richard. The man who shaped her heart to shatter it. She knew how it ended.

Despite the heat that emanated from Amon’s body, a chill settled over her. “You don’t have to go to those lengths for me,” she uttered in a hollow voice. “I don’t want us to be like them.”

She didn’t say a name, but from the way Amon recoiled and looked into her shuttered eyes, she knew he understood. There was no reason to taint an already delicate bond with physical dependency. They could both see the foolishness it brought with the Emperor and his mistress.

He took a slight step back, although they were still closer than comfort. “Alright, then. An act it is. If I want a chance of winning over the nobles who stand behind the Emperor, I’ll need you. It can mean nothing, though we would have to deceive a crowd.”

Did she agree? If it meant Amon would play, could she subject herself to another relationship, another marriage, of convenience?

“What are you thinking, Jovine?” Amon asked, his eyes troubled and dark.

Jovine opened her mouth, an answer balancing on the tip of her tongue. “I —”

“Oh my, am I interrupting something?”

At the intruding voice, Jovine and Amon sprung apart from one another. Standing a few steps away, Elias was leaned against an opposite tree, watching with terrible glee sparkling in his green eyes.

A dreadful flush overtook her features. How long had her brother been standing there?

“Goodness, Elias,” she cried, her hand settling over her racing heart. “You can’t just —”

“What?” he asked innocently.

She narrowed her eyes.

Elias turned his amused gaze to a very confused Amon who looked tense and guarded. He straightened. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, Vinnie?”

Her voice strained, she said, “Amon, this is Elias Rainer. My eldest brother.”

Amon’s face smoothed in surprise. Wiping his hands on his shirt, he stretched out a hand in greeting. “My apologies, Lord Rainer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Elias walked over, shooting a wicked smirk in her direction. “Already on a first-name basis, are we?”

Before he could receive a particularly dirty look from her, Elias took the Grand Duke’s hand. “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”

Amon started to form a polite smile when he stumbled from the bone-crunching force of her brother’s grip. Elias was at least two heads shorter, but it didn’t matter. Threat still shone in his eyes.

Horrified, Jovine moved to unlink them when a breathless chuckle strangled out of Amon.

“I think I’m going to like you, Lord Rainer.”

Satisfied, her brother finally released his hand. “Just Elias. I don't have a title anymore.”

“Understood,” Amon supplied.

Elias glanced over to Jovine’s frozen form. “I hate to cut the moment short, but we need to go.”

Her brows creased.

“Now,” Elias added.

She didn’t need to ask why. Chattering voices already sounded in the distance. They were out of time.

Jovine turned to Amon. As observant as ever, her brother stepped away and out of earshot.

She looked into the Grand Duke’s questioning gaze.

“Take the throne,” she decided. “And the Capital and I am yours.”

His eyes widened for a split moment before they settled again. “Agreed.”

With a nod, Jovine glanced back at her waiting brother and the forms of townspeople walking through the forest. They were most likely families going to their homes or those looking for a stroll to the waterfall. “I’ll write to you about our next move. You’ll also have to move into the Palace if our charade is to take root.”

“As you wish,” he answered.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

Jovine looked back into his stoic face. “I’m sorry, Amon.” For everything.

With that, she departed, her heart racing along with the flurry of unease poisoning her mind. Did she make the right decision?

Donning her hood again, Jovine kept her head down as she made her way to her brother’s side. “Where have you been?” she asked as soon as she caught up to him.

Elias raised a brow at her direct questioning. He reached into his coat and gave her a brief peek at a piece of paper in his pockets. Although it was mere seconds before he smoothly adjusted his jacket again, she knew what it was. How could she not after spending days poring over it? The late Empress’ map — the one she could never decipher.

“I followed it,” he muttered under his breath.

Jovine stopped in her tracks. “You can read it?”

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Elias grasped her wrist to get her walking again. “I can. If you know where to look, it’s not difficult. I gather you missed it because you’ve never seen this part of the Empire. The slums.”

Her breaths stuttered. “What did you find?”

A scoff of disbelief loosed out of him. “I didn’t believe it at first. It was too easy.”

“Elias,” she urged.

This time, he was the one who stopped. “It led me straight into the rebels’ base.”

“What?”

“It’s an underground cavern where the gambles play out, where they wager and wait for Amon vel Feyras.”

Jovine’s heart dropped. How…

A harsh breeze caressed her shaking hand, almost feeling as if someone was touching her. As if one revelation wasn’t enough, another slammed into her.

The wind.

All day, it had been stirring around her, but it was only now that she realized it felt familiar. She had encountered it before. On the night she died, she swore she felt the same touch as she dragged herself across the bloodied ground.

Rebels.

A magical lineage.

A world touched by magic.

Restoring an Imperial Capital.

Jovine spun around, her eyes searching the trees. He was further in the distance, but she still saw him standing there, his silver hair flickering through the breeze.

“Is that you?” she breathed, clutching at the invisible wind that almost felt tangible.

Like a fever dream, the wind brought his answer to her ear.

Yes.