“Three sacks for every stall,” Jovine muttered under her breath, flipping through the scrolls with a pinpoint focus on the inked pages. “From the Imperial Supply?”

Amon watched her snap a wide-eyed gaze at him across the table. A delicious rush of sensation fluttered through his nerves from the attention. “Yes.”

“He’s never going to pass this.”

“Won’t stop me from trying.”

Although still skeptical, a hint of amusement scattered across her lovely face.

“It’s outrageous,” Elias chimed in from his left, keeping his hands busy with an apple knife and a small block of wood he expertly carved into a small figurine. “I like it.”

“The Council won’t like it,” Erin quietly countered from the right.

Elias smirked, raising his brow at her rare assertion. “Exactly. That’s the beauty of it.”

Erin narrowed her eyes. “No matter how many members of the Western Faction are favored by the Grand Duke, they are still nobles. The proposal won’t even make it to the Emperor.”

“Care to bet on it?”

“Do you gamble on everything?”

Though their mildly heated debate continued, Jovine solely kept her eyes on him. Amon knew she was waiting for him to speak, to explain the absurdity that he couldn’t deny. But if it could keep her eyes on him for a little while longer, he was content to keep quiet.

She tilted her head, wordlessly urging him to break the tension in the room.

His fingers flexed beneath the marble table, recklessly directing the soft breeze that drifted through the open window in her Drawing Room. Already content with his intended trajectory, it settled easily around her neck, ruffling her golden hair.

Jovine twitched, her pointed gaze pinning him down with suspicion when it circled her head.

Amon suppressed a smile.

It still astounded him that she was privy to his secret, allowing the wind to touch her as it yearned to reach out. When her fingers tried grasping the air, a thrum of satisfaction rippled through his body. He could sit here all day, with her eyes on his face and her touch in the wind.

But her pale complexion, the dark circles under her weary eyes, and the concern that she seemed to be losing too much weight broke him out of the stupor.

She was tired. Overworked for the past month as they tried mending the cracks in the Empire. With one last caress at her cheek, Amon straightened. “The nobles will resist it.”

The room quieted.

“By hoarding the majority of grains and oil and purchasing every available ration, they’ve been driving the prices up in the cities. Cornering the markets with their abundance of wealth,” he continued.

“And forcing citizens to sell their land for a mere sack of flour,” Jovine added, a thread of anger lacing her soft tone.

“Exactly. The shortage of food is not only their show of affluence but a means of profit.”

Jovine nodded in agreement. “And you’re proposing we release the Palace supply of food to the markets?”

“Yes. Drive the prices down enough for the people and introduce a plentiful stock of food.”

Elias chuckled. “The nobles would lose an obscene amount of money. I like the way your mind works, Feyras.”

Amon smiled, raising a brow at Jovine with a newfound confidence. Her own brother approved — it did great for his conviction.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“It’s brilliant,” Jovine softly muttered. “But it’s not the brilliance that limits us. The Emperor will never stand for it, and the Council will have legitimate arguments to counter you.”

“I’m aware.”

She frowned. “I want it to work, Amon.”

But it won’t.

Amon heard her unspoken concern.

“Your Majesty,” Erin spoke up, turning to her friend with a determined gleam in her round brown eyes. “I’m skeptical as well, but the Emperor has been surprisingly…compliant to the Grand Duke's proposals. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try this one as well?”

Jovine shook her head. “He’s only stayed quiet because we started small. Nothing insurmountable to undermine him. I don’t want us to lose a hand we’re not ready to play yet.”

Looking him straight in the eye, she continued, “It’s valiant, but it’s something that could smother the small support from the nobles. Even members of the Western Faction have dabbled in market manipulation, and no matter how pliant they may seem, favoring the commoners will be considered as an insult to them.”

He couldn’t argue against that.

Gnawing the inner flesh of her cheeks, Jovine stood to retrieve another stack of folders balancing on her paper-strewn desk. “But, maybe there’s another way,” she muttered to herself.

The three of them sat in silence, watching her run that beautiful mind of hers. It awed him — her compassion, her sage acumen of navigating corruption.

It was a kindness that refused to be weak under the pressures of extortion.

Amon knew the exact moment the plan came into fruition when her exquisite eyes lit up.

“I have my own supply of goods reserved. For parties, holdings, banquets, any extravagance I want as an Empress.” She turned to them with a spark in her gaze. “You could go to the rebel base. Privately — yet publicly — declare your support for the struggling families who are in need of extra food. Personally offer them a source of solace. It would be unofficial, but support and favor for you would rise, Amon.”

“You are entitled to have luxuries as well,” Elias immediately pointed out in a low voice. “You’re an Empress.”

“I have no use for this much portion. It could be put to better use.”

“Then give it in your name, Jovine. Not to the rebels, but to the city itself,” Elias countered.

Amon agreed. He wouldn’t take credit for her generosity, especially when she could benefit from the act.

“No matter where the stock comes from, it needs to be through Amon’s name,” she affirmed. “People are rallying to the Grand Duke. Not me. We all know that.”

Sighing in exasperation, Elias threw is hands up in the air.

Amon frowned. “Jovine —”

“It’s your plan,” she interjected. “What better way to enter the stakes than this? Besides, it’s time we integrate with the rebels. Find out exactly what their ‘gamblings’ entail, their intentions, their leader. I will go with you and disguise myself —”

Amon and Elias both straightened, speaking up at once. “No.”

Erin hiccuped as Jovine raised her brows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You will not step foot in that place,” Elias commanded, a stern look hardening his features.

She pointed a bitter look at the both of them. “I will go as I please.”

“Don’t be foolish, Vinnie. It’s dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.”

Elias scoffed. “Until what? Until your involvement is discovered and you’re condemned with treason? Or are you looking to be assassinated?”

Although he bristled at the tone her brother was taking, Amon pleaded with her as well. “Your life would be at risk, Jovine. Please understand.”

She stood back, a fuming detachment seizing her. “I will not —”

A startling knock echoed through the room.

“Your Majesty?” A primly dressed lady with a sleek black knot at her nape curtsied before the Empress.

Pressing her lips back together, she gave the woman a tight smile despite the turmoil still burning in her eyes. “Yes, Margaret?”

Lady Margaret swept her eyes through the room, clearly sensing the tension. “The Emperor has requested your presence again.”

Amon tensed, his jaw clenching.

Promptly rising from her seat, Erin looked to the Empress. “Should we claim you are preoccupied again?”

Jovine squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the pads of her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “No. I’ll go today. You may inform him, Margaret.”

Something unpleasant tightened Amon’s chest. The Emperor had been seeking her frequently. Yet, every time he summoned her, Jovine had declined. Why was she agreeing to see him now?

As Lady Margaret left the room, Elias threw her a disapproving glance. “Why would you waste your time on that devil?”

Cursing under her breath, she steadied herself against the table. “The Royal Family of Visea will be arriving in a fortnight for the Treaty. I was going to bring it up today,” she answered, distraction clear in her weak voice as she massaged her temple. “Rumors of rebellion and the dire state of Theolos will have reached them. I need to convince the Emperor to let me take charge over the preparations and reception. We need them on our side.”

With a stark bleakness weighing her shoulders, Jovine exhaled a shaky breath, assuring them their plannings would continue later in the evening. She started walking towards the door.

As the entrance clicked shut, a sudden urgency arrested him. Amon jumped to his feet and followed her outside.

Reaching out, he caught up to her in the hall and took hold of her arm.

She looked back in alarm at the sudden movement.

“Don’t go to him,” he breathed, his heart galloping in his chest.

Taken aback, she blinked in confusion.

Internally berating himself for blurting his thoughts, he corrected himself. “You need a breather. Come with me first. The Emperor can wait.”

If it were up to him, Richard de Tristaine would be left waiting forever.