Page 113 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“He did not say.”

Ilya stepped to my side and took my hand in hers. The simple touch gave me strength I didn’t know I needed.

“As touching as all this is,” Nyke said into the quiet of the room, “we have work to do.”

Yes, we’d meant to meet as soon as possible to get started on a strategy to take Zhine. But now we had a more pressing matter. I rolled my shoulders, letting the shroud of my feelings fall away. “The emperor’s troops are advancing this way.”

His features remained neutral, unsurprised. “It’s an outcome I started planning for when I received Zurina’s message. Let’s get to it.”

A strategist. I could respect that.

“Thank you for telling him,” Ilya whispered as she released my hand.

“Later we…” There was so much to say to her.

She smiled. “Yes.”

* * *

When I found Ilya later,she was reading a small book by the low, flickering flame of a candle, the windows drawn tight and covered to keep the meager light inside.

This room had been mine once. Simple. Militaristic. The room of the emperor’s first. But no longer was I his captain. Now I was simply Lucien. A man. A rebel. The bed on which she reclined wasn’t meant for two, but it would have to do. The nightstand holding the candle still had a tilt to it, though not enough to dislodge the carefully placed flame.

Watching Ilya sitting alone on my old bed, enthralled with the words on the page, stirred my desire. All I’d wanted to do since I carried her from the cells was draw her into my arms and taste her lips again. Concentrating on the trek here had been a monumental challenge. But now, with a plan in place with the rebels and the late guard shift finally giving us rest for the night, I had a chance.

My legs had been heavy climbing the stairs. Seeing her there, so peaceful despite our situation, rejuvenated me, gave me life.

“What are you reading?” I asked, interrupting her reverie.

“Lucien.” She licked her lips and flicked her hair back from where it had fallen across her shoulder.

I closed the door behind me, sealing us in the small space together.

She lifted the small book in her lap. “I found it under a loose board when I was helping Elin upstairs. It’s Ryszard’s diary…one he must have kept when you all lived here.” She looked down at the page and began to read:“I’ll do anything to set us on the right path. To free our people from the burden of poor leadership and ill-fated decision. Can he not see it? That he makes us appear weak? Feeble? My brother doesn’t realize how much he needs my help. Only I can set us on the path to glory. And we’ll have it. The respect. Our place in this world. Each season my charges grow stronger in magic, wit, and might. Soon, so very soon, I’ll have more power than he can stand against.”

“He plotted this for cycles,” she continued, scanning the book in her lap. “He even talks about his ability to sense magic and using it to find you all. There are pages about the cycles of training and trying to push his plans through his older brother. When that didn’t work, he’s the one who set him up to be poisoned and—” Her words halted as soon as her attention landed on me again.

I swallowed the bitterness in my mouth. I’d known his plans—a few of them. Others I’d suspected, though I could never prove them. Our past had been his greatest secret, what gave him power over us. We’d never questioned it. “Another night perhaps,” I managed. Tonight, I didn’t want to hear any more about the emperor, his plans, or the role I’d played in them.

Ilya snapped the book closed and slid it across the bed. “Another time,” she agreed. “It scares me though, how much dedication to a cause, a dream, can twist a person.” She looked away toward the covered windows. “That steadfast determination to country…what if I became like that? If my goals—”

“You’re nothing like him,” I promised. How could she possibly think that? “Even if your title was once the most important thing to you, you have a heart. Compassion. You wouldn’t start needless wars all for the sake of securing your name and a place in history.”

“But I almost destroyed everything. Fernand’s death is my fault. If I hadn’t taken that letter from you…” She hung her head in her hands.

The bed sagged under my weight as I took the space next to her and pulled her into my arms. Soft warmth pressed against my chest. She tortured herself over one mistake when I’d made so many. If anyone deserved pain and regret, it was me.

“The emperor swung the blade, not you. Fernand made his own choices. Although…” I cupped her face, forcing her glassy eyes to catch mine. “I hope you won’t go behind my back again.”

“Never. I was an idiot. I didn’t think through the consequences, and once I did, I wanted to tell you. So badly.”

“But you didn’t trust me yet?”

Her lips pursed. “I think I did, but if I was wrong…” She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk it.”

Just as I could have told her I had a plan but didn’t. How different things might have turned out if we’d chosen to trust.

“No more secrets between us,” I whispered, savoring the hint of olive flower that always clung to her.

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