Page 35 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

I rose as well, fighting against the conflicting mess of feelings trying to weigh me down. “Do you need theses?” I gestured to the forgotten pitcher and soiled towel.

“Leave them. I put anything down here that I want the maids to replace.”

The comment caught me off guard, halting my steps as I traced to my chamber. “They don’t go in your room?” They’d come in mine often enough, straightening the sheets, refilling my basin of washing water.

“No one but me.” That look…I couldn’t place it. Nor did I have time as he turned and headed for his door.

“Thank you,” I said. Now he froze, glancing back over one shoulder, his dark hair hiding part of his face where it fell to brush his strong cheek. “For coming to my aid. And for the ointment.”

“It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It should have been. Everything would have been easier if it was.

Once in my room, I slid onto the bed fully clothed, careful to leave my injured cheek pointed toward the ceiling. I should have kissed him. It could have been my opening. The one chance to sink under his skin and learn more of his secrets—and Ryszard’s. But at the last moment I’d panicked, thrown off and tripped up by the one thing I never saw coming.

My own foolish heart.

Chapter16

Lucien

Racing thoughts woke me long before the sun crested the far hills. Ilya. Her bravery. My failure to protect her. The softness of her skin under my touch.

The last things I should be thinking about.

No amount of training in the yard this morning cleared my head. Even when my emperor summoned me to the war room, I couldn’t ponder the reason why. All my rogue thoughts lay with her. Was Ilya awake? Had her face begun to heal?

Sweat slid down my back as I traversed the castle halls, bustling with morning activity. I moved on instinct alone, barely giving thought to the turns I made or the doors I passed through. The castle had become a home, one I knew as well as my own hands.

Two guards saluted as I approached the war room. “Captain,” one said.

I nodded my head in his direction and reached for the door.

The guard held up his hand. “Sir, the emperor, he—”

Too late.

I froze at the sight before me. Kasida sat on the map table, her legs wrapped around my emperor. Their lips were locked together as tightly as their arms around one another. Emperor Ryszard pushed away from her, almost knocking her back onto the maps. Table legs screeched against the stone. Figurines warbled from their positions and clattered to the floor.

My fist curled and uncurled, the only part of me that moved. I should have knocked. Normally, I would have, but my thoughts were anywhere but where they should be.

The emperor coughed. “Here already.”

Kasida slid off the table, knocking more pieces to the floor as she grabbed her helm. I’d suspected something from the lingering looks she aimed our emperor’s way. They went deeper than admiration or fatherly affection—too much heat and desire. But I’d thought it one-sided. How wrong I’d been.

“Apologies, my emperor.” I bowed my head in reverence. “You called for me.”

“So I did.” He straightened the heavy cloak about his shoulders.

When had it progressed this far? Why? Ever since I was a boy, he’d warned us away from romantic relationships. Unnecessary distractions, he called them.Attachment makes you soft, weak, too easily led astray.Didn’t I know? Ilya pulled at my thoughts, and she wasn’t even mine. Emperor Ryszard always focused on a higher calling—uniting the city-states—and trained us to do the same. Committed relationships were not abided. Even passing dalliances were discouraged lest they lead to something more.

Kasida smirked as she passed by me on the way to the door. I followed her with my eyes until she was out of sight but didn’t give her the pleasure of turning my head away from our emperor. The doors rattled at my back as she left. Was it just a physical liaison between them? Could anything be so simple for two people tied together as we all were? Or was it—

“My scouts sent word of trouble in the hills.” Emperor Ryszard returned a piece to the map, never taking his attention off me.

“What kind of trouble?” I asked. The awkward air of moments ago vanished. This was us. Plotting together. Discussing strategy. Expanding the empire. In a heartbeat, he’d pushed the event away and restored our relationship to its rightful place.

I removed my helm and approached the table. A map of eastern Galanthia stretched across its surface. Carved, wooden pieces painted with exquisite detail marked the current locations of our troops. Well, the ones Kasida had not upended. The black spearmen marked areas of concern—rumors of possible rebels or other troublemakers like the ones we’d encountered on our return from Sorrena. The piece he still toyed with hadn’t been there the day before.

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