Page 21 of A Reign of Embers

Sabrelle wants me to know she’s watching my response as much as my court and the closest members of my army are.

I set my hand on the hilt of her blessed sword. My fingers curl around the leather binding of the grip as if it was made for my hand, but my stomach keeps roiling.

I could battle the supposed traitor, make an actual spectacle of this confrontation. Would murdering him be enough to appease the godlen or the tribune?

Would I be demonstrating my devotion… or my willingness to be bullied into following someone else’s orders? How is it showing true strength to be coerced into an act that’s against all my principles?

It feels as if Valerisse is managing to back me into a corner even though she’s hundreds of miles away.

I stay where I am, weighing my options. “Do you have proof of this man’s crimes? Dariu is a country of lawful justice, not unmitigated vengeance.”

At least, its people would prefer to believe it is. And I’d like to make that statement true.

The devout scoffs. “Do you think Sabrelle would present a false challenge just because you treated the first one dishonestly? This man was brought straight from his prison cell. Will you accept the fight or not?”

“I’d like to know what exactly he was imprisoned for and why it’s worthy of a death sentence.”

“So little faith you have in our gods.” He raises his voice, obviously wanting all our audience to hear. “I present you with a criminal who harmed our empire, and you want to debate the details? It sounds like a diversion to me. You’re still unwilling to carry out the duties a real Darium empress should accept without hesitation.”

He’s trying to browbeat me into caving in. The realization stokes my instinctive defiance.

A real Darium empress wouldn’t be badgered into committing a fatal act she didn’t believe in, would she?

I lift my own voice as the devout has. “I believe Sabrelle values strength of mind and will as well as of body. I will seek guidance from all our gods.”

I tap my fingers through the gesture of the divinities and tip my face toward the sun gleaming wanly in the overcast sky.

I only want what’s best for the people of the empire—I want to see all of the continent thriving and happy. Elox, can you guide me? You’ve encouraged me to endure and accept so much… Do you really want me to accept this too?

My silent appeal wisps away from me. A renewed hush falls over the crowd, broken only by a few indistinct mutters from the devout to his military escort.

If even my own godlen feels I should give way here, carry out an execution of a man for unexplained crimes…

The dim beams of sunlight fragment. I get the impressionof a man and woman standing atop a sprawling palace, their hands clasped, serene white light emanating from them over lands that stretch far and wide around.

Scarlet flares between them, with a swing of a massive blade. The figures tumble to either side; the palace cracks apart. More scarlet flows like blood, swallowing up the peaceful glow that lit the countryside, swelling alongside a sense of hopelessness from deep in my core.

A lump fills my throat. Elox did want me to accept and endure alongside my husband—because he thought it would bring the empire peace in the end. But he didn’t count on Sabrelle’s meddling. I think I’ve just watched his dreams shattered, nothing left but ruin.

Even as that understanding forms in my head, the despair gives way to a rush of calm resolve. When I blink, the vision shifts. One figure clambers back onto the fractured palace and flings her hand toward the blood-drenched lands. A new glow burns away the horror.

A hitch of my pulse brings me back to the palace courtyard. Everyone is studying me, a few uncertain murmurs traveling through the crowd of nobles at my daze.

I swallow hard. Elox hasn’t given me any definite answers. I still have to carve my own way. But my godlen has offered me a gift all the same.

He’s telling me he trusts me. That he believes even if I can’t hold together the empire as it was, I can transform it into something better.

And to do that, I need to act.

I draw the blessed sword. The hiss of the blade from the sheath startles the crowd back into silence. Even the devout presses his lips flat, his gaze turning wary.

I take a couple of steps toward him and his prisoner, holding the sword low so it’s not an immediate threat. “You came here following your godlen’s will—and I assumeTribune Valerisse’s as well. What were your intentions if I refused your request?”

The devout juts out his chin. “Your lack of commitment would speak for itself. We can’t have someone unfit for the throne ruling our empire. And if you think your hesitation doesn’t reflect badly on your capabilities already?—”

I interrupt in a clear, steady voice. “So you’re insulting me and inciting rebellion against your rightful empress by marriage and motherhood.”

His eyes flash. “If rebellion is what’s need to set?—”

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