Page 33 of A Reign of Embers

“And she hasn’t actually carried out any of her threats yet. Until she brings her forces onto Darium soil against imperial orders, there’s still a chance of avoiding a real war.” I drag in a breath. “We have to keep waiting to see what moves she’ll make. In the meantime, we’ll solidify our position as much as possible.”

Including my individual position as empress.

Those thoughts are buzzing through my mind when a gentle knock sounds on the door. Kassun opens it to reveal one of the nursemaids with Coraya.

She takes in the guards surrounding me and draws back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I heard you were going to join the court and thought you’d want to have Coraya.”

“Yes, I was about to head to the hall of entertainments.” I step into the hall and hold out my arms to accept my daughter. “Thank you. Just a little imperial business getting sorted out.”

It’ll have to be sorted out enough for now. There’s nothing I can do to put down Valerisse myself at the moment.

Coraya coos and grabs at the neckline of my dress. I’ve had to stop wearing the necklaces my maids would like to drape me in to make sure she doesn’t pinch her tiny hands on the elaborate finery. No great loss.

“Come now,” I say to her. “Let’s go see your court.”

My daughter is becoming increasingly pleased with the attention of the nobles she’ll someday rule over. As we circulate through the hall of entertainments, she offers more coos and even a couple of burbling laughs. The viceroy who earns the second of those beams back at her as if she’s just granted him a chest of gold.

Our audience is less impressed by her spitting up on myshoulder, only partly caught by a maid who dashes over, but that simply provokes some giggles.

“Babies will be babies, even when they’re also the heir to the empire,” Marchionissa Lucrene remarks with a fond smile.

I pass the cards tables but decline an invitation to join the game because I don’t trust Coraya not to mouth the edges of the cards.

I’m just skirting the dart throwers when a plaintive voice reaches my ears. “Your Imperial Highness…”

One of the younger noblemen who’s a newer arrival at court this season is hunched in a chair by the wall. With a pang of concern, I hustle over to him. “Are you quite all right, Baron?—”

Before I can dredge up his name from my memory, he springs from the chair like an arrow unleashed. His arm whips out, and a globby shape flies at me.

Flies and splatters against the magic barrier one of my guards flings up a few inches from my face. The dark green substance hisses as it streaks across the gleaming shield and splatters to the floor instead. The pool of it sears a burnt mark in the rug.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Marc snarls. He’s already on the baron, heaving him face first into the floor just inches from the sizzling acid.

As I catch my breath, clutching Coraya so tight against me she grunts in protest, the rest of my guards and hers pull close around me. Their eyes dart around the room for other threats, but no one stirs. The nobles around us have frozen, staring at the scene of the attempted attack.

I had no time to activate my drugged ring. None of my combat training did any good either when my assailant lashed out so suddenly. When I had nothing on me that could defend me against a chemical rather than a weapon.

When I was carrying my daughter in my arms.

The young baron yelps when Marc digs his knee into a soft spot on his back. “I honor Sabrelle. We need to pave the way for the empire’s greatness. It’ll never happen?—”

Marc wallops his head against the rug hard enough for the other man’s tongue to stumble. As the baron mumbles in a daze, Axius strides into our midst.

The high commander jerks his hand toward my guards. “Get this traitor out of here and lock him up for proper questioning. Empress, do I need to call for a medic?”

“No.” My voice comes out fainter than I intended. I gird myself. “I was only startled.”

Perhaps sensing my tension, Coraya starts to whimper.

Two soldiers from my doubled contingent of guards hustle over to haul the baron to his feet. Marc backs up, his teeth bared.

When he turns to me, his expression softens. His gaze drops to the baby I’m cradling. “Coraya—is she all right? He didn’t hurt her at all?”

The thickening of his voice makes my throat constrict. He really is worried—not just for me but for her as well.

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you—thank all of you—for leaping in so quickly.”

Marc’s gaze meets mine again, so fraught I can’t look away. “I always will,” he says, so quietly I’m not sure anyone else hears him.

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