Page 9 of A Reign of Embers

Marc shakes his head. “Not in weeks, maybe even months. I suppose Sabrelle could tell they weren’t swaying me.”

“If the godlen of war really is siding with Valerisse’s rebellion,” Neven says, “isn’t that much worse for Aurelia? There’ve got to be tens of thousands of Sabrellian dedicats just in Dariu, and a lot of them are soldiers.”

A thread of nausea winds through my gut. “If she can persuade them into seeing me as an enemy to the empire, we’re going to have a difficult battle ahead. Unless…”

I trail off, overwhelmed by the thought that’s struck me. The men wait for me to gather my thoughts.

Despite my own fatigue, I harden my stance. “Sabrelle reached out to me too. She gave me a chance to act in her favor. There has to be some way I can persuadeherthat my interests don’t have to be at odds with hers. If I can win over her and those dedicated to her, the whole rebellion may very well fall apart.”

But that requires convincing the godlen of war that a dedicat of peace is a worthy ruler of an empire… an empire I intend to disassemble.

The weight of that task stifles whatever hope flickered to life inside me. The princes’ expressions darken too.

But Marc’s gray eyes glint with sudden enthusiasm. “I may have something that’ll help your cause.”

Chapter Four

Lorenzo

Iwake up into an unfamiliar sense of peace, lulled by the slow breaths rising and falling next to me on the bed. When I turn my head to gaze at Aurelia’s sleeping face, the sensation expands with a swell of affection and a quiver of exhilaration.

This is the first time I’ve gotten to spend the whole night with her. We’ve never dared before. But there’s no longer a brutal imperial husband who could storm into her private chambers at any moment and discover the affair.

Her delicate features look even softer in sleep. With the rest, more of her natural lively color has come back into her tanned skin, where yesterday morning it’d been leached away by stress and exhaustion.

Her rich walnut-brown hair tumbles across the pillow around her serene face. I like it so much betterflowing wild than in the upswept styles Darium custom imposes on married women. It suits the spirit of the woman I love.

A rustle by the door brings my attention in the other direction. The sort-of husband my beloved still has is getting to his feet on the pallet he spread by the entrance.

Marc jerks the jacket of his guard uniform straight and meets my gaze with the inscrutable expression that always made me nervous when he was acting as emperor. It’s more unsettling combined with the gray swath of scarring that discolors more than half of his face—as if he might still be two different men, only now combined in one body.

Thank all that’s holy he hasn’t shown any signs of Linus’s sadistic tendencies so far.

I stayed overnight mainly to protect Aurelia fromhim, though I suspect he thinks me an ineffectual defender. He doesn’t know that I could summon her other guards in an instant. My gift could project an illusionary shout of warning far louder than any natural voice.

But there hasn’t been anything to raise the alarm about. He didn’t stir from his sleeping pallet the whole night.

A twinge in my bladder makes me grit my teeth. I sit up, debating whether I can hold out until Aurelia wakes.

Marc’s darkened gray gaze assesses me as I’d imagine he might have soldiers on the battlefield, back when he got to lead the empire’s army. “You can go relieve yourself. I’ll stay right here.”

There’s a caustic note in his voice, as if he’s disparaging the suspicions I haven’t voiced. As if we don’t have every reason to worry about how he’ll treat this incredible woman after the horrors he and his twin have already put her through.

But Aurelia trusts him enough not to fear his presence. We’re never going to find out just how much he’s trulyaccepted his new situation if we’re on him like jailers every second he’s around her.

I tip my head in acknowledgment and pad over to the bathing room.

I keep my attention on the bedroom as I do my business, not wasting any time. After I’ve washed my hands, I start to stride back out and then hesitate.

Instead, I ease over to peer past the doorway, my body mostly hidden by the frame.

Marc isn’t paying the bathing room any mind. He’s still standing on the sleeping pallet, his hands flexing at his sides, his gaze fixed on Aurelia’s sleeping form.

I can’t call his expression inscrutable anymore. No, I’ve seen those slightly widened eyes and that strained set of the mouth before—on two of my other foster brothers. No doubt they’ve witnessed it on me as well.

I’m too familiar with the longing for what one can’t have. Here it is again, right in front of me.

The sight sets off an uneasy pang in my gut. I don’t want to sympathize with the man who’s been a party to so many awful things. He doesn’tdeserveto have Aurelia—he should be thanking her generous soul that she’s allowed him to live in her presence.

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