The king appeared to consider this turn of events calmly. “Yes, my beloved Althea,” he said. “I have missed the company of a wife so very much. But with respect, your eminence, I would never wish to force such an arrangement upon anyone, least of all your lovely daughter.”

“Perhaps that is where you and I differ.”

“Perhaps,” the king acknowledged with a nod. “But I could only agree to this if Princess Amara does as well.”

All attention shifted to the princess.

She’d refused every other suitor her father had thrust her way, and the emperor had never forced her hand before. But that was then, when she was of so very little importance to him.

She’d be incredibly naive to think she had a choice here. And Amara was anything but naive. To make a fuss would only cause unnecessary conflict.

Today, of all days, she wanted her father to be pleased with her.

“It would be my honor to become your queen, King Gaius,” she said, ignoring the tightness in her chest.

The king raised his brow. She’d surprised him.

Dastan returned, accompanied by an old man with white hair and dressed in green robes.

“Excellent,” the emperor said. “Augur, please, let’s not waste another moment in making this official.”

The augur produced a long silk scarf that had been in Amara’s family for countless generations, and gestured for Amara to come stand before the king. Holding to Kraeshian tradition, he wound the scarf around her and the king, from ankle to shoulders, finally binding their hands together.

Amara looked up into the king’s eyes. He looked so very much like his son, Magnus. She hadn’t fully realized it until now.

As was custom, the wedding ceremony was performed in the Kraeshian language, with the augur repeating the vows in the common language so the king could understand.

The augur spoke solemnly about the duties of husband and wife. He stated that the wife would always be truthful to her husband. She would give him her power. She would give him children. She would serve him.

If she displeased him, it was within his rights to beat her.

The king’s fingers tightened against hers as the words sliced into her very being, as if cutting her throat.

If he ever dared lay a hand on her in anger, she would kill him.

The ceremony was over, and they were proclaimed husband and wife. The augur unwound the scarf, and the king drew Amara to him and kissed her when instructed, to seal their union symbolically. Despite all her inner strife and the heart-sinking knowledge that she’d just married someone old enough to be her father, the kiss was not entirely unpleasant.

And this marriage was only another opportunity for her.

Her father came to her, clasping her face between his hands and kissing her on both cheeks. “I’ve never been so proud of you, my dear daughter!”

It seemed that she’d finally won his approval. “Thank you, Father.”

“This is an incredible day—the joining of two families, two nations. A future bright with magic and power.”

She smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. As a matter of fact, I have something that will be perfect for such a celebration. It’s in my bedroom suite, if you’ll let me go get it? It’s a bottle of fine Paelsian wine.”

His eyes widened with surprise and delight. “How wonderful!”

“Yes, I completely forgot until just now that I brought it back with me from my journey. I knew you’d want to try it. And if you like it, there are two more cases still on the ship.”

“I’ve heard Paelsian wine tastes like magic itself,” Elan said.

“Yes, it sounds like the perfect way to honor this occasion,” the emperor said. “Go fetch it, Daughter. And we will toast to the future of Kraeshia.”

She left the room, her head in a daze of worry, excitement, and fear.

You don’t have to do this, a small part of her urged. There is another choice for you. If you run away, you could make a life for yourself somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.

This moment of doubt very nearly amused her.

There was no other way. She knew this. She accepted this.

Her destiny had been set in stone from the moment she’d been born.

She hurried to her room and returned to the solarium, the bottle of Paelsian wine in hand. The emperor snatched it from her, swiftly uncorked it, and poured the pale yellow wine into four goblets. Her brothers received one each, and the emperor handed the fourth to the king. “I’m afraid there isn’t enough for you, Daughter.”

“I’m afraid I must decline,” King Gaius held up his hand. “It’s against Limerian religion to indulge in inebriants.”

“What an unfortunate policy,” the emperor said. “Very well, this goblet is for you, then, Amara.”

She took the glass from him and gave a small bow. “Thank you, Father.”

The emperor held his chalice up in front of him. “To the future of the Kraeshian Empire. And to many more sons for you, Gaius. Many, many more sons! Amara, boys, drink.”

Amara took a sip of its contents and watched as her father and brothers all drained their glasses.

“This is incredible,” the emperor gasped, his eyes wide with pleasure. “As delicious as I’ve always heard. And now I’ve finally tasted it for myself. Gaius, I will need more cases delivered to the Jewel, an endless supply.”

The king nodded. “I will arrange it myself, your eminence.”

“It is quite good,” Dastan allowed.

“There’s no more?” Elan asked. “I want more.”

“Amara, have the cases waiting on your ship brought to the palace so we can continue our celebrations. I’ve already made sure to have a feast ready in anticipation of our mutual agreement today. And once you’ve returned, daughter, you must change into another gown. What you’re wearing is not appropriate for the wife of a . . .” He frowned. “Amara?”

Amara counted slowly to ten, then she began again at the start.

Her heart pounded. She couldn’t hold on, not for much longer.

Finally, when she couldn’t stop herself, she spit the wine back out into the goblet.

The emperor frowned. “What is wrong with you?”

She wiped her mouth with a silk cloth. “I know you won’t believe me, Father, but I am sorry. I wish there could have been another way.”

His quizzical expression shifted quickly to distress. He clutched his throat. “Daughter . . . what have you done?”

“Only what I had to.” She glanced at her brothers, who were also clawing at their throats and gasping.

The poison was supposed to act very quickly and not cause any pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her eyes stinging.

One by one, each of her family members dropped to the ground, twitching, their faces turning purple as they stared at her with confusion, and then hatred.

Just as Ashur had.

Finally, they were still.

Amara turned to face the four guards who’d reentered the solarium during the wedding ceremony. Their hands were ready on their weapons, eyeing each other with uncertainty.

“You will not say anything about this,” she told them. “To anyone.”

“They won’t listen to you,” the king said, his voice surprisingly calm. “Felix, Milo. Take care of this.”