“No reason, rebel?” Magnus shot him a look. “That’s strange. Here I thought you were enjoying pawing at the princess’s skirts, looking for table scraps.”

Jonas glared at Magnus. “I would receive far more than you ever would.”

Magnus smirked at him. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Jonas’s expression only darkened further at that. “We’re done here. Nic, grab what you need for the journey to Basilius’s compound. Hopefully we can catch up to Ashur before he arrives. And Magnus?”

“Yes, rebel?”

Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “Harm one hair on the princess’s head, and I swear to whatever goddess you give a damn about, I will make you beg for death.”

CHAPTER 19

AMARA

PAELSIA

A single golden hawk circled above the Paelsian citizens gathering to hear Amara’s speech. She stood at the open window in her chambers and looked out at the crowd of eager faces. Many were bewildered to be inside their former chief’s private compound; its gates had been locked to the public during his command over this dusty kingdom. Today they had their first glimpse of the labyrinthine city, which reminded Amara greatly of the City of Gold, only instead of precious metals and jewels, it was made from clay, brick, stone, and dirt.

“Your grace, I wish you would reconsider this speech,” Kurtis said from behind her. “You are much safer inside, especially with the news of rebels nearby.”

She glanced from the window at the ever-present kingsliege. “That’s why I have guards surrounding me at all times, Lord Kurtis. Rebels are always nearby. Unfortunately, I can’t make everyone see my point of view. There are those who opposed my husband’s reign, my father’s reign. And there are those who will oppose mine as well. No, I will speak to my citizens today, those who would embrace me without question and the handful who doubt my intentions here. I must give them hope for the future—hope they’ve never had before.”

“Which is a lovely sentiment, your grace, but . . . Paelsians are known savages, quick to violence.”

She found his choice of words offensive. “There are those who say the same of Kraeshians,” she replied with growing annoyance. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me before. I will speak today.”

“Your grace—”

She held up her hand, choosing to drop the smile from her lips. “I will speak today,” she said firmly. “And no one will tell me I can’t. Especially with the news of rebels, and with dissent even among my own soldiers, I need the support of these people for the future of my reign. And I will not have anyone tell me what I can and cannot do. Do you understand me?”

He immediately bowed deeply, his cheeks flushing. “Of course, your grace. I meant no disrespect.”

The door opened, and Nerissa entered, bowing her head. “It is time, empress.”

“Good. I’m ready.” Amara stroked the silk of her gown. It was the one she wore for only the most special of occasions in Kraeshia. She took it with her whenever she traveled just in case there was the opportunity to wear such a splendid piece. Its shimmering stitches and shining beads of emerald and amethyst sparkled under the Paelsian sun as she emerged from her large villa.

An entourage of bodyguards waited outside for Amara, and with Nerissa by her side, she approached the large podium on a wooden stage high above the crowd of four thousand, who were elbow to elbow in the chief’s former fighting arena.

These were her new subjects. They would hang on her every word and spread the news of her glory to all who would listen. And one day soon, they would be the first to revere her as a true goddess.

The crowd cheered, and the air itself was infused with the sound of approval. She glanced at Nerissa, who smiled and nodded, encouraging her to begin.

Amara raised her arms, and her large audience went silent.

“I address the beautiful people of Paelsia, a kingdom that has endured many trials and tribulations through many generations.” Her voice resonated off the stone pillars, which helped to amplify the words so that even those in the stands could hear her. “I am Amara Cortas, the first empress of Kraeshia, and I bring you the official news that you are no longer citizens of Mytica, a trio of kingdoms that have oppressed you for a century, but you are now citizens of the great Kraeshian Empire—and your future is as bright as the sun that shines down upon us today!”

The crowd cheered, and Amara took a moment to scan the faces, some dirty, with threadbare clothes worn down with dust and age. Weary eyes looked up at her, eyes that had seen many leaders who had made false promises and delivered only pain and suffering. Still, she saw timid hope even in the oldest of eyes.

“We will tend to your land,” she continued. “We will make it rich again and ready to plant crops that will sustain you and your families. We will import livestock that will feed you. And as you continue to make the wine that Paelsia is famous for, the profits will be entirely yours, as I promise that there will be no Kraeshian taxes on this product for twenty years. The laws that have prevented legal export of this wine to anywhere but Auranos are hereby broken. I see Paelsia as a magnificent asset to my empire, and I want to show this by making my actions match my words. You are right to believe in me, for I believe in you. Together we will march forth into the future, hand in hand!”

The noise from the crowd swelled, and for a moment, Amara closed her eyes and allowed herself to soak it all in. This was why she’d sacrificed so much. This was why she’d done what she had.