She gasped.

Nic’s body dropped to the ground, her sight of it quickly lost in the crowd.

This was her fault, all her fault.

She frowned at the thought. No—this had been bad luck for Nic, unfortunate circumstances. But she had not murdered Cleo’s friend with her own hands. She refused to take the blame for other people’s misfortune.

While she’d hated her father and equally despised her brothers, the Cortas family was not weak in any way. That included her.

And beyond the Cortas family, women weren’t weak. They were leaders. Champions. Warriors. Queens.

Amara had faced far greater foes in her life than Felix Gaebras.

She forced her voice to shake as she spoke her next words to him. “You’re better than this, Felix. Killing an unarmed girl? This isn’t you.”

“Not me? I’m an assassin by trade, love. Killing’s what I do best.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his friend single-handedly fight off two more of her men. “I now rule a full third of the world and control all that fortune. Do you want to be a very wealthy man?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Not really.”

She’d forgotten that he’d been different from other men she’d known—an asset in the beginning, but a problem now. “Women, then. Ten, twenty, fifty girls who desire only you.”

He fixed her with the coldest smile she’d ever seen. “And how would I know they were not cold, deceptive bitches like you? No deal, empress.”

Amara summoned tears to her eyes. She hadn’t cried in so long, but it was a talent she’d developed at an early age. The easiest way for a woman to avoid trouble or punishment, she’d found, was to feign weakness among men.

The tears quickly began to stream freely down her cheeks. “I planned to free you, but they told me you were already dead, killed in an attempt to escape. My heart ached for the thought that I’d lost you forever. I should have let you in on my plan, but I was afraid . . . so afraid. Oh, Felix, I didn’t want anything to happen to you, truly. I—I love you! I always will, no matter what you choose to do today!”

Felix stared at her, as if stunned by her words. “What did you just say? You love me?”

“I do. I love you.”

The tip of his sword wavered. But it quickly sprang back up.

“Nice try, love. I might believe that if I were a complete and utter idiot.” He smirked at her. “Time to die.”

A moment later, Carlos, who’d managed to get past Taran and up onto the stage, tackled Felix to the ground. Before she even had a chance to catch her breath, both Taran and Felix were brought before her and forced down to their knees.

Nerissa returned to her side, and Amara took her hand in hers, squeezing it for reassurance that her attendant had not been harmed.

“The other rebels are dead, your grace,” Carlos told her. His face bled from a vicious cut across the bridge of his nose.

She acknowledged this with a curt nod, then gazed down at Felix.

He shrugged again. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Should have been quicker.”

“I like to talk too much, I guess.” He gave her a wide grin, but his single eye was ice cold. It flicked to Nerissa for a brief moment before returning to her. “Let’s revisit that offer of the harem of beautiful women, shall we?”

Amara touched Felix’s cheek, drawing his face up. “I am regretful about your eye. I did enjoy that eye, among other parts of you. For a few nights, anyway.”

“Shall we execute them immediately, your grace?” Carlos asked, his sword at his side.

She waited for fear to flash through Felix’s single eye, but he remained defiant. “If I spare you, what will you do? Try to kill me again?”

“In a heartbeat,” he said.

Taran groaned. “You are a damn idiot,” he muttered.

Her beast had entertained her for a time. He still did.

A part of her was still drawn to him, despite everything. But it didn’t matter. He should have died long ago so he’d no longer be a problem for her.

Amara nodded at her guard. “Throw them both in the pit. I’ll deal with them later.”

CHAPTER 20

LUCIA

PAELSIA

“She’s incredible. Absolutely beautiful and glorious. More like a goddess than a mere mortal, if you ask me. I know in my heart that she will save us all.”

Lucia paused at the vendor’s stall as she searched for an apple that didn’t have any imperfections—seemingly an impossibility in Paelsia—and glanced at the fruit seller speaking to her friend.

“I couldn’t agree more,” agreed the friend.

Could they be speaking of the prophesied sorceress?

“Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask whom you’re speaking about?” Lucia asked. It was the first time she’d spoken aloud in over a day, and her voice cracked.

The vendor glanced at her. “Well, the empress, of course. Who else?”

“Yes, who else indeed,” Lucia said under her breath. “So you believe that Amara Cortas will save you. Save you from what, exactly?”

The Paelsian women glanced at each other before regarding Lucia with weary patience.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” One pursed her wrinkled lips. “No, with that accent, I believe you’re Limerian, aren’t you?”

“I was born in Paelsia and adopted into a Limerian family.”