She took a long, long breath, and bent to kiss Niren’s cheek, waxy and cold beneath her lips. Her resolve sharpened. “I’m going to save you, Niren. Gods and ghosts and vows be damned—I’m going to save you.”
She came into Domin’s rooms without waiting for the guard to announce her. Domin was sitting cross-legged at a low table, halfway through a glass of wine and dressed only in a pair of loose silk trousers. He started at her arrival, blushing horribly.
Eda didn’t care. She grabbed his ear and hauled him upwards, forcing him to look at her. There were crumbs on his lips. His breath smelled of alcohol and honeyed mangoes.
“Y–Y–Your Imperial Majesty?”
“Where is thestone,Domin? Why does my temple still languish half-built in the desert when youpromisedme you would find the stone?”
Sweat popped out on his brow. “Your Majesty, thereisno stone—”
“LIAR!” She flung him bodily against the wall and he hit it with a satisfyingcrack,his head jerking sideways, blood bursting from his temple.
But she wasn’t finished. She came toward him, drawing the dagger from her waist.
He shrank back. His scrawny, coddled frame was no match for her menacing height or her strength or her weapons practice in the dead of night with the retired captain of the guard whom she bribed heavily to keep up the illusion of her helplessness.
She pressed Domin into the wall, palm splayed across his chest, her other hand holding the dagger to his throat.
“Please, Your Imperial Majesty,” he whimpered, actual gods-damnedtearsrolling down his miserable cheeks. “It isn’t my fault. I can’t control what the others do.”
She ground her jaw. “Tell me something useful. Now. Or I swear on my parents’ graves I’ll slit your throat and leave you to wallow in a pool of your own blood.”
“Rescarin means to depose you.”
That wasn’t really a surprise. She adjusted her grip on the dagger. “When?”
“Soon. Before the Feast of Uerc. He has documents. Witnesses.”
“What documents?”
Domin shuddered, his eyes wild. “I haven’t seen them, Your Imperial Majesty. But he says they disprove your claim to the throne.”
“Could you get them? Bring them to me?”
He took a breath. Two. “I think so.”
“Can you do it or not?”
“I can, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Good. I need them by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But—”
She applied the tiniest amount of pressure to the dagger. “Tomorrow. Swear on your life, Domin Odar-Duen, if you value it.”
“I swear on my life, Your Imperial Majesty. I won’t fail you.”
Eda withdrew her dagger and rewarded Domin with her most dazzling smile. “No, Domin. I don’t expect you will.”
Eda was just swinging up onto Naia, her guard already mounted, when Ileem appeared in the stable courtyard, a light blue head scarf wound about his cropped hair.
Dawn glowed red on the horizon, and terror made her heart seize.
Ileem grasped her bridle. “I only just heard about your friend. Wherever you’re going, send me instead. I’m sure you’d rather stay here, be with her. Please, Eda.”
Eda shook her head as Naia danced beneath her, sensing her anxiety. “It has to be me. There isn’t time.”
