“Could be half a year.”
“Godsdamn.”
Her Barons and other courtiers shifted uncomfortably, but Eda didn’t care. She touched the elaborate gold filigree cuff that circled the length of her left forearm, trying to focus her anger. She’d had the cuff made shortly after her coronation, a replica of one thought to have been worn by Caida, goddess of fire, millennia ago. Eda wished she had an ounce of Caida’s power—she could turn these fools to cinders with an eyeblink.
She glanced at the young woman with the oval-shaped face and large eyes seated near the back of the room: Niren Erris-Dahril, Marquess of Dyas, who had the esteemed honor of being the only person alive that Eda actually liked. Diamonds hung heavy in Niren’s ears and at her throat, gleaming against her rich bronze skin. No one looking at her would have guessed she’d been a sheep farmer a year ago. Niren regarded Eda with a wry, quiet humor. She gave the slightest shake of her head, lips twitching, and Eda understood her meaning:Why are you being so fanatical about your ridiculous temple?
But Niren didn’t know everything. Eda refocused on Rescarin. “The temple must be finished by the Festival of Uerc. Constructionwillmove forward. Find the stone somewhere else.”
Rescarin tapped his fingers against his etched-metal wine cup and didn’t bother hiding his eye roll. “The royal treasury is depleted enough as it is. There’s no money to obtain stone elsewhere, even if it could be found. Wait for the shipment.”
Domin Odar-Duen, Baron of Idair, squirmed in his seat. He might one day prove to be handsome, but at present he was gangly as a cricket and couldn’t grow a beard. At sixteen, he was the youngest courtier among them and rarely spoke up during council sessions. But he spoke now, very quietly. “No one wants a temple anyway, Your Imperial Majesty. If the gods ever existed at all, they’ve long since stopped caring for the people of Endahr. They don’t need us, and we don’t need them.”
“You’re wrong,” said Eda coolly. “It is high time Enduenans resumed our devotion to the gods. Only a fool would deny their very existence.”
Outside, the storm was getting worse. A gust of wind blew the rain in, and an attendant went to shut the window.
“The new temple has been a foolish endeavor from the start,” Rescarin said. He took a swig of his wine and then frowned into the bottom of his now empty glass. The attendant who had shut the window hurried over and refilled it. “We have the old palace temple. That should be enough.”
Eda curled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. The temple he referred to was in an ancient wing of the palace and hadn’t been in use for nearly a century. She’d wandered there often as a child, drinking in the murals of the nine gods painted by some long-dead artist’s brush, mourning the cracks in the plaster, the crumbling walls and sagging roof. There was an altar at the back of the room, the stone worn smooth from several millennia of royal offerings. Cobwebs and dust were its only supplicants now, joined by the odd sack or two of grain when extra storage was needed.
“I am not offering the gods an old, ruined temple to mark Enduena’s return to devotion.”
Rescarin sighed, like he was dealing with the nine-year-old child he clearly still saw her as. “Your Majesty, the late Emperor abolished religious practices for a reason. Trying to reinstate them is troublesome at best. Forget the temple.”
She ground her jaw, ready to put Rescarin in his place despite the consequences. But then she looked at Niren, saw the crease of concern in her friend’s forehead, and forced herself to appear outwardly calm. “As I have told you many times, Baron Rescarin, that is not for you to decide.” She fixed her eyes on each of her Barons in turn. “The templewillbe built before the year is out. The money for the stone will come out ofyourprovinces’ treasuries, and if there is none to be found, you will tear apart your own cities and use that.”
Rescarin shook his head. “Your Majesty—”
“YourImperialMajesty,” she spat at him. “I am your Empress, and I will have your respect.” It was a daring move, reprimanding him in front of the others.
For a moment, Rescarin didn’t react or respond. Then he gave her a small, mocking smile and dipped his head in the semblance of a bow. Raiva’s beating heart, Eda wished she could eviscerate him.
She took a breath and settled deeper into her chair. “As for the matter Baron Lohnin has been speaking about so eloquently”—she glanced at the Baron of Tyst and thought she could practicallyseehis beard dripping oil—“we will not be pursuing a treaty with Denlahn. We will continue to arm ourselves against them and prepare to conquer them for the glory of the Empire.”
Forty years ago, the late Emperor, bent on expanding his domain, had sent an army by ship to conquer Denlahn. He’d thought it would be easy, like conquering the island province Ryn had been. But Denlahn was filled with trained warriors, as Ryn was not, and the attack on Denlahn ended in slaughter. Enduena suffered heavy losses, and took decades to recover. There had been no further attacks after that first one, on either side, but the Emperor had spent the rest of his reign arming Enduena against Denlahn, and plotting ways to take over the enemy nation. Edameant to finish what he’d started, all those years ago, but she was going to do it properly—she wasn’t about to repeat the Emperor’s mistake. When she’d conquered Denlahn, she’d build temples there, too, and bring their people back to the gods.
“That’s exactly why I brought my steamship engineer to speak with you all this morning, or were younotlistening to his detailed explanation, Your Grace?”
Eda nodded at the engineer, who nervously adjusted his spectacles and stood up to go over his plans again.
But Baron Lohnin frowned and waved him back into his seat before he could even open his mouth. “These new ships are untested. They—”
“They willwork.” Eda bristled at the dismissal of her engineer. “The steamers will be more than twice as fast as your outdated sailing ships. They will enable the Empire and our religion to spread quickly.”
Baron Lohnin flicked his dark eyes to the other courtiers around the table as if to sayYou see how unreasonable she is.
Eda tried not to grind her teeth.
“If you wouldconsidera treaty,” said Rescarin, in that bored-sounding tone she hated so much.
“A treaty is not what we’re here to discuss!” Eda jerked from her seat, barely reining herself in.
None of her courtiers stood out of respect for her, as etiquette dictated. They just sat there, staring carefully past her.
But Rescarin locked eyes with her. “I wonder why you hold these sessions at all, YourImperialMajesty, if you have no intention of listening to your councilors’ advice.”
“And I wonder,Your Grace,why you bother coming to them, since you always do exactly as you please.”
