The sun set over the Iperian capital, and Nyx walked through the palace, toward the high, open gates. He drifted among the guests and nobles, the dignitaries from the farmlands beyond the mountains and the mage country where dragons darkened the skies. People were laughing, toasting—more than one such toast was to Nadia, thesoldier princess—but Nyx quietly shook his head when they invited him to share a drink or a game of cards. In the city, lanterns draped the bridges joining the rooftops, keeping the area bright even as night took hold.
He wondered what this place would look like from Azaiah’s side. What he would think of it when he was no longer part of it.
“Nyx.”
He stopped, jerked out of his thoughts, as Lamont staggered toward him from one of the viewing rooms with high glass windows overlooking the city. Nadia remained curled up on a couch in a lighter, more flattering gown than the one she’d worn earlier, and she saw Nyx and waved. Lamont took his arm. “Brother. A word.”
“You should return to your wife,” Nyx said, extricating himself from Lamont’s hand.
Lamont shrugged. “We have an hour before we have to present ourselves to the witches again. More ritual, you know. Come, Brother, have a drink with me.”
Nyx wanted to refuse, but people were watching, and it would be an ill omen for the couple if an imperial prince refused their hospitality. “All right. One drink.”
“Good. Good. We need to talk. Words between men,” he called over his shoulder. “Not meant for your delicate ears.”
“Who’s delicate?” Nadia shouted back, and he grinned at her before turning back to Nyx. He stumbled down the steps two at a time, then flung open a door to another viewing room. When Nyx entered, Lamont closed the door after him and traipsed to a bottle of brandy by one of the couches.
“You haven’t congratulated me, Brother,” he said, pouring two glasses. “On my victory.”
It was an odd way to describe a marriage, but Nyx could tell Lamont was already in his cups. He took the glass but didn’t drink from it. “Congratulations on your wedding. Nadia is a good woman.”
“I didn’t say that,” Lamont said, knocking back his drink. “I said congratulate me on myvictory. Now Father can’t pass me over as the heir because I lack a wife to give me legitimacy, and youhave to sit back and smile while I fuck that woman of yours on my marriage bed.”
Nyx frowned, grip going tight on the glass. “What?”
“Oh, don’t pretend.” Lamont poured himself another drink. Brandy sloshed over his fingers, and he licked them clean. “I know it wasn’t just Tyr. The three of you were thick as thieves, you and my brother and that bitch. So I thought, well, if Tyr carried you to death on his shroud, I could at least take your woman. And you won’t tell her, either,” he added, as Nyx took a measured step back. Lamont’s eyes were bright, wild. “Say a word and she dies, no matter how much the common folk seem to love her. No, you’ll have to stand there and watch her become my empress, the mother of my children, knowing that you can’t have her.”
Nyx carefully set the drink down. “Do you love her? Like her, even?”
Lamont blinked. “What does love have to do with this? She’s acceptable. She listens to me—more than you. More than Tyr. Neither of you ever looked at me twice unless you had to.” Lamont stepped closer, reeking of alcohol and sweet perfume. He touched Nyx’s chest, running his hands over the polished buttons, and Nyx drew back. Lamont’s face twisted in fury for a second, an echo of his early tantrums, before he seemed to bring himself under control.
“Then I’ll leave you to her,” Nyx said. “You can be happy together without me, knowing you’ve won.”
“No. You don’t get to lick your wounds, Nyx.” Lamont finished his latest drink and dropped the glass to the floor. “You’re my general. Father will be dead soon, and I’ll need you on my side. As my sword. If you leave—if you disobey even once—I will have her brought before you when she dies, so you can know what you’ve done.” He smiled. “If you behave, so will I. I can be very agreeable, Brother. And we both want the empire to thrive, don’t we? To be at peace?”
Nyx thought of Ares slipping between the wedding guests, smiling. They’d said they had work to do. That there was a seed of war here. Nyx could almost see it taking root. If he killed Lamont and escaped with Nadia, the empire would fall as the rebels in the hills and mountains used the chaos to their advantage. If he left and Nadia died, it wouldn’t only be Nyx who suffered. The empire was hanging by a thread, and the thread was already starting to unravel.
“That’s all any of us want,” Nyx said. “Brother.”
Lamont’s smile broadened. “Good. I’m glad we could have this conversation. Together, we’ll ensure the tree grows in the desert, mm?” He laughed softly as he slipped out the door, leaving Nyx alone in the viewing room, the lights of the city glowing behind him.
He changed out of his dress uniform and disappeared into the streets, dressed in the same plain clothes most off-duty soldiers wore. Clouds obscured the stars, boiling over the high buildings at the edges of the city. It was easy to blend in with the crowd—he didn’t have the look of a prince, and people paid more attention to fine clothes and imperial insignia than his face. No one seemed to care that they were celebrating a royal wedding, either. It was just an excuse for a party, and if a few glasses were raised in Nadia and Lamont’s honor, Nyx didn’t hear it.
Nadia’s cousin wasn’t working that night, but with half the bar spilling into the street, Nyx slipped through the throng, stepped around the wall of bottles, and stopped before the table where he’d first played a game of Winter with Death.
Azaiah was there, his hood thrown back and his silvery hair spilling over one side of his face, but he didn’t have his Winter board. Nyx hesitated, resisting the urge to ask to stay with him anyway, to mourn Nadia and the empire while it all fell to ruin. But he couldn’t allow that, so he sat across from Azaiah, letting the din of the revelers fade into the background.
Azaiah startled, one hand gripping the table’s edge. “Are you well, my soldier? You look troubled.”
“Ares passed on your message.” Nyx leaned forward, wanting to touch him, to forget the wedding and Lamont and his responsibilities to this land and its people. He flexed his hand above the table, and Azaiah reached for it. Azaiah’s fingers were cold, reminding Nyx of how little he’d warmed under Nyx’s touch, even when Nyx was fucking into him before the shroud.
“Ah, yes. My sibling likes weddings. They say if there are enough people in one place, war inevitably breaks out. I’m not certain I agree.”
“I might, after today. Lamont was… He would make a poor emperor, I think, without Nadia. The last empress was responsible for civic duties, while the emperor handled war. When she died, Emperor Andor… well, became what he is.”
“Then it is good,” Azaiah said, searching Nyx’s face, “that your foster brother has a capable partner.”
Nyx couldn’t say it. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “What did you want me for, Azaiah? Tonight, here? I don’t see your Winter board.”
